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#all the fun stuff this time...(sorry wars)
hiis-theme · 1 month
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somewhere out there is an alternate timeline where toby was correct and people actually did hate spamton. could you imagine that. i have to imagine we wouldn't have gotten the spamton sweepstakes in that case which is crazy to think about given how much lore that gave us-
#puppy rambles#deltarune#spamton#my favorite part of the spamton sweepstakes is the part of the q&a where spamton implied he and jevil are divorced#are all the secret bosses in a polycule you think. we need to add to this deranged relationship#diversity win! all the people who were driven insane by being told their world is just a game are in a polyamorous relationship <3#i like to think gaster made a discord for all of them. just like ''hey. sorry for telling you your world's fake. here's a discord. good by'#i don't even care about the secret bosses super much but they still amuse me greatly. even if there's only two of them rn-#spamton is so hilarious. idk why everyone is so obsessed with him but it makes him even funnier to me#also his text in brackets is fun to write. it's also hard to write but you can do so much with it#since it's taken from various places on the internet you can just reference memes#... i mean the one problem is that it'd probably have to be memes from the time period deltarune's in#so like. early 2000's or 2010's#but the valentines don't regard that and reference more recent memes so who knows really#maybe deltarune's actually meant to be in modern times. i mean you could fully convince me#that noelle just likes old internet-style websites and stuff dfskljfdsdfjksfkjlsfkj-#(i mean some of the meme references are up to interpretation)#(but the two definite ones are the war thunder forums leaking military documents and also the hotel mario intro)#(and at the very least the former is a newer thing)#(there's also seemingly references to the ''let me in'' meme and the foam shower images from the april fool's newsletter last year)#(idk where the fuck else ''insulating foam'' would be taken from-)#i hope spamton just randomly contributes to conversations sometimes if you have the dealmaker equipped#i logically doubt it but it'd be extremely hilarious#i'm now imagining equipping the dealmaker to noelle. who was not there for either spamton encounter#''um. kris why's there a voice in my head telling me to be a big shot?'' ''don't worry about it''#alternatively if you just get the dealmaker from the hole in castle town cuz you have another file with it#... can you do that in chapter 2 files. if so then can you technically have the dealmaker while not having met spamton-#''player why is there a voice in my head telling me to be a big shot'' ''don't worry about it''#''i'm sparing you from having an existential crisis later-''
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13eyond13 · 5 months
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how did I forgor Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) when I had to list my favourite movies here recently
#seriously if you haven't seen it it's a ridiculous piece of work#and I can't believe it's only 120 minutes long#ok let me be a nerd about this movie for a minute:#it was like cooking in the director's brain for literal decades and that's why it has an insane amount of worldbuilding built in#you don't have to see the previous 3 mad max movies to somehow also understand this world and everything that's going on#and yet it barely takes any time to sit you through long boring exposition chunks?#Like it RESPECTS the audience's intelligence enough to be like 'you guys are smart you will figure it out now let's get moving'#NOTHING is wasted in this movie and you pick up new cool things every time you watch#almost all of it was done practically including the vehicles and stunts INCLUDING stuff like the pole cats on the cars in the final act#in order to make the cars and props they had to build most things from a scrap yard instead of running to home depot for new parts#Every single vehicle and character down to the smallest war boy had their own backstory they made up#the only other movie I feel like i can compare this wonderful weirdness to is maybe the first 3 lotr movies#In terms of the insane work that went into it behind the scenes and the dedication to making the world come alive with so much artistry#and practical effects and years of worldbuilding and writing and the bizarre ways they had the crews bond behind the scenes#also fun fact: the director was also the guy behind Babe the pig movie and Happy Feet hahaha he's a very eclectic director to say the least#anyways now every time I see a movie that's 2.5+ hours long I'm like if Mad Max FR could be 120 mins long why can't YOU be 120 min long?#Like sorry but there's no excuse anymore. just simply get better at telling the story in 2 hours or less my guys#p
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volfoss · 10 months
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Made it to act 2 of the Witcher btw I'm HOOKED. The plot is so good and they have so many references to the book and augh it's so cool
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thefictionshelf · 11 months
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can't believe the sun and the star is out. shaking etc etc
#i get in august b/c of hold lists#which is fine my me b/c i never actually finished TOA when i originally read pjo/hoo/toa so im taking this time to do that#ik it came out like a week ago but it's really hitting me b/c im rereading hidden oracle#like. im going to get to see my boy!! my little guy!!!!#like. just the fact that people have read it. and that it's getting good reviews#like finally. after all of it! a real attempt at payoff#a real deep dive on his grief. everything he's been through. and how he's letting himself love and care anyway. fucking screams#i don't think it features any segments from right after gaea's war which is a bit :( but like still i just#i'm so fucking hype. just. for the person in the story who has the MOST reason to feel like the universe is against him#that he's inherently miserable or unlovable but it's just not true!!! and the way will helps him see that without looking away from his#pain#that on it's face#that premise is ridiculous. you're like anyone else. you're soft. you're soft. you're soft.#and that kind of idea- it serves a purpose. to give the suffering meaning. to justify it. to make it make sense#but the truth is it's not fair or cosmically divined. it just is. and it's not fair but it doesn't have to define him like!!! FUCK#sorry i just go insane crazy over those scenes at the end of BOO. the fact that it took 8 years to properly deliver on that is. gugh#i'm also just excited to be be back at camp half blood. <#excited for the fun stuff too!! not just the bummers#will is only in a handful of scenes ever prior to this book but he is painted so vividly and im so excited to see what they do with him#in an alternate universe there is a version of will that is just stale ass wonder bread but he's so interesting and rich and!!!!#like funny. i don't even mean personality just like. situationally#only medic in never-once-has passed an osha inspection the camp is inherently comedic#but on top of that straight man (ha) to a cabin full of dramatic children is. it's just ripe#even like the whistle thing is so fucking funny. it's such a good detail#the way his complete lack of skill in anything but medicine don't stop him from fucking around and finding out#the constant trapeze act of holding it together and open vulnerability to manage a level of responsibility that should not be on the#shoulders of a 16 year old! and he's doing a great job!#mmg. just. excited#pjo
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fandom · 4 months
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Top 23 of 2023
Have you been aching to get your hot little hands on 52 weeks of data around original posts, likes, reblogs, and searches, all weighted and ranked and tied up into categories with a nice little bow on top? Well, today’s your day! It should come as no surprise that Artists on Tumblr reign supreme: from stunning traditional art, jaw-dropping digital art, fanart, sculptures, textile art—you name it, basically—this year’s list shows that Tumblr truly is the home for art and artists. Thank you, Artists on Tumblr, for enriching our dashboards day after day. 
Rounding out the top three, we have two iconic shows: Good Omens is live-action, and The Owl House is animated, but both have a heck of a love story at their core. The second season of Good Omens blessed us with not one but two ineffably exquisite ships, while the final season of The Owl House broke and then healed fans’ hearts in equal measure. Thanks, @danaterrace! Actually, come to think of it, the Good Omens finale kinda did the same in reverse. Thanks to you, too, @neil-gaiman! We can’t wait for season 3. 
Speaking of heartbreak and healing, Our Flag Means Death’s second season offered both in droves. The entire cast gave stellar performances, and fans couldn’t have been happier to see the kinds of representation the show displayed. Last year’s #1 topic, Stranger Things, may have dropped a bit, but trust us, you wouldn’t know it from the amount of meta, fanart, and fics in the tag. And did you hear about the live-action adaptations of both The Last of Us and One Piece? They were a preeeetty big deal this year, too. Check ‘em out if you haven’t yet (lol, of course you have). And we’d be remiss not to mention the hugely dedicated fans, fanartists, and fic writers devoting their time to all things Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Y’all deserve a little pizza, as a treat.
2023 was also a year for blockbuster movies, which of course hasn’t escaped anybody’s notice here on Tumblr. Barbie smashed box offices worldwide and left us reeling with every re-watch. How can one describe Greta Gerwig’s pink-filled opus? It certainly is one of the movies of all time. Meanwhile, with its incredible animation and soundtrack, Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse introduced us to a whole new multiverse of Spider-People, opening the portal to a veritable flood of incredible OCs. And then, of course, we got a fresh perspective on an old classic when cinephiles introduced Martin Scorscese’s cinematic masterpiece, Goncharov (1973), to a new generation of film aficionados who resoundingly agree that it is, in fact, the greatest mafia movie ever made. We’re so glad this underrated film finally got the acclaim it has long deserved.
In the realms of gaming and tech, the long-anticipated Baldur’s Gate 3 has basically become everyone’s new favorite D&D/dating sim combination. Of course, the Pokémon franchise, games, shows, and Hatsune Miku collabs remain perennial favorites. Elon Musk’s purchase of Twitter, sorry, we mean of course X, made waves across the internet. Similarly, the Reddit blackout drove Redditors to new venues, and Tumblr users welcomed the folks from r/196 with open arms—we’re huge fans of your memes, y’all, and you fit right in. Welcome, we’re glad you enjoy the chaos. Here’s a fun fact: if we included post metadata in Year in Review rankings, #polls, introduced in January of 2023, would have been the #5 topic on Tumblr this year. Phenomenal. 
And, oh right. Taylor Swift had kind of a big year, what with the albums, the epic global tour, and the movie and stuff. Fantastic work, @taylorswift, the Swifties on Tumblr thank you for everything.
This is Tumblr’s Year in Review.
Artists on Tumblr
Good Omens
The Owl House
Barbie
Pokémon
Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse
Critical Role
Goncharov
Taylor Swift
Genshin Impact
Stranger Things
The Last of Us
Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
Elon Musk
196
Star Wars
Our Flag Means Death
Crowley | Good Omens
LGBTQ
Cottagecore
Baldur's Gate 3
One Piece
Aziraphale | Good Omens
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kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months
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Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…
I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !
You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️
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Wildflowers Grow in Ruins
(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)
Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.
Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.
A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.
Wars are exhausting. 
You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.
But waging a war against yourself… 
Now that is pure hell. 
It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.
But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.
He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.
But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.
Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.
The day has finally come to let him go.
You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.
But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.
Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to. 
You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.
But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.
So why is it so hard to let go?
The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today. 
And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.
You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.
Good. 
Good.
Great.
You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.
The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown. 
It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.
Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?
The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.
"I need to talk to you." 
Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.
He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.
"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too. 
This should be easy…
It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.
"I think we should go separate ways."
The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.
"Ok."
It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm. 
"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.
He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.
"Is it because of my work?" 
"No."
"What is it then?"
Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.
Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.
"Hey. Hey."
He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling. 
"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"
His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?
His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.
And he must hate weakness.
"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows. 
It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.
"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?
"What do you mean?"
He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.
"Have you found someone else?"
What the…
"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"
He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you. 
"I'm just…" 
Jesus, this is just humiliating. 
"I'm just not your type."
"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise. 
He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one. 
Losing you.
"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."
"It's not that. You don't understand–" 
"Try me."
"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"
"Stop right there."
The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.
"Bloody fucking hell…" 
He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven. 
And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.
"You're serious?"
"Yes."
"This is the reason you wanna break up?"
Ugh.
"Yes?"
His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing. 
But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.
"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"
"I don't know." 
"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"
"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done. 
"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."
He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.
"Can I touch you?"
You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.
"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.
"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…
"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"
Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.
"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.
"Then why do you think you're not my type?"
"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.
"That for sure ain't true."
"But it is."
He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.
"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to. 
"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"
It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.
"No…?"
"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"
"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.
"No, I don't think I will."
He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.
"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"
You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to… 
It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.
"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."
"Simon–"
"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"
He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is. 
"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."
For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?
"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.
"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."
You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.
"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."
You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.
"Then let me help you."
The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.
"You don't even let me touch you anymore."
It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.
"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."
Oh my God…
Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months? 
That would explain why he has avoided you too…
He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain. 
Jesus fucking Christ.
"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."
"Never seen such a gorgeous mess." 
He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution. 
Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.
"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."
Oh God–
"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."
"Hmh…"
"Don't wanna live without that smile."
You don't have to. 
God, you don't have to…
"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.
"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"
"...Ok." 
He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.
"Come on. Make me believe it."
"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.
"That's my girl."
Oh fuck…
He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly. 
And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?
The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.
"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."
He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.
He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.
He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender. 
No one can fake such fervor.
You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.
"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."
You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.
"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"
"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."
He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.
"Yeah…?"
"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."
His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.
"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."
"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.
"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."
If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.
"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.
"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty. 
"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."
Wow… He is a bit pissed.
Had they checked your ass out when you visited him? 
It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy. 
"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left." 
Whoa. 
Ok…
First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.
You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.
Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…
There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.
"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"
"No. No, I don't want you to stop." 
Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.
He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.
Oh f–
"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in. 
"Uh–...."
Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end. 
"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."
"Oh god…"
There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.
"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you. 
You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.
"Simon–"
His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.
"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."
You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard. 
You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.
"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."
He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.
"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."
The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.
"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"
"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all. 
"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."
Shit…
"I, I'm gonna…"
Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.
He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.
Fucking bastard…
Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core. 
You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.
His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load. 
Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.
"Jesus Christ…" 
He sounds dazed. 
Relieved. 
"Should've done this weeks ago."
You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.
"I should've talked to you weeks ago..." 
"Yeah. You should have."
"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.
"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."
He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even. 
The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…
And love.
4K notes · View notes
incorrectbatfam · 9 days
Note
It's movie night but they can't use the home cinema, what do they do?
[week 1]
Bruce: Thanks for letting us use your place for movie night while we fix that leak at home.
Dick: No problem. Besides, I have plenty of snacks and the director's cut of Dumbo.
Everyone: *gathers around*
Dick: *puts on the movie*
~ 10 minutes in ~
*beep* *beep* *beep* *beep*
Tim: My crime alert's going off.
Harper: Mine too.
Duke: Must be big.
Bruce: Suit up and rendezvous in three.
Dick: *sighs and pauses the movie*
Dick: Can't get one night in this damn city.
———————
[week 2]
Tim: Steph, why are we at a karaoke lounge?
Steph: I know the owner's cousin's hairdresser's dog walker's sister's girlfriend and I convinced them to let us use the party room. Don't worry, it's just like a TV screen.
Steph: *puts on Pitch Perfect*
Steph: Ooh, I love this part.
Steph: *grabs a mic and starts singing*
Everyone:
Damian: *stuffs napkins in his ears*
———————
[week 3]
Jason: Since we decided on Pride and Prejudice, I thought I could play it at my safehouse.
Dick: Sweet, thanks!
Jason: *unlocks the door*
Dick: *tries to step in*
Jason: *stops him*
Jason: I said I could play it. I never said you could come in. I don't want your you-ness all over my new stuff.
Bruce: Jason, be reasonable.
Harper: Yeah, you got this junk off the side of the road.
Jason: My junk, my rules.
Tim: Then what are we supposed to do?
Jason: Fire escape's around the back. You'll get a decent glance.
~ 20 minutes later ~
Dick: *leans his head in to hear better*
Jason: My air, my rules.
Jason: *closes the window*
———————
[week 4]
Bruce: Cass, it's your turn. Got the movie?
Cass: *nods and plays Rambo on her computer*
Barbara: Uh, why isn't there any sound?
Cass: Volume button broke. Just read lips.
Jason: Kinda hard to do that with the brightness at zero. Did that stop working too?
Duke: Looks fine to me.
Jason: Shut up, Flashlight.
———————
[week 5]
Tim: I brought my entire Star Wars collection.
Bruce, dodging a space laser: Not the time.
Tim: Okay.
Bruce: *punches an alien robot*
Tim: How about now?
———————
[week 6]
Barbara: Sorry I got a cold, but at least we can still have movie night on Zoom. I torrented a copy of The Matrix.
Barbara: *shares her screen*
*movie plays*
Barbara: *leaves herself unmuted*
Barbara: *starts crinkling Sun Chips*
———————
[week 7]
Everyone: *crowd around Damian's phone watching My Neighbor Totoro*
Bette: Why is your phone so small?
Damian: I have tiny hands.
———————
[week 8]
Harper: Because we're watching Cars this week, I thought I could put together an all-immersive experience.
Bruce: BY LOCKING US IN A RUNAWAY SEMI-TRUCK?!?
———————
[week 9]
Duke: I called this company and since we're heroes, they're letting us use their electronic billboard for this week's movie at a huge discount. Kill Bill should be coming on right about...
*movie starts playing*
Jason: Not bad, Narrows.
*billboard switches to an ad*
———————
[week 10]
Carrie: Since Steamboat Willie is now public domain, I thought we could do something different tonight.
Carrie: *pulls out a flipbook*
———————
[week 11]
Everyone: *watching Love, Simon in a dark living room*
*lights flick on*
Apollo and Midnighter: *standing there in date night outfits*
Steph: Um, Cullen, who are these guys?
Cullen: *laughs nervously*
Cullen: Everyone, meet Apollo and Midnighter. They're kinda-sorta my gay uncles and we're kinda-sorta in their apartment and I kinda-sorta didn't expect them to come back early.
Midnighter: Remind me why we gave you a spare key?
———————
[week 12]
Kate: *sets up a projector and plays Glass Onion*
Bruce: Kate, this is a crime scene.
Kate: The fun part's already done, let Gordon do cleanup this time.
———————
[week 13]
Alfred: Back in my day, we did not rely on scrupulous use of technology. Which is why I propose watching a classic Sherlock Holmes tale on a classic instrument.
Alfred: *pulls out a zoetrope*
Steph: Anyone know what that is?
Dick: Not a clue.
———————
[week 14]
Luke: Nothing like a good ol' drive-in movie. Great idea, Helena.
Helena: I know, and the Godfather is perfect for this.
*Batmobile crashes through the screen*
Steph: Sorry we're late.
Duke: I'm still figuring out the PRINDL.
———————
[week 15]
*TV playing the Aristocats*
Bruce, trying to flirt: I like what you've done with the curtains.
Selina: Thanks, but it was Snowball's after-dinner surprise.
*TV blinks off*
Tim: Hey, what gives?
Selina: *takes a chewed-up cord out of a cat's mouth*
Selina, sighing: This is why I married rich.
———————
[week 16]
Luke: May I present the ultimate Snakes On A Plane drone show!
*phone rings*
Luke: Hello? ... Yes, this is he. ... Mhm. ... Yep. ... Okay.
Luke: Never mind, the FAA says I can't.
———————
[week 17]
Everyone: *watching Legally Blonde at Bette's place*
*dogs barking*
*sirens*
*loud music*
*car honk*
*neighbors shouting*
Bette: Sorry, we have thin walls.
Bruce, shrugging: Eh, still not as bad as HOA.
———————
[week 18]
Damian: Where is movie night this time, Father?
Barbara: My money's on another crime scene.
Bruce: Actually, I rented out the theater just for us and they're playing a special edition of The Mark of Zorro. Everyone got their snacks?
Duke: Popcorn, check.
Cass: Licorice, check.
Steph: M&Ms are obviously the right answer by the way.
Dick: I got a slushee.
Jason: I got the slushee machine.
Bruce: Alright then, take your seats. The movie's about to begin.
*movie plays*
*Rogues break in, make a mess, and leave*
Bruce:
Bruce:
Bruce: I miss my parents.
463 notes · View notes
l3viat8an · 3 months
Note
Ok we all know how much you love streamer Levi but what about an au or something with Streamer Mammon? 
I do love streamer!Levi <333 still so happy it’s canon now too!!!! But!!!! Streamer!Mammon sounds fun too- so plz enjoy some headcanons!!! cuz apparently I had a lot to say :) also it’s been so long since I’ve done hcs so these are all over the place- sorry jsjsjs
Listen Mammon only started streaming after he saw how much money Levi made streaming- manz could not believe people actually pay other people to play games???- weirdos.
He’s like really good at COD- idk why or how he just is-
Honestly whenever he plays games, he’s either the first or the last to die…..there’s just no in between. Mammon plays so aggressively, his plan either flops right out the gate or he wins the game.
He’ll play just about any game that’s popular or trending thinking it’ll get him good ratings (and it usually does-)
Makes a big deal out of ‘playing games for the first time ever!!’ on stream because his fans love watching him skip tutorials “who has time for that crap???” and fail the first time.
He calls his subs, his grimm and they call him pookie jkjk-
He’s really good at survival games and games that require a lot of precision timing. Even if Mammon acts like a goofball he can focus and it’s impressive!
He’s in this ‘war’ with Levi where they raid each other’s streams all the damn time which is really funny cuz they share a ton of fans, so it’s more like fans running back and forth.
When they’re not ‘at war’ Levi and Mammon actually play together a lot!! Subs love when they have devilcart tournaments or team up and speedrun some dungeon.
Mammon always clams he’s more popular then Levi and makes more money!!! But they’re pretty even all around. Their numbers are only a few thousand followers off and tips are almost the same.
He has tons, and I mean tons of sponsors / sponsorships. He’s really good at casual product placement, showing the label / name of what he’s drinking or snacking on, on stream and sponsors love that shit-
If you two are dating your relationship is very public. He loves to posts about you on all his social media and show you off!!! Your his and he makes sure all his fans know he’s taken <3
Always invites you to come on stream with him!!!
Or he’ll start streams like “Come watch me beat my (gf/bf) at (game name)!!!” and the stream almost always ends with you winning ;)
After you’ve beaten him a few times he switches to playing only sillier games with you, stuff like Minecraft, devilcart or generic domestic / cooking games.
Speaking of cooking games- he once played cooking mama on stream and had to rage quit because he kept messing up-
He’s always a blushing mess when you’re on camera, which is something his chat teases him about endlessly!!
Bonus points if you give him a little kiss on the cheek after he wins a game and his fans can watch him turn bright red~
438 notes · View notes
coffeeshades · 11 months
Text
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credits to the gif maker!
LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART III
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!!!
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"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?
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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."
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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. 
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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." 
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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.” 
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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.”  
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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."
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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.” 
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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.
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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)
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samkerrworshipper · 6 months
Text
found family | arsenal women x reader
no warnings just sickness, comfort and a little bit of angst
blurb: when r decides it’s a good idea to go out in the snow for the first time after training they suffer the consequences, and then suffer the consequences of trying to conceal their sickness
sorry if this draws on, wanted to give y’all something so this is from the drafts lol and idk how i feel about it
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Doing snow angels after training in nothing more than shirts and shorts was never going to be a good idea, but I’d done it anyway. Me, Katie, Caitlin, Alessia and Beth having snuck out without telling any of our other teammates to have a moment in the snow. It was some harmless fun that we were sure our coaches and captains wouldn’t approve of, so we’d snuck out of the recovery room without anybody taking notice and had some fun in the snow. We hadn’t been out in it for much longer than 20 minutes, just long enough to slip out and in. It was rare for there to be so much snow so early in the year, I had hardly been expecting it and it wasn’t the normal sludge that North London was renowned for, it was proper fluffy white snow, the stuff you see in hallmark movies. I was the only player on the team who had never seen real snow before, so when I’d pleaded with Katie to take me out in it, she could hardly say no to me.
Beth, Caitlin and Alessia had just been casualties. Katie had taken Lessi under her wing since her start at Arsenal, the two had very quickly become bonded and there wasn’t much you could do with Katie anymore without Alessia and Caitlin being her companions.
Beth and Viv had happened to overhear our conversation in recovery and Beth had pleaded with us to let her come, Viv just shook her head at us, clearly in disapproval of our decisions but also not bothering herself with trying to stop us, there wasn’t any point, she wouldn’t win.
So we’d somehow managed to sneak out of the recovery rooms and out onto the spare field, which was covered in a blanket of white snow. Almost immediately I’d thrown myself down into the powder, shivering slightly at the coldness but not really caring, it was an experience that felt so incredibly surreal that I was in complete ignorance over my senses.
The four other women just sat and watched as I rolled around in the snow, Katie and Beth shaking their heads at my antics. Alessia busied herself with getting in a snowball fight with Caitlin. It had stayed fairly tame until I’d thrown one at Katie’s head and then it had turned into a full on war, ending with Katie and I wrestling in the snow.
Our snow escapades had ended with Beth forcing me out of the snow and into a jacket, I was shivering all ready but I didn’t care, my heart felt mended in a way that was inexplicably perfect.
I’d been forced into a hot shower by Katie, her overbearing motherly tendencies also making Alessia and Caitlin join me. Beth had been the only one to not enter the snow so she’d slipped her way into the dinner room whilst us other girls had been busy warming our bodies back up. Caitlin and Alessia were fairly quick, but I took a little bit longer, my body still shivering even as I exited the shower to throw on some sweats.
Katie’s furrowed brow was enough to tell me that she was a little worried about the fact that I was still shivering and cold, but she didn’t vocalise her worries, instead opting to rush me and the other girls into the dinner room. Somehow our absence had gone unnoticed, something that I was shocked by because we were hardly the quiet crew of the group.
I’d slid into a seat across from Viv and beside Steph, my body still a quivering mess. Viv’s eyeroll was enough of an ‘I told you so’, the older dutch woman clearly disapproving of our decisions. I tucked into my dinner, pesto pasta with chicken and garlic bread. It didn’t take long for Steph, my fellow Matilda to notice my shivering body. My fingers struggling every once in a while to hold my fork still.
“Little bit cold, y/n/n?”
I smirked and chuckled at the light implication from Steph, trying my very hardest to not give away the intense chills that were wracking my body, I was sure they would fade eventually.
“Just not fully used to this London weather I suppose, had someone warned me it was going to be so cold I think I would have stayed in Perth.”
Steph nodded at me knowingly, before returning to her conversation she’d been having with Beth, leaving me face to face with Viv, who had worry weaved between her brows as she studied me. Beth and Viv had just been two of the people who had taken me under their wing since my arrival at the Arsenal. Viv especially, although she’d never admit it, had particularly gone out of her way to look after me. On top of the two captains, Leah and Kim who had practically adopted me as soon as I’d walked through the doors. Leah was harder on me then anyone else, considering she was also a mentor to me on the defensive side of the pitch, so when she’d taken me under her wing I’d been a little bit terrified. She was always on my ass, I was always the first person in trouble with her and the first person to be blamed for anything. I was also the youngest on the team, and my personality was loud and bubbly, something that didn’t assist in helping me keep my head down around the team.
It was one of the reasons Beth and I got on famously, the both of us always looking to cause a little bit of mayhem but most of all have fun, Katie normally getting caught up in our antics considering she was the team's designated prankster.
Right now though, I felt anything but bubbly, my head beginning to pound against my trembling form as I pushed the pasta around my bowl, no longer feeling the overwhelming hunger I’d left a few minutes ago.
It was the clambering of a teammate sitting down beside me that pulled me from my daze, dropping my fork on the bowl as I turned to see who was sitting next to me.
“Hey lover girl.”
Kyra’s hand found it’s way to my head, ruffling my hair, her hand retracting back quickly though as soon as she made contact with my scalp, her eyebrows furrowing into a similar expression to what Viv had given me a few minutes ago when I’d been caught out by her.
“Why’s your head so cold? Feels like you’ve just come out of the ice baths.”
Kyra’s voice was nothing but friendly, but with the mixture of my sudden headache and my annoyance over people telling me that I was cold I couldn’t help but give her a bitten back response.
“I’m fine, just leave me the fuck alone.”
Kyra visibly flinched back at my words and everyone around us went quiet fairly quickly, everyone sensing the sudden tension and confrontation occurring between me and my teammate. Kyra slid into the seat beside me, one of her hands falling to my thigh which I immediately flinched away from.
“Everything okay, sweetie?”
I moved myself away from Kyra, inching myself further towards Steph, my other national teammate who seemed as equally confused by my behaviour as Kyra was.
“Y/n, a word?”
It was the voice from the other end of the table that captured my attention, Leah standing from the table already, clearly having detected the awkwardness between Kyra and I.
I clambered my way from my seat, scuffing my feet against the carpeted floor of the dining room as I tagged along behind Leah, following her out of the room and out into the corridor. I flicked the hood of my jumper over my head, toying with the drawstring as Leah turned to face me as soon as we were out of earshot from the group.
“What was that about?”
Her facial expression was as stern as ever as she looked at me, I kept my eyes on my feet, my head fucking hurt and I was still shivering, it was less noticeable though as I stood, I kept my hands out of sight and tried my very hardest to keep my body still.
“She was pissing me off.”
I could hear Leah frowning from in front of me, I didn’t need to look at her face to sense it.
“Does her pissing you off make it okay to tell her to fuck off, because I would hardly say that she deserved that, what’s up? This whole attitude is hardly normal for you.”
I kept my eyes focused on my shoes, toying with a bit of fluff that was stuck on the carpet, edging it slowly across the material with my shoed foot.
“Nothing’s up, I’m fine.”
Leah’s arm grabbing for my sleeve covered hand hadn’t been what I was accepting, the action drawing my eyes up to meet her own.
“I won’t have this piss poor attitude, go home, get some sleep and be here with a fresh mind tomorrow morning, understood?”
I pulled my hand from Leah’s, not letting her hold on to mine long enough to feel the tremors coursing across my skin.
“Aye, Aye, captain.”
I rolled my eyes at Leah, fake saluting her as I walked back into the dining room, picking my keys and phone up from the table quickly before exiting the building, not leaving any room to ask any questions as I stormed out of the room.
I somehow made it back to my apartment without passing out at the wheel, a miracle if you asked me. I didn’t have the will to do anything besides fall straight into my bed, very quickly changing into a pair of flannel pyjamas and stacking a pile of blankets on top of my sheets before climbing into the bed and relaxing into the mix of blankets, the mixture of heat and darkness calming my symptoms just enough to lull me into a fever induced sleep.
I woke up multiple times during the night, vomiting, coughing, sweats, chills, it all. My sleep was restless and by the time my alarms were going off I felt worse than ever. I was supposed to be at training by 9, but I could hardly manage to get out of bed to get to the toilet, let alone even attempt to try and put my training gear on and run around on a football pitch for three hours. I let my phone snooze one last time before flicking a text to Jonas, telling him that I was feeling a little bit under the weather and was just going to take the day to recuperate, all though something in my gut told me that one day wouldn’t be enough, not with the croaky cough that was wracking my whole body and the fever that I knew I was running. It was winter in London, I’d probably just picked up a 48 hour bug.
Jonas replied fairly quickly, telling me that he hoped I felt better and that it was a good idea to take a rest day.
With that text I turned off all of my alarms and burrowed back into my blanket fort, the effort of even having to look at my phone and piece together a text being too much for my head. My whole body hurt, my chest and ribs hurting every single time I took a breath, let alone coughed. The chills from yesterday were yet to pass, my whole body feeling like I was still out lying in the snow, even though I knew in reality my whole body was overheating. That thought still didn’t stop me from piling more blankets on top of my body, settling back into my bed with a groan as a wave of nausea and pain washed over me.
I faded in and out of the day, similarly to as I had done at night, my fever induced state making even my conscious moments feel like a dream. I ignored the incessant sound of my phone buzzing on my bedside table, opting to ignore anybody or anything that was popping up on it, I had one job in North London, play football, and I’d alerted my coach so that was as far as my social correspondence needed to go, any teammates or friends who decided my life was their business didn’t matter to me right now, my body hurt to much to care.
Somewhere around 5 or 6 the incessant coughing came to be too much for my body and I found my body keeled over the toilet bowl, dry heaving as I coughed up the mucus and phlegm that was caught up in my lungs. It was a painful experience, my lungs burning with every single breath that left my body, the oxygen burning on its way in.
I dragged myself back to my bed once I was done, the sun just beginning to set and my body having the capacity to do nothing more than lie down in my bed and wait for darkness to come so I could go back to sleep, tomorrow was our day off, so at least I didn’t have to worry about explaining another absence to Jonas.
My sleep through the night was even worse than the previous day, probably credited to the lack of energy I had in my body. The pain in my chest worsening drastically and in the wee hours of the morning I dragged a blanket and pillow into my ensuite, coming to the realisation that I didn’t have the energy to walk back and forth from the bathroom every time I had to go to the bathroom, which was fairly frequent with the amount of shit I was coughing up. I contemplated calling a teammate or Sam, whose apartment was fairly close to mine and I trusted her enough to ask her to come over. I didn’t though, opting to fall asleep on my toilet seat instead of getting up to go fetch my phone.
I stayed like that for most of the night, I think, honestly somewhere along in the night it all blurred into one. Until I was awoken brutally at 8am by the sound of pounding on my apartment door. I ignored it, half not believing that the sound was real and that it was just the sound of my fucking skull pounding against my brain in my head, a reflection of how my head had felt for the past 24 hours.
The knocking only grew louder and more persistent though, until it finally ceased and not much longer than 30 seconds later I was face to face with my two arsenal captains, both of their faces pink and rosy from the London cold and slightly exasperated.
“Hey skippers.”
My voice was laced with delirium, the only thing keeping me conscious at that point.
“Hey Joey, how you feeling?”
Leah walked cautiously towards me, letting Kim do the talking whilst she approached me and pressed the back of her palm to my forehead, grimacing almost immediately as her hand made contact with my own skin. I leant into the contact, her hand a relief from the fluctuating temperature my body had been upholding.
“Fuck, she’s burning up.”
Leah’s accent was thicker than normal, her voice covered in a blanket of concern that I’d never heard before.
“I’ll get Katie and Viv to come up, they can help get her into the car, we’ll have to take her to A&E, it’s bloody impossible to get an appointment with a doctor at this time of year.”
I shook my head at Kim almost immediately, or shook it as much as I could with the headache I had.
“M’ fine, just a 48 hour bug.”
My voice made me sound so much smaller, like I was a six year old and it was doing absolutely nothing to get my point across, in contradiction probably making my argument far weaker.
“Viv told us about you playing in the snow. What were you thinking? Playing in the snow with no clothes on after training, different breed you aussies.”
Kim mused at me, smiling a little bit as she watched Leah hurry around my bathroom, searching around. I frowned guiltily, knowing that once I felt better, once this was all over I’d be on the receiving end of a rather lengthy lecture about not endangering myself, a lecture I was sure Beth and Katie would have already received, considering Viv had snitched on us.
“I’m fine, I feel fine.”
My words were followed up by a fit of coughs that had me leaning back over the bowl of the toilet coughing up more phlegm, hardly a convincing point. My cough was dry, from the lack of fluids I’d consumed and the lack of liquids that were left in my body from the vomiting. My throat completely raw from the continuous retching.
“Don’t sound fine, sweetheart.”
Kim’s words were paused by Leah exclaiming as she located my first aid kit, that the two of them had put in my apartment when I’d moved in, claiming I was far too clumsy to not have one. She pulled out a thermometer almost immediately.
“I’ll make you a deal sweetheart, if you are below 38 then we’ll stay here. Me and Leah will look after you, like we could have yesterday if you had called us, or anyone. If you are above 38 though then we have to go to the hospital, because we don’t want you getting seriously sick, I know it sucks but we have to keep you safe sweetie. Kerr would have my neck if I didn’t return her best defender back in perfect condition when the international break rolls around, understood?”
I frowned at Kim, her stern scottish accent leaving no room for argument. I opened my mouth up to Leah, letting her slip the piece of metal into my dry and inflamed mouth. Waiting patiently until it beeped and frowning almost as soon as she saw it.
“41.”
Fuck. That number even made me frown a little bit, because that was unsafely high and all of us knew it. It explained all of my symptoms, and the cloud that I’d been floating on for the last day, a fever induced high that was the cause of my incessant sweating and shakes.
Kim frowned down at me, I shrugged at her in defeat, both of us knowing what it meant.
“C’mon sweet, let's get you changed and in the car.”
I looked up at Leah, my body folding in defeat as she bent down to lift me from the floor. I immediately wrapped my arms around her, letting her carry me back into my bedroom. She made quick work of changing me out of my pyjamas into a plain grey pair of sweatpants and an arsenal hoodie, giving me a peck to the forehead once she was done getting me changed. Her lips, cold from the London air felt so good on my burning skin, relaxing the itching and searing sensation that had covered every surface of my skin.
“Kim?”
Kim had busied herself with collecting a bag of my belongings, chargers, electronics, a change of clothes, and my toiletries. I had pretty much gone limp in Leah’s arms, letting her brush through my hair and comb it into a plait at the back of my head. The vice captain whispering sweet nothings in my ear as I groaned and coughed, my body tired from the constant pain.
“Yes, Joey?”
She took a pause in her hunt for my things, turning to face me, one of her eyebrows quirked at me in questioning. .
“Do you think you could text Sammy for me, please, and maybe Macca, I don’t want them to worry about me.”
My voice was so quiet I wasn’t even sure she’d heard it. The worry was growing on me though, the realisation that I really wasn’t as well as I’d been telling myself and Sam would want to be the first person called. Kim gave me a little smile before nodding and getting back to her job, collecting the last of my things just as I heard my front door open again.
“Of course I can sweet, let’s just get you in the car and then we can text whoever you need, alright?”
I heard Katie and Viv making their way through my flat, eventually making it to the doorway of my room, poking their heads around the side of my bedroom door.
As soon as I caught sight of Viv I bursted into tears, no longer being able to hold in the emotions that I’d holed up for the better part of the past 24 hours.
She was quick to be at my side, not protesting whatsoever as I threw myself into her arms, soaking the shoulder of her jumper with my tears and snot immediately. I was a blubbering mess, murmuring a flurry of apologies and admissions into Viv’s collarbone, the guilt of my actions settling into my gut.
“Hey, liefje, it’s okay, take some deep breaths for us.”
I burrowed my head into Viv, the feeling of sickness washing back over my body and making me feel worse.
“We’ve got you kiddo, I know you feel icky, but we need to get you to the hospital, to get you some help, so you can feel a bit better.”
I groaned into Viv’s body, rolling my eyes as she snickered a little bit at my reaction.
“I know you don’t want to, but we’re all really worried about you and you need some help, you're burning up like crazy, so let us take you, please?”
Leah’s palms were rubbing circles into my back, relaxing the muscles that were so tense. Viv’s arm was wrapped tightly around my shoulder, like she was protecting me from the world.
“C’mon kid, Katie and I have the car downstairs, all warm for you.”
Viv’s offer was enough to have me sighing in defeat and pursing my lips. I nodded half heartedly, letting Leah pull me from Viv’s arms so she could stand up. Leah helped me to pull my ugg boots over my feet whilst Kim and Katie finished collecting my things. I tried valiantly to walk by myself, but only made it to my doorway before my legs were weakening below me and Leah had to catch me. She carried me bridal style to the car, squishing me into the backseat between her and Kim.
My head found its way into the nook of Kim’s neck, silent tears and snot making its way down my face as we drove slowly towards the hospital. Leah, with a tissue at hand, very discreetly wiped at my face when I needed it and kneaded my arm muscles with her hands, helping my trembling hands to relax just a little bit. Slowly as we continued to drive any energy that I had previously possessed started to fade.
Kim called Sam, at my insistence, Sam was worried as soon as she heard Kim’s voice and after the explanation practically begged Kim to let her speak to me, so I was put on the phone with Sam, even at my reluctance.
“Joey?”
“Yup.”
“Hey sweet, how you feeling?”
I gulped slightly, not wanting to make Sam worry but also not wanting to lie to my skipper.
“Shit, I’m fine though.”
I could hear Sam’s eye roll from the otherside of the phone.
“41 degree temperature doesn’t sound too fine to me, what were you thinking?”
“Just wanted to have some fun.”
Sam’s scoff from the other side of the phone was enough to tell me she was more than displeased with my actions, something that most of the people in the car seemed to share.
“Next time you want to have fun, can you do it with someone other than McCabe, I hardly think she’s a role model for you, considering both of your reckless personas.”
Somehow Katie managed to overhear Sam’s words, a look of complete offence washing over her face.
“I’ll have you know Kerr that she practically begged me.”
Leah shushed Katie with a glare, the guilty look on Katie’s face told me she’d already had to hear a mouthful from our captains, and she would be on the receiving end of another one if she didn’t shut her mouth.
“Mm, sounds like our girl, well I’m going to go collect Alanna, Macca and Caitie, who are all very concerned about your wellbeing and we’ll see you at the hospital, okay?”
“Mm kay, thank you Sammy.”
As soon as the phone call ended I passed my phone back to Kim, relaxing my body back against hers, the actions of the day taking a toll on my body and resulting in a dramatic drop in my energy levels.
When we did arrive at the hospital I was hardly coherent, back on a fever induced cloud that made me hardly conscious. Katie was tasked with carrying me into the ER, Leah not being able to carry me much further than a few feet with her recovering knee injury. When we made it into the ER I was immediately tended to and sent straight into a room. My body was immediately connected to a series of machines and wires.
I fought against the nurses, to the point where Leah had to actually climb into the bed with me to keep me calm, my delusional body unhappy with the cold hands and cords connecting with my body. The contact with Leah though had seemed to calm me enough though for the doctors to be able to do their jobs and connect me up to monitors and IV fluids that my body was in desperate need of. There was a lot of bustling happening around me, but I kept my eyes closed, feeling instantly better when some pain relief and medicine was administered to my body, making me sleepy enough to fade into a deep sleep.
When I woke up I was hit with a reminder of my throbbing headache, my whole body hurt. Chest, ribs, head, it all hurt. I struggled to open my eyes and when I did my headache was only worsened by the light flooding into my room through the gaps in my blinds. I was shocked by the sheer amount of people crowded in my room, a different room to the one I’d fallen asleep in. My eyes flashed across my body, taking in all of the wires that my body was connected to, wires, leads, IV cords, my body was covered in more wires than it was skin. I panicked almost immediately, reaching to pull at the cords but my hands were stopped almost immediately.
“Hey Joey.”
It was Kim’s eyes that caught my own, her deep Scottish accent getting my attention and taking it away from the crawling feeling across my skin that all of the wires were causing.
“W-What happened?”
My eyes were darting across the room, my brain trying to remember what course of events had lead to me being in this position. My eyes caught onto my teammates, who were piled on sofas and chairs in the room.
“You went out in the snow, do you remember that? Katie took you out and you got a chill from it, because your body was vulnerable with the cold you developed pneumonia, pretty serious, you had us all worried for a little bit. Leah and I came to your apartment, because you hadn’t shown up to training and we were all worried about you, and we found you and took you here.”
It was a lot of information to take in, I couldn’t do much more than nod my head at Kim, like a goldfish.
“M’ sorry for worrying you.”
Kim smiled at me, shaking her head.
“It’s okay Joey, all forgiven, we’ll talk about it another day, right now you need to focus on getting yourself better.”
I pursed my lips, eyeing Sam who was sitting at my bedside, looking me up and down. There was a lot of emotions on her face, her jaw was locked and I could see some disappointment and concern in her eyes, amongst other things.
“Sam-.”
“We’ll talk about it another day Joey, I’ve already laid into McCabe about not giving into you, I don’t think Williamson is going to be letting you out of her sight anytime soon. I just want to know why you didn’t call me, or anyone. Sweet, there are so many people around who care about you and you worried us all, had you called anyone when your symptoms had started to show, or even the previous morning this all could have been avoided.”
Sam’s voice was stern, the voice she used when she mad at one of her girls for getting in unnecessary trouble.
“Didn’t want to bother anybody.”
Sam stood up at my reply, taking two short steps to my bedside and looking at Kim.
“Nobody in this room would have felt bothered, you were sick y/n, seriously sick and had Kim or Leah not decided to come and check on you, you could be dead right now, or in the ICU. You are so lucky to have a group of people that genuinely care and love for you and it worries me that you aren’t utlising that, what did I promise your parents when you told them that you were going to be making the move to London?”
I bit down hard on my lip. Sam had always been like my second mom, or older sister, ever since I’d started playing with the Matildas, when I was 15. She’d been a major influence in my life, so when my parents had found out that I had plans to move to North London to play for Arsenal at 19 they were displeased to say the least, I was hardly 18 as well, still a baby. They’d made Sam promise a bunch of things to them, considering we were both in London together.
“That you wouldn’t let anything happen to me, and you’d keep me safe.”
Sam’s jaw locked even more than it previously had, her eyes were dark brown, stormy almost, I could feel the internal conflict she was going through just by looking at them.
“Exactly, so how do you think it makes me feel when you are endangering yourself? It makes me feel like I should be calling your parents and telling them that maybe this wasn’t the best decision, maybe you need another year or two at home before you can live by yourself out here.”
I shook my head at Sam, that was the last thing I wanted. After all, it had taken so much begging with my parents to get me out here in the first place, being sent back practically ensured they’d never let me come back out here.
“Sam, please, this is where I need to be.”
“I have no doubt in my mind that those words are true, on a playing level you should be here. But you continue to prove that you can’t be trusted to make decisions for yourself. Going out in the snow was crazy, not telling anyone you felt sick was crazy. You're not proving to me or your parents that this was a good idea.”
I could feel tears brimming up in the back of my eyes. It had taken a lot of effort to get my parents to let me be here, there was nothing they wanted less than to send their eighteen year old daughter to London, all by herself, playing in a senior women's team.
“Please, please let me stay. I can’t go home, if I go home then that’s the end for me, Perth won’t take me back after how I left. My parents have enough on their plate with six other kids, let alone having to deal with me, please, I need to stay. I’ll make better decisions, I promise, please just let me stay.”
I’d shot up in the bed, tugging the cords and blankets up with me. Sam sat herself down on the edge of my bed, looking at me eye to eye.
“I know you’re sorry, and I really want to believe that you can do this, there is nothing that I want more than for you to be here and proving how amazing you are, but your risking your own health Joey, and I toe the line there. What happens when you get injured and decide not to tell anybody, I know you and I know that you are never going to ask people for help and I can’t be around 24/7 here to look out for you, if I could I would. I can’t trust that you are going to look after yourself when I’m not here.”
I felt a series of big, fat, wet, warm tears drip down my cheek, I felt like shit and all of my dreams were being crushed.
“We’ll look after her, we’ll take her in if we have to. Nobody wants to see y/n/n going home because of this, we’ll look out for her, please don’t make her go home.”
It was Beth’s voice, from the other side of the room that caught my attention. There was a guilty expression across her face, Alessia, Katie, Caitlin and Beth all carrying the same similar guilty expression, my accomplices.
Sam turned to Beth, it was clear she was tossing up her options.
“Beth’s right, she should stay, she’s worked hard enough to stay and we can hardly afford losing any defenders right now. I’ll take her in, she can move into the spare room in my house, I run a tight ship, I’ll keep her under control.”
It was the voice of Leah that was both my saving grace and sent a chill of fear down my spine. Moving in with Leah didn’t exactly sound like my dream situation, I knew that Leah would hold me accountable for my shit, something I wasn’t necessarily ready to deal with. Sam had immense respect for the England captain though, often times she’d expressed to me how much she admired Leah for doing what she did at such a young age, she was stern though, she didn’t forget anything and nothing got past Leah.
“Okay, if she can move in with Williamson then she can stay, this is all stuff we can talk about when you are feeling better though, you need your rest joey, with all those meds running through your body god knows how tired you must be, hm?”
I squirmed a little bit under the covers, not wanting to give into Sam’s words but also not denying that she was right, I did feel tired. Sam’s hand found its way to my cheek, wiping away the tears I had shed and giving me a little smile, the smile she kept for these moments, the rough ones that warranted some kind of assurance that it was all going to be okay.
“Go to sleep Joey, we’ll figure it all out when you are feeling better, right now you need rest, so you can feel better.”
I relaxed back into the uncomfortable hospital pillows, that all of a sudden didn’t feel so uncomfortable to my body, which was slowly starting to fade into a deep cloud of sleep. Sam pressed a kiss to my hairline before sitting back down in her seat and watching me drift off to sleep. Maybe everything wasn’t perfect, maybe I still had things that I needed to learn but I did have one thing, and that was a family that I’d found in my teammates.
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phoenixyfriend · 8 months
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Hey have a fun AU I came up with the other day after reading a bunch of fics with related tropes
It's a raised Sith AU. Anakin was found by Sidious well before he was found by Qui-Gon. He was raised by the Sith, is a classically horrible monster stalking about TCW to be Vader (mask and all, just as an intimidation factor instead of life support) while Ventress and Grievous and Dooku do their own things in a different section of the war. He's got a Really Fucking Weird dynamic with Obi-Wan, mostly attempting to kill him etc.
At some point, Palpatine allows Anakin and Padme to meet. The romance that blooms is one that Sheev decides is useful to him, so he lets it happen.*
Padme gets pregnant. Sidious arranges for her death. Anakin loses his entire shit and tries to kill Sidious. Obi-Wan is off trying to save Padme, unaware of Anakin getting his remaining limbs cut off by his this-universe Master. (This is important, because Anakin does remember Obi-Wan trying to save Padme.)
So we have Anakin, who was raised Sith, and just lost the only things that have mattered to him since his mom died when he was a kid, and Palpatine has pushed him further into the Dark than he ever has. Anakin… knows more about the Sith Secrets in this universe.
Anakin finds a Sithly Time Machine. Maybe on Malachor. There's an owl? Whatever.
Anakin, someone who's been Vader for the vast majority of his life, wakes up at age nine. Maybe even younger, like six. His mother is already dead at Sidious's hands. He's already roommates with Maul. He's already being trained as a baby Sith.
Anakin, being a 20 year old war veteran, is much better at escaping than Sidious has planned for. He reprograms a medical droid to take out his slave chip, steals a ship, etc. All the stuff that Maul wasn't very good at, and Anakin was too young for, so Sidious didn't have the preventative measures in place for yet.
Anakin heads for the one place and person he thinks he can trust: Obi-Wan Kenobi.
(Obi-Wan is still a padawan. But this Baby Sith just declared him Adoptive Teen Dad, so.)
@lizasweetling (all indented bits from here will be hers):
Because Sith. Bad for mental health of the user and generally bad for their environs But also baby. And if hes dragging Maul around no doubt the dude is constantly himself confused why he is here Like yeah, Sidious sucked, and this 6-9yo is way powerful and knowledgeable on the dark side (?????) But why are we going to the Jedi? And not even trying to kill them apparently?????
Anakin is very much being affected by Baby Brain and Baby Endocrine System. He cries a lot more than he should.
I WASN'T THINKING OF HIM BRINGING MAUL BUT YEAH. THAT'S. THAT'S A POSSIBILITY.
Jedi Council trying to decide if this is more "Adult Sith got shrunk" or "child got evil man's memories." Vader wants to know why it even MATTERS. (He didn't actually plan on telling them, but he has very little self control right now.)
The first Good Act he does is tell them where to find Ventress and Ky. (In the originally timeline, he viewed Ventress as like. Cool older cousin.)
Vader's right, that distinction does not matter Aaaw, she deserves that, that's nice Maybe she will be like 20% less homocidally traumatized
Anakin is furious when Maul and Obi-Wan pick him up under one arm like a package. He is a GROWN MAN he is an ADULT he was a SITH LORD and about to be a FATHER, he is TOO OLD FOR THIS.
They point out that he is Baby.
😂 sorry lord of evil, you're too baby, have a nap and maybe your feel better. Assuming the crisis on Naboo is still happening, and as such the vote of no confidence is right now, it might be a great time to report Sidious as a Sith lord. Post-escape from Sidious, both he and Maul definitely will need a nap. It's that kinda place.
Oh, it's probably at least a year before. Anakin keeps trying to sneak off to kill the man himself, but the Jedi are more ready for his Sneaking than Mustafar was, so he keeps getting caught before he can reach the Senate.
At one point he tries to just CHARGE the place and you get Mace and Obi-Wan sprinting after him. The News captures videos of this very small child getting chased by an older Padawan and a Master and they are mostly yelling for him to PUT DOWN THE SABER.
(Sidious might see him but what's he going to do? Might cause too many problems for Sidious to be aware of Anakin's presence with the Jedi, though. Best not.)
It's probably more expensive on average to hire an assassin on a child, just in general But on a jedi youngling??? If he can even find someone to do that, it will be so very, ridiculously expensive And likely 70%+ upfront payments
Ahsoka definitely seeks him out. Toddler baby child. She adores him for reasons unclear to anyone and everyone.
!!! Baby has baby!! Vader's probably a little thrown by this. Been a while subjectively since someone just loved him. And not even for like, a reason. Baby Vader coerced into sitting obediently for nap by tired kiddo: [The council liked that]
The number of times that vader could only be convinced to nap by Obi-Wan grabbing him, caging him in his own lap, and forced to Sit Quietly until he just fell asleep like that...
He has things to do, he's not tired 😡😡😡💢 (He's 9. Distances are between 150 and 195% longer when measured with steps, he's hungry (subjectively) all the time, and has only middling coordination He so is too tired)
Anakin doesn't know Qui-Gon at all but he keeps getting stuffed into the man's top because he's just. Small enough to fit.
Like the bomb boobs gif, but it's a small child.
the indignity
You just. You can't let him get too self-important.
Vader is Disgusted every time the pediatric healers try to talk down to him like they do to other 6yos.
The difference between this and other "Vader goes back in time to the Jedi" AUs (like Force of Many Sights) is that this Vader has never been a Jedi, and doesn't know anything about them except how they fight when he's trying to kill their friends.
Also Maul's there.
Because even he has a hard time taking himself seriously when hes so easy to manhandle Rest of the time; I am fear, I am death personified As luggage child: I am so small. The tiniest. I crave violence He's probably very annoyed they keep taking away his saber And hey! Obi gets practice not losing his! Woooo!
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Something something Anakin clinging to Maul's back (piggy back ride) and chewing on his head or something stupid like that. Perfect height for head biting.
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You know, the classic anime head bite
Maul probably has been nominally talked into this because this 9yo is a powerful darksider But he is also the world's most annoying tiny kid Maul would've thought his phenotype would make him immune to this ridiculousness He was wrong At least the teeth are a bit less pointy than his other little brothers'? Appreciating the little things
tfw your unwanted little brother drags you to what you think is a cult but actually they're way less culty than your last two places so you just stick around to keep an eye on the little shit
Anyway. ObiMaul for this one.
They're peers They're tired They just want to sit down and not have to chase this weird little murder child They have a lot in common 😊
They are all just a little bit stupid, I love them.
Qui-Gon is a Cool Mom (throws condoms at them and books it).
Yeah, that's about as much involvement as would be appreciated They probably did a lot of sparring before the tension broke Which did not relieve said tension, generally made it worse (Competence, athleticism, sweat-) Vader is confused, but probably doesn't mind He's probably glad they're distracting each other from stopping assassinating a certain someone (Which- that is 9yo hubris. He would need help to do that)
I still can't decide where on 6yo-9yo he falls but somewhere in there
Babies means easier hiding in shirt, teenie Ahsoka, and longer for him to convince the Jedi council to do a Sith hunt before the Naboo situation
Also longer for Maul and Obi-Wan to faff about being all Tension
* Vaguely inspired by the backstory of Rulebreaker/Wildheart, which is great but significantly more of a romance fic than this.
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red-write-hand · 2 months
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"You're killing people?" "No, I'm killing boys." || thomas shelby x assassin!reader
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pairing -> thomas shelby x assasssin!fem!reader
word count -> 2.5k (this took me two weeks)
warnings -> i was watching jennifer's body while i was writing the beginning and i think it accidentally started to seep into my writing, bisexuality??, hella tension, maybe some ooc tommy???, assassin stuff, a lot of dirty thoughts (i mean a lot)
notes -> yeah jennifer's body was a reeeally big influence of this. i had a good idea but this could have died, sorry yall!! also no beta read, we die like peaky fookin' blinders
REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE LITERALLY SO HELPFUL Y'ALL HAVE NO IDEA
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An assassin is defined as someone who is paid to kill someone. In this business, you need to pay a handsome price to kill someone as important as Thomas Shelby. It wouldn’t be easy but no one saw a beautiful woman as someone who could kill you, but then again, that was usually the same people who called her sweetheart when passing her in the street. The very same people who would never be able to harass another woman after her. Y/n cut down any man that would hinder her fellow woman. Women too, if she viewed them as a threat. She was completely innocuous. She looked like every washerwoman in Birmingham. No one ever thought she was the one who was slowly taking out Peaky Blinders one by one. 
No one saw her go in and no one saw her leave. It was easy for her. Men were becoming easier and easier for her to manipulate. Really, this is truly why she was bisexual. Women were truly better but sometimes she would find that one man who saw her. Saw her for what she was. A soldier who didn't know how to stop what she was doing. She had gotten so good at it that every time that she wanted to stop, another high paying aristocrat or politician would waltz in and give her a stack of cash to do away with their competition and she knew that her rent was due so just had to keep going. She was also supporting her family, all the family she had left after the war. She had grown up with brothers and most had gone to war and come back changed. There was nothing she could do about it. She just had to keep her head held up high and persevere, and persevere she did. She began to get very good at petty crimes, and more importantly getting away with them. Another thing she got good at was blending into the background. Become a nobody. Someone that people could easily see through. An excellent cover for an assassin.
There was another part of her that wanted recognition. Y/N wanted that fame and fortune. Nothing that she could have. Women had to work twice as hard in this world. Especially in the business of murder. Then again, those feminist rallies kept yelling about fucking over the patriarchy, why not instead, poison the patriarchy? Slowly? Maybe in the night? Maybe a little murder could do the feminist cause some good. She seemed to know every woman in this tiny town. She really didn’t but it was quite fun to see the men worry that all the pretty women they felt up would disappear. No one knew she existed and everyone knew her name. She barely knew how everyone knew her name. Maybe she did have a bit of that fame and fortune business. She just hoped that it would lead to women feeling a little safer to walk the streets, knowing that they had a silent protector who was not against a little homicide in the name of female comradery. It always feels a little warmer when you know you have a friend protecting you with a knife in the back of her skirt. It was never outright said but it was only men that saw through her. Women knew she was there. This is why she never took jobs that meant hurting or killing women. If it was a husband, she would leave the money for the widow. She was not going to be an asshole about it. No matter what, she would make sure that no woman would go without help. 
She had no qualms about killing men. As much as she loved men, especially tall, dark, and handsome men, they can be a real pain to deal with sometimes. She tried to stay civil but really, how can straight women deal with them all the time? How do they not realize that the best part about married men are their wives?! And god, did the Shelby boys have the best pick of the women! God the women that hung around the Shelby betting shop were proper fit. Or maybe that’s just what drunk men said about them. 
Tonight was special. It would be the death date of Thomas Shelby. The people who had paid her to poison him and make it look like a suicide. The only thing was that he was at a gala. 
Great. 
Using some of her extra earnings and her pay from doing laundry, she bought herself a tight fitting dress and some sparkling jewelry. She stood in front of her mirror and surveyed her body. She wasn’t well endowed at all, really she was the most average looking woman in the country, but not tonight. Tonight she would be the prettiest girl in the room. Tonight she would kill two birds with one stone. She would wreck Thomas Shelby’s public image and she would actually kill the devil. Her. She would be the one to kill the Devil of Small Heath. Oh what joy it would be to sit back and watch the Peaky Blinders scuttle around like sewer rats after their god and king died. They would never know who killed him, well, they would think they knew. She would make it look like a suicide but really, that was easy to stage. She would cry along with everyone else and wipe her tears with the cash she would receive after this job was done.
Stepping out of the car, making sure her dress wasn’t flashing anyone, she made her way up the stairs to the Shelby charity gala. Her dress was short and her faux fur shawl was draped around her shoulders precisely so that she would get all the right looks. She had studied men for too long without knowing what they looked for. Sauntering onto the floor, looking for the guest of honor, her trained ears could pick up the hushed chatter. Everyone here thought she was a prostitute. Figures. A woman dresses the way she wants and people call her a whore. Maybe it's for the better. It would ruin his reputation even more. Be here and be seen talking with a woman who people gossiped was a prostitute? Perfection. She hadn’t even planned this bit.
Finding him was the easy part. Talking was harder. He was surrounded by donors and grifters trying to weedle their way into his pocket. He just hadn’t noticed her yet. She perched herself on the edge of a stool at the bar and ordered what she usually liked to drink on the job. A daiquiri. Easy and plain. Continuing to accentuate her inconsequentiality. She wrapped her crimson covered lips around the rim slowly, watching him circle the room and finally alighting his eyes on her. She turned on her bedroom eyes and ripped more of her drink as she crossed her legs. She was trying to go for ‘come over and see if I’ll take a chance on you’ but really, it was more like ‘come over here and I’ll ruin you before you can finish whatever drink you order to look more casual’. This had worked plenty of times before so she was fairly sure it would work on him. At his core, Thomas Shelby was still a man. A man with a cock. A cock that needed a lot more than a regular man, or so Lizzie Stark told her. She loved Lizzie. Whenever Thomas was done with her, Y/N would always offer her a place to stay and open arms for her to settle in. Stroking through her hair was somehow calming to both of them at the same time.
The room seemed to heat up as he got closer. It really was a toss up if he would guess what she was really here for. Tensing up, she could feel him behind her. Shifting her hair so that it cascaded down her shoulder wasn’t a huge issue but it did wonders for her confidence. Her breath got shallower but gathering all of her courage, her foot spun her barstool to face the looming figure of Thomas Shelby.
“What are you ‘ere for, eh?” The head Shelby took a drag from his cigarette. Giving Y/n a once over, he chuckled. She obviously wasn’t a prostitute but really, he wanted to see what her game was. He was not about to impede a fellow business person while they are trying to do business. She tried to compose herself, tried to keep herself from falling into the endless pools that were his eyes. Endless pools that would ultimately drag her down and bring her to ruin before she could drive her knife into his chest and put an end to the whole ordeal. She could do it right now. She could see the blood seep out of him and see that look of pain that she so dearly needed to see from him. That look of pain that would be payment for all the harm he and his family had caused. She pondered whether or not she should actually fuck him here and now or fake wanting to and kill him just to get it over with. All this nasty business, gross man blood getting on this amazing dress. 
“Here on business Mr. Shelby. Lizzie Stark gives her regards.” She would apologize to Lizzie later. Dear, dear Lizzie. Hopefully she would forgive Y/n for this later. She swung her legs around and walked closer to him, dragging a single hand down his chest. The easiest part of her job was having sex. She constantly thought about herself as a female protagonist written by a man made the process a little easier. Molding herself to the wants of the man. 
She just wanted to hide away from the world but right now she was on the clock. Laying the charm on heavy and batting her eyelashes. His heart was beating faster and faster. This was getting easier and easier. Now she was divided. It was taking too long. The longer it took, the more attached she got. This is one target she didn't want to get attached to.
“Just because you look fuckin’ gorgeous, doesn’t mean you can just-” She gently plucked the cigarette from his pink lips and took a drag herself. Under her other hand, his pulse raced faster. She beamed at him. This time, she was actually feeling some semblance of happiness. Taking a small step forward, she got as close as she could so the smoke, ebbing and flowing from the smoldering edge of the cigarette, would be the barrier between them. She felt a strong hand at her waist, the hand away from the crowd, so the interaction would still look inconspicuous. 
The cigarette hung her from her dark painted lips. They stood an inch away from each other. Each one wanted the other to move first. In his mind, he dreamed of slick thighs, breathy moans, painted breasts, fucked-out expressions, and those perfect gummy walls hugging his cock so well as she screamed in pleasure. In her mind, she dreamed of a perfectly executed mission…and nothing else. Definitely not his perfect jaw and how strong his hands felt at her waist. Definitely the way he was looking at her. Well, at least that meant she was doing what she did best correctly, but still…there was some part of her that had that morbid curiosity. Lizzie had told her what Tommy was like. Rough but loving. Rough enough to satiate himself but since he had taken all this effort to bring you here, he would not snap you in half. Maybe she could do that for one night. That would make a good story. ‘I spent the night with Thomas Shelby and survived’. Definitely something Lizzie would find funny.
Her mind just kept going back and forth in the span of a minute. Does she give in to her curiosity and see what the Devil of Small Heath would do to her or does she put on even more of a show just to ruin his reputation and then pull him outside to finish him off quietly. ‘Pun very much not intended.’ Truly, this was the worst situation to be punny. 
To try to keep her mind on the man in front of her, her eyes just kept alighting on his sturdy looking chest. There was something strangely mysterious about what lay under that perfectly pressed tux. Just to be able to slowly pull every layer off of him was tantalizing. Maybe she might. 
All of this took place in two minutes. They had gotten impossibly closer. His hands had started to slide down, slowly and even slower as she played with the edge of his tie. Oh how much fun it would be to pull him by his impeccable tie, just for him to land on top of her. This could be very fun.
His thoughts were undressing her, meticulously feeling every curve and every fold, kneading anywhere he could elicit a reaction, kissing, biting, anything she wanted. Feeling her under him. Hearing all those pretty noises as he devoured her completely. He knew that all she wanted to do was destroy his reputation but really? What’s so bad about having a little bit of fun? No one could comment because no one messed with the King. 
No one.
They were forcibly shoved together at the hip. His grip was harsh and she was grinning. Sliding the cigarette behind her ear, she gently, temptingly, tantalizingly brushed her plump lips against the edge of his jaw, leaving trace amounts of her lipstick and perfume with it. Giving him one more flash of her sultry eyes and ghosting her hand against his face, ever so delicately holding his jaw, she grabbed her clutch and escaped expertly from his grasp. But not slipping her number into his jacket pocket so he knew where to find her. This was a different kind of mission now. A longer game. A game where she would move up the ranks. Infiltrating the Shelby operation at every level. Finding out their secrets. Knowing what shouldn't be known. She’d make a pretty pound for what she would know. 
Of course, there was that added bonus. Now she had her snares in the most powerful man in Birmingham. Now she could manipulate him as she liked. She would make him fall for her completely. Make him promise her the world. Make him believe that she was what she told him. See her as she wanted him to see her. Control his judgment if someone decided to try to sow seeds of doubt into her darling. Making sure that when she was finally ready to stick the gilded knife in his back, that he would smile and tell her that he loved her one last time. Till next time Mr. Shelby, until next time.
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thank you for reading (and if you reblogged/commented, double thanks) !!
@birminghamshelbyboys @pinguwrites @forgottenpeakywriter @hanawrites404 @runnning-outof-time @no-fooking-fighting @no-1peakyfan @hllywdwhre @floralcyanide @cilldistilled @stridingseer @darlingsfandom @mrkdvidal1989 @lunavelha @aphroditeslover11 @henrywintersdearestgirl @thatwitchybitch420 @classicsandfantasy @marilynmonroefanfics @ninja-potato-shelby-solomons @scorpinelle @chellyrps @maxwell-demon @atrwriting @cassius-casim @your-nanas-house @sherwoodknights @munstysmind
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khorren · 4 months
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Amazing savings on the original Guild Wars on steam right now for the Autumn Steam Sale. If you've ever wanted to try out the original and gone ".... nah" at the 40 bucks price tag then this is the time. Sales don't come around often for this game, and especially not one this large. GW1 is a great game on its own merit, but for GW2 people, if you link your accounts you can earn skins and titles and achievement points from doing stuff in GW1! Details on what you can earn is here: https://wiki.guildwars2.com/wiki/Eye_of_the_North_(instance)
A few things I should point out:
If you play GW2 through steam you cannot link a GW1 account to your steam gw2 account, sorry. You'll still have a great game to play! But can't earn rewards to move over.
No such thing as a "GW1 steam account" it's just.... part of your anet account. So don't worry about the above in reverse
Eye of the north is needed for the HoM rewards and you need a base game to add eye of the north to, so you will need to own the Trilogy, or a stand-alone campaign (Prophecies, Factions, or Nightfall). Considering the trilogy is this cheap, no point going after just one campaign.
For the love of Dwayna, play the game for the game first of all, then worry about Hall of Monuments rewards later.
This is a very very very very different game to GW2 or any typical MMO. (GW1 is not an MMO anyway, it's a COORPG, Co-operative online roleplaying game). It's old, it shows its age. You can't jump, don't worry, you'll get over it.
I highly recommend starting a character in each of the campaigns so you can see the starting story as it were, then when you get to the point where you can travel to the other lands you'll have some idea which of those 3 characters you want to play on.
You will actually have to play the game to get gw2 rewards. I know this sounds silly for me to say, but I've seen my fair share of people buy the game and go "how do I get my stuff. what, I have to *play* this?"
Be patient with it, it's old and crinkly in parts, but it's a great game. <3 And seeing all the original stuff and going "I've been there in the future!" is always fun.
GW1 has a wiki just as great as the GW2 wiki. A lot of passionate people put time in it and like the gw2 wiki it's a massive community labour of love.
I'm always down to talk about all aspects of GW1 (and gw2 ofc) so if you have questions about anything, please hit me up. GW1 is where I got the nickname "Faepedia" after all :D
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aezuria · 13 days
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okay now we need those Percy hcs immediately
𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 (𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬)
"there's something about her hand holding mine, it's a feeling that's fine and i just gotta say 'hey!'" —edison lighthouse
note: OKAY ANON GOT TO WORK AS SOON I SAW THIS 🫡 idk what happened im sorry this is kinda ass 😔😔
content: percy jackson x reader; dating hcs
warnings: cursing
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this man is a menace
he's head over heels for you but also almost drowned you
he claims the wave "wasn't supposed to be that big" SIR??
that was like typhoon level shit right there
he just wanted to put you under a littleee bit so he could be your knight in shining armor and save you 🥺🥺
spoiler: you ended up saving yourself
(it's okay he made it up with lots of cuddles and kisses)
you were wading into the water, eager to join percy in the deep end, when suddenly, an unnatural wave crashes into your back and sends you falling into the deep end
you gasp too late and take a mouthful of salty seawater
with your arms flailing in the water, you swam to the surface and gulped for air
you wiped at your face, opening your eyes to see percy near you, but at a distance as if he was afraid of invoking your wrath
you narrowed your eyes at him, his skittish behavior obviously telling you that he was the culprit
"JACKSON!" you swam towards him at a frighteningly quick pace, leaving the poor boy scrambling away and screaming apologies
"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A JOKE!"
anyway
he swings your hands while you walk
its so silly and he loves it
also a fan of running while your hands are interlocked
the first time was purely out of instinct, him grabbing your hand as a monster crashed behind you guys (because when can demigods catch a break?) and he started sprinting, dragging you along
likes skipping??? he's so weird
says it conserves energy and it's fun (he's not wrong but he forgot to mention the downside of looking like a dumbass)
imagine him skipping into battle
or better yet: "greeks! let's, um, fight stuff!" and they all skip menacingly
that was kinda off topic my bad
if you wear a ponytail he loves spinning it around like a helicopter
makes the little noises too
you feel a tug on your hair, already knowing who it is
"percy? what the hell are you doing?"
"helicopter."
back to almost drowning you, you got back at him by draining all the water in his cabin
to this day, he still doesn't know how you did it
all he knows is that after the sink wouldn't turn on, he knew exactly who it was
he was a man on a MISSION as he ran across the whole camp to catch you
"Y/N!"
"IT WAS THE STOLLS!"
"YOU FILTHY LIAR!"
your relationship is full of prank wars and all that good stuff
once it's over you settle down and cuddle on the shore
he laid out a picnic blanket for the two of you and you talked for hoursss into the night
the two of you were sleepy, heads resting on each other as a gentle breeze swept the salty air into your faces
percy was rambling on and on about you, but you were already half-asleep
"you're just so amazing and wonderful and i'm so grateful for you, you know? you're so fun to be with, and you're so beautiful.. y/n?" he looked down at you after your lack of response, finding your pretty eyes shut
he smiled down at you and pressed a kiss to your forehead
"goodnight."
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aonungyoufuck · 1 year
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Runaway
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Part: Two
Pairing: Ao’nung X Sully Fem!reader
Synopsis : You had Saved Neteyam’s life. Norm and Max Extracting the Bullet but Healing the way Ronal sought to. Being kept at her side to make sure as she put it ‘your recklessness doesn’t kill you’. This leaves you to bond not only with Tsireya a bit more. But Ao’nung as well. Much to Ronal’s dismay
“Breathe how you were taught. It will help ease the pain.” Ronal’s stern voice spoke as she bandaged you up. 
As much as she wanted to hate you and your family for putting not only her people But her children in the dead center of your family’s war. She couldn’t be more thankful that no lives were lost. Not yet if she had a say in it at least. 
“Now lay down Gently. You will stay here till i see you are better”
You nodded. Gulping down a groan as you could barely breathe without any pain. 
“Your Family is allowed to see you. But do not move” Ronal ordered as she stepped outside the Marui that was not far from her own. As your luck would have it. You were the only one severely injured. Which left you lonely but also relieved no one got to see you making faces. 
“My child” Neytiri spoke as she approached you. Gently caressing your face in a form of comfort. 
“Y/n How do you feel?” your father asked you. You barely could move but made an effort to turn to look at him.
“Like death itself”
Small laughter erupted and all you could do was smile. 
“Neteyam, How do you find yourself” you asked. 
“Well sister. Thank you for saving me”
You smiled nodding a bit as you looked up ahead. Your rather not suffer Ronal’s wrath if you move too much. 
“I am to stay here. Sorry i cant be with you all”
“It is alright my child. When our duties do not interfere we will come to talk with you” your mother spoke as you enjoyed her gently grazes on your forehead.
As the oldest daughter you suppose you could enjoy taking some time away from your siblings tho at the expense of some pain “Lo’ak, Kiri, Tuk! Please do not cause more Trouble to Neteyam while i am out of commission”
You didnt need to look to know the offended gasp Lo’ak was sure to wear. “I do not cause trouble”
“Oh Eywa take me now for that is the fattest lie anyone’s ever told” You commented back sarcastically. Making Neteyam laugh and Tuk giggle. 
“But please. Keep yourself safe for i am not there to beat some sense into you guys” you said a yawn escaping your lips as you grew tired after today’s events. 
“Dont Worry. I’ll be there to keep an eye on them” Spider commented. You had almost forgotten that he had joined in again. 
“Great mother have mercy on this clan” Its not that you didn’t trust Spider to keep an eye on them. The only problem was Spider wasn’t one to back down if it looked ‘fun’
“It looks like your tired. Come on now kids lets head out and let your sister rest. Its been a long day already” Jake said as he hurdled the kids out. Your mother stayed, kissing your head as she headed out as well. 
You stayed there. Listening to the waves crash below you and all around you as you sighed. No matter how tired you were. You couldn’t find sleep. Maybe it was the pain? The quietness that was the lack of your family? Perhaps all that happened today. You did not know why. 
“I see you are awake. Much better as mother brings me food to give you” 
Turning but regretting it immediately you saw who it was. Ao’nung. Not that you have gotten terribly close. But now his face didn't initiate some sort of anger like it use to. “Oh. I would have thought only Ronal and Tsireya would come by.”
“Are you unhappy it is me?”
“Not particularly but you know what i mean”
“I know its just fun that you dont have enough bite as before”
You couldn’t really watch but you heard him set stuff aside as he sat beside you and began to feed you. Perhaps if you had witnessed this before or known before you would have rather died. But now you appreciated the gesture. 
“Tsireya will come by later to reapply some of the paste and change your wraps”
You nodded as you finished your meal. 
“You know. Now that im here i cant really deny but i am glad you are well and alive”
“Really now?”
“Is that hard to believe?”
“Not really” you spoke turning to look at him. This time the pain came from the stiffness in your neck from laying down for so long. “We may not be the best of friends but im Glad all of you are safe too you know?”
“You are strange as you are reckless you know?”
“Would you rather i have died?”
“What? No!”
You smiled.  Extending you hand to him for him to take. And reluctantly he did. All you did was gently rub his hand with your thumb. This sight would have made him hiss in anger before. His normal hand against your ‘freak’ one. But it was comforting knowing you were warm and alive and not dead. Like how you felt before. 
“If it were any of you I would also do this, you know? Not Just my family”
“But why?”
“Well i cant speak for you or for anyone really. But when you tend to know the value of a life that is not yours. You do some crazy stuff”
“Do you not value your life?”
“I do. I am thankful i'm alive right now. But I value all your lives a lot too. You are the Future of this Clan along side your sister if not you. I am without a home, remember?”
“Wow you really are strange”
“Are you saying if it was Tsireya you wouldn’t take the fall for her?”
He was quiet. For he didnt need to answer because you already knew. 
“Being the oldest makes you think the least bit about yourself eh?”
“Shut up you Skxawng”
You smiled. Yawning as you finally felt sleep welcoming you. “If i pass in my sleep. Please do not make fun at anyone else who seeks Uturu. Tho i know you made plenty progress already”
You didn't get to see his face fall. The thought of you passing was hard enough on your family he couldn’t really place why. But he feels like he’d mourn a lot as well. 
Watching you sleep he stayed there. Watching your Chest rise and fall. Perhaps he grew paranoid? Perhaps it was the drilling that he was to ‘protect all he can in the clan’ that his father made sure he knew. But he stayed there. Still holding your hand as he listened to you sleep. 
Had Tsireya not come by at night to change your paste and wounds. You wouldn’t have believed that Ao’nung sat there asleep holding your hand. 
And you may have calmed your quickened heart. 
“It seems the Wounds will take much longer to heal. But its made progress during the night”
You nodded as you listened to Ronal speak as she inspected you. “Understandable. Na’vi bodies or humans are built to take a bullet to the chest” you reasoned as you lifted your arm for her to wrap better. “However, I am feeling much better. Thank you”
“You still cannot move too much alright? I'm Afraid a nerve May have been scrapped as your arm is pretty stiff” 
You could only nod. Taking in a breather as you lowered your arm. “I thank you Tsahik. Tho i ask you how is My family”
“Out doing their Assigned jobs. Even that. Human is helping with a hunt right now”
You smiled nodding to yourself in reassurance. Flicking your fingers as you watched her go. Perhaps one day you can talk more comfortably. But you knew how stressful it was. She was to prepare for a child soon. And here you were taking up time. 
So in the silence of the home you stood and thought. Perhaps you could learn a thing or two, if she allowed it. All to help her of course make a fast delivery. Perhaps you were also just making some excuse to stay a little longer. You didn’t know. 
Time moved painfully slow and all you could really do was rebraid your hair. You silently cursing for the thick amount of hair that had managed to grow in such a small state.
You turned a little to look at the small sheer veil of a ‘door’ being moved. Tsireya greeting you and you greeting her back. 
“I see you can move more than yesterday” she says with a smile. Placing down a bowl of fruit” 
“Ah yes. Still sore. Kinda hard to rebraid my hair with just one hand”
“Would you like me to help you?”
“If you do not mind”
And without much word. Tsireya nodded, stepping behind you. And began to work with what your last hair style was. 
“Actually just braid the ends together please? I feel like i cant stand the pressure of them all in braids”
“Thats perfectly reasonable” 
You smiled feeling the hair loosen and give your head a rest. 
“You know it was kinda of sweet that My brother stayed by your side”
You could only roll your eyes. “ i still cant believe it” 
“But you better believe it. If i hadnt have to wake you You wouldn’t have believed my word” 
“Oh Eywa, I know. But its odd as to why he would stay. I mean we aren’t particularly great friends. Or really friends to begin with. I spend most my time here with you or Roxto at the very least”
“I do know. I was there for most of it” Tsireya spoke, finishing up the ends gently rubbing your hair with an oil that would help protect against the sea. “But Brother isnt at all against you guys now. Im sure now of all you guys can become friends”
‘Perhaps even more’ you silently hoped as you could only lay back down. “Perhaps in this time we can. And perhaps not.”
Tsireya smiled. Scooting the bowl closer to you. “Well I’ll leave this here for when you are hungry. Ao’nung will come by later with some more food”
You bid her goodbye. Listening to the waves. The calming of Eywa all around you. It made you thankful. Thankful to be alive at this very moment.
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dappervoided · 3 months
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Docs vacation to Quesadilla Island!
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So I watched Docm77 last Hermitcraft season 9 episode today and RAN to make this.
More so on the topic!
He needed to take a break and get his creative juices flowing? What's a better break (nightmare) than to come enjoy the island for a short while!
I've been spinning around the idea of Qsmp and Hermitcraft crossover since the start of Qsmp. There's so many ideas in my brain about this topic even though it'll never actually happen! I'm so sorry, but some things are bound to get out of my daydreams and materialize into doodles!
I think Doc would LOVE the eggs! Not to mention all the cute creatures they'd show him! He'd get attached instantly, they're too adorable!
I could only fit 3 here without making it too busy, but I wanna expand on what I could see the interactions being. Massive ramblings, often grammatically incorrect ahead:
Sunny - now we all know she's a material princess, they'd love Docs bedtime stories about the diamond pillar wars and his incredible contraptions made of diamond in the Perimeter and all the riches he had. Now Tubbo not only has Pierre to watch out for, but Doc also, cause Sunny would beg him to make stuff out of diamonds to show off!
Empanada - she'd clock in instantly that Doc is a German and would try speaking to him in German every moment she got. Now she has both her mom Niki and Doc to talk in her language to! It's not much of an expansion, but she appreciates it a lot! They'd have many delightful conversations and Doc is always happy to have her build little things together. They learn from each other!
Ramon - besides finally having another redstone genius with an entire Hivemind on the server, Ramon would be interested in how Doc works - both in a cyborg way and in the way he creates mind-blowing, game breaking contraptions. If they're not destroying the server together for fun, they're not making the most of their time! Jk, but it do be nice when both of them get to hang out and show each other what they discovered that's scuffed on the server.
Some eggs that aren't drawn:
Chayanne - finally! Another farmer came around! Chayanne would show off his impressive potato farm and cooking skills to Doc, who will always be amazed at the kids dedication! Doc can finally have his tomato farm in a Minecraft world now, since the mods allow it! It is too free for everyone to use
Tallulah - If she would show Doc the incredible builds she made and her and her papas place, he would be moved to tears! Everything is made with such love and incredible amounts of effort and thought! From her farm of all possible plants, to her garden and to El Cielo De Las Tortugas. Such incredible places to visit and appreciate! And Tallulahs amazing way of storytelling would only serve to amplify those feelings
Dapper - now besides trying cage trap Doc 1000x times, Dapper would definitely show off everything he got once he discovers that Doc is deeply amused and surprised by all the non vanilla things! They would invite Doc to their base to show everything and I mean EVERYTHING there is for show. It's definitely too much, but Doc is very impressed by her and would praise how much work she puts in! Dapper do be the definition of GRIND!
Leo - Leo and her dads made so many incredible builds, Doc would be amazed at how much they did in such a short time! Besides that Leo herself is an incredibly, theatrically even, good at body language and expression! He'd die of cuteness and laughter like all of us already do!
Pomme - we all know that Pomme has so many talents! From being a little musician, to an incredible warrior, to a thought out builder and a spectacularly emotional writer. There's a lot Doc will have to slowly discover about Pomme! And each time the scale and depths of things will get more and more impressive, because the share amounts of time and effort she puts into her creations, passions and loved ones is massive!
Pepito - this kid! Pepito is such an incredible character to be around! Pepito is so dedicated to whatever Pepito does, especially if it's with friends! Whenever Pepito has fun, it always radiates outwards in many different ways! You can't really help yourself but get charged up with energy when you're around. And Doc does just that!
Richarlyson- Richas is a lot in the best ways possible! But we all know he's very much a jokester, he wouldn't miss a beat trying to mess with the goat! And once he finds out what kinds of retaliations Docs is capable of? OH IT'S WAR (for fun, cause that's what it's all about!)
I'm sorry if this is chaotic at some parts or lacking in others, I have to write this all in one go before my battery dies. I haven't been able to watch many streams so I'm sorry if Im not up to date with the characters, but that is what I remember them as! Any corrections or lore updates are always welcome! I want to learn more, especially now that I can't watch!
Anyhow, now that I look back on that drawing why do I feel like I've done something terrible.... I've seen those designs before......
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OH NO
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