#but this time it's like year sure it's an award show with famous people coming in to win stuff....

[hairmetal666]

Eddie thought inviting Steve to the Grammys would be fine, cool, no big deal. And it should be, but Steve is walking out of the suite's bedroom wearing a burgundy tuxedo that fits him like a fucking glove. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to let chest hair peak out, and Eddie thinks he might faint.

He's always been attracted to Steve, of course, but never let it go further than that. Like, sure, Steve was hot as fuck, and sure he was the best guy Eddie had ever met, and sometimes, yeah, he did have to force away thoughts of Steve when he jerked off, and in other circumstances he'd totally be head over heels. Just, Steve is straight, the straightest, a fucking arrow.

Eddie tears his eyes from Steve's body. "You look great, man." He slaps Steve's back. Keeping it cool; keeping it so cool.

"Psh," Steve says. "Have you looked in a mirror? Oh my god." His eyes are saucer wide as they travel down Eddie's body.

"Is it too much?" Eddie crosses his arms over his bare chest.

"Are you kidding? You're--fuck, man. You look good as hell."

He's wearing a silky burgundy shirt, open to show off the necklaces around his throat, his tattoos, the silver in his nipples. His pants are leather, tight, sitting low on his hips and putting the cut of his pelvic bone on full display. They have a lace-up closure that comes dangerously close to showing pube.

Heat rushes to his face at the compliment. "It's--you know. Hazard of the job."

"Yeah, hazard, sure. Guess it's a hard life having hot dudes literally throwing themselves at you."

Eddie barks out a laugh. "That's a vast exaggeration."

"Is it?"

He blushes harder. "You're my date tonight, Steve."

"My point exactly."

His manager and publicist usher them out the door before he can ask what the hell that meant.

---

The ride is giddy and playful, Steve popping champagne to celebrate Eddie's nomination for Song of the Year, even though there's no chance in hell he wins.

Steve is happy. His face is bright with joy, eyes shining, laugh loud and infectious. He's gorgeous, knows it, will be an absolute menace on the red carpet. He's been with Eddie to parties and stuff before, doesn't have any anxiety in front of the camera and isn't obsessed with musicians like Eddie is, unafraid to meet them.

Or so Eddie thought.

Because now they're standing at the edge of the red carpet, Steve very nearly trembling next to him.

"Harrington?"

"That's--That's Madonna." Steve points to her. "We're not even ten feet away from Madonna." He gulps. "Eddie. Madonna."

Steve has met famous people before with Eddie. Ozzy, briefly, Janet Jackson, Dave Grohl, James Hetfield, and he'd always been fine. Barely batted an eye. But get him within reaching distance of Madonna and he falls apart.

Eddie doesn't think about it, grabs Steve's hand, twines their fingers together. "Okay?"

The smile Steve throws him, grateful and a little embarrassed, stabs straight through his heart. He calms as they make it up the carpet, but he doesn't drop Eddie's hand, even when they pause for pictures. In fact, he leans into it, drapes his arm around Eddie's shoulders, or around his waist, seeming to thrive the closer they are. Eddie feels this dangerous pull to indulge in it, to let himself believe it means something, and he doesn't quite have it in him to turn it off.

By the time they reach their seats, Steve is relaxed back to his normal charming and handsome self, doesn't bat an eye as Eddie introduces him around.

The show passes quickly with all the performances and Steve whispering jokes in his ear. It's the best time he's ever had at an award show, like he should have been bringing Steve along this whole time. He's so distracted that he's not really ready when Paula Abdul comes out to announce Song of the Year.

His name is read off as a nominee and Steve grabs his hand, squeezes tight. Eddie's heart flips in his chest. He's not paying attention when Paula opens the envelope, too focused on Steve's strong hand holding his. He hears her say, "And the Grammy goes to--" and everything goes fuzzy.

Steve is saying, "oh my god, oh my god, Eddie. Get up, get up."

And his fucking song is playing and everyone is cheering, a couple people slap his back, and oh shit, oh shit, he fucking won. He stands, Steve with him. He thinks they're going to hug, that's what you do in these situations, but Steve is kissing him. Not on the cheek and not a quick peck, but lip-to-lip, soft and sweet.

Steve just kissed him and he has to get on stage and give a speech. He has no idea what he says because Steve just kissed him. On the lips. On purpose. His ears are ringing and words tumble out of his mouth, thinks he says, "couldn't have done it without you, Stevie," before tripping over his feet to get backstage.

Interviews, photographs, congratulations all help him settle. He's still buzzing with the win, but aware enough now to think the kiss had to be an accident. They've been friends for nearly a decade and Steve never seemed interested in men generally or Eddie specifically.

It takes a while to finish up the backstage business, but when he makes it to his seat, Steve just beams at him. He doesn't mention the kiss, which makes Eddie think he's overreacting. It wasn't a big deal. Sure, he could still feel Steve's lips, warm and soft, against his own, but it didn't mean anything. He's just too in his big gay feelings to be objective.

They don't get a chance to really talk until they're back in the limo and on their way to the after-party.

"You won," Steve says.

"I won." Eddie smiles. "Crazy."

"You deserved it."

He shrugs. "I don't know about that."

"Doesn't matter. You did." Steve fidgets with the cuff of his jacket. "About earlier, um. The kiss. I--"

Eddie feels his face heating, heart kicking up. It was nothing, he knows, and Steve shouldn't have to-- "It was an accident. It's okay. I know you don't--it was the heat of the moment and--I know you're not--you don't--"

Steve blinks a lot, emotions flashing across his face faster than Eddie can categorize.

"What if I do?" Steve asks. His voice is too soft, eyes locked on the cuff link he's fiddling with.

"You--what?"

"What if I did mean it?"

"You're straight."

Steve goes pink. "I'm really not."

"Steve?" He shrieks. "Since when?"

"Um. Since you invited me to this?"

"What the fuck?" Eddie shoves him. "What the fuck, man?"

"I know, I know!" Steve pulls his hand through his hair. "You invited me and I freaked out and I didn't know why, and Robin made the saddest little face at me. Said, 'oh, dingus, you didn't know?' How the fuck was I supposed to know!"

"I think you wanting to fuck me should've been a pretty good indication!"

"I thought that happened to everyone!"

"It doesn't!"

"That's what Robin said!"

They're both yelling.

"Jesus christ. Jesus christ," Eddie keeps repeating.

"Look, I get it if you don't want me too, dude. I know that's not how it works, but I've been pretty crazy about you without realizing it for a while now, so--"

He doesn't mean to, he really doesn't, but he laughs. Like, super loud. Like a donkey bray.

"Okay, can the driver let me out? Like, can I go? I can't--"

"Wait, wait, sweetheart." Steve's gotten up, like he's about to knock on the partition, but Eddie grabs his wrist. "Of course I want you back, you idiot, oh my god."

"Oh." Steve's ears are pink. "Oh. Well. That's good."

Eddie huffs. "Just good? I won a Grammy and the guy I've been pining over for years wants me back. I'm having the night of my life."

"Shut-up." Steve's smile is so big, his eyes so bright.

He raises an eyebrow. "Make me," he says in his lowest register, but he's truly not prepared for it when Steve clambers over to him and lowers himself to straddle Eddie's hips.

"Holy shit," Eddie whispers. "Holy shit, Steve."

He give a wry little smile, eyes locked on Eddie's mouth. "Baby, can I kiss you?"

"Yes." Eddie clears his throat. "Yes, please, do that. Yeah."

Only, he doesn't. He's straddling Eddie, they're so close their breath mingles, and Steve's eyes flicker between Eddie's mouth and his eyes, lips so close to touching but not.

"C'mon, asshole," Eddie says.

"I knew you'd be a brat." He whispers. He wraps his hands into Eddie's hair. "Been dying to do this."

And then they're kissing. They're kissing and it steals all of Eddie's breath and his thoughts, and it's new but it's also like they've been kissing forever, like their lips and tongue know each other, like coming home.

He whines, high-pitched and breathy, and Steve laughs, kisses him deeper, moves closer, and Eddie feels how hard Steve is, the persistent pulse of him. And shit Eddie's close, on the brink just from this, from nothing, oh my god.

Steve's hands drift down Eddie's torso, mapping his chest and his stomach, coming to rest at the laces of his pants. "These have been driving me insane," Steve breaks the kiss to say. "Been thinking about undoing them all night."

"Fuck, sweetheart, you can't say shit like that," Eddie groans.

"Why not?"

"Because--because," Eddie sputters but then Steve's lips are on his neck and he's rolling his hips for friction.

Steve's fingers find the laces again, trace against them. Eddie's legs fall open, arching into the touch. "We're going to be so late," he murmurs as Steve's fingers get to work.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #fluff #friends to lovers #famous eddie munson #regular guy steve harrington #feelings confession #oblivious steve harrington #the grand tradition of steve harrington not realizing he's bi #eddie falls first steve falls harder #eddie's so cool about it #grammy award winning eddie munson #vaguely inspired by lupita and joseph at the oscars #driver roll up the partition please #a little bit spicy

[aidaronan]

The years go by. The retail jobs that Steve thinks are temporary keep piling up, but he has no idea what else to do with his life so he just keeps on keeping on.

Until a large tree falls on the lawn of the little house he managed to buy and he gets the quote on removal and the number literally hurts his soul.

He buys a small chainsaw instead. Over the course of a few weeks, he gets most of the branches cut up. He collects some large rocks from down by the quarry and digs out a fire pit in his backyard. On his days off, his friends come over and they sit out back and have a few beers. The pile of wood dwindles. The giant trunk is another story though. His chainsaw isn't big enough for it. Burning it would take forever, and Steve's terrified he'd disappoint Smoky the Bear. He's at a loss.

Until he sees another giant trunk in someone's yard carved into a bear.

He knows what to do then. Not a bear, but something else. Through trial and error, the trunk becomes the rough shape of a woman, the remnants of the branches like a crown on her head. It's not as amazing as the bear he saw, but it's his. He finds he loves the smell of sawdust and the feeling of creating something.

Just like that, Steve realizes what he wants to do. It takes several months and a lot of yard sales, but he scrounges up the tools he needs to start woodworking. He learns to measure twice and cut once. He makes tables and chairs and carves them with art and designs that get better and better the more he learns. Shockingly, people actually buy his pieces.

Even more shocking comes the realization that he's making enough money to do it full time. He puts in his two weeks notice at Melvald's and hands in his assistant manager badge.

He's not sure he's happy, but he is content. It feels good to work hard and actually have things to show for it. It also feels good to work muscles he hasn't used since high school. He carries on for a few years like that, creating and learning and creating some more. Then Eddie Munson blows back into town. Invited back so Hawkins can have their most famous alumnus sing the national anthem at homecoming. Steve's honestly surprised he shows at all. "Can't believe you didn't tell them kiss your hairy ass," Steve says. Because of course Eddie ends up around his fire pit, sipping on Steve's cheap beer like he doesn't have three Grammy awards on his mantel. The years fall away with each drink, reminding Steve of just how much it had hurt when Eddie left. He'd wanted Eddie so bad back then, more than he'd ever wanted anyone. He can feel the echoes of that deep ache across time.

"Pfft. Don't you know all famous people wax our asses now? All the rage in LA." Eddie cuts a look at him and smirks when Steve rolls his eyes, grateful for the lighthearted moment to snap him out of his maudlin nostalgia. "Really though I thought about it, but then I thought it would be way funnier to donate a metric fuckton of money to Hawkins High with the stipulation that it go to the theater and band programs. Kind of bummed they couldn't honor my other request though."

"Which was?"

"My old Hellfire throne. I miss her, but apparently she's not around anymore. Something about water damage."

"Oh yeah. Water main busted a few years back and flooded the theater. I remember that." "Yeah. Had to settle for the promise they'd make a game lounge and stock it with all the supplies a budding young nerd needs."

"That's really nice, Eds."

Eddie shrugs. "I've been known to be nice on occasion. You'll come to homecoming, right? Moral support?"

Steve hasn't been to homecoming in years because he sees the other people who stayed in town all the time, and he has no interest in seeing the people who didn't. He can only answer the same questions so many times. Oh, I'm doing woodwork now. Yep, I still live right here. Nope, still not married, no kids.

He goes though, and he answers the uncomfortable questions. Because Eddie asked him to. Because no matter how long it's been, Steve can't deny that some part of him still...

He says goodbye after, and Eddie leaves again, and Steve tries not to think about that too much in the following days.

He's halfway into the project before he realizes what he's building. He'd seen Eddie's throne quite a few times back when. What he doesn't have memories of, he makes up. He adds his own touches too, making it a throne fit for a rock star, a nerd, a friend.

He carves ornate patterns, he creates scenes of dragons being beaten back by a man with a guitar, crowds of people that could be knights or concertgoers.

It's his favorite piece he's ever done, and his hands are shaking when he dials Eddie's number. He gets an answering machine and stumbles through a message.

"I made you something. I guess it's kind of silly, but it's here in Hawkins if you want it. Or I'm sure you can afford the shipping if you don't want to come. Just, I made you a chair. It's more of a... Well, you'll see. Unless you don't want to... It's Steve by the way." He hangs up before he can embarrass himself even more.

Eddie doesn't call him back. One day passes and then another. Steve tries not to let it get to him. He works on orders and new projects. He enjoys his little backyard oasis. He rents a few movies and thinks they're okay.

He's debarking some wood in his driveway when the rental car pulls up, Eddie stepping out in ripped jeans and an old Metallica tee. "Hi again, Stevie."

"Oh." Steve clears his throat. "The thing's in the garage. I'll..."

Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, circling the throne, running his tattooed fingers over each little detail.

"You made this whole thing?"

"I did."

"For me?" Eddie looks at him then, one hand still touching the wood like he doesn't want to let go. Even under the harsh lights of the garage, his eyes are such a warm shade of brown that Steve forgets to breathe.

He nods. "For you."

"Why?"

There are a hundred answers Steve could give, but he spent so long not knowing who he was or who he wanted to be. Too long. "Because you'll always be the one that got away. Because some part of me will always want to make you smile no matter how long it's been."

Eddie falls into the throne like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

"You don't have to respond to that," Steve says. "You can just say thank you and take the chair."

"I can." Eddie blows out a breath. "But that would be incredibly stupid considering half my early ballads are about you."

"What?" Unfair. Steve doesn't have a chair to fall into.

"Oh sure, I changed the hes to shes for a while there because..." Eddie waves his hand. "But they're about you, Steve. God, I should've asked you out. I just thought..."

Hearing those words is a lot like seeing that carved bear all over again, something clicking into place that wasn't quite right before.

"Go out with me now then," Steve says. "Or stay in. I've got a frozen lasagna and I rented Contact."

"Steve Harrington? Asking Eddie 'the Freak' Munson on a date? Did hell freeze over?"

"Pfft." Steve takes a step closer toward what he wants most. "Hell froze over in 1986, Eddie. You were there."

Five months and a lot of long distance phone bills later, Steve opens Harrington Woodworking in Los Angeles. That same day, Eddie takes photos for Rolling Stone posing in an ornate throne in his living room. He tells the reporter exactly who made it and what he means. At concerts, he starts singing those ballads the way he always wanted to. More often than not, Steve stands in the wings singing along.

#steddie #fanfic #mine #woodworker steve #rock star eddie #i meant for this to be a drabble but 😂

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 1: Can I Buy You a Beer?

You run into someone you don't expect when out for a drink. A continuation of Halcyon, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Yes it's a Javi gif but we're gonna say he's Joel because Joel is in his 30s for this fic, OK?

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5.7K

AO3 | Prologue | Next Chapter

Austin, Texas

September 30, 2022

You were going to strangle Alyssa. 

It sure as hell hadn’t been your idea to go out drinking to celebrate the end of the first month of the school year. Definitely not your idea to do it at a bar that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned this decade. And it absolutely was not your idea to try to pick up a guy while out at said dingy bar. 

But it apparently was Alyssa’s idea of a good time. 

You sighed as you watched people go to and from the bar from your seat tucked in the corner. You tried to come up with stories for the people you could see in the dim light, like they were characters in a book you were writing. The biker in a leather vest, you decided, had been an accountant for 20 years when he bought a Harley during his midlife crisis. He’d become a mechanic when he became too obsessed with the bike to be satisfied behind a desk. His wife was pissed but his son thought he was way cooler now. The couple at the end of the bar were on a second… no, third date. She was deciding whether or not to fuck him. You thought it was going to go in his favor.

Alyssa had moved out of the seat next to the guy she’d taken up with and into his lap. You wondered if there was a world record for how far someone’s tongue could be down another person’s throat. It had to trigger her gag reflex at some point, right? Or maybe she didn’t have one. That must be nice. Maybe that was the key to being good at oral. Maybe you’d be better at it if you didn’t have a gag reflex. Maybe you’d still have a husband if you were better at oral. 

You downed the last of your Shiner and rapped your fingers along the side of the glass. That was one upside to being back in Texas, at least. Shiner Bock on tap was a nice perk. 

Next time you went out with Alyssa, you were driving yourself. If there was a next time. 

But you’d probably cave before too long. You didn’t have many friends and you liked her. Even though this night hadn’t been much fun and getting to know her at all had been awkward at first. Alyssa was a few years younger than you and the first time she’d stumbled into your office she had your book in her hands and a wide smile on her face. 

“I am so sorry if this is weird,” she said after a brief introduction. “But… I’m in love with your book and I am dying for you to sign it!” 

“Sure,” you laughed a little and she passed it to you. You flipped to the title page and scrawled “Alyssa, Thanks for reading. With love, your coworker” before you penned the signature you’d practiced a million times with your agent below and handed it back. She squeaked, a little giddy,  before offering to show you the best restaurants near campus. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that you’d grown up in Austin so you had plenty of favorites without any extra help. 

Still, you had this strange drive to have Alyssa see you as a normal person. Award-winning author famous was, thankfully, not the kind to get you recognized on the street but it still made you uncomfortable. Book signings and readings were exercises in misery. There was the acute agony of being observed and noted, the strange knowledge that, for these strangers, this brief encounter was going to be something they remembered. They’d remember if you had a mustard stain on your shirt or if there was lipstick on your teeth or if the stress you were under as you traveled from city to city while your marriage fell to pieces around you made you snap at someone. You never realized how keenly you valued anonymity until it wasn’t an option anymore. 

The very last thing you wanted was someone who was a fan with an office two doors down from your own.

So, you’d decided to have her be a friend instead. Make it so she saw you as a person and not someone from the inside of a book jacket. The two of you had gone to lunch a few times and out for a quick drink once, too. It had been nice and, ever since, it felt like she had stopped watching you like a pseudo-celebrity and started seeing you as a friend. Or, at the very least, a friendly acquaintance. 

So when she’d asked if you wanted to get some drinks tonight, you’d said yes, envisioning the lounge she’d suggested the first time you’d gone out, one with jazz music playing quietly enough that you could chat over it. 

That was not where she suggested this time. 

But you were already here and edging in on tipsy and if you were going to spend the night alone at a bar and, eventually, at home with your vibrator, you may as well be drunk doing it. 

You made your way to the bar and ordered a tequila shot and another beer, drumming your fingers on the bar top as you waited for your drinks. 

“Well hey there, beautiful,” a man who had to have at least 10 years on you sidled up next to you at the bar. “What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ getting your own drinks?” 

“No one else was volunteering,” you gave him a tight smile. “But I’m not looking for company so…” 

“Don’t tell me you’re here all by your lonesome?” He smiled a lopsided, cocky smile, looking you up and down. The accent felt a little heavy handed and the cowboy hat put it over the top. You wondered, idly, if he was hiding a bald spot under there. 

“I prefer flying solo, but thank you,” you said, peering around him to watch the bartender flirt with a girl who looked like she was newly 21 and probably here slumming it at this bar that was far from the school. You sighed and settled in to wait even longer for your drinks. 

“Girl as pretty as you shouldn’t be all on her own,” he said, leaning against the bar and blocking your view. “No way someone hasn’t snapped you up yet, a face like that…” 

“Oh my face has nothing to do with it,” you smiled, forcing your eyes to go wide enough that you looked a little crazed. “It’s because I’m a murderous sociopath with six bodies buried beneath my house.” 

The man just blinked at you, a puzzled look on his face. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head and you considered, for a moment, timing him to see how long it would take to piece it together. 

“She’s right you know,” a familiar voice from behind you made you stiffen. “There's a reason she's here alone. This one’s insane, she’d chew you up and spit you out, man. Best you find someone else to try n’take home.” 

“Sorry, man,” he said. “Didn’t know she was spoken for.” 

You watched the man shove himself back from the bar and prowl off to find another woman to try and bed before turning, slowly, to the man standing at your back. Your heart beat picked up in spite of yourself when you saw him, as tall and broad and somehow even more handsome than ever. 

Joel Miller smiled, one of his cocky, lopsided smiles that made his cheek dimple. 

“Hey, Goldie.” 

***

It was you.

Here, in this shitty bar in his corner of Austin on a Friday night was you. 

Joel froze when he saw you, sitting in a corner by yourself, watching the bar with a far away look on your face. 

It was a look he knew intimately, even though it had been 11 years since he’d last seen your face in person. You’d get that look when you were thinking about something important, something you wanted to remember. You’d have that look and then you’d open up that gold notebook of yours and write furiously for a minute or two before stashing it away. 

“You ever gonna let me read any of that?” He’d teased one day as you sat, curled up in the corner of his couch, your notebook on your knees. 

“No,” you scoffed. “Trust me, you don’t want anywhere near this disaster area. It’s basically just the word vomit version of my brain, it’s a mess up there.” 

Joel didn’t push you on it but, truthfully, he’d have killed for a chance to see inside your mind for a moment. He wanted to crawl inside your skull and look at whatever you’d let him see. He wanted to memorize you, carry you with him, wrap himself up in you at every opportunity. You felt like home, more than anything else he’d ever had. Of course he wanted to be close enough to you to see inside your mind. 

But that was a long time ago. Yes, it had been 11 years since he’d seen you but it had been even longer since he’d seen you when you weren’t pissed at him. In fairness, he was pretty pissed at you, too, but you’d started it. 

And he wasn’t even sure why. He didn’t know what set you off to begin with. One night it was prom and the next thing he knew, you were gone. Taking off across the country before graduation without so much as a goodbye. You changed your number and your mom wouldn’t give it to him and you were just gone. Like the two of you hadn’t spent every day together for the last three years, like he had all meant nothing at all to you. 

Joel saved up the money to buy a bus ticket to your fancy fucking college, intending to find you there and demand an explanation, but that hadn’t gone as planned. He just settled into not knowing and not understanding why the most important relationship in his life had been ripped away from him without a word. 

But it had been a long time. He’d moved past the resentment of it and now he was all but awestruck at seeing you again. 

“Hey, do you want…” Tommy’s voice trailed off and his eyes tracked where Joel’s were looking. “Holy fucking shit, is that…” 

“Yup.” 

“Did you know she…” 

“Yup.” 

Tommy was quiet for a moment.

“Know she was gonna be here?” 

“Hell no.” 

Joel caught a glimpse of his brother nodding out of the corner of his eye - he wasn’t about to stop looking at you, he was worried if he did you might disappear again - and sighed. 

“You gonna talk to her?” Tommy asked after a moment. 

“No idea.” 

“Shit dude,” Tommy clapped his hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Good luck with… whatever the fuck is gonna happen there.” 

Joel glared at him for a second but kept his eyes on you. One of the other guys on the crew went to get the first round, something he appreciated because it meant he could keep watching you at a distance. He wasn’t sure what the fuck to say to you and he wasn’t about to just go talk to you with nothing to say. 

But then you went to the bar and a guy was clearly annoying the hell out of you and, before he really knew what he was doing, he was heading for you. 

“Hey, Goldie.” 

You looked at him for a moment. You looked as surprised to see him as he was to see you. 

“Hey, Joel.” 

He smiled a little wider. 

“Can I buy you a beer?” He asked. 

“You’re a bit late, I’m afraid,” you said. “Already put it on my tab. But that’s assuming the bartender remembers I exist which seems like it might be aiming a bit high…” 

Joel hung over the bar and hit the top of it a few times.

“Hey, Jimmy!” He yelled. The bartender whipped his head around. “Stop fuckin’ around, get my friend her shit, yeah?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, turning back to the woman he was talking to for a second before making you a shot first and then pouring your beer. He set both in front of you at the same time.

“Thank you,” you said, both to Joel and to Jimmy, and you did the shot, wincing as the tequila went down. 

Joel whistled

“Shit, you lookin’ to get fucked up?” 

“Well,” you coughed a little on the liquor before taking a sip of beer. “I already need to take an Uber home because the friend I came with is currently being devoured by that charming gentleman over there…” You nodded to a man at a table against the wall, a brunette draped across his lap who looked to be surgically connected to the man at the mouth. “So I figured, fuck it, may as well get hammered.” 

Joel laughed a little at that. 

“Since you’ve got no one else to get hammered with,” he shrugged. “Want to do it with me? Catch up a bit?” 

You thought for a second, taking a sip of beer. 

“Sure,” you said. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

Joel got a beer, too, and followed you back to your table before he settled in beside you. Part of it felt so natural, being next to you, but it was so different, too. You were different, fuck knows he was different. 

“So,” he said, watching you. “You’re in town.” 

“I am,” you nodded. 

“Visiting Anna?” He asked, even though he knew the answer. It had made news, the fact that you were coming to teach at UT.

“Work,” you said. “Moved back a few months ago.” 

“So what do you do now?” He asked. “For work, I mean.” 

“Teach, mostly,” you said. “I’m at UT now. Literature and creative writing.” 

“Seems right up your alley,” he nodded. “Always liked that sorta thing. You ever write that book?” 

You nodded, taking another sip of beer. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Just one, though.” 

“Ever publish it?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded again. “A few years ago…” Joel laughed and you frowned. “What?” 

“You really think I don’t know you wrote a fuckin’ book?” He asked. “Course I know you wrote a fuckin’ book. Jesus, Goldie, your name is on fuckin’ posters and shit! You think I live under a rock?” 

You laughed. 

“You dick!” You shoved him playfully. “Look, you’re basically illiterate, I didn’t want to assume…” 

“Hey just because I do shit besides read does not mean I’m illiterate!” He laughed. “You’re just a nerd…” 

“You only finished high school because I’m a nerd,” you rolled your eyes. “Pretty sure your coach was ready to make me an honorary member of the team since me hounding you about homework was the only thing that kept your ass grade eligible.” 

“Oh, you were the MVP,” he smiled, watching you take another sip of your beer and you smiled that amused little smile, the one you had when you were humoring him, the same one you’d had since you were 15 years old. “No question about it.” 

“Since you know all about me apparently,” you teased. “What’s been going on with you?” 

Joel shrugged, taking a drink. Mostly to buy himself time. 

Did he want to admit to you that he’d all but taken his life and driven it into the ground since he last saw you? 

Not that he ever felt like he had much potential, anyway. You and his mom had been the only people who’d ever really seen anything in him. But then you left and she died and was he even failing anybody anymore? Certainly not himself. And everything he did now he did to make sure he didn’t fail his daughter who, for the last 10 plus years, had been the only thing in his life that made it seem like all the shit was worth something. 

But he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell you about her, either. It seemed cheap, to bring her up in a bar to you of all people, one of the only reasons she existed in the first place. 

“Kept busy,” he said instead with a shrug. “Workin’ construction. Roped Tommy into it about a year ago, too. His dumb ass kept getting into it with people, told him I wasn’t going to keep bailing him out of jail if he didn’t at least look like he was trying to get his shit together.” 

You nodded and took another sip of beer. 

“Do you like it?” 

He shrugged again. 

“Pays the bills.” 

“Not what I asked, Joel.” 

He looked at you. You were watching him in that keen way you had, your head cocked slightly to the side, your eyes looking at him like you could cut through everything, everything he ever had or was or would be, down into the lanky boy he’d been when he’d first met you. 

“Not sure why it matters,” he said after a minute. “But it’s fine, I guess. Crew’s good. Work’s steady.” 

“It matters because you deserve something that fulfills you,” you frowned slightly. “Don’t you think so?” 

He laughed once, looking at you for a moment. 

“Haven’t thought about shit that way in a while,” he said. 

Since you left, he added silently. He didn’t say it. Wouldn’t say it, even though part of him wanted to. Wanted to demand an answer, wanted to yell at you, wanted to cry at you and make you answer for the destruction that you left behind you. Destruction that Joel wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever really recovered from, just found a way to live in the rubble of it all. 

But you were here now, talking with him again. 

“When was the last time we did this?” He asked. 

“Did what?” 

“Talked.” 

You smiled a little. 

“You mean besides the time you decided to yell at me about my romantic choices at my mother’s funeral?” You asked, brows raised. “Been a while.” 

“Since prom?” He asked quietly. 

He watched you clench your jaw before nodding and taking a drink. 

“Since prom.” 

Joel picked at the label on his beer bottle for a moment as you sat with your hands between your knees and looked anywhere but at him. Eventually, you picked up your drink glass again with your left hand and Joel traced your bare ring finger with his eyes. 

“Thinkin’ I might have been right about the romantic choices,” he teased lightly and you frowned before he nodded at your hand. 

“Ah, right,” you said, extending your hand in front of you and running your thumb over the inside of that finger like you would if there was a wedding band there. “Yeah, it turns out going on a book tour when your marriage is on the rocks isn’t the best way to handle things…” 

“Shit,” he shook his head a little. “I’m sorry, Goldie, that…” 

You scoffed. 

“No you’re not,” you put your hand back in your lap. “You hated him. You said all of three words to Gale and you hated him…” 

“OK first of all, his name was fucking Gale,” Joel cut you off. “And second of all, he was a fucking douchebag.” 

You snorted into your beer, coughing and choking on it for a moment and Joel clapped you on the back as you held on to the table, trying to laugh and breathe at the same time. 

“You alright there?” He asked, leaving his palm in the middle of your back. 

“Fine,” you coughed, pounding your chest with your fist. “I’m fine, I just… It’s so funny, but Gale isn’t even his birth name.” 

Joel gaped at you. 

“You’re shitting me,” he said. “That asshole chose the name Gale?” 

You nodded, still coughing and laughing. 

“He did,” you said. “He did, he thought it made it sound him more authorial and academic, he changed it before he started teaching. His birth name is fucking Bradley - his mom still calls him Brad - and I only found out when filling out the marriage license.” 

“What a fuckin’ dick,” Joel laughed, his hand still on you. He was touching you. He hadn’t touched you in so long and he was touching you. “Jesus Christ… Sorry if you’re still hung up on the guy but shit, you can do way better than that.” 

“It’s fine,” you laughed, calming down a bit and nodding to yourself. Joel watched you, uncertain. “Really, it is. I’m not going to pretend like I entirely agree with you but… things look different once you’re outside of the marriage and not in it anymore… Anyway. You married? Kids?” 

“Not married,” Joel said, still not sure how he wanted to tell you about Sarah. If he even should, if the two of you were going to just go your separate ways after tonight and never speak again it felt wrong to share her. “Not even dating, really. At least, nothing steady…” 

You laughed. 

“Christ, why am I not surprised?” You teased. “You always had a way with the ladies. Haven’t outgrown that yet I take it?” 

Joel smiled a little. 

“Why outgrow what’s fun?” 

You smiled a little back. 

“Fair enough,” you said. “Don’t you want that, though? Something stable?” 

“Is anything stable?” He asked. “Shit, half the people we went to school with now are fuckin’ divorced, what difference does it make?” 

“Yeah, I guess I am one to talk,” you said, polishing off your beer. 

Joel winced. 

“Fuck, not what I meant…” 

“It’s fine,” you shrugged. “I just… it didn’t work out and that’s that, right?” 

“Right,” he said, watching you closely for a moment. “Hey, since you’re lookin’ to get hammered and I don’t got shit else to do tonight… shots?” 

You laughed a little. 

“I don’t know that I want to get that hammered,” you said. “I’m not a teenager anymore…” 

“C’mon, Goldie,” he teased. “It’s on me. Plus it was my birthday the other day, gotta do at least one with me for that.” 

“Oh shit,” you said. “It was, wasn’t it? You turned 33 on… Monday? Monday, right?” 

“Right,” he laughed. “So, you in?” 

You laughed a little back. 

“Alright,” you said. “You’ve sold me. But I’ve got the first ones, it was your birthday, after all.” 

The two of you moved to open bar stools on the end of the bar and ordered the first two shots - tequila - and clinked your glasses together before downing them, slamming them down on the bar top when you were done. 

“See?” Joel teased. “You still got it in you.” 

“If you say so,” you coughed a little and then laughed. 

“Another?” He asked. 

You looked at him for a moment. 

“Fuck it,” you said and Joel flagged down Jimmy and ordered another round. 

By the time it was last call, your friend had come over to say goodbye, her lipstick smudged around her lips and the mouth of the man she’d been draped across, and the bar had gotten quiet, just a handful of stragglers left even on a Friday night. 

It took a few shots but you’d given up on keeping any distance from Joel at all, your bar stool sitting against his, your body pressed against his side, your head on his shoulder. 

“Hey Jimmy!” Joel slapped the bar top a few times. The man came over and leaned on the bar, looking at you tucked against Joel. “Think you can get me a cab?” 

“Sure as hell not lettin’ either of you two idiots drive,” he replied, going to get the phone. 

“Hey,” Joel nudged you. “Where… where do you live? Need an address, gonna get you home.” 

You thought for a second and then devolved into half drunk laughter. 

“I don’t know,” your words were slurred. “Oh fuck, I’ve only lived there like… a few… a few… fuck. When did I move?” 

“Before the school year?” He asked. 

“Right,” you nodded. “Prob’ly right, that’s… that’s when. S’not long. I don’t know where it is, oh shit…” 

“S’OK,” he said, putting an arm around you. “Just… just come home with me, s’fine.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, raising your head slightly. “You… you don’t mind?” 

“Don’t mind, Goldie,” he said gently. “Never mind, not with… not with you.” 

You nodded and dropped your head back to his shoulder. 

Joel had to half carry you to the cab and you dozed off against him on the drive, pressing your warm, soft body against his, passed out enough that you were drooling on the shoulder of Joel’s t-shirt, soaking through to his skin. He didn’t mind. 

“She gonna be alright?” The cab driver asked as Joel paid him and nudged you awake. 

“M’fine,” you waved him off. 

“You know this guy?” The man asked, watching you in the rear view mirror. 

“Him?” You asked, brows raised. “‘Course I know him, this… he’s Joel, he’s my best friend, s’fine.” 

The driver nodded once. 

“Good,” he said. “Take care of her, alright buddy?” 

“Sure,” Joel said, setting you down in the back of the cab. “Always have.” 

He got out and went around to the other door, almost tripping on the curb, before tugging you out of the backseat and against his side. You laughed and then shushed yourself. 

“Sorry,” you tried to whisper but failed. “S’late, I should be quieter….” 

“S’fine,” he slurred. “The neighbors think I’m trash anyway, not gonna ruin my reputation…” 

You snorted at that. 

“Assholes.” 

He helped you up to the front door and fumbled with the lock, the two of you stumbling in. Julie, Sarah’s babysitter, shot up off the couch, a groggy look on her face. 

“Wha?” She blinked for a second. 

You yelped and Joel shushed you.

“Sorry,” you failed at whispering again. “But Joel… there’s a teenager in… you’ve got a teenager on your couch.” 

“Yeah, she does that,” he tried to whisper back. “S’fine. How’d it go, Julie? Everything OK?” 

“All good, Mr. Miller,” she stretched and got up, meeting Joel in the entry way. “She went down at 9:30 after trying to talk me into watching Coyote Ugly…” 

“Oh lord,” Joel sighed. “Last thing she needs is to get it in her head that she should be singin’ and dancin’ on a bar…” 

“Don’t worry, I said no,” she smiled. “But I think one of her friends at school is obsessed with it, not sure how else she’d know about it… Anyway. How about you pay me next week?” 

“Oh shit,” he said, going for his wallet. She laughed. 

“Seriously, don’t worry about it,” she said. “Not sure you’d remember paying me right now and I’m even less sure you can count.” 

“Thanks,” he said, grateful. “You drive safe, alright kiddo?” 

“Will do,” she laughed a little. “Night, Mr. Miller. And Mr. Miller’s… friend.” 

“Night!” You said, a little loud before clamping your hand over your mouth and laughing. Once the door was closed, you turned your attention back to him. “Ooooo you’re Mr. Miller now.” 

“Yeah, I’m gettin’ old,” he said, guiding you inside. “Here, I’m gonna put you to bed and then I’ll take the couch…” 

“You absolutely will not,” you snorted. “I’m… I can sleep on the couch, not… not letting you take the couch in your own house. ‘Specially not when you’re old enough to be Mr. Miller.” 

“Goldie…” 

“I will move and sleep on the floor.” 

He sighed and started moving you toward the couch. 

“You ever gonna be less stubborn?” 

“Nope,” you popped your lips on the p as he set you down. He got the blanket Julie had been asleep under and draped it over you as you snuggled into the couch. “Hey Joel?” 

“Hm?” 

“Who was that girl?” You asked, eyes already closed. “Why… why did you have a teenager in your house? This is your house, right?” 

“S’my house,” he said, tucking you in. “And don’t worry ‘bout it. Just go to sleep.” 

You yawned. 

“Thanks, Joel,” your voice was groggy. “For taking care of me. Missed you.” 

He stopped and looked back at you for a moment. 

“Missed you, too.” 

He went to bed, trying not to think of the last time you’d fallen asleep on him. 

***

The Morning After Prom

May, 2008 

The pink and orange of dawn woke you up. You were on Joel’s chest, his shirt unbuttoned so you could feel his skin on yours and your dress was still bunched around your waist from when Joel had slid the straps down your arms the night before. 

You enjoyed it for a moment. The feel of Joel’s skin, how his chest rose and fell with his breaths, how the early morning light caught in the curls that had broken free of the gel you were sure his mom had put in it the night before. He smelled good, like cologne - the kind that a man would wear, not the Axe shit that drenched the hallways of your school - and soap and a hint of sweat that just felt like the essence of him. You wanted to stay like this with him forever. Be this close, know him in this way. It felt right, it felt beyond just good. 

And then you remembered, you weren’t supposed to be here. 

“Joel,” you whispered, sitting up from him and shaking him gently but urgently. “Joel, wake up!” 

“Hm?” He mumbled, groggy, his eyes opening slowly. 

“We fell asleep,” you said, still whispering even though there was no one here to hear you. “We’re not supposed to be up here, we have to go!” 

“Shit,” he blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked you over and you were suddenly fiercely aware of how naked you were, how the light of day was creeping in and casting over your exposed skin. Joel reached out and cupped your cheek. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pass out…” 

“It’s OK,” you said quickly, clutching your dress over your naked breasts as you slid the straps back on. “But we should get home, we didn’t tell our moms that we were going to be out all night, I’m sure they’re pissed…” 

“It’s prom,” he said. “Think they expected it to be a late one. But… you’re right, we should get going.” 

Joel got up and offered you his hand, pulling you to your feet. It wasn’t until you moved your lower half that you realized how sore you were between your thighs, your skirt falling back down to your feet. Joel held your hand for a moment once you were standing and his skin felt hot against yours. You dropped his hand and cleared your throat awkwardly. 

“You should button your shirt,” you said quietly, nodding to his bare chest. “And… um… Zip up your pants.” 

“Oh,” he looked down. “Um… Right. Right.” 

He moved quickly as you looked over as much of your dress as you could see and Joel used the glass of the press box as a mirror to adjust his hair. 

“Do I look OK?” You asked when he was done, turning so he could see the whole dress. “Not like… not like we….” 

“There’s… um…” he cupped the back of his neck awkwardly. “I think we made a mess of the back of your dress, I didn’t think… should have moved it, I guess…” 

“Shit,” you twisted, trying to spot it. “Do you think…” 

“Just don’t turn your back to your mom,” he said quickly. “Should… should be OK.” 

“Right,” you said. “Yeah, that’s… right. OK.” 

Joel led the way to his car and the two of you sat in silence on the ride home. You kept glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, his elbow propped on the door of the car, hand on his mouth, his face drawn. 

What were you supposed to do now? You’d never done… this. You’d never been in this position and now you were here with Joel, the person who was your best friend, the person you knew better than anyone else in the world, the person that everything had felt so right with it had been impossible to stop. 

But what did you do now? 

He stopped in your drive way and sat there, staring straight ahead. 

“Thank you,” you said. He looked at you, his eyes a little wide. “For taking me to prom, I mean. It was… I had… It was good. I liked it. It was good.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded after a moment. “Yeah, I’m glad I… got to go with you. To prom.” 

“Right.” 

You looked at him. You wanted to kiss him. Wanted him to hold onto you and tell you that everything was going to be OK and that you were going to figure this out and it would be you and him together just like it always had been. 

Instead, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. 

“I’ve got church this morning,” he said. “And then we’re goin’ to help my grandma in the afternoon so I don’t think I can see you until tomorrow…” 

“I’ve got that doctor’s appointment in the morning,” you said. “So… I guess I’ll just… I’ll see you at school?” 

“Right,” he said. “Yeah, right. I’ll… I’ll see you at school.” 

You smiled tightly at him and leaned in slowly to kiss him on the cheek, hoping that he would turn his head and press his lips to yours the way he had the night before. 

He didn’t. 

“Thanks, Joel.” 

“Yeah.” 

You went inside and got undressed in your bathroom, looking at the stain on your dress, hoping you’d be able to get the stain of your blood and his come out before your mother noticed and it ruined anything else.

Next Chapter

A/N: Eeeeeeee! I'm so excited now that this story is properly going!

I hope you enjoy exploring Joel and Goldie with me. I really love their friendship and the way they care for each other and I think there's so much to explore with the both of them.

I do have an updates blog. Follow it here and subscribe for alerts when I post.

Thank you for being here! It really does mean so much to me to share this story with you. Love you!!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #halcyon

[josephquinnswhore]

Hii, I'm new here and loving everything you wrote xD

can I request one pedro x reader in which they meet each other at a party or sth but reader is in a relationship with someone else (famous or not, it doesn't matter) but pedro gets mesmerized and it's pretty much love at first sight on his part and he acts respectfully but yet very flirty saying one day they'll be together and reader will be his and some months or a year or so later they meet again by chance and reader is now single and also sure pedro forgot about her but he didn't and they just flirt again and there's a sparkle there, it could end on smut or not, it's up to you! Thanks 💖

I’ll Wait For Love

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x female reader.

Summary: Pedro waits for you after a love at first sight moment with you.

Word Count: 4.6k

Content Warning: reader has a dirtbag boyfriend, abusive relationship, he threatens to off himself. (Reader is oblivious). Use of whore, hooker etc. Foul language, getting drunk. Bit of spice at the end but nothing actually happens.

Note: thank you for requesting this, I went overboard I’m sorry 😭😭😭🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 I decided to change things up a bit to go with the plot I hope that’s okay!!

“You’re not wearing that. You look like a cheap hooker, go change now.” You frown at the comment, liking how the dress sits on you, but you know better to argue, Ben, your new found boyfriend of a few months was sensitive on topics like this; what you’re allowed to wear, but you thought it was sweet, it means he cares about you right? Plus you were his, your body wasn’t meant for wondering eyes.

“Sure hun. Do you want to pick out something nice and I’ll change?” You start to kick of your heels and unzip the knee high silver dress, approaching the mirror in your bedroom, you take a look at yourself and decide he’s right, it’s not the right outfit, you do look cheap.

“Put this on.” He had pulled out a floor length gown, navy blue in colour and it had mesh long sleeves, and a high neckline, it kind of felt suffocating but you didn’t argue. “Zip me up?” He does, his hands feel like fire on your skin, and like a flame you try not to flinch at the warmth on your cool skin.

“What do you think?” You ask, twirling for him, holding your hands in front of your stomach, fingers intertwined in a nervous twitch as you rub your fingers together. He smiles, his suit hanging off him loosely as he walks towards you. “You look perfect. That’s my girl.” You relish in the compliment, your eyes flutter shut and he kissed you on the forehead, smoothing your hair after he disturbs it.

“You can put those black heels back on, I love how they make your ass look, but I better not catch anyone else looking.” You’re grateful to wear the heels, not really wanting to wear flats of sneakers to a work after party. You check your watch, you were running late now, you had to get there. “Are we ready to go?” Ben hums in return and slightly pushes on the small of your back to get you moving, you almost trip on the fraying carpet of the bedroom.

When you get into the car, the aircon is blasting in your face, the music is too quiet and you wish you had something to focus on that would take the nerves away. You decide on smoothing your dress over and over in an attempt to calm yourself.

“What are our social rules? Tell me babe.” You knew this was coming, the rules he’d set every time you’d go to a public function together, in which you reasoned, he just wanted to keep you safe, he didn’t want to be seen with a slob.

“1. No swearing or cursing. 2. No hanging out with guys without you. 3. No getting stupid drunk.”

He looks at you with pride in his eyes and offers you a lopsided grin. “There’s my good girl.” You feel yourself smiling, cheeks hurting as you force the grin, all you want to do is make him happy, proud of you.

When you get to the event his eyes are watchful of the people around you, his hand immediately meets your ass as he leads you around like his award winning show animal.

The noise from inside the club is booming from outside, you come across your security guard from work and he greets you. “Good evening miss, sir. Enjoy the night.” He winks playfully and you smile at the tall man, “thank you Simon, be seeing you!” Your boyfriend scoffs from beside you and your smile drops, not wanting to annoy him already, you had just gotten here.

The music was loud inside the club, the lights were colourful and the speed in which they move around began to hurt your sensitive eyes. When you move into the dance floor, a familiar voice comes through the speaker. “Here’s the women that made it all happen, everyone give her a round of applause.” The DJ pointed to you and you flush red, bashful all of a sudden as your work colleagues cheer for you. You wave in a thanks and you’re about to keep moving when your co-owners stand on the stage, baring teeth as they grin at you, the music has stopped now and Ben pulls you to him roughly with his arm around your waist.

“Thanks to this lovely lady, for pushing us to make the game so special to us into a tv show, which has been shown so much love in return and unspeakable success, without you we would have found our new family.” You’re crying at the speech Andy and Jason are giving, and you thank the gods your make up is waterproof.

“We want to give you the pleasure of inviting you back to our VIP area with a few more special guests in our team tonight, what do you say?” The room goes quiet and you’re cheering, nodding yes. How could you refuse that offer, Ben stands beside you however is furious, you hadn’t consulted him, you had publicly embarrassed him as he had not been invited, he wouldn’t be allowed in. What were you trying to do, get away from him? Not going to happen.

“You’re not fucking going in there, I can’t protect you in there.” His hand is on your wrist and you wince, pulling away from his grip as Andy and Jason come over, eyeing the two of you before leading you away, “come on, let’s get this started hm?” Jason stays behind, feeling the first hand anger of your boyfriend being embarrassed, “sorry man, no plus ones.” He held his hand out to stop him and walked off, unaware of the holes Ben was burning in the back of his head. You turn around and mouth ‘I’m sorry’ but by the look in his eyes as he watches the men lead you away, you’d fucked up, badly.

You turn to the men, anxiety clawing up the back of your throat, “hey Um, maybe I should go, you know.” The men look at each other and shake their head, “absolutely not.” Andy huffs. “You’re coming with us, pretty lady.” Jason compliments. That would only get you in even more trouble.

The VIP area was stunning, there was one giant lounge that was in the shape of a half circle, the dark red velvet felt amazing as you graze your fingers over it, a large chestnut wooden table sits in the middle. The people who already are seated, stand up to greet you. First is Bella Ramsey, you pull them into you, squeezing them before you let go. “You look beautiful you know.” You shrug it off caustically, “and you look handsome.” Your fingers run across the blue suit they wear, the blue brighter than your own dress but still looked like you dressed to match.

Next was Anna Torv, her long blonde hair sits on her shoulders, you smile as you see her, you’re both mock screaming as she pulls you into her. Your chin rests on her shoulder, in your heels you’re almost as tall as her without. “It’s so great to see you, you’re looking stunning.” She gives you a once over once she pulls back, looking you up and down before smacking your ass. “How have things been with Ben?” You sigh, people knew things weren’t great but was the only one who spoke of it.

“He’s upset I came in here, I dunno maybe it was a mistake coming at all, i just wanna forget Anna,” she grins, “then we’ll make you forget hun, what’s your poison?” You hum, looking at the menu she had handed you that was sat on the table, “it’s gotta be a fruit tingle, I would die for one right now.” She walks towards the private bar and orders you a drink. The last man that’s in the room and coming towards you is Pedro Pascal, an emerald green suit clings to his broad shoulders, a black turtle neck fits him deliciously underneath, his hair is messy in a way that makes you swoon, the unruly curls and patchy beard have you swooning for the man before he even says a word to you.

“Hi I’m Pedro, it’s so wonderful to meet you again, we’ll properly this time.” You give him a lopsided smile, “it is wonderful to meet you properly. How are you enjoying your evening?” He shrugs, “I haven’t had the chance to check out the bar yet, care to join me?” You nod, “sure, Anna’s just ordered me a drink.”

When you get to the bar Anna turns to you, seeing Pedro in tow by your side, she gives you a smirk and you raise an eyebrows, giving her a look that ceases her action. “Hey pretty lady I was just coming to find you, here.” Pedro orders a whisky as he stands beside you. She hands you the drink and you sip out of the straw, stirring the ice and watching as it swirls around the glass. “Pedro, this is gonna be a great night dontcha think?” He looks at you, actually taking you all in with a slow up and down look.

He takes a sip from his glass, nodding to himself. “Yeah, it’ll be a good night.” The words left unspoken were in her company.

Hours go by and you realise you’re tipsy, you should probably stop now while you’re ahead, you’re sat between Pedro and Anna, the two are up to a whole lot of mischief when they hang out, now you’ve been dragged into it. “So you’re the beautiful lady I gotta thank for turning the game into the tv series huh? Anna told me you’re a founder of Naughty Dog.”

You shrug, your humbleness was something everyone admired. “I thought it would be awesome to see it on screen you know, I grew up playing the game and wanted to do something special with it as an adult. Keep the story alive.” Pedro sits with his legs towards you, leaning in close to listen as the music blasts over the speakers, lifting his drink to his lips as he takes a sip, his tongue licks the sticky residue off after some drips from the cup.

“I actually pushed the casting director to try and see if you’d be interested in the role when I realised you’d auditioned, I just knew we had to have you.” Your words sent Pedro’s cheeks flushing bright red, he runs a hand through his hair at your drunken confession. “So you’re the woman I have to thank for my success.” You set your drink down on a coaster on the table, your hand on Pedro’s knee as you give him a sincere look. “You’ve got no one to thank but yourself, you’re a talented actor and I’m sorry it’s taken the world this long to appreciate you and your hard work.”

Pedro thinks he fell in love then and there, he wanted to pull you into him, kiss you with all his might and take you home. But he couldn’t, he saw you walk in with some guy that’s the opposite of how he looks, blonde hair, green eyes and a slim build, there’s no way you’d find him attractive. He shoots his shot anyway; being too drunk to care about the consequences, especially not the fact you’re literally his boss. “You’re gonna be mine someday, beautiful lady. I gotta have you.” You bite your lip as you look up at him, wishing now for nothing more than to kiss him and let him take you home.

“Yeah sure, Pascal whatever you say.” You roll your eyes playfully and stand wobbly, he helps you up and holds you in place as you wipe your sweaty hands on your dress, Pedro’s flirty and charming personality was taking its toll on you.

“I better head home, it was incredible to meet you properly. Hopefully we can catch up again soon.” You smile, your face completely red as you realise how much you’ve had to drink. His face is unreadable and a beat goes by before he offers, “why don’t I take you home, just so I know you get home safe.” You turn around and look, not being able to see Ben anywhere in the general club area, you’re humming and ah’ing about what to do. “I came here with someone, I should probably wait for him.”

“Actually, your boyfriend left like an hour ago, he was super pissed about something.” Your heart drops to your stomach, fuck.

You rush to gather your things and scramble in a panic that worries Pedro. He stops you with a hand, “hey, you’re in no state to go home alone, let’s catch a cab.” Your heart rate is pounding so fast you think you might spew. “Okay.”

The cab stinks of cigarettes and cheap cologne, a bitter mix that had your gag reflex heaving, you had to fight the nausea of the car rocking back and forth not to spew in the car. Pedro rubs your shoulders as you slump into him, his hands tucking your loose strands of hair behind your ears. “Hey, keep your eyes open for me gorgeous, don’t fall asleep you’re almost home.” Home. If your home was with Ben then why did everything with Pedro feel so natural, so beautiful and seemed to be flourishing already. You sighed, you’d have to go back to Ben and he would be furious with you.

The cab comes to a halt and you open the door, turning back to Pedro, “let me walk you to your door.” Pedro offers, you shake your head, “he’s already mad I don’t-I don’t wanna make him angrier. See you around.” You offer a small smile before wobbly stepping out of the cab into the cold air, it was 12:38. The cold nipped at every crack and crevice in your body, only warming after you had climbed 3 sets of stairs to get to your apartment, the elevator was unavailable to use after 11:30pm, stupid assholes whoever made that rule.

As you get to your door, your chest is heaving, you bring your keys up to the door to unlock it and turn the key, but it doesn’t unlock, you try every key on your lenyard but it doesn’t work, he’s changed the locks; again. You start to bang on the door, not wanting to deal with his bullshit this late, you were exhausted, just wanting to go to bed. With no reply you start banging on the door more furiously, “Ben let me in!” You stand for a few more minutes and you hear shuffling, “you can find somewhere else to stay tonight, whore.” You sigh, “please ben, just let me in.” He scoffs, the sound muffled through the door, “get lost.” His footsteps shuffle away and you hit the door and yell, “fuck you!”

You race out of the building, heels in hands by the time you get to the bottom of the stairs, tears in your eyes and body freezing. You ring Anna a few times, who was by the sound of it, still at the club. She was surprised to hear you crying, but not really. “Hey An, can you come get me please? I need a place to stay tonight.” Your voice is wobbling and shaking at the cold air and the emotions you’re feeling.

“Stay where you are hun I’m coming to get you.”

You weren’t sure how long you waited before Anna shows up, Simon was driving and he got out of the car to help you up off the sidewalk, your shoes still in your hands as your feet ache from 6 flights of stairs you’d walked tonight. As Simon helps you up, you hear Ben yelling to you, cheeks red and gasping for breath. “Babe wait! Wait please.” You turn to him, a scowl on your face as you wait for him to explain himself. “Don’t leave babe please. I need you, you’re the only one that stops me from hurting myself, please don’t leave.”

You freeze, you didn’t want him to hurt himself, of course you didn’t. You were scared it would be all your fault if something did happen, that’s what made you stay as long as you did. Anna steps between you, offering a barrier between you to protect you from the manipulation, “she’s coming with me Ben.” Ben growls when you don’t come to his defence. “I’ll fucking kill myself if you leave me.” He shouts at you, “it’ll be your fault you know!” You’re sobbing and shaking into Anna as she leads you to the backseat of the car. “No wait! Babe please wait! I’m sorry I’ll change!”

Simon shoves Ben as he nears the car, a clear warning of what he’ll do to protect you. As Simon drives off you head the distant shout of, “you’re nothing without me!” You sob and Anna pulls you into her, running a hand through your hair as she shushes you, “you know none of that nonsense is true hun. I’ve got you.” She kisses the top of your head and let’s you cry into her, she feels a sense of pride when you speak through your tears, “I’m done An, I’m finally done for good.” She had never been more proud of you.

The next time Pedro sees you is nearly 10 months after your proper meeting at the work place party. You had returned to work after months in therapy and working on yourself, it had been hard work, trying to reverse all that Ben had done to you. You’d even gone to the lengths of getting a restraining order after he had followed you around town a few times, even sitting in the workplace parking lot waiting for you to finish work.

You looked different to the first time he got to know you, not by physical appearance, but you had a shine about you, you were glowing in your own warmth that had come from your hard work alone. You had been shuffling through some paperwork when Pedro had knocked on your door in the office, you’re met with a nervous Pedro, you have a gentle smile on your face and welcome him in, “please, have a seat.” He sits across from you and you set your paperwork down.

“Is everything okay?” He shuffles, “uh yeah everything’s fine, I just wanted to say it’s great to have you back.” Your heart flutters at his kindness, he was such a sweetheart. “Thank you Pedro, it’s incredible to be back, is there anything else?” You didn’t want to rush him out, in fact you loved his company, but you could tell there was something that was bothering him.

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong, but I’d like to take you out for dinner, you know, on a date.” You smile at him, finally.

When you don’t reply as a beat passes he’s chuckling nervously, “sorry I said anything I must’ve-“ you stand over the desk and caress his face that’s looking up with to you with those chocolate brown orbs, full of vulnerability which makes you want him more. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask for months, of course I’ll go on a date with you.” His breath hitches when he realises how close you are, you kiss the corner of his lips and sit back down on your seat, picking your paperwork back up.

He watches you, stunned with your confidence and your actions, “pick me up from mine at 8?” Pedro nods, cutely stuttering as he agrees, “right, y-yes 8 will do perfectly!”

“Alright handsome, now get back to work.” You wink to him, “yes ma’am.” He says before leaving. Your heart is hammering so hard in your chest you’re finding it hard to focus on any paperwork. You start to wonder what the hell you’re gonna wear to dinner.

Pedro shows up at your house at 7:45pm, a punctual man is such a turn on. You’re shimmering your dress down a little bit so it sits comfortably, the red dress accentuates your body perfectly, the sweetheart neckline shows off a decent amount of cleavage without leaving nothing to the imagination, your gold heels were sparkling in the hallway light, your purse hanging off your shoulder as you answer the door. “Hey,” he says as if he’s breathless, and hands you a bouquet of flowers, he’s wearing a navy blue suit that’s unbuttoned, a white turtleneck sits comfortably underneath.

“Hi.” You greet, not hiding how obvious you are to checking him out. “You look so handsome,” you muse, taking the flowers and hold them to your chest. His cheeks flush as red as your dress, he takes your hand to lead you to his black Audi, “you look breathtaking, I’ve never felt luckier.” He opened the door for you and you sit down, carefully setting thr bowyer down at your feet, to your surprise, he leans over you and buckles your seatbelt in for you.

It drives you crazy, the smell of his natural musk mixed with cologne and his hair mousse. You have to fight the urge to bite the flesh on his neck to claim him as your own.

The radio is quiet as he drives to your location, the gps interrupting the song playing as it directs Pedro to take a right at the next set of traffic lights, he’s still beside you, looking like he’s fighting himself internally. You reach over and set a gentle hand on his thigh, that seems to relax him as he takes the right turn, his hand rests on top of yours as you encourage him to relax.

“You have arrived at your destination.”

The building was fancy; that was an understatement. It was a large building, what you can only assume are thousands of bricks and large open windows, the parking is exclusive and he picks a spot that he reserved, having to punch his reservation number into the device before the gates opened for him to enter.

“Thank you, such a gentleman.” You compliment as he opens the door for you. He readjusts his suit jacket, nerves getting the best of him as he locks his car as you walk towards the entrance of the building. You feel the ghost of his hand on the small of your back, as if he’s scared to actually touch you.

The interior of the building was beyond what you could’ve imagined, the lighting was dim; romantic. The music was quiet and the building was completely empty; had he rented out this whole thing? Just for you? The first man you meet is dressed in a suit, “welcome, Mr Pascal, please join us at our finest table.” He leads you away from the main area, into a reserved room which was stylishly decorated with balloons, rose petals and two tall candles on the table.

“Oh Pedro, you didn’t do this all for me did you?” He pulls your seat out for you and sits across from you, “it’s too much isn’t it? I knew I was going overboard. I’m sorry.” You frown at him, your hand caressing his own on the table, the silk tablecloth was gentle on your fingertips. “Pedro, listen to me sweetheart I’m only going to say this once.” His brown orbs meet yours, worried about what might come from your mouth.

“I like you, I have for a long time, okay? Whatever we do together I’m happy with. We could’ve went to McDonalds and I would’ve had a great time with you. No matter where we are or what we do. Now unclench your jaw and relax your shoulders handsome.” He obeys you, you see him visibly relax at your orders and he gives you a bashful look, he’s trying not to apologise. “Thank you, I just-after everything you’ve been through. I wanted it to be perfect.”

Your heart aches at his sweet confession, the words stick to your heart like thick honey. “Oh Pedro, it’s always been you sweetheart. You are perfect for me, perfect to me.”

The waiter comes with the first course, you hum in delight at the taste that tingles on your tastebuds.

“You know, Anna was the one that pushed me to ask you out, she knew I wanted to I was just-spineless I guess.” You laugh, of course she did.

“She’s been rooting for us since that night at the club, I don’t blame her. Look at us.”

The second entree is delivered to you, as well as the waiter offering wine in which you accept, you both opting for red. You sip on your red wine as you pick at your food, talking and eating in between bites.

“You know I’ve had a crush on you ever since game of thrones, how could I not, are you kidding. Oberyn Martell was the love of my life as a young adult.” Pedro laughs at that, the crows feet by his eyes are endearing to you. The sound of his laugh is like the sweetest symphony you’ve ever heard.

“He’s everything I want to be, the sexiest guy ever.” You can’t contain the smile that breaks on your lips, “please, have you seen yourself? Every person on the internet right now wants Daddy Pascal.”

The sultriness of your voice wasn’t meant to be that-sexual. It had just slipped out-kind of. Pedro was cut off by the main course arriving, the smell was delightful and tasted even better with the accompaniment of the wine.

“What do you think of the whole daddy thing?” He asks, it’s not a question you’re expecting to come from him. You nearly choke on your food from laughing, you carefully swallow the food, the fullness becoming more and more with every bite, you were thankful the last course was dessert.

“I think it’s sexy.” You deadpan, honesty is the best policy right?! He spits his wine into his napkin, obviously not expecting that to come from your lips.

“I don’t have daddy issues, if that’s what you’re wondering. I just think it’s sexy that you embrace it, like you’re a dad for all the people out there that don’t have a good father figure. I think it’s sexy because I can imagine how good of a father you would be to your own children.”

Pedro watches you, dumbstruck, completely and utterly in love with you, without a doubt you are meant for him. The waiter clears your table, returning a few minutes later with dessert, the last course.

You sit in comfortable silence, you don’t mind that he didn’t say anything back, it’s a lot to take in and process and maybe you could’ve been crossing a line-but you wanted to be completely honest with him about your feelings.

“I think I love you.” He sputters out, “no.” He nearly shouts, earning a confused look from you, “I know I love you. God I want you to be mine.” His fingers are tapping on the table in a nervous stim, trying to draw the nerves away from his mouth and anything stupid he might say.

“I’m yours sweetheart.” It’s everything he wants to hear, you waltz over to him, sit on his lap sideways and play with the curls on the nape of his neck, “I’m yours Pedro.” He leans forward and brushes your lips together softly. You pull away after a few seconds and his pupils are blown out, dopamine flowing through the two of you creates a high you’ve never felt.

His fingers trace the hem of your dress, tickling your thigh which emits a low groan from you, “you’re gonna be mine forever right?” He already knew the answer, he just wanted to hear it. His fingers dance up your thigh, kissing your shoulder as he looks at you through his dark lashes. “Yeah baby, ‘m all yours, forever.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x fem reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal rpf #boyfriend Pedro pascal #Anna torv #Bella Ramsey #pedro pascal fic

[bratzforchris]

Hello! I hope all is well! If you’re taking requests at all, would it be okay if you could write you and Ashton telling fans about your guy’s secret relationship while you’re a famous actor? Much love!

Ours

❃

Summary: Above

Pairing: Ashton x feminine reader

Warnings: None! (tooth rotting fluff)

Word Count: 1014

A/N: Thank you for the request! I'm sorry it's a bit short--I think I burnt myself out a bit with that 7k Luke fic :') Hoping you all are having a very happy holiday season<3

❃

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Ashton asked you rather anxiously, looking on as you got your makeup done. 

You were currently backstage at the Oscars, getting your hair and makeup done for the evening. Your boyfriend, Ashton, was serving rather good, although slightly anxious, moral support. He was scrolling through the #Y/NATTHEOSCARS hashtag on Twitter, reading you various shows of support. 

“Ash,” You said firmly, but not unkindly while the stylist applied rollers to your long, blond hair. “I’m up for two huge awards tonight with pretty good chances it sounds like. I want you to share in my success, babe.” You smiled softly. 

Ashton blushed at your words, standing to kiss your cheek before scuttling back to his chair beside you when your makeup artist scolded him. “I just don’t want to get in the way of your career. A girl’s gotta shine,” he winked. “It’s Y/N’s world, I’m just living in it.”

Aside from your team and Ashton’s, no one knew of your relationship. It’s not like either of you had a reason to hide it from the public, but both of you being famous meant that hardly anything in your life was private. Luckily, Ashton had the exact same outlook as you and had agreed to keep your relationship quiet, except where needed. You blushed at your boyfriend’s comment, turning your face from side to side as the artist finished. 

“Are you ready?” he asked you, taking your arm. 

You nodded softly, gazing up at him. “I know we’re seated together, but I want to announce everything when I get my award.”

“I know, darlin’,” he nuzzled your cheek softly. “I’ll see you at our seats.”

Leaving your lover’s side practically killed you, especially when you had to walk to your seat alone, holding your golden gown up softly so that you wouldn’t trip. You easily found the seat that had a place card that said “Y/N L/N”, smiling when you saw it was next to Ashton’s, just as intended. You knew he was technically there as your plus-one, but as other A-list actors (most of whom were your friends) arrived, no one seemed to notice. 

By the time the guests were let in, you were shaking your leg up and down, anxiously waiting for Ashton to come sit beside you and calm your nerves, both about your news to share and about the awards, in his calming way. Before long, your boyfriend took his seat beside you, looking as impeccable as ever. 

“You okay, love?” he whispered in your ear, noticing your shaken state. 

You nodded, swallowing thickly. “Just…thinking, I guess.” You tried to put on a brave face so he wouldn’t worry, but Ashton knew you better than that. 

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” he hummed. “I’m okay with being your dirty little secret.” Ashton chuckled when no one was looking, sneaking a hand onto your thigh under the table. 

“Ashton Fletcher!” You said, swatting his shoulder. “Don’t be dirty.”

You blushed when you realized other people had heard you, receiving some odd looks. Luckily, your embarrassment didn’t last long, for the host tapped the mic and began the show. Being at the Oscars was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but that was the furthest thing from your mind right now. If you received Actress of the Year, a whole new world would open up for your career. You were already famous in book terms, but you longed to be like the gorgeous movie stars you had adored as a young girl. Not only that, but you were ready to tell the world about Ashton. You were tired of hiding the man you loved so dearly from the world, just because of PR. 5 Seconds of Summer were at an all-time high in their career right now, and your win plus the announcement would only solidify that. 

A sentence spoken through the mic snapped you out of your thoughts. “And now, for Actress of the Year, our nominees are…” the host read off a list of incredibly talented, beautiful women who were just as deserving of this award as you were. “And the Oscar goes to…Y/N L/N!” she cheered. 

Your head was spinning as you soaked in the moment, only brought back to reality when you felt Ashton shaking your shoulder and cheering “Go up there!”. You flushed, hurriedly bunching your gown up in your hands and carefully walking up the stairs to the stage. You blushed again when she placed the trophy in your hands, realizing the goal you had set for yourself as a little girl was finally accomplished. 

“I just want to start out by saying thank you,” You smiled as you spoke into the mic. “To my mentors, to my parents, to my directors this year, to the fans, and to every colleague that has given me feedback over the years. None of this would be possible without you. But there is one person that I feel like I need to give an extra special thanks to. Ashton Irwin, would you join me onstage?”

Ash blushed, hunching his lanky frame as he walked towards you, but enjoying the attention nonetheless. As soon as he was beside you, he wrapped an arm around you, smiling cheekily. “Great job, Y/N. I’m proud.” he whispered in your ear. 

“I wanna give an extra special thanks to Ashton for being the best support system this past year. He’s seen the good, the bad, and the ugly. Even though he’s a musician, he’s given me some of the best acting advice I’ve ever received. So thank you, Ashton, for being the best boyfriend in the world.”

Without another thought, you turned, kissing Ashton passionately as the crowd began to cheer. Despite the fact that the select few fans were up in the nosebleeds of the theater, you could hear them cheering the loudest for you. As you two spun around on the stage, kissing and lost in each other’s eyes, you knew that this had been the right decision all along. 

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin imagines #ashton irwin fanfic #ashton 5sos #michael clifford #calum hood #luke hemmings #5sos fanfic #5 seconds of summer #5sos #fanfic #luke 5sos #michael 5sos #calum 5sos #calum hood imagines #luke hemmings fanfiction #michael clifford imagines #5sos fanfiction #5sos hq #5sos blurb #5sos imagine #5sos smut #5sos moodboard #5sosfam #5sos fic #5sos x reader #the 5sos show tour #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings x reader

[pascalscoffin]

Bad Idea

Full Pedro Masterlist

No this is not inspired by Olivia Rodrigo’s song

Warnings: Minors Go Away I Will Kick You In The Forehead. Smut: unprotected p in v sex (do what you want, heathens); oral (f receiving); biting; Dieter gives a pussy she/her pronouns; “choking”; Dieters a menace. Reader works at the hotel and just can’t follow literally one of the only rules DONT FUCK THEM

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You never really fawned over celebrities before, you never really understood the hype, they were just normal people that made it onto tv more often than most normal people. Anyway, that’s what you used to think, but being the concierge of a fancy ass hotel in England quickly taught you otherwise.

Sure, celebrities wanted you to think they were normal, just regular people milling through their day with an annoying boss- their bosses were in fact annoying- but these people were far from normal, most of them had absolutely insane views, or requested absolutely ridiculous things from you or the other hotel workers. And they never fucking tipped. Ever.

So, the ‘do not fuck them’ rule was never really a problem for you, sure your favorite celebrity would come in, you’d get the butterflies and the nervous feelings- and then they opened their mouth and they were just… horrible, and any infatuation you’d had for them would be gone immediately.

When you heard a whole slew of them would be bubbling in the hotel you worked at, you seriously considered completely resigning from the job altogether and finding a new one, you didn’t want to be stuck in a hotel with those people for three months! Filling their ridiculous requests and making them feel good about themselves when they inevitably crash, because they always do.

Ronjon, though, had somehow managed to convince you not to, and now here you were, standing at the front desk of the hotel as the actors got taken care of outside before coming in. It was the Cliffbeasts cast and crew, Cliffbeasts, while it was an okay movie, ultimately did… nothing for you because you really would rather just go watch Jurassic Park.

Not to mention the cast of the Cliffbeasts movies made you want to shoot yourself in the face. Sean Knox was a “wellness guru” though something felt fishy there to you, like maybe he didn’t believe in it or something, or maybe like it was a cult. Carol Cobb.. you weren’t sure why you didn’t like her, she was a decent actress.. well despite that half-Pakistani half-Israeli role she’d recently done but you couldn’t really blame her for that… could you? Lauren Van Champ… you really really didn’t like Lauren, her nasally cry thing was annoying, her Cliffbeasts accent was just… too harsh, and her all around… everything just made you not like her. Her husband Dustin Mulray was a class A fucking asshole, drunk and disorderlies, screaming at old ladies, he was even seen flipping off a seven year old one time.

Krystal Kris was a new face to the movies, a young girl famous on TikTok for her choreography.. if you can call swaying your ass back and forth choreography. Howie Frangopolous was a good actor with some truly comedic gold lines, though a bit hot headed according to tabloids.

And then there was Dieter Bravo. Dieter was probably the only one that didn’t put on a show for people, didn’t try to make his life seem more or less fabulous, he didn’t dress up for anything that wasn’t a tv interview or an award show, though you figured if he could dress like a hobo to those things he probably would.

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You’d heard Dieter was a man whore, giving himself over to any woman or guy that was willing to lay under or on top of him. So, you expected him to be.. less than appropriate. Maybe a scandalous comment here and there, or sultry looks, you didn’t know, but you were determined to stick your ground and not fall into any traps.

That proved difficult, though, because it seemed like every time you went to Dieter’s room to collect a service tray, or bring him food or clean towels, he wanted a serving platter once and hasn’t returned it yet, he was pretty much fucking naked, door flung all the way open with his arms stretched out, sometimes in a bathrobe, other times in a wool brown robe you often thought about feeling anywhere on your skin that wasn’t your fingertips. Always with a cheeky, sexual grin as he tried to coax you into his chamber of pleasure, you’d decline with a comment about him having a fist and internet before practically sprinting away from him.

You’d tried not to be around him too much if you didn’t have to go to his room, feeling your resolve crack each time he’d flash you that stupid fucking smile that made your heart palpitate. The stars were having dinner together tonight though so you wouldn’t be able to avoid him like you’d hoped.

You walked over to him and Carol when you noticed he didn’t have any water and motioned to his water class with the pitcher in your hand. “Would you like some more?” Dieter looked over at you quickly and grinned over the top of his sunglasses. “Yes. Please.” He reached for his water quickly and extended it out to you, gazing up at you with those big brown eyes.

God you had to get away from him, away from this room, before your resolve completely shattered and you were begging him to just take you right then and there. Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea. Repeated in your head like a mantra as you poured his water and then rushed away from him, feeling your face start to warm up under his heated gaze.

Dieter stared at you like that all night, like he knew something you didn’t know and it was driving you crazy. At the end of the dinner you rushed to help clean everything up as the actors started to file out of the room. Dieter, though, hung by the entry way, watching you as you scampered around the dining area.

When you made your way out you stopped in front of Dieter and put on your most professional smile. “What can I get for you, Dieter.” Dieter looked down at you and tilted his head a little.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?” Your eyes widened and you jerked your head behind you to make sure your coworkers hadn’t heard, opening and closing your mouth before looking at Dieter. “That’s unprofessional, Dieter.” You stuttered, trying to move past him.

He followed you, though, and continued. “That wasn’t a no.” He looked at you and you sighed, shaking your head. “It’s a bad idea.” “Again, that’s not a no.” You sighed harder this time and stopped, turning to face him. “Do you actually want to have sex with me or just sex with something?” Dieter opened and closed his mouth and you raised a brow. “Find me with an answer and I’ll give you mine.” “Yours?” Dieter perked up and his eyes fell to your crotch. You scoffed and slapped under his chin. “My answer.” You rolled your eyes. “Now go to your room and take a cold shower or something.”

“Cold showers don’t work.” Dieter grumbled as he slouched away, bath robe swinging side to side with a big pout on his face. You shook your head and went back to doing your work, rubbing your wrist against your forehead.

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Two days later Dieter was asking for chocolate strawberries and rosé to be brought to his room- by you specifically. When you got to his room you tapped your knuckles against it and hummed as you waited for him to open the door.

When he opened it, he actually had pants on this time, well not pants, more like those dress shorts you usually hated on men but… they looked good on Dieter. And of course, he had on that brown robe again. He looked godly, really.

“Hi. Come in.” Dieter stepped to the side quickly and you raised a brow before stepping into the room a when he motioned you in before closing the door. You looked at the door, and then Dieter.

“I thought about what you said.” He nodded and sat on the sofa, patting the cushion next to him. This is a bad idea. Echoed in your head as you slowly set the strawberries and rosé down, sitting down next to him even slower as you pressed your hands into your skirt. “Okay…”

You didn’t actually expect him to think about it. You thought maybe he’d give up the chase and try to find someone else in the hotel or maybe finally cave in and just fuck his god damn fist- no such luck, though.

“I thought about it a lot. Like a lot. I haven’t slept. Well I slept but only for like thirty minutes and then I dreamt about it.” You blinked and motioned for him to continue. “Okay…” he nodded. “I wanna have sex with you. Anybody else is just confident. Around.” He shrugged. “Besides… I’ve wanted to taste you since the second I walked into the hotel.”

You widened your eyes a little and let out a little scoff. “What?” “That’s why I keep asking people if they wanna have sex. I keep thinking about you. About how your pussy would taste. How she looks. Fuck I bet she’s pretty.” His eyes are glued to your skirt now, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as you looked anywhere but at him because you had one sliver of resolve left and you could already feel it starting to slip away right into Dieter’s thick fingers for him to just completely obliterate.

“Dieter you can’t-“ Dieter was in your personal space now, practically sitting on you but not necessarily in your face or anything. “Bet she glitters like fucking gold when she’s all wet and waiting for somebody’s cock.” And then his hand is sliding under your skirt and his lips are on your neck. “I bet she’s soft and warm and tight. I bet she’ll flutter like a fucking butterfly when I finally let her cum.” And that was it.

You whined and grabbed Dieter’s wrist to push his hand under your skirt, taking a deep breath when his large warm hand settled over your panties, already wet with your arousal. Dieter groaned low in his chest before slipping his hand into your panties and resuming his assault on your neck, getting more aggressive.

“Need you to say it.” He shifted so he was turned towards you better. “Tell me what you want, pretty girl.” He nipped at your jawline lightly, causing you to shudder as your eyelids fluttered, moaning softly. “Dieter- need you to fuck me. Please.” You scratched his forearm lightly. “Please.”

Dieter pulled away and was quickly tugging your blouse of your skirt and started yanking it over your head before kissing your chest, biting down on the flesh of your left breast. You yelped a little and looked down at him as he slid his tongue over the bite and grinned before lifting you up so he could unzip your skirt before tugging it down.

Once he had your clothes off and you were sitting there in your bra and panties, he stood up and put his hands on his hips, getting a good at you. “Fuck you look gorgeous.” He mumbled, licking his lips before leaning down and slamming his lips against yours.

You pushed into the kiss eagerly and let out a soft moan, grabbing his robe and pulling him down on top of you, pressing up against him. Dieter moaned happily and pressed his hips down into yours eagerly, letting out a shuttery breath.

“Gotta taste you. Fuck. I’ve been wanting to taste you.” He reached behind you to unhook your bra, nipping lightly at your nipples before trailing down your torso and to where he really wanted to be.

“She’s crying for me, baby. You shouldn’t deprive a lady of what she wants.” Dieter shook his head and pulled your panties down, groaning happily and closing his eyes before pressing his face deep into your pussy.

You gasped and looked down at him with wide eyes, moaning loudly and gripping the couch cushions tightly, trembling a little. “Dieter- fuck.” You pushed your hips up into his mouth and whined softly, looking down at him.

Dieter peered up at you through his lashes, humming happily and sucking on your clit like a pacifier. Your back arched as you gasped loudly, moaning as your eyelids fell shut, dropping your head back as you rocked your hips up into his mouth eagerly, your hands moving from the cushions to his hair when he slid his tongue into you and started fucking you with it.

You’d never really enjoyed oral before, most guys that tried were rushing so they could get to their prize, bury themselves in you and then never call you again. Dieter, though, Dieter ate pussy like his life absolutely depended on whether or not you came. His tongue massaged every inch eagerly but not too eager to the point where he was rushed and sloppy.

His movements were calculated, lips moving like he was having the most intense make out session, sloppy wet sounds mixing with his moans and groans, fingernails dug deep into your skin. He was actually enjoying it, his own hips pushing against the air as he looked up at you with those big brown eyes, whining and begging you to cum on his tongue.

It wasn’t long before your brows furrowed and your mouth fell open, her legs shaking and closing around his head as you came with a loud cry of his name, trembling a little and tangling your fingers tightly in the hair on the back of his head, keeping him in place even if he made no movements to pull away.

After a moment, though, he tapped your thigh and you felt your cheeks warm up more than they already. Your skin was practically on fire, already a little damp from the exertion. You slowly opened your legs and Dieter pulled up with a small gasp, panting softly as he grinned cheekily, face shiny with your juices.

You blinked rapidly as you looked at him and shifted a little. “Knew she tasted good. Taste.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours tightly, pulling you closer to him as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. You moaned happily and tangled your tongue with his. Dieter wasn’t really the type to wipe his face, instead opting for leaving your juices there, sliding his tongue wherever he could get it on his face before he was picking you up and carrying you over to his bed.

You yelped when he threw you down on it and laughed as you looked up at him. “Keep it on.” You said quickly when he went to take off the coat, raising a brow at you. “What?”

“I…” you huffed. “You come to the door naked in the coat constantly and you’re not gonna fuck me in it?” You pouted. “A little lack-luster if you ask me, Dieter.”

Dieter blinked and slowly let go of the coat with a grin, humming. “Alright.” He moved down to his shorts and undid them before pushing them down- commando- you expected nothing less from him.

“God I’ve been dreaming about this since I got here. Been wanting to bury myself in this warm pussy.” Dieter purred and kissed you deeply as he pushed your legs apart and slotted himself between them, grinding against you but not quite sliding in yet.

“Please, Dieter. Need you.” You begged, grabbing his shoulders under the jacket as you peered up at him, trying to tug him closer. “Can’t stop thinking about it. Please.”

Dieter grinned and chuckled a little as he started kissing your neck. “So impatient.” “Says the guys who’s been begging me to fuck him for three weeks.” Dieter laughed again and lifted up so he could watch as he grabbed the base of his dick and guided it into you slowly, groaning happily.

“Look at how hungry she is.” He mumbled softly, sliding his thumb over your clit slowly. “Swallowing me up so good. Didn’t even need to stretch her out.” He ran his hands over you slowly, pulling out and then sliding back in, groaning. “God it looks so pretty. Fuck. Got me all soaked already.” He dropped his head back as he bottomed out, eyelids fluttering as he closed them.

“Dieter~” you whimpered, you were honestly surprised you hadn’t needed any stretching, Dieter was definitely the biggest guy you’d been with, not in just one aspect but individually you’ve been with men that compared either girth wise or length wise. But you’d never been with someone as long and as girthy as Dieter, your legs shook as you hooked them around his waist, sliding under the coat as you whined.

“Fuck you feel so good.” Dieter groaned into your neck, starting to bite and suck on your neck. “Harder- Dieter, harder. Please.” You begged him, tugging him closer and leaning up to kiss him eagerly as he started fucking into you harder, huffing softly.

“Listen to you, baby. You sound so fucking pretty- fuck- gonna have to keep you around huh?” He kissed your jaw lightly, nudging his nose against your cheek lightly. “Would you like that? You can come live with me in Sherman Oaks, have your own room- fuck- your own house if you want one. Never have to work again just be my little play thing- fuuuck.” Dieter whimpered when your nails dug into his shoulders, a gasp falling from your lips when he brushed your gspot.

“Dieter-“ “aww I know, sweet girl.” Dieter purred, kissing your cheek gently. “Feels good, huh?” He angled his hips to hit your gspot with each thrust, groaning with the way you were fluttering around him, shuddering as you nodded your head rapidly. “Yes. Fuck it feels so good, Dieter.” You whined, rocking your hips with his before gasping when he shoved your hips down into the mattress.

“Stay still, sweet girl. You just sit there, look pretty, and feel good.” Dieter hummed, nipping lightly at your jawline as you nodded eagerly, not even sure what you were agreeing to as you felt his thumb press into your clit, the rest of his hand splayed over your mons pubis, his fingertips grazing your midriff as your head fell back, the pressure of his hand pressing down caused everything to feel ten times stronger than it already did.

You looked up at Dieter and saw him watching his hand with an astonished look on his face. “W-why are you making that face?” You whimpered softly as Dieter chuckled. “Can feel my dick through your stomach, gorgeous.” He licked his lips. “Fuck. Let me keep you, baby. Please.” He begged, looking from your stomach to your eyes.

“Wanna be able to fuck this pretty pussy whenever I want to. God.” He dropped his head back for a second and snapped his hips harder into you. “Gonna let me? Please, please, please.” He moaned and pressed his hand harder against your stomach, making you whimper and scream his name as that coil in your stomach snapped and heat spread across your body, legs tightening around Dieter to pull him closer.

“Fuck- yes, Dieter. Don’t ever wanna stop doing this.” You whined and arched your back. Dieter gasped softly and moaned before leaning down and kissing you eagerly, moaning and pushing his tongue into your mouth as he came, pushing deep inside you as his muscles shook.

You slid your arms through the jacket and wrapped them tightly around Dieter’s middle to keep him close, nudging his nose against your cheek before covering you in kisses and little licks like he was a kitten.

You laid like that for a while, Dieter keeping himself hovered over you as he smothered you in kisses. Slowly, he moved off of you and laid next to you, laying on his side so he can look at you, a dopey smile on his face.

You felt a little awkward under his stare, slowly starting to fold your arms over your chest until he stopped you, grabbing your arms and pulling you close to him, kissing your knuckles. “Did you mean it?” He asked curiously and you looked at him, furrowing your brows. “About moving to Sherman Oaks with me.” He lifted on his elbow, looking down at you a little giddy as his fingertips drew patterns on your stomach, trailing up your chest and to your neck before grabbing it lightly at the sides.

“Want you to move in with me. Be my little housewife.” He bit his lip as he ran his eyes over your face, he looked a little nervous. You swallowed thickly, opening and closing your mouth before you nodded slowly.

“Okay.” You said softly. The idea of living with Dieter did seem nice, especially if this was something that was going to happen on any kind of basis, day to day or otherwise. “I wanna live with you.”

He perked up and grinned widely. “Yeah?” He shifted so he was sitting up now, his hand pressed down against your collarbone as you laughed softly and nodded, cheeks warm. “Yeah.”

Dieter grinned and leaned in to kiss you deeply, you yelped a little and giggled as you kissed him back, closing his eyes and laying your hands on his cheeks. “Good.” He laid beside you again, pulling you tight against his side as he nuzzled your neck, slinging his other arm around you and hugging you tightly.

You didn’t peg him for the cuddling type, though now that you were wrapped up in the octopus-like limbs of Dieter Bravo, it made sense he would cling to you like this, physical touch seemed to be a big thing for him, something he was always craving.

On some sort of sub-level you understood, being an only child with parents that would rather work and drop you with nannies you knew all about not getting the love and affection children craved and required.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Maybe you and Dieter could be good for eachother.

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Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

#pedro pascal #pedrohub #Pedro pascal smut #dieter bravo #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo x reader #the bubble #dieter bravo the bubble #dieter bravo fanfiction

[popcornforone]

The Winners Circle

A Dieter Bravo Fan Fic

This was in draft form a while, not completed. I’ve always wanted to write Dieter during award season & with Pedro being nominated so much this year it was fitting. Also a huge shout out to @salgal78 she said ahhh I have an idea for a fic for you to write or incorporate & part of it appears in this so thanks my love.

Synopsis: It’s the TV BAFTAS & both you & Dieter are up for awards. Everyone thinks you’re just friends, let’s see if you can convince everyone that’s still the case & not something more.

Word Count: 5800

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! PIV (passionate & kinda getting near rough) sex, oral male receiving, established relationship, cream pie, swearing, alcohol, mentions of party & Dieters previous life style, previously friends to lovers, secret relationships, teasing. Public sex, bribery.

Thanks as always for the read peoples it’s really appreciated. All feedback is welcome. I hope you enjoy.

Your silver heels sit in the corner of the hotel bathroom ready to head to the BAFTA’s. Tonight you are certain will be your night. You are up technically for 5 awards.

Best comedy show

Tv moment of the year

Best comedy actor (twice for your co stars)

& best comedy actress for you

You & your long time writing parter & first love came from nothing & wrote a hit sketch comedy show which has now reached its natural conclusion. You are both finally getting recognition for this & tonight as you walk the red carpet at the Baftas you will be validated. You strap your heels on & make sure your purple dress shimmers & makes you look fantastic. You leave the bathroom of the suite & see your husband sorting out his purple tie in the mirror. His eyes catch you in the reflection, & the (for once) smart Dieter Bravo turns around. His lips part as he sees you.

“Bloody hell” he says looking you up & down. “What happened to my wife & the comfortable leggins & hoddies she wears?”

“Oooh she’s here baby, don’t worry” you walk up to him & sort out his cufflinks for him. His pocket square as well matches the material on your dress. He is also up for two BAFTAS . For best performance In an international tv show & also for tv moment of the year. His death in the crime drama he was in last year got rave reviews & became an instant meme. It’s almost as iconic as Hans Gruber falling from the nakatomi plaza. “You do need to remember though Dieter, that no one even knows we are dating & just assumes we are friends” after confessing your mutual feelings for each other a few weeks ago, you decided not to waste any time & got married 8 weeks later. Only your immediate families & 2 friends each in attendance for the most romantic evening of your lives. You are meant to actually right now be on your honeymoon, but when you both got your award nominations 3 day’s before your nuptials, you postponed it by a few days.

“I will baby, don’t worry, remember I’m good at keeping these kinda secrets” he says with a wink & gets his phone out to take a selfie of you both before you head off to the BAFTAS. separate cars are coming to get you, as you are travelling with the people from your show who are in the rest of the rooms on this floor.

“I know you are, I mean people have seen us on the red carpet together before as friends…” you look longingly into his big brown eyes & this scruffy hair which you insisted he kept for tonight. It means if you can sneak a few minutes with him & you run your hands through it, it won’t look like you have done that. You do also prefer him scruffy. “But your mine now baby”

“& so are you my wife” he kisses you.

“I’m never going to get tired of hearing that husband”

“& I’ll never stop saying it” he smiles back. Click goes his camera as you both hold each other & take a romantic selfie. For your eyes only.

*

“To the left”

“Looking fabulous”

“Smile”

“How does it feel to be the toast of the awards?”

This is the craziest red carpet you’ve ever been on. There have been some properly famous people walk this in front of you tonight. But you seem to be the person everyone wants to talk to, have a selfie with, be interviewed by. It’s suddenly dawned on you that tonight will change your life. You are being taken seriously & as you pose you get more comfortable & confident in yourself.

“Dieter” a member of the press shouts. Because you’ve been doing so much fan service, interviews & stuff with your colleagues on your show, Dieter has now caught you up on the red carpet. “Pose with her” is shouted & that’s all it takes. Dieter stops his solo geeky pose he’s famous for & because you’ve always posed at events together, it’s not weird to anyone when he pulls you in close around the waist.

“Smile baby” he says as he kisses your hand & smoulders to you & then turns to the world’s photographers.

“I always smile Dieter” you beam at the press. Your hand is squeezing his bum, the cheek nearest to you. He winks at you & leans into your ear.

“Keep doing that…” he whispers seductively “… & you’ll remember tonight for more than the accolades you receive”

“Dieter” you say loudly in shock & suddenly realise people heard you outloud. “Oooh you know how he gets” you play it off & Dieter rolls his eyes. The press know Dieter is know for his slightly risky comments, that’s why he’s celebrity gold for the tabloids. He plays up to his perceived image, but that was just for your ears.

You continue to work the red carpet & eventually make your way into the auditorium & are handed a complimentary glass of champagne & then someone comes to take Dieter to his seat. You knew you weren’t sitting together but right now you wish he was sitting next to you for today. He wasn’t given a plus one & you gave yours to another member of your cast so they could come to this as well.

“Good luck beautiful” he kisses your cheek & is walked into the theatre. It’s only when you walk in that you realise how near the front you & your show are. You also see Dieter sitting about 8 rows back talking to an usher. You sit down next to your Co writer & ex Ciaran.

“So what are you predicting?” He says.

“Two, comedy show & best actor for either you or Pete” you reply.

“Ha” his wife Jess says “you’re always so modest, we all know full well you’re gonna pick up best comedy actress. If you don’t we all boycott the BAFTAs going forward”

“Jess!” You exclaim “you can’t say that while we are actually at the BAFTAs” you tut & roll your eyes & then you & Ciaran say the exact same thing in unisons. “Wait til we’ve at least won one bloody thing” the whole group of you laugh. It’s one of the lines from the show when you talk to others about how inappropriate they are but to do it once that person has left of the thing is over. If you get no other wins tonight this has all made you have a collective laugh.

*

“To present our first award…” the host goes on, you haven’t checked the program to see what order things are in, you were going to do that during the first award, but then you stop & put the list down & applaud as the words”… Dieter Bravo” are said. The room cheers. Obviously to you & your colleagues & friends they knew he was going to be here, they know your a couple probably the only people in the room that do, but the rest of the room is really enthusiastic too. It’s always good when a big megastar turns up for uk award shows. Out he walks in his charcoal suit, pocket square & tie that highlights the outfit, & he’s got his glasses on. That’s your man right there. He’s yours & you wish he was now sitting next to you to keep you calm tonight.

“Comedy is all about timing, something that’s not my strongest attribute, just ask my friends & how I almost didn’t get to my limo in time.”

“Well we’re a shoe in…”Ciaran whispers to you.

“What?”

“The opening award is for comedy show, Dieters presenting, the world knows your friends, they are doing this for a nice little on stage reunion” Your eyes pop open.

“Ooooh fuck” your hand trembles & Ciaran grabs it like he used to when you were a couple but it doesn’t calm you as it shakes anymore. Proving you work better as writers & friends.

“Breathe, it will be okay” Jess whispers, she has known you both long enough to know that there’s nothing going on between you.

After the little highlight package Dieter announces your tv show the winner & you all cheer & slowly make your way up to the stage. You’ve already made the group decision that the two people who will do this acceptance speech will be Ciaran (because you & Ciarán both know Pete is winning comedy actor) & James the next person with the most input. They all are congratulated by Dieter as they go up to the stage & you are last, & you hug him in a friendly way. You then with the other 4 cast members step back & let James & Ciaran talk& accept the award. You slowly feel Dieters hand go around your waist. You’re still listening to what your friends have to say, but you are suddenly much calmer now that you’re next to your husband.

“Congrats baby” he whispers “my little bafta winner”

“Thanks Dieter, the night is still young.” You’re trying to be professional but the way he just poked his glasses back up his nose has got you desiring him. You then slowly leave Dieters side & quickly leap into the microphone to do one last thank you.

“I know it’s a long night so I’ll be quick but I just want to say James & Ciaran are the reason we are here winning this, because let’s be honest they make us all look funny & you were never going to thank yourselves we’re you.” The room erupts into chuckles & you all leave the stage to do a few small interviews with the press back stage, before returning to watch the awards.

*

As you predicted earlier Pete wins best comedy actor. His performance as Grumpy Grandpa is going to be remembered long after any of you are relevant anymore. It is harsh on Ciaran & his characters he created. He is the better performer but Grumpy Grandpa is marvellous, mainly because of the way you & Ciaran wrote it. You sit there as the nominees for comedy actress are read out. You hate being recognised, you’re bad at self praise, but this was always a definite nomination as you missed out on a supporting actress bafta for something else last year because it didn’t meet the bbfc guide lines for international work. This year that rules has now been changed due to people protesting towards Bafta.

“& the bafta goes to…” says Nathan who is a tv show judge & currently flavour of the month looks wise in the British press.

He says your name.

You freeze.

You thought this might happen. But that still doesn’t mean it’s a shock to the system to hear your name be read out loud. The room erupts in noise & cheers & you sit there as Ciaran hugs you.

“Oh my fucking god” the room is filled with noise & people congratulating you but it’s all silent as your head trys to process what has just happened. You have a solo bafta. The room is a blur as you make your way to the steps to go & accept the award. But as you reach the stage & Nathan comes to hug you, you just catch a sight out the corner of your eye. Dieter is wiping a tear away a few rows further back. He’s standing up & applauding like everyone else but his eyes are glazed. He’s proud. He’s proud of his wife.

You are brought to an even more surreal reality of winning by a hug from Nathan. He tall dark & handsome even more so in person, smells divine & he gives you a hug.

“Congratulations” he says his eyes dancing “finally” he says & he hands you the BAFTA. Your BAFTA. You don’t need to share this one. It’s just where you’re gonna put it. You almost drop it. It’s so heavy. It doesn’t look it but it really is a weight. You get to the podium & put it on the stand & take a deep breathe.

“Well ladies & gents,I can confirm that Nathan does smell as good as he looks” the room laughs. You’ve broken the ice at the start of your speech. You have a rough idea about who you need to thank but you’ve not written it down. You’re going to speak from the heart & then you properly begin.

“Thank you Bafta. This is incredible. As are my 4 other nominees in this category. It’s hard enough to be a woman in this world anyhow let alone showbiz, but comedy is the hardest job of all so I want to say thank you to my fellow nominees & the women who came before us for giving us this opportunity.” You point & look at the rest of the friends from the show.

“I need to thank my guys & gals from the show, mainly Ciaran for being an amazing writing partner for over a decade & to his amazing wife Jess who let him just after they got married to go spend 10 weeks in a room with his ex & trust us.”more people laugh. “I also want to thank my parents, my brother & his wife & all the friends from the beginning who let me tell them bad jokes for years you are always my inspiration & to my new friends that I have now I’m a big shot apparently” you do quotation marks as you say that. A member of the press who doesn’t write fairly about women when they are successful said that you’d soon be a big shot & it would be the end of your tv show. You’ve waited 3 years to own them back.

“I also want to thank the viewers for sharing our show over the years, you watching meant we could do wilder crazier things, so thanks for the support, but the person I really want to thank is whoever it is who’s listening me right now. Be it a girl a guy a they or an I. I never thought I’d be here, I have always been told nah not today or well try this or be this. I may have changed a little recently but I’m am most me in front of my lap top typing. I may now be a comedian & actress but I am a writer, & my dream was to be recognised for that. So whoever you are out there, keep striving for the dream, be it you want to be a doctor or you want to complete the ironing tonight you’ve got this & I believe in you.” The room applauds & you smile & then you raise your BAFTA in the air & finish your speech. “Thank you so much BAFTA & D I adore you” you make eye contact with Dieter as you say that. You always say to each other that you adore him in public instead of saying you love him & he does the same. It does mean I love you to each other though. The room gives you a standing ovation & you walk off back stage to speak to the press about your well deserved win.

*

That’s it for your shows win for the night & Dieter doesn’t win either but next comes the after party & dinner. You are nowhere near Dieter for dinner, but you can now text him & you make a point to walk past his table & he does the same to you. Dinner is finished & the party really gets going. A world famous dj is mcing & the music is banging. You’re stood there chatting to Nathan who presented your award earlier, your bafta has been taken to be engraved & will already be at your hotel room when you get there later. It’s been replaced with a glass of champagne.

“Sorry about the comment about how you smelt Nathan, but you always look phenomenal”

“I mean I do judge a beauty show, I have a reputation to live up to”

“As do I with my comedy & ad libs” you both laugh. “But you do smell good” you then smile. Nathan assumes it’s for him but it’s not. Dieter is walking your way behind Nathan with the other judge from Nathan’s Tv show.

“Ahhh Nathan I thought you should meet the rather Dashing Dieter Bravo, he’s interested in having a new suit” Violet says. Nathan turns & sees the look on Dieters face & looks him up & down every detail taken in. Nathan shakes his hand.

“I know me needing a suit? Ironic” Dieter giggles sipping his whiskey, trying to to keep smiling at you. Violet then interjects.

“& congratulations to you, lots of wins today, you created such a wonderful show… have you watched it Dieter?” He almost chokes on his whiskey. He came to set a few days before you were a couple to watch how your show is made. He knows all too well the effort you put into making it.

“Oooh yes I have, I love it, she’s very talented with her hands…” he lingers & then shouts”… at typing” he’s blushing & you just stand there smiling, knowing exactly what he meant.

“I’m sure she is” Nathan winks “Violet let’s go mingle & Dieter you can get my information & I’ll do you a suit fitting” Nathan then shakes his hand again & then hugs you goodbye “I’ll leave you & your other half alone” your face looks a bit shocked as you pull away & look at him. “His face, your eyes & the similar styles & colours on your outfit plus that new glistening ring, I’d say you want some alone time”

“Wow Nathan no one else has clocked”

“Well they are all idiots” & he leaves & Dieter smiles at you before putting his glass down & flinging his arms around you, lifting you up & spinning you around in the air. You do a small scream. People don’t take notice this is what Dieter does to all people, he’s friends with. When your back in your feet he whispers softly.

“Congratulations to my my little miss double bafta winner” he kisses your cheek & you wish you didn’t have to hide your relationship at the moment. You would love the world to know that you are Mrs Bravo.

“Thanks Dieter, sorry you didn’t win”

“Oh but I did, the world wants to speak & be with you but only I get to do that.”

*

After dancing & networking, you leave the party. Both you & Dieter are now a little bit tipsy & not drunk. A line of limos are waiting outside, so you hold his hand & March him into the back of one of them & ask the drive to go the long way to your hotel.

“Have you had an amazing night my love?” Dieter asks as he tucks your hair behind your ear that’s come down slightly & kisses your neck. Your hand goes straight to his thigh.

“Yes Dieter, one of the best nights of my life”

“Well you deserve it”

“So do youuuuhooooo oooh Dieter” his teeth graze down your neck making you shudder with excitement.”im sorry you didn’t win though”

“Oh no I won, the world wants you for 5minutes ,i have you all to myself” you plunge one of your hands into his whispy hair before he hold you in place & you make out in the back of the limo. You know from experience that these driver keep thing’s professional & don’t over step the mark. But as you stroke his length from above his trousers, you can feel his anticipation building. He’s getting hard with each touch stroke & kiss. He wants you & the way he is sighing means he might cum in his trousers soon, if you don’t help him out.

You grab the intercom & buzz it to the driver.

“Complete disgression which will come with a very generous tip?”

“Of course just let me know when your done, traffic is a nightmare tonight so it might take a…”

“Thank you” Dieter announces & slams the intercom off as he unbuckles his belt.

“Dieter?! That was rude!” You scoff at him he likes it when you a bit moody, it’s a turn on but what’s not a turn on for Dieter. “Sorry he’s drunk” you apologise & then really turn the intercom off.

“I’m not that drunk my love, I’m at the right level” he says “& I hope you give me more than the tip”. He winks & he unzips his toruses & from the inside of his boxers out flops his massive erect penis. You lick your lips in excitement. For years you had heard girls & guys talk about how good Dieters cock was for blow jobs & he’d always said they’d been alright but the first time you took his length inside your mouth he came in seconds. Maybe it was just the idea or desperation for him to claim your mouth but he always repays the favour.

“Oooh my mouth likes to go all in baby.” You kneel on the limo floor & push your hair from your face. You spit on his leaking head. It’s angry & waiting to be welcomed for relief. You look up at him & smile. “All the way?” He stares in disbelief you’ve only done that when you were both high on lsd but you enjoyed it.

“You… you…sss…. You’re sure” he man spreads fully.

“Totally ” you’ve been stroking him for the last few exchanges & know it’s time. Down you go. Not all the way starting with the tip you want to go further down with each bob. You want him to get even more lost in desire the further you go.

“Oooh yesss, oooh fuck baby yes” he loves how your small little mouth which always is so polite, accommodates him. Your tongue lapping around it, how the saliva costs him. He grips the seat in the limo looking down as you take him further inside you.

“Fuck, I have won, you’ve not sucked anyone else tonight off” one hand has moved to his thigh, stroking it. Adding extra tension to him. His hips can’t be constrained as they start to gyrate. You know this is your cue to go deeper.

When he fills your cunt with his penis you wonder how it fits. Therefore you’re always shocked that when it hits the back of your throat that you don’t run out of air. It’s always a mess when you’re finished with him, but damn he always feels so good when you give him oral.

“Oooh baby, more, more, can you go further?” You flutter your eyes at him & nod & his hands go into your hair to encourage your bobbing. “good girl, my fucking good fucking slutty wife” he moans & his hips move & his hands go into your head too. The teasing blow job is now a face fuck. & he is grinding his teeth & snarling in desire. He holds your hair keeping you in place so you don’t Bob & he fucks further down your throat. “Eye contact baby” you reconnect as you stare at your husband. “Fuck oooh fuck” each thrust harder. Your taste buds already tasting some of him. He grips your chin in place so it doesn’t budge. He’s going so hard you’re worried about the mess you will make soon.

You gagging around him. Your nose is in his pubic hair when you reach the base each time. There is no relenting. Dieter is getting everything out in this blow job & his shirt is starting to dampen from sweat from the excitement it’s building up inside him.

“Baby I’m gonna,… gonna cum… so…so…” he growls but due to the change in his rhythm you already knew this. You’d pulled back slightly. You didn’t want to choke when he came, that had happened before, it was not a nice feeling for either of you. So he’s not fully down your throat, as his hips shudder. “Fucking fuck oooh fuck” he screeches & Dieter spills into your mouth. Funky & salty, the ropes of his seed have your taste buds standing to attention. Swallowing every drop. His eyes are closed as his pleasure is complete. He leans back on the limo seat, as you slowly let his penis go & give it a few last licks before taking a napkin to wipe it clean.

“Still tastes like a winner to me baby” you eventually state, swiping your thumb to wipe up a small bit of cum on your lips before softly & seductively licking it clean. You wait til his eyes are open before you do this. He lets out a soft giggle & sigh.

“I’ve slept with countless people who have performed oral on me & yet there’s something about your reflex & the way you slurp that always turns me on more than anyone else.” He helps you back onto the seat of the limo & redresses him bottom half.

“Before or after….”

“Oooh the first time you sucked my cock I was like oooh this, this here is next level.” He smirks rubbing your hair in a hazy state. “Everyone before me must have been idiots…”

“Actually Diets…” you interrupt “you are the only man I’ve ever performed oral on”

“What!?” He’s shocked “this is a joke right” you shake your head.

“On mine & yours life…”

“Then why me… why no other guy before me”

“Because i knew you liked it, expected it & I wanted to return the favour, knowing how legendary the rumours were about your own mouth is at pleasuring cunts”

“Wow” Dieter leans in & deeply kisses you. “Well I appreciate it every time, & I will return the favour of making your clit quiver…” his hand goes under your dress & you feel his hand reach for your knickers, but the limo then stops.

“We’re here” the intercom voice announces.

“Probably best to do this in our hotel room actually, much more room” Dieter then leave a £250 in the back of the limo. “For your discression” he says & he then drag the two of you out of the limo.

*

You are woken the next morning by a knock at your door. You ignore it at first but then the phone in the room rings. You unhappily wriggle free of Dieters grip, those long muscular arms wrapped around you, not wanting to let go. Eventually you get the phone & gasp, grabbing Dieters Jacket from last night to put on & answer the door, you don’t want to answer it naked. Your face is full of joy as you sign the security forms & take the large black & gold box back into your room. Dieter has stirred at the commotion, your excitement & you slowly pulling yourself away from him.

“Babe?” He asks half asleep as you stand at the table & open the box. His eyes light up when he can see your bum cheeks popping out the bottom of his jacket. You turn your head & smile.

“Morning sexy”

“No your the sexy one in my jacket” Dieter replys with a big stretch before his hand goes under the bed sheet to try & calm his morning erection, but with the way you look that’s not going to happen, it’s just going to have to wait a few minutes.

You stand there & lift up your 2 Baftas which are now engraved with your name show & date.

“They are here,” you put one back in the box as they are both heavy & slide onto the end of the bed & do the thing you’ve always wanted to do if you ever got your hand on one, use it as a face mask. Both you & Dieter laugh at this. Dieter leans to his bedside table & takes a snap of you on his phone.

“For insta later baby”he says with a wink.

“But I’m all but naked Dieter?”

“You don’t need to hide your body beautiful” he’s taken the bafta from you to look at it but he’s clearly distracted. “What time is your tv show press shoot this afternoon?” He asks as he tussles his hair.

“4pm why?”

“Good” he kicks off the bed sheet showing he’s completely naked & aroused, & put the bafta on the bedside table. “We didn’t celebrate enough last night” he pulls you fully onto the bed so that you’re on top of him.

“Who ever said we did?” You smirk leaning your head to his for a sensual kiss. Your hands running through that crazy untamed fluffy hair.

“Oooh sweetheart” the words escape his lips as both your eyes close as the intense kiss continues. His hands go under the jacket caressing your body, making sure you’re in the right place for pleasure to begin. “My winner, my winner at everything” he slowly puts his hand on your behind & lowers you onto his meaty length, the stretch as always extraordinary. He’s so big & you gasp. He lightly pushes his hands into your bum so you start to rock down onto him, pleasure already spreading through your veins, pumping your blood. His hands after a few motions move to help you undo the few jacket buttons you have as he looks up at you as you both slide it from your body, tossing it off the bed.

“You’re so beautiful baby” he moans, his hips already at a good rhythm. He looks up at you as you ride him. Your pelvis rolling to meet his thrusts, as that special place is starting to be hit. His hands grip your hips. Finger marks will be there for a while after this is over. You trail your hand down your body, eventually stopping at your clit, stroking starts slowly but then gets more vigorous. Dieter would usually do this by he’s in a trace as you make oooh fuck noises, & your spare hand squeeze a nipple.

“Fuck Dieter oooh fuck”

“Yea baby like that, I like that, so fucking good” he pants back. “Why is your cunt so addictive?” He’s moving faster you know what he wants.

“Because your the one fucking it” you whine back your hands now on his chest, those hairs so fine but so nice to run your hands through. It gives you both goosebumps.

You then hoover over him & spread your legs a little more knowing full well what will happen when you kiss him next. He slows slightly his body knows it too.

“Fuck my pussy baby” you hold his face & lick it & he grabs your bum firmly. Your lips connect for a really exceptional kiss full of lust, tongues dancing together, faces almost melting into each other. But that’s all he needs. He thrusts, & pumps & is relentless. Hitting the spot every thrust, the motion of him pounding your cunt, has you screeching quickly.

“Oooohhhh fuck fuck fuck oooh yes yes yesssss fuck oooh fuck” are the only words you can say, as your body shakes as you approach your orgasm.

“Best cunt, my cunt” he crys as he bites your bottom lip not wanting your lips to be apart. “Fucking this tight little pussy til you can’t take me baby”

Your sweating & moaning & the blood inside you is boiling with this feverish sex you are having. You grip the pillow as he gently puts his hand around your throat.

“Dont cum yet baby” he asks but you can tell from the creaking bed & the sloppy sensation as he keeps sliding within you, that he knows you can’t hold it for too long. “Tell me baby, what are you”

“A winner”

“No”

“A slut”

“No”

“The best sex of your life”

“Erm… I was after something else”

“Your cum hungry wife” you whine & then open your eyes as his grip around your neck gets tighter.

“That’s it baby, now you can cum mrs Bravo”

“Dieter!!!!!! Ooooh fuck” you clamp the hardest you ever had, your release sends shives to all your never endings as you cum & your body stutters.

“Damn oooh fuck oooh shit ooooh fuckkkkk” Dieter follows suit, filling you up. Your walls coated in his seed a few thrusts later. Satisfying you both. Your sweat drips onto him as you lay on top of him as your softly take him out of you & you hold each other close. You can feel everything drip out of you onto him but neither of you care about the mess after that incredible spontaneous session.

“So” you eventually whisper when you can make a noise, & lift your head. “I’m the best sex of your life?” Dieter blushes.

“Well when you make me lose control, yes you are” he smirks & boops your nose.

“Hmmm it’s a shame you’re not mine…” you say with a pause waiting for a reaction, you both no that no man has got you off as many times as Dieter in the few months you’ve had sex. But he doesn’t for one instant believe you, his happy little face gives you some side eye. “Of course you’re the best sex of my life Diets & you know I am a very good wife”

“Do you think bafta would hand out an award for best sex?” he asks

“No they aren’t coming to watch us”

You say sternly, Dieters had several sex tapes leak.

“Of course not but we’d win hands down baby” he jokes & you rest your head on him again.

“Do you think that’s the only way you’d win a bafta?” You ask

“Nah I’ve got everything I could ever want to win, right here & turns out I didn’t need a prize to validate how much I’m in love with you” his kiss is soft & he rolls on top of you for a much more sensual round, before you have to come to the realisation that your world has changed so much in not just the last 24 hours but the last few weeks & months since you finally got your amazing husband.

#pedro pascal #fanfic #my fics #smutt #no minors #pedro pascal cinematic universe #over18 #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fan fic #pedro pascal fic #dieter bravo fan fic #dieter bravo #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo fan fiction

[eisforeidolon]

Question: What do you most want to be remembered for, or in other words, if your eulogy could only be three sentences, what would they be?

Jared: Um...

Jensen: Uh, being a light.

Jared: A light?

Jensen: Being a light.

Jared: I was gonna say my big forehead, so - [Jensen shoves him in the shoulder]

Jensen: [gestures at himself] Being a light [gestures at Jared] and being my bounce.

J2: [laugh together]

Jared: So bounce is a term we use in filmmaking where -

Jensen: We bounce the light.

Jared: you don't want direct light on somebody, because it will just wash them out. So you'll shoot direct light at something and bounce it onto the subject you're photographing.

Jensen: For fifteen years I never needed bounces 'cause I just worked opposite him, so.

Jared: [ostentatiously moves his head around] I would just angle my head - [Jensen cracks up] If I stay here, you're lookin' good, dude.

Jensen: Serge, our DP on Supernatural, he, you know, and most DPs do this - they'll come in to the set and they'll be doing like [mimes moving a hand in front of imaginary lighting]. They're just checking for shadows or light and Serge would often just do this [makes same motion in front of Jared's forehead]. [Jared cracks up] Let's turn that down, pull out a light meter. No, I - to be serious, I think if I could just be remembered as somebody who brought positivity to the world in some way, shape, or form, and it maybe inspired one person to be a better person then I think that's, then I'm happy.

Jared: Yeah, I - A, he is, and we all know that. Bravo, 'cause he's [?] [claps]

Jensen: [bows]

Jared: I think there's something really ironic about A, this situation, B, that we're onstage, 'cause I really believe that he and I are both introverts? Like, he's not going out [does little dance] red carpeting everyday, like we're going to a new party - he's home with his family and his dog and himself. Same with me. And so it's a strange - so trying to kind of, like, dissect why we do what we do, I think - like, I'd rather mean something to you than win an Oscar. You know, the people I interact with and just be present with my [audience claps] thank you. Thank you, but I don't know the three sentences but hopefully - I would rather have two or three people be like he fucking helped me than thirty million people buy a ticket to my concert or something and not really give a shit. Which I love also about from Gilmore Girls to Supernatural to now Walker and his journey? It was never like we're plastered on the billboards outside of Times Square or we're on every talk show. So when someone came up, they weren't like, hey, you're that famous person on something, right, like can I take a picture? It was like hey I watched Gilmore Girls with my mom and became friends. Hey I watched Supernatural with my brother and we like to call ourselves Sam and Dean and this and that. Hey - so that's much more meaningful to me than any award from somebody who's never met one of us. That's more than three sentences, sorry.

Jensen: Your life, Jared Padalecki.

Jared: You said three hundred sentences, correct?

Jensen: There's like seven tombstones lined up -

Jared: Very small font.

Jensen: That makes me think of a quick story I'll share with ya, and I think I shared this recently, but I was - I recently met Cary Elwes who was Westley -

Jared: Princess Bride -

Jensen: in The Princess Bride.

Jared: and Men in Tights!

Jensen: And Men in Tights, Robin Hood: Men in Tights, great movie. And I had to share with him, I was like, hey, I posted this video of, a few years back of me sitting on the couch with my daughter explaining the story of Princess Bride while we were watching it. And I was like, I just gotta say that that was such a special memory for me, and like, meeting you now, it's like I just love that movie, I think it's amazing, my daughter still watches it to this day and I was like I'm sure you get sick of this, because I'm sure people tell you their Princess Bride stories all the time. And he's like, no no no. He's like, it is the gift that keeps on giving, in fact, on my tombstone, it'll probably read Mostly Dead.

J2: [laugh]

Jensen: [imitating the line from the movie] He's not dead, he's mostly dead.

#j2 gold panel #nashcon 2023 #long post

[iwanthermidnightz]

https://www.washingtonpost.com/arts-entertainment/2023/04/11/taylor-swift-breakup-joe-alwyn/

Hmm, weren't we just...

Finally, an article that does her justice. SHE’S the hero of the story. And it makes sure to highlight the fact that her genius artistry is now and always should be what she’s known for. The songwriter and artist of the decade.

In one of the defining early moments of Taylor Swift’s career, in 2008, she sat on a maroon armchair as a guest on “The Ellen DeGeneres Show,” chatting about her new country album, “Fearless.” Swift, prodded by DeGeneres’s rapid questions and general nosiness, revealed that one of the tracks, “Forever & Always,” was about her recent ex-boyfriend, pop star Joe Jonas. DeGeneres assured her that she would have no trouble moving on, and Swift agreed.

“When I find that person that is right for me, he’ll be wonderful,” Swift said, then smoothly delivered an instant-canon zinger: “And when I look at that person, I’m not even going to be able to remember the boy who broke up with me over the phone in 25 seconds when I was 18.”

“OHHHH!” the studio audience gasped, then broke into applause as Swift gave a satisfied smile. “No! You! Did! Not!” DeGeneres yelled, as Swift started laughing and looked sheepishly down at the floor, adding: “Sorry, I had to.”

The phone call reveal became a staple of Swiftian lore, but the incident also said a lot about Swift as an artist and celebrity: It wasn’t just that she was connecting with listeners as a teenage singer-songwriter, something Nashville executives previously did not think was possible. But she was also connecting because she was willing to be open about her heartbreak in a vulnerable, authentic and snarky way that struck a chord with fans and continued as she became a global pop megastar.

As savvy a move as it was, however, her candor set the tone for the next decade of her public image. Her dating life — and particularly her breakups — became open season for jokes, memes, award-show punchlines and numerous headlines as she dated fellow celebrities (Harry Styles, Calvin Harris, Tom Hiddleston) in her 20s and wrote songs when the relationships ended. Swift has made it clear that she found this almost-singular focus extremely offensive, telling the Guardian in 2014: “I really resent the ‘Be careful, buddy, she’s going to write a song about you’ angle, because it trivializes what I do. It makes it seem like creating art is something you do as a cheap weapon rather than an artistic process.”

Swift’s intensely loyal fan base took the cue, as evidenced this week by the outpouring of emotion over the end of her six-year relationship with British actor Joe Alwyn. Any potential mockery about breakup songs to come was completely overshadowed by out-of-control grief from the Swifties.

Entertainment Tonight broke the news Saturday evening, exclusively reporting that Swift, 33, and Alwyn, 32, were over but that the breakup was “not dramatic” and “the relationship had just run its course.” This report set the internet ablaze, with some fans refusing to believe it until a more celebrity publicist-friendly outlet such as People magazine weighed in — and People wasn’t far behind, citing an anonymous source that the news was true.

This time, Swift is the hero at the center of the story, partly because she’s so much more famous than Alwyn, known for roles in “The Favourite” and the Hulu series “Conversations With Friends,” but best known for his relationship with Swift.

But also, this is Taylor Swift in 2023: The media ecosystem has changed, with social media platforms and fans driving the narrative instead of the tabloids, and the Swiftie fandom is a universe with its own language, customs and rules that can overtake the internet with its intensity. Although her fans still speculate about her private life, Swift has made a concerted effort to move away from the “look at all of her boyfriends!” storylines that consumed her early media coverage. She stopped hiding coded messages in her lyrics about potential subjects of the songs. She and Alwyn rarely appeared together in public and wouldn’t even say each other’s names in interviews. Her sold-out Eras Tour celebrates her evolution and makes it clear that the past is far in the past.

It’s a world of difference from a decade ago, and Swift knows it. For someone who is rarely seen in public unless she definitively wants to be, it was no coincidence that she took a brief, heavily photographed stroll outside a restaurant in New York City on Monday night. Fans are already comparing her black-shirt-and-bedazzled-jeans outfit to Princess Diana’s revenge dress, and speculating that she purposefully appeared because she wanted to let everyone know she’s fine.

Swift, a self-mythologizer to her core, knows all of this, and she’s aware that the fandom is eagerly awaiting to see whether she will address the situation in concert. She recently swapped out one song on her Eras Tour set list, “Invisible String” with “The 1,” the former about soul mates, the latter about looking back fondly on a past relationship.

(LINK)

#thanks tree #the digs lmao

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Main Story: Part 4 - Act 13: Budding Spring - Episode 6: Current Location

Hisoka: … But this is still just the pre-voting.

Sakyo: That’s right. It won’t affect the finals. It’s just temporary voting results.

Kazunari: True! Ah, that had me startled!

Taichi: We can make up for it if we do our best on the real thing, right!?

Misumi: We’ve got a year~ Let’s do our best!

Yuki: … Still, even though there were so many theater companies, the votes didn’t increase.

Chikage: You can tell with just a quick look at the ranking that it’s mainly influenced by celebrities and influencers.

Chikage: We were at a disadvantage, considering this was SNS-only voting.

Sakyo: There will be SNS voting during the actual thing too, so we can’t say the situation will change.

Sakyo: It’s unlikely we’ll suddenly rise to the top 10 from our current position at 70 during 1Q

Izumi: Then what should we do…?

Itaru: The New Fleur Award has just started, so there's no guaranteed win strat.

Itaru: We don’t know how much theater votes will count for.

Homare: All I’ve understood is… We need to steadily increase our ranking from 1Q through 4Q

Omi: Our only choice is to take advantage of the four opportunities we’re given.

Azuma: I don’t think we need to reach the top immediately, we can build up bit by bit until we reach the 10th place.

Tsuzuru: Four times… Wouldn’t it be better to hold performances that stand out?

Sakyo: No, rather than doing something outlandish, wouldn’t it be better if each troupe performed its own MANKAI Company specialty?

Tasuku: The most important thing is to make sure that the fans who come to watch our plays leave satisfied, for sure.

Tsumugi: I think focusing on theater votes is a good idea. They are worth more points than SNS votes, after all.

Tenma: We have no choice but to make sure our audience sees our best, just as we’ve always done.

Masumi: We don’t need to change what we’ve been doing.

Tsumugi: You’re right. Let’s put on the best play possible. Same as always.

Misumi: Yup, yup! There’s no point to keep worrying about the ranking~!

Muku: That’s true… We've just got to do all we can.

Juza: Yeah. As we keep gaining experience, we’ll grow as actors. Even if that’s crude, it’s all we can do. 

Banri: So, we’ll be holding performances as usual, yeah?

Homare: If we’re going with our usual schedule, then the Spring Troupe would be the next ones up.

Tsuzuru: Being the first ones up in a situation like this is makin’ me anxious… If we fail here…

Itaru: It’s scary to think how our results will affect us in the long run.

Citron: There is no need to worry! We just need to put on our usual Spring Troupe performance!

Sakuya: That’s true. We were nervous during our first performance too, but if we had failed, we wouldn’t have been able to have connected to the Summer Troupe.

Tenma: That’s how it is. If it wasn’t for you guys, the Summer Troupe wouldn’t even exist. If anyone can do it, it’s you.

Tsuzuru: Got no choice but to go for it, huh…

Citron: If we could do it at that time, we can do it this time too. There’s no mistaking it!

Chikage: I’ll do my best, too.

Sakuya: We’ve gained experience and one more member since then. I’m sure we’ll be fine.

Banri: And we’ll be supporting you too, of course.

Tsumugi: Let’s overcome our hurdles and reach 4Q.

Sakuya: Let’s do our best!

momo has entered the chat momo: mankai company came 70th even though they won the fleur special award? that’s sus momo: even more sus is companies that haven’t even put on their first show coming out on top momo: i can’t accept this sns voting. why was the pre-vote only sns voting? there were definitely companies that organized mass votings momo: if you use disposable emails you can vote as much as you want, and there were people actually suggesting that online momo: social media clout and irl clout are different to begin with Iv: this yua troupe that got first place was just created by a famous vtalent, yeah? the fact that they got twice as many votes as second place gives me the creeps fr Kar: sounds like a serious situation. you ok? momo: of course i’m not. what should i do if my oshi is shocked by mankai company’s low rank? no way, just thinking about it is giving me depression shiki: there was no helping it this time. the influence of social media is just that big momo: winning just because you’ve got too much clout on social media is wrong Iv: i mean, it’s appropriate considering the times we live in. there are fans who can’t go to the theater performances but want to support their oshi Kar: if anything, couldn’t this be used as a strategy to get people into theater? might just be me tho momo: true, but still

previous episode | masterpost | next episode

NOTES:

(1) the episode title is usually used as the "you are here" indicator on a map app

(2) 22/4 edit: i wasn't sure before, but yua troupe is mentioned again in a later chapter, so i edited its name in

#a3! #translation #a3! translation #sakuya sakuma #tsuzuru minagi #itaru chigasaki #chikage utsuki #towa ichinoe #+ more

[cevansbaby-dove]

I wouldn’t worry about those blogs.

The ringleader is a cuckoo and she repeatedly says she’s not a CE fan and is only into his characters. She says she doesn’t follow his life like that and only knows people who know him (lol) So pray tell, why are people even paying attention to her? she doesn’t like him! So why would she know anything about him? She doesn’t care about his career or projects and instead just focuses on how she can troll people into thinking a breakup is going to happen.

Here are some facts vs what Regina and her crew have been saying:

She claims he’s C list and nobody cares about him yet spends 24:7 talking about him and pretending she knows that he’s going to divorce soon.

He is A list. Has been for years. He is not on Ben affleck and Matt Damon level but that’s also because he doesn’t put himself in the spotlight like they do. The guy literally disappears and does like one or two interviews when he needs to. He doesn’t do big brand endorsements, he’s not at every award show, he’s not doing prestige films that get a lot of big press so of course the GP isn’t checking for him like that. But when he’s mentioned people do know his name and more so by his famous character. He was given back to back 200 million film deals (yes, those projects didn’t do as well as they could have, but his name was attached to it because he was AT that level.)

I would say he’s gotten less popular over the years because after endgame his popularity soared. What goes up must come down. This was never going to be forever. And that’s ok. He still is here and he still is working. He doesn’t have to be at the forefront of everything to be considered a famous person. He had his time, now it’s time for others to shine. But if he chooses, he can make a comeback. His remaining fanbase should hope for that. Instead of checking to see how many bots he’s lost.

Regina and her crew post how many followers he loses everyday. Those loss of followers are clearly bots. He doesn’t do anything specific to warrant steady losses of actual followers. It just means his team is not having him keep up appearances of gains as much as they did at one point. Also, pre AB era, CE’s engagement on SM was impressive. His rare selfie garnered Millions of likes and thousands of comments. His last few posts right before AB got multi millions of likes. His actual IG followers are a lot less than some of his old costars because he came to IG much later than most. He started late but he was actually getting a lot more than ppl with hundred million followers (the Rock) and others. People did genuinely like him for him. He’s lost some of that shine now but it doesn’t mean the public hates him. He’s not blacklisted from the industry (clearly - but some people were claiming this 🙄)

Regina and her crew like to say he’s got no acting chops and compare him to other actors saying he won’t get any roles that are good. So he needs to stick to rom coms. She’s full of shit. First of all, he’s done like one romcom in the last ten years. So no. He may be limited in what roles he gets because many people may still perceive him as a certain type of actor. His latest projects may start to change that. We will see.

Regina and her friends like to say there’s no engagement for him anymore and nobody cares except they alone spend all their free time posting think pieces about him. They very much still care because they are still here. So what does that say about them?

His “marriage” is not going to ruin his career but it probably has dampened his Internet bf persona significantly. But at his age, does it really make sense to still have boyband level fans? He’s going to hit mid 40s and still have teenage fangirls?

I feel like it’s better that he loses that Internet BF popularity and starts focusing on pivoting his career. It can be difficult but at least that has endurance and longevity potential. It’s just making sure that you do still maintain an audience that wants to see you and will come out to watch you in projects you do. That’s what he needs to worry about in terms of popularity.

What is hurting him now is projects not doing well and hurting his potential future offers. But if he starts to choose better projects he may see a resurgence.

His fanbase has significantly shrunk but TBH, that happens to many actors that were once popular and eventually just outgrow or get outgrown by their fan base. People move on. He still will have fans but they just won’t be as intense as the ones who will sit there fighting trolls for him on the internet. That’s the bed he has to lie in and it’s up to him and his team to decide how they can pivot from their current situation.

You seem like you are a good person and you want to root for him and stay positive. That’s a good energy to have and I think some other blogs could stand to learn from that. (Doubt it though)

I am 23 not a teen and i agree 100%

Posting about how many followers he's losing is nothing but mean they are laughing about him when he's becoming more and more less of "i love my fans" Kind of guy.

And As for me rotting for him HELL yes i will unless he does something Super bad I will keep being a fan of his.

#chrisevans #i love him so much

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

All Too Well

A/N: I’ve had the begging of this story in my drafts for a while, and now I finally took time to finish it. Yay! I hope y’all enjoy, and if you couldn’t already tell, it’s based on All Too Well, the now very iconic Taylor Swift song Pairing: Gerard x Singer!F!Reader Word count: 6,155 words Warnings: Lots of angst, emotions in general, good old swearing. Also loosely proof-read, so keep that in mind.

Men sucked.

It was one of the many lessons you had gathered over your years of being on Earth, and you at this point were on the verge of giving up. Men were just intolerable sometimes, and nasty, and just... ugh. Bad.

Especially... well you hated to say it, but Gerard Way. He was supposed to be the super nice, sweet, nerdy guy, right? Wrong. He was a complete dick.

You guys dated for a year and a half and you swore nearly on your life that he was your soulmate. You loved him with every bone in your being, every breath you took was his. And then he fucking dumped you. Like it was nothing,

You weren’t even sure why, there was absolutely no lead up. You guys hadn’t fought anytime near the breakup, in fact just the week before you had gone out on a date with him at a super nice little romantic restaurant and the entire night was filled with nothing but laughter, smiles, and love.

And then he said he needed to talk to you, so you went over to his place, and well, he ended things. Right then and there. With no explanation whatsoever.

You were so confused that you didn’t filly react until you got back to your place and noticed one of his leather jackets he had left the other night, still hanging on the coat rack. And just like that you broke down sobbing in tears of anguish, agony, and the worst of all: heartbreak.

It wasn’t like inviting your friends over and binging sad romance movies over some ice cream and then burning his shit or covering it in glitter and delivering it back to him would work this time. No, this was a full blown code red. As code red as code red can get.

You were a depressed mess for three weeks not able to function as a human being. You breathed and that was the only thing keeping you alive. You just felt so used and ashamed and confused and unsure. Your entire life and existence for the last year and a half was suddenly meaningless and that was terrifying.

After a good depression slump, you turned to what every world famous singer-songwriter turned to: writing an album.

Which also happened to include a 10 minute song.

A 10 minute song that made it to #1 on the Billboard charts.

And caused your ex to go trough weeks of absolute slander and humiliation on the internet.

Every time you went on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter, any social media the exact same thing popped up time and time again: a meme of Gerard with your lyrics along side it, or overall people just criticizing him for specific instances you mentioned in the song. Some of which were exaggerated, if you were being honest.

Everyone knew who he was, not only because of his band, but because he broke your heart. And despite trying to be the better person, you definitely felt a ping of victory in your chest.

Long story short, the album cycle had gone really well. Your tour sold out, the album was doing incredibly well with multiple number one hits, and awards were coming your way left and right. Yet the last thing you expected to see at any awards show was him.

My Chem didn’t do award shows, they just didn’t. So why the actual fuck was he here at an after party? You immediately saw him, and despite the dimly lit nature of the room, you knew it was him. He looked... good, actually.

His hair was a bit more grown out and black, he had lost notable weight, his jaw was suddenly incredibly sharp and noticeable, he was unfairly hot and you hated it at the moment.

“Oh shit.” Your bestfriend, Clara approached you. “It’s him, isn’t hit?”

“Mhm.” You nodded and sighed, “Why is he so hot? Why?”

“We are not going back down that rabbit hole, nu-uh.” She stated, grabbing your arm and pulling you away, “I don’t care how good the dick is, I am not going through another three weeks of you hiding under your covers like a fucking bear in hibernation.”

“It was good.” You mumbled as she pulled your up to the bar, ordering you a rum and Coke.

“C’mon girl, you just won like five awards for an album about how shitty he was! Don’t go back to him.” She sighed, “He was a douche.”

“I know.” You frowned, wanting to add on, ‘but only that once!’ knowing it wouldn’t go over well.

“Besides, I think you got an A+ list fucking hunk of an actor staring right at you.” She smiled, biting her lip and looking over your shoulder. You looked over your own to see him smiling right at you.

“Fuck! That’s the dude in the new super hero movie or whatever I forget which one- but he’s ripped, right?” Clara nodded enthusiastically and you smiled.

“If you wanna get Gerard even more on his nerves,” She began, “Maybe you’ll talk to him. But do the whole flirty thing where ya know, you place your hand on his chest and overly laugh at his jokes.” You nodded with a smirk as you shot down your drink for confidence and walked over to begin talking to the guy.

He was nice, for sure. Definitely nice, but like, no personality whatsoever. His jokes were bad, but you laughed, especially after you got a quick text from Clara notify you that Gerard was in fact staring right at you with a face full of envy. Exactly where you wanted him. Salt in the wound.

After a while, you excused yourself to go to the restroom which really was just an excuse to not talk to him anymore. You quickly glanced at Gerard who was still staring at you and quite aggressively took a sip of his water, which you turned away and smiled to. Hey, he was a dick, you could smile about making him mad.

You wondered to the restroom solely to get away from the unnecessary and annoying conversation. You weren’t really sure where to go next, it was stuffy and hot in there, music growing louder to the point where a scream sounded more like a mumble. So you did what any logical person in your situation would do, went through some back stairs and up to some random rooftop balcony.

You opened the large metal door and took a deep breath as you inhaled the fresh, crisp air of an LA night. You slowly opened your eyes again, after enjoying your mere moment of tranquility, to be met with anything but peace. In fact, you swore you felt your chest actually begin to light into flames and your heart ceasing to beat.

It was him.

He was standing there, leaning on the slim metal railing, a cigarette in his mouth as he slowly inhaled and exhaled again, clearly staring off into the dot pattern of lights a large city like this one had. You hated when he smoked, it was an awful habit and while you knew it was far better than most of his other previous bad habits and addictions, you still didn’t like it in the least.

The door then shut with a subtle ‘bang’, and naturally he turned around. And there you were, your confidence now stripped of you and blown off in the wind of the night. You were a statue, just staring at him. Out of... you weren’t even sure anymore. There was no word for this emotion. At least not one yet.

He did the same. Didn’t really move at all, just stared at you. At least he looked like he was breathing, you definitely weren’t. Your eyes remained wide as his grew heavy and he took another drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke out of his mouth as it cascaded over his face. “Fancy seeing you here.” He said, only a small smile dancing on the edges of his lips.

You took that as a potential sign of peace, and began walking towards him. It would just be awkward if it was just the two of you up here and you weren’t at least minimally interacting. “I didn’t think you came to these things.” You commented, standing right behind the railing. He hummed, taking the almost nonexistent cigarette out of his mouth, throwing it on the gravel ground, and digging it in with his boot.

“No, not usually.” He sighed, “Label pushed us to, though. We were nominated and all.”

“I thought you guys never listened to your label,” You snorted under your breath, “It’s part of your whole image.”

“Yeah, well, ya know.” He began, “Shit happens.”

The two of you stood there in complete silence just staring into the skyline for probably a minute or two before he spoke up again. “Congrats on the awards.” He stated.

“Thanks.” You replied. Couldn’t have done it without your shitty ass breakup. “Congrats on all your nominations.” He scoffed.

“Nominations are not winning,” He explained, “It’s barely an acknowledgment.”

“Eh, I’ve been nominated for lots of things and not won.” You replied, “Besides, I think you guys should have won at least rock song of the year.”

“Thanks.” He replied, grabbing his pack again out of his pocket.

“I hate when you smoke those.” You commented under your breath.

“I know.” He coyly smiled, placing one in his mouth. “I’m not doing it out of spite, I’m doing it because that’s how addiction works.”

“I think I know how addiction works.” You fired back, eyeing him a bit. Again, it went silent with the tension.

“I saw you with, uh, what’s his face in there?” He began and you scoffed.

“Oh please, what’re you keeping track of every guy I talk to now?”

“No,” He replied, “Just observing.”

“I always hated how snarky you got.” You commented

“I always hated how snarky you got.” He chuckled.

“Oh don’t play the fucking victim.” You warned, “You were the one who broke up with me, remember?”

“Yeah, biggest fucking mistake of my life.” He stated matter of factly. You were processing what out of pocket thing to say next but his words caught up to you faster.

“Huh?” You suddenly asked, your eyes growing wide in shock.

“Yeah, I should’ve never been a complete and utter dick and just dumped you. You were probably one of the best things that ever happened to me, and I just treated you like shit one day and called things off over shit that wasn’t even your fault.” He sighed, “And yes, I definitely deserved a 10 minute break up song about me.”

“It was 25 initially.” You mumbled and he looked over more with a look of concern. “Can I ask you something?” You requested after a few moments of silence.

“Shoot.”

“Why did you break up with me?” You asked and looked over at him. He froze for a moment before taking his cigarette out to elaborate on a large sigh.

“Because I wasn’t myself, and I wasn’t thinking with my head.”

“Huh?” You asked.

“I had gotten back on, ya know, shit, just before the whole thing. And of course I knew you were gonna get on my ass and tell me that I shouldn’t do that shit, so I made the dumb mistake and chose all the fucked shit over you.” He explained, “It was so, so fucking dumb.” You waited a few moments to speak. Maybe out of shock, or just trying to process it.

“Gee,” You replied, waiting a few moments, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything. You’re not obligated to. I mean, I can barely if at all justify what I did with that.”

“You were a complete dick.” You stated, looking over at him as he lightly smiled. “But I loved you.”

“You loved me?”

“Yeah, I told you like every day.”

“Did you ever stop loving me?” You took a brief pause, the answering coming way too fast for your comfort. There was a still silence present between the two of you.

“I don’t know.” You whispered, your breath getting lost in the wind. He nodded, placing his head down to stare at the ground.

“I never expected you to come back, a part of me doesn’t want you to. Not because I don’t love you, I still do, but because all the anguish and just torture and hell I put you through. This two year punishment without you has been completely awful, but I know I deserve more of it.”

And you were actually speechless.

You hated the idea that you wanted to give him a second chance. You dreaded the feeling that he was a good guy at heart. You absolutely despised that you loved him, still, after all the shit he drug you through.

So you did what anyone would do: you ran.

You ran as fast as this tight dress and the heels could take you, as fast as your breath would allow, as fast as your heart could beat.

“Where are you going?” He asked, you heard his footsteps behind you as he grabbed onto your arm. It wasn’t a mean grab, more worry and desperation.

You turned your face to look up into those hazels eyes that reflect your own, lighten up by the barely illuminated box light above the door.

“To think.” You replied, your eyes welling in tears as your breath broke. You shook him free of you quickly and ran through the door and down the stairs.

You wanted him to run after you, but you wanted him to just leave you alone. You wanted him to confess his words and trials of love for you, but you wanted him to rot in hell. You wanted to feel his lips against yours again as you had all those times, but you also wanted to never see him ever again.

Your head was spinning as you finally reached the main ballroom again, looking around frantically for anyone you knew. After a minute your eyes just scanned the room and became blurry, unsure of what the image in front of you was, but you were sure it was chaotic and-

“Y/N?” A familiar voice rang through your ears. “Y/N, are you alright?” It became more clear. You turned to your side to see where it came from, a face you hadn’t seen in years.

“Mikey,” You sighed, letting your held breath go, “I um, I-”

“Are you having a panic attack?” He asked frantically, holding both of your arms, “Shit, let’s get you out of here.” He said, beginning to escort you to the back entrance. As soon as you got outside again your brain began collecting itself. “Are you alright?” He asked and you nodded, realizing you fists were curled into the lace of your dress and letting go. “What happened.”

“I- I don’t know, a lot I guess.” You swallowed harshly.

“Do you need to get home? Do you have a driver? Uber?”

“Yeah, I have a driver. I’ll just text him.” You sighed, taking another deep breath and closing your eyes.

“It’s Gerard, isn’t it?” He asked.

“Huh?” Your eyes went wide, wondering how he figured that out so fast.

“What the hell did he say to you? You know I’ll kick his ass-”

“No, Mikes, no.” You sighed, “I’m just confused.”

“About?”

“Him.”

“Oh.” You nodded.

“I think I need time to figure out how I feel.” He nodded back.

“I understand.” He smiled, as your carb began pulling up. “Well, you know if you need anything, I’m a phone call aways.”

“Thanks.” You tightly smiled, leaning in to give him a hug which he happily returned.

He helped you into your car, shutting the door and waving goodbye, making your promise that as soon as you got back to your place you would text him to let him know you were safe. “I swore she would’ve been my sister-in-law by now.” He sighed as the car pulled away. “But he just had to fuck it up.”

There your phone was in front of you for the third day in a row, his contact still blaring at you through the screen. You had been tempted oh so many times to call, text, anything just to see him.

You were kicking yourself for admitting it, but you missed him.

And deep down you knew better than to get back with a man who had thrown you to the curb like some casual trash every trash day, but 99% of your relationship was different, and you believed him when he explained why he suddenly changed. But you couldn’t just erase away the image of him just casually breaking up with you like it was nothing.

“I just don’t think this is gonna work out.” He nonchalantly stated as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

“What do you mean this ‘isn’t gonna work out’?” You asked him with confusion and despair mixed in your voice. “Two weeks ago we were talking about having kids, Gerard.”

“Yeah, well, life happens.” He stated with a sigh, “Listen I’m not sure if I love you the same way I did.”

“Huh?” You asked in utter shock, “What the fuck has happened to you? You’ve been a completely different person the last week. This isn’t fucking you and I want to know what’s going on.”

“Nothing!” He yelled back, his teeth gritting together and eyes glowing in rage. “Ya know what? This was never gonna work out. We’re two different people. You’re too obsessed with your image and who you are on the outside that people can never see who you actually are. And I’m sure that helps with your insecurity.” That was too far.

“Ya know what, fuck you Gerard Way. And fuck your stupid inflamed ego, and fuck your half ass songwriting that, by the way, wouldn’t be nearly as praised if it wasn’t for me proofreading all of it like a fucking English teacher! And fuck your entire fucking career and who you are as a person because you’re a fucking asshole and a dick.” He scoffed.

“What are you gonna do about that, huh?” He fired back, “Write a song about me.” And that was the final line.

“Get the fuck out of my house.” You demanded, pointing to the door. He gave you a ridiculous look, “I don’t know who you are, but you are not the Gerard Way I fell in love with. So I need you to get the fuck out of my house before I call security.” He rolled his eyes and huffed, grabbing his coat from the rack and opening the door to leave.

“Well, good luck finding any inspiration besides me.”

“That’s the fun of it, isn’t it.” You sarcastically smiled, “I will drag your name through the mud and back, throw it in a dumpster, and light it on fire. Mark my fucking words.”

You knew he had. Judging by the conversation of just a few days prior he had paid the wrath of hell you had cursed upon him, and he knew he deserved it. You wondered if that was enough punishment, or if pretending like you two were never even together was what he really needed.

You shut off your phone, this time aimlessly throwing it across the room as you heard a distant ‘thud’, and groaned, leaning back into your bed. You hated this feeling, these conflicting battles happening in your mind. You had never stopped loving him, and he had never stopped loving you, but he had broke you like no other. Does that deserve another chance.

“See, this is why I didn’t want you two to ever get back together.” Clara came into your room with some takeout bags and you groaned again. “Because he gets you into this weird funk and I don’t like it.”

“It wasn’t always like this.”

“No, but people change, Y/N. And you need to accept that the Gerard who broke your heart was not the same man who you fell in love with. He’s gone now.”

“I don’t think so.” You sat up, squinting your eyes to adjust to the light. “I think he came back.”

“Uh huh, how do you know that?” She sarcastically asked.

“He had the same sparkle in his eyes he did years ago, the same spunk but not in a mean way. When his hand touched my arm I could feel the warmth I felt years ago when we used to hold hands or cuddle.” She sighed, sitting next to you on the bed.

“Yeah, but is he worth going through all that pain again?” She looked down at you as you stared at the ceiling.

“Yeah,” You sighed, “I think so.”

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Those were the only words muttered as the two of you stood on opposite sides of the door. He was still in the exposed air through the back door of your Tribeca townhouse, standing there with the cool breeze flushing through his hair. You were on the other side inside, and slightly moved over as a signal for him to walk in which he followed.

He slipped off his shoes and jackets as he looked around the first floor living section. He hadn’t been here before, of course he hadn’t. You had sold your old apartment as soon as he broke up with you. You couldn’t stand all the memories there and you wanted to run away as fast as possible.

“Wow,” He commented with a smile, “This is really nice.”

“Thanks.” You lightly smiled, leading him to the living room.

“Coffee?” You asked and he nodded. He never drank anything but that, and you knew nothing had changed. You handed him the mug with just black coffee in it, a similarity the two of you always shared.

The following moments were filled with a level of awkward silence you hadn’t felt in a while. It seemed like each of you were trying to strategically see what the other was plotting; a potential apology, a love confession, makeup sex… who knew. The only solid feeling in the air was one of tension that seemed like a wad of rubber bands wrapped around each other and ready to explode with aggressive pressure.

“So-“ Gerard had started and you looked up at him with a light smile. His eyes met yours, and he suddenly remembered how much he loved to look at them. The natural lighting in your place truly did even more wonders to the eyes he used to beg to stare at for hours because he loved to examine the color and complexion of them. They were a subtle reminder of what home felt like, even if he was on another continent. “I, um, how’ve you been?”



“Good,” You replied with a light chuckled, running your hand over the back of your neck as if you were trying to find some sort of switch that would magically erase the insane tension between the both of you. “Things have been- overwhelming, but good. And you?”



“Better,” He admitted, “I mean, life could be going better, but it’s not awful at least.” You nodded your head a bit, knowing what he meant and feeling the radius of misery that seemed to drag around him. Maybe that’s where their dark and very twisted new record had come from, the scent and general aroma of misery and despair that seemed like a necessary accessory he wore.

“That’s- that’s good.” You replied and he lightly laughed.

“Don’t feel that sorry,” He leaned back on the couch and rolled his eyes, “I think this is karma coming for me after all the shit I’ve done to other people.” You snorted a bit at his revelation, him replying merely with a confused look and twist of his head.

“No- it’s just, you’re never gonna believe this, but I kinda recently wrote a song called karma. Not necessarily about you- but about, ya know-”

“Yeah, I know,” He lightly laughed, throwing his head back. “I mean, he deserves it.” You nodded with a soft smile.

More moments of the same tension from before followed, and floated between the two of you as small talk was clearly a lost cause now. “Listen,” You finally spoke up after a few moments, “I wanted to talk to you just about restoring something.”



“Like what?” He asked, his eyes growing a bit wide in optimism it seemed. Something you recalled him doing a lot when together. Like when you mentioned making his favorite meal, or announcing the shows you would be able to go to on his tour.

“Well, just- something. Friendship or something more, I don’t know. But I think we’ve both been pretty immature about the whole thing that happened, and I don’t know, I feel like it’s time for me to be a bit more adult-ish about everything and at least accept that the past is the past, and try to move on.” It took him a good few seconds to even begin to process your words, and judging by the frozen features on his face, it seemed he didn’t know how to respond for a bit.

“Well, um,” He awkwardly replied, “I’m not against it at all, I’m really glad you wanna try something because I do too, but I’m not sure how I could even begin to start repairing any of the damage I’ve done- I mean, I said and did some awful things to you and just tried to make you feel worthless because that’s how I was feeling.”

You nodded in response, “And I get that. That’s why I’m willing to forgive you, now.” You replied, softly placing your hand over his that sat in the middle of the couch.

He looked down briefly at the contact, his pale face suddenly glowing a bit more red as a blush slowly painted his cheeks.

“I- I appreciate it, but I haven’t really done much to deserve it-“



“Gee, you’re here today. In my apartment, the girl who you crushed, willingly admitting to your wrongdoing.” You promptly replied, “Also, you did admit the 10 minute song was good.”



“I mean, yeah, it was almost an epic of a song.” He replied quickly as if it was obvious.

“Thanks,” You softly smiled, “So, at least friends. And if something else comes up, maybe we’ll try more than friends again.”



“I would like that,” He quickly nodded, “A lot, actually.”

This was so uncharacteristic of you.

In fact, staring at his bedroom ceiling, now, the fan running, and a slight dink from a loose screw on it echoing through the room, you had begun to question every breath you had taken in the last 24 hours. Every step you took was now being analyzed in your mind as to how your feet took you here, and your heart interrupting it with it’s beats of love.

His slight morning snore, as you fondly recalled it, didn’t help either, or his arms wrapped around your waist tightly. You were trapped between a choice of freedom and non confrontation to your left, or the sleeping man who you hated for years on your right.

But his death grip was making this impossible, you couldn’t escape if you wanted to, but you were also freaking out… a lot at this point. So much is that you began to feel your lines constricting centimeter by centimeter, and your breath growing heavy and urgent. Your mind began fogging as eyes became dizzy, and were only broken from your trace by a slight shake.

“Y/N/N,” He asked, sitting above you a bit with a concerned look. His face was twisted to your side as if coming out of the right part of your vision from where you laid, grabbing the covers on top of you, “You alright?” He asked. You quickly cleared your throat and nodded a bit.

“Yup, fine.” You admitted, sitting up on your forearms as he gave you more room.

“You sure? Your breathing became heavy all of a sudden and-“

“Yup! Perfectly fine.” You tried to admit as optimistic as possible which came out more as passive aggressive. You quickly got up, wrapping some sheets around you at the edge of the bed, quickly rearranging your clothes on yourself from the night before.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” He asked more starkly, noticing your jittery movements. He got up, and began redressing himself as well, “Baby, I need you to talk to me.”



“Don’t-“ You almost fired back, taking a moment to stop yourself and lower your tone, “Don’t call me that.” You said, finally pulling your shirt over your head.

“Oh- okay.” He replied, confused as he put his shirt on too.

“I just- I need to get out of here.” You frantically said, grabbing your bag and phone.

“What?” He asked again, squinting his eyes at you, confusion clearly taking over every thought in hid mind, “I- Y/N, seriously, what the fuck is wrong?”


“Everything, Gerard!” You yelled back, his face now in shock at your roar. He remembered having your first serious sit down conversation with one another. The one where you each pour out all of your problems on the table, sort through them in conversation like a deck of cards, and finish with passionate sex now that you each knew everything about each other? That one.

You had brought up your anger issues, and despite your juvenile level of anger had long been cooler down to where you stood now, he had been fairly warned about your potential out breaks. It was when you were overly anxious and unsure of how to react to something, so you resorted to overwhelming anger of what was causing you to feel that way. This, was clearly, one of those times.

“Can you just- please shut up for a second.” You heavily sighed, him still staring at you wide eyed.

You took a moment to breath, retreating back to your cleaning up after, and finally after a good minute or two, spoke again. “I- we can’t do this.” You stated, matter of factly, looking at him, “This is against everything I’ve held myself to ever, this goes against all my morals, and most of all makes me feels like some sort of whore, so I need to go.”



Gerard sat still and silent at your self-realization, and only moved with a flinch when he heard the front door slam shut. He then sat, again still, specifically at his wall, and wondered what he had done wrong. You and he had possibly the best night you had with each other just the prior night, and he couldn’t count on his fingers each of you whispered “I love you” to the other. He knew he meant every note of the phrase that came out of his mouth, but now he was wondering the same for you.

“I need a cigarette.” Was all he murmured, getting up and finding his pack and lighters on his bedside table. You knew you loved (despite the fact you always said it was nasty) when he smoked in bed after sex with you under his arm, and last night was no different. A blush always grew on your face and you would always nuzzle closer to him every time he did it, your eyes always glued to his mouth and the smoke that came out of it.

He headed out onto his apartment fire escape/turned balcony and briefly looked down below to the city streets on this cold, rainy, Sunday morning. No better time than for everything to go to shit again. He took a deep inhale after lighting the thin paper, and finally exhaled, looking away from the smoke like he did when a bit annoyed.

In the days that followed, he had set his expectations to be filled with nasty texts and calls from your friends berating him for letting you sleep with him again and get attached. Granted, as cliche as it sounded, the whole “it takes two to tango” scenario was oddly fitting for what was currently going on. He had to set half the blame on you, cut even and sliced to perfection, considering that neither of you would be in this confusing scenario had you just stayed away… but damn was that a hard and daunting task.

He had known from the first few weeks of dating you all those years ago that you were the one for him, and no one would truly compare to the way you made him feel. He was optimistic and happy for the first time in his life, you set off a sort of fire in him that made him feel more human. You were his person, but the whole bullshit of “right person, wrong time” seemed to be the motto of the entire relationship.

He heard his phone ping, laying on the couch and still smoking, a habit that had been indulged into these last couple of days, and reached for the device. He picked it up, flashing his screen and groaned. Of course she had to text him right now out of all times.

He wasn’t even sure if he owed her a response to her petty plea to get him to come over and the numerous risqué pictures she had sent to top it all off made him scoff. It had been months since they had done anything with each other, but the universe clearly had other plans to take the knife already plunged in his chest and turn it.

He simply replied with a “No.” and put his phone back down. If she texted more with pathetic drags at trying to get him to respond, he would simply block her. But he wouldn’t be a dick and make that his first move, at least he would be respectful, slightly, about it at first.

He took another long drag, letting the smoke settle in his lungs before releasing, and heard a faint knock at his door. He sat up a bit, confused and not expecting any visitors, getting up and walking over figuring maybe it was just Mikey. But much to his surprise, when he opened the door, it was you.

You both stared at each other for a good few seconds, before you finally spoke up, “Hi.” You said, simply. He noticed your wet jackets and boots, moving out of the way, and opening the door to let you in.

Nothing was spoken between the time when you slipped off your coat and boots, him graciously hanging your coat on the rack, and  sitting down on the couch across from each other. The same whole scenario you went through when decisively saying, “Let’s just be friends” turned into passionate sex.

“So,” He started, looking at you curiously, “Why’re you here?”

“Um,” You began awkwardly, sighing while mentally contemplating what to say next, something you, shockingly enough, had not planned much on your way here. “I came to apologize for running the other night- or morning, really. I just- I got scared and I didn’t know how to handle my emotions and so I ran. And I’m sorry for that, you didn’t deserve to be left like that with no explanation.”

While he wanted to hold a bit of a grudge against your excuse for just leaving him for days, he also knew he was indirectly the cause that put you here. Of course you ran from him, you were scared if you didn’t leave first, he would leave. He took a sigh, himself, composing how to explain his own thoughts without coming off as completely dismissive.

“It’s okay, really.” He finally said, “I- you wouldn’t have to deal with those emotions had I not put you there. But I did, and that’s unfair to you as well. So- just, don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah- but,” You began, trying to find some way to genuinely get your apology across as you still seemed to believe he was just saying that.

“No, Y/N, I completely understand why you did it, and it’s okay, really. You needed time to think and breathe.”

“I just feel really immature about it all,” You continued, “I really shouldn’t have done that.”

“And I forgive you.” He stated, placing his hand on your knee which finally got a small smile out of you.

“Can we, maybe, restart this for like, the second or third time?” You lightly laughed as he smiled and nodded.

“I would love that,” He replied, “But this time I’ll take you out to dinner first, forgot that the first time, well second time around, technically.”

#gerard way #mcr gerard #gerard way fanfiction #my chemical gerard #gee way #my chemical gee #my chemical romance #My Chem #my chemical romance x reader #gerard way x reader #gerard way x you #gerard way x y/n

[nightgoodomens]

Ok last bunch of asks, I need a break after today 😂 Thanks for writing in!

I don’t think they will play Aziraphale and Crowley, NG isn’t stupid, neither anyone else who’s putting money into the show. They might shove them somewhere as background or some other role but not playing the two mains. Season 2 already got slapped for not the best plot and how Michael and David saved it with their chemistry. Nobody will try to replace them.

Also considering neither of them have a problem with dressing up as women, David already did for the Nanny part in the show, so to suddenly switch them for female partners would create a lot of backlash because of suggesting men shouldn’t do it.

Im not sure about AL but I wouldn’t be surprised if NG would pull GT into it unfortunately. DT shoves his whole family wherever he can.

Haha I have that person blocked and I don’t really like posting links where people are being muppets 😅

I was completely indifferent to both of them but fans were responsible for me starting to dislike them to be fair. I’m still mostly indifferent, I couldn’t care less about them, just comment if they do anything good/bad because people ask me, but after that they’re gone from my thoughts. I don’t think they deserve *hate*, but indifference or dislike based on their actions - everyone is allowed to make that basic decision for themselves yes. Fans really don’t help with their demands to love partners of idols and that’s in every fandom out there.

If they were to bond they would have bonded a long time ago and I wish they never started this whole wife thing because it only highlighted how much they don’t care about each other. The thing is, they shouldn’t be required to “bond”. Just because Michael and David fell for each other, it doesn’t mean the women must bond too. There is age and character difference between them, and I don’t think bonding over failed careers and depending on men and getting knocked up on the one night stand would be healthy. Georgia has her best friends, Anna could do with making friends her own age preferably away from the business.

No matter whether someone likes them or not, to expect them to be treated on the same level as Michael and David is insane. And it drives me insane when people think they have the talent to play female version of Crowley and Aziraphale. MS and DT have years of experience in the business and to compare them is a pure insult to them. They got in that business through their hard work too, not a famous surname supporting them.

You are NEVER required to love your idols’ partner/family. That’s just shit that fandoms come up with. Nobody in real world goes oh that actor is neat… oh no I need to love his whole family now!

AL and GT acting “careers” are based on famous surnames supporting them. If they were good someone else would have picked them up. I’m not going to pretend they’re good to be a good little fan according to the fandom. I’d rather be disliked in the fandom than lie to myself and others.

If someone wants to suck up to them, love them, that’s absolutely fine, but to expect others to do so is just a no.

When you think about it, knowing that any shit you post will be seen as iconic… and you don’t have much to show for yourself… well yeah. You’d be raiding on people loving you for simply having the famous surname. Imagine the world where you have to do nothing and people think you deserve the best roles and all the love and being called a queen. Neat. What a sweet life of privilege.

I think with her liking to put him down especially on his big days shows her insecurity. It’s never about him, it’s always about her on those days. It’s sad. I’m glad he now has MS who makes it all about him on those big days. And after too.

I hate those selfies tbf. It’s like… this is your moment to say damn my awesome man got an award. But no it’s “mine” and her holding it and making him take the selfie, or her staring into a camera and making him snuggle up to her for show to show where his place is. Bleh. If she was comfortable with who she is, she wouldn’t need to remind him of his place every time it’s supposed to be his happy day.

And I’m aware majority thinks those selfies are cute - good for them, I wish I thought that too, but they give me the creeps instead.

#NightGoodOmens talks PR #NightGoodOmens talks Michael and David

[desert-bluffs-and-me]

WTNV quick rundown - It Devours! - Nilanjana

Click here for the plot points!

Click here for facts about Darryl!

Click here for facts about Night Vale and it's citizens (including Cecil and Carlos).

Click here for facts about the Joyous Congregation and it's members!

Click here for stuff about the other scientists!

Click here for misc interesting facts I found!

Nilanjana Sikdar is a scientist who works with Carlos. She is from Indiana originally, and like most scientists simply felt the urge to come to NV because it was the most scientifically interesting place on Earth (something she suddenly knew). She simply drove randomly and ended up in NV. She has been in NV for 4 years.

She enjoys working with different bacteria to create products with medical or pesticide related applications. She is very neat and becomes irritated when things are not exactly aligned or symmetrical.

She is not interested in winning awards or being famous for her science. The pesiticide she was developing was intended to be used to kill wood-boring beetles without making them scream.

Her passion for science comes from wanting to 'fill in the empty circle of human knowledge' so that people don't have to believe in myths. She likes order and tidy knowledge. She's enjoyed killing bugs and looking at them through microscopes since she was a child and didn't have many friends. She wasn't bullied but also wasn't invited to parties.

At the start of the story, Nils isn't sure if she's happy, insisting she's fine and doesn't need to be happy. She feels like an outsider to NV who will never understand it or fit in, but becomes fiercely defensive of the town and it's people towards the end, realising that she does belong in NV and 'being fine' is something she can slowly work on.

Nils is interested in men and has had boyfriends before Darryl but they also didn't work out. She shows a little interest in Kareem.

Nils doesn't eat meat. She celebrates Diwali.

Sometimes when she tries to return home, Nilanjana ends up at different times in her parents lives. She once returned to find her mother was only six and her father wasn't around due to not immigrating to the US yet. Her mother is the one who got her interested in science in the first place.

Nilanjana's coffee of choice is a huge 20 ounce filter coffee with exactly 2 tablespoons of milk and 3 packets of sugar (sometimes she'll put half a teaspoon of whatever spices the shop has out such as cinnamon, nutmeg, paprika or metal shavings). She brings her own measuring spoons for this. She cares less about taste more about getting some hot caffeine down her.

Nils equipment that she always carries includes a decibel meter, a number of glass jars and a thick metal box with a series of blinking lights across the front and unmarked coloured buttons on the top. Computer permits are not easily given, so the box is a work around to that problem.

Nils is overweight. She is a light sleeper.

Nils fave ice-cream is chocolate with just a little dried pasta mixed in to give it texture.

All NV citizens are acquired to own a TV and cable, Nils doesn't watch TV but doesn't mind paying to support the less fortunate like TV execs.

Nils likes Larry Leroy but does not like John Peters.

#wtnv #wtnv quick rundown #wtnv it devours! quick rundown #welcome to night vale #nilanjana sikdar

[ask-butterscotch-and-friends]

The Rest of Our Lives, Part 9

TW: Verbal Abuse, TW: Child Abuse, TW: Racism

Butterscotch and Finn sat next to each other at the dining table quietly. Finn’s back was straightened as he placed a napkin on his lap politely, making sure to keep his elbows off the table, and keeping his utensils in the right place. Meanwhile, Butterscotch was slumped over in his chair, legs comfortably spread, with his elbows rested on the table and utensils not organized.

“Your table manners and posture are absolutely atrocious.” Margaret sneers at Butterscotch in disgust.

“Y’know? Finn said the same thing to me when I had dinner at his house for the first time! Isn’t that right, honey?” Butterscotch chuckles, trying to keep the mood light.

“I don’t think I said “atrocious” though…” Finn giggles softly.

“Same general idea.” Butterscotch shrugged with a smile.

As the couple giggled sweetly, Margaret wasn’t laughing at all. The disgusted scowl never left her face, and her eyes were locked on Butterscotch like he was public enemy number one. Once Butterscotch finally noticed, he stopped laughing and cleared his throat.

The butler gives everyone a plate of spaghetti. It is around then that Margaret’s husband, William, finally comes downstairs and joins everyone at the table. Upon seeing Finn, he glares.

“Ugh. What is he doing here?” William asks rudely.

“I invited him, darling. He won’t be here long.” Margaret responds in a posh, snooty manner.

“I see…and what is that thing…sitting next to him?” William addresses Butterscotch in disgust.

“It’s his…fiance…darling.” Margaret clears her throat. “It won’t be here long either.”

Butterscotch is tense hearing these people refer to him like he’s not a person, but he just takes Finn’s hand. He gives Finn a reassuring look. Finn’s ears are drooped down softly, but he nods at Butterscotch.

“Demon boy. Straighten up. You will not sit at my table with such disgusting posture.” William hisses.

“I’m more comfortable this way.” Butterscotch glares.

“Elliott, sweetie, straighten your back, you’ll hurt yourself.” Finn says softly.

“Oh yes, you’re right. Thank you, Finn.” Butterscotch straightens his back, un-spreads his legs, and puts a napkin in his lap politely.

It is with this one act of disobedience toward Finn’s mother and her husband that he makes it blatantly clear. He does not take orders from them, and the only one he respects here is Finn himself. Finn smirks at his mother proudly. Margaret gives a low growl.

Finn cleans his hands in the little water dish.

“Will my siblings be joining us today, mother?” He asks softly.

“Mary is in Paris, focussing on her acting career, and her family. Helen is probably at her own house right now with her 10th new husband. As for Reginald, he’s at work right now, so he will not be joining us for dinner tonight.” Margaret cleans her hands as well.

“Mary’s an actress, huh? Y’know, Elliott used to be an actor too. Isn’t that right, amour?” Finn smiles at Butterscotch.

“Yeah.” Butterscotch rubs the back of his head in shyness, before cleaning his hands. “It was a long time ago, though.”

“Community theater hardly counts, demon.” Margaret glares.

“Actually, mother! He started in community theater, but he went on to be the main character of one of the most famous cartoon shows of the 30’s! Butterscotch and Friends, it was called. He was one of the biggest Toon Celebrities in Hollywood.” Finn brags, because he knows Butterscotch will be humble.

“Aww, you sound like you want me to be impressed by that! But need I point out the fact that you said ”was”, Phineas? He was…one of the biggest Toon Celebrities. As in not anymore. Besides, I’ve never heard of this “Butterscotch and Friends” you speak of…and if I’ve never heard of it, it must not have been that famous. Also, one TV show? Again…hardly counts. My darling daughter, Mary, has been in dozens of movies, dozens of TV shows, and has won at least 20 awards in the past 5 years. Mary Belmont…you may have heard the name.” Margaret smirks.

“Never heard of her, and if I’ve never heard of her, she must not be that famous.” Butterscotch shrugs, throwing Margaret’s words back at her. Finn tries to hold back his laughter.

Margaret hisses, her pupils turning into slits.

“Probably because you can’t afford cable, or internet! I can tell just by looking at you that you’re poor!” She fires back.

“Margaret, dear. Don’t entertain this ruffian’s weak attempts at insults against our beloved daughter. You’re better than this.” William says to Margaret softly.

“Hmph. You’re right. Well, let’s not sit here and let the food get cold…let us say grace.” Margaret huffs, before putting her hands together in prayer. William follows.

Finn puts his hands together, and looks at Butterscotch with gentle eyes. Butterscotch blinks, then sighs softly before putting his own hands together. Given that he was a demon, he didn’t do these kinds of things typically.

“Dear lord, thank you for this meal we are about to eat. Thank you for my wonderful husband, and my three beautiful children who have grown to live very successful lives. May they keep being successful.” Margaret says grace with her eyes closed, then peeks up at Finn before closing her eyes again. “Also, may you bless my youngest child, Phineas. I understand his birth is the punishment you provided to me for my sins, sins of which I have repented for. However, the boy remains unwell despite my repenting…please show him the light, lest he burn in the fiery pits of hell. Amen.”

“Amen.” William huffs.

Finn’s ears shrink back, but he stays quiet. He separates his hands and quietly eats his spaghetti, neatly twirling the pasta on his fork and taking delicate bites. Butterscotch eats his spaghetti without twirling the noodles at all.

As everyone eats Margaret looks at Butterscotch. “So, Demon Boy-”

“He has a name, mother.” Finn corrects Margaret sternly.

“Oh yes, uh…what was it again? Elliott? What is it you do for a living? Aside from the whole “former actor” thing. All of nothing, I bet…” Margaret asks.

“Oh! Actually, I’m a freelance artist. I’m also an independent musician…” Butterscotch answers honestly.

“Music, huh? Y’know, that’s actually the path I set up for Phineas, here. I mean, I always knew he’d be a failure, but I figured that if he’s going to be around, he might as well make something of himself. So I had him take choir and piano classes…the only good thing I can say about Phineas is that he always was a really good singer and pianist.” Margaret explains. “Too bad that talent has gone to waste…tell me, Phineas. Do you still play piano at all? Or sing?”

“Well…I still know how, but my cottage is a bit too small to have space for a piano, and there’s not exactly any random pianos around anymore. So it’s been a while. As for singing, I actually still sing, quite a lot actually. Elliott and I duet all the time…” Finn explains, rubbing his arm.

“I never knew you played piano…when we move into our new house in Bryson City, we should get one, and you should play for me sometime.” Butterscotch smiles.

“I’d…like that, actually.” Finn smiles gently, taking Butterscotch’s hand.

Margaret glares.

“Your house isn’t even big enough for a piano? What kind of Hobbit Hole are you living in?”

“It’s a cottage, mother…and I love it. When I bought it all those years ago, I did all the renovations myself, and I’ve been happy living there for so long. I’m sad to be leaving it, but if Elliott and I want children, we need a bigger house.”

Once children are mentioned, Margaret’s eyes widen.

“CHILDREN!? You two!?”

“Well, yes. We’ve talked a lot, and we’d really love to have a family of our own.” Finn says softly. “Is there a problem…mother?”

“Ah…no problem at all. Of course I’m to assume that any grandchildren I get from you will be adopted?” Margaret asks confidently. “After all, you are both men…”

“Actually, Elliott here has the ability to change his body as he sees fit. So, if we are able, we will be having children biologically after we are married…” The cat-like toon answers honestly.

“I see.” Margaret doesn’t try to understand these abilities, she does not want to know. “I do think you should consider adoption…you don’t want to contaminate the family bloodline, do you? More than you already have, anyway…”

Butterscotch glares, but before he can say anything, Finn speaks up.

“This is the last time you’re ever seeing me, and it wasn’t even planned. I’ve been perfectly content not seeing or hearing from you for the past 97 years. What makes you think you’re ever going to even set eyes on my children? You have absolutely no say in what we decide to do…”

Margaret growls. “Watch your tongue, Phineas. Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

Butterscotch looks at Finn in concern. Finn’s ears are folded back, and his pupils are slit-like as he growls at his mother softly. Butterscotch clears his throat.

“This spaghetti is pretty good!” He changes the subject, then starts shoveling spaghetti in his mouth like a starving dog, emptying the plate in seconds. “Would you look at that! I ate it all! And now I need the bathroom! Finn, show me to the bathroom please!”

Finn blinks, but then realizes what Butterscotch is doing. He nods.

“Please excuse us.”

He stands, leading Butterscotch to the bathroom. The demon pulls Finn into the bathroom with him, then closes and locks the door. Finn is panting softly.

“Elliott, I don’t know if I can do this!” Finn pants.

“It can’t be much longer now. Take deep breaths…” Butterscotch says softly. “You’re doing amazing so far…standing your ground, showing her that she doesn’t control you anymore. I’m so proud of you, honey…”

“But I can’t stand hearing her talk about you like you’re not even a person. I know you keep saying it doesn’t bother you, but it really bothers me! You’re the most important person in my life, and you’re being treated horribly just because you’re a different race and species, it’s so unfair!” Finn is almost brought to tears.

Butterscotch hugs Finn gently.

“I know, sweetheart…but just a little longer. Dinner’s almost done. We’ll get the answers we need, and get the hell out of here. You just gotta hold on a little longer.”

The demon helps Finn take deep breaths. Once Finn feels more calm, he looks at Butterscotch.

“Okay…” Finn smiles.

“We’ve got this. You’ve got this.” Butterscotch smiles.

After a little bit of waiting, the couple returns to the dinner table. However, Margaret and William have finished eating.

“Will you be finishing your plate, Phineas?” Margaret asks.

Finn looks at his plate…then shakes his head.

“I’m pretty full…”

“Very well. Come along, then…we’ll talk in my office.” Margaret heads up the stairs.

Butterscotch takes Finn’s hand, and the couple follow behind. It was time to do what they came here to do.

Next Page

#Butterscotch and Friends #Butterscotch Sweeney #Finn Reed #BAF Lore #The Rest of Our Lives #TW Verbal Abuse #TW Child Abuse #TW Racism

[destinyc1020]

About Paul Mescal: I personally didn’t like how and when exactly he spoke about such a problem as increasing fame. He himself is not so well known now, only those who follow cinema and actors know him, and just his next project - Gladiator 2 can make him known to the general public. But this film has not yet been released, there is always a possibility that the project may fail, there is already information that the film’s budget has been exceeded, so I am not sure that it will be able to collect normal box office receipts. Such statements about the influence of fame always cause people to have a strange attitude towards it; as an actor, you may be perceived as ungrateful and arrogant. Even when Tom spoke about this, many people also treated it strangely, although it is a fact that Tom is very popular. After his words about the influence of fame, how he doesn’t want it, some wrote - why did he agree to the role of Spider-Man, forgetting that it was literally the role of his dreams and he was 18-19 years old at the time of casting. Moreover, Tom confirms his words with his actions - he really almost never attends award ceremonies, left social networks, took a break, he doesn’t attend events like the Met Gala (and it’s unlikely that he ever will), and now he’s going to take part in a play . I think choosing the theater was a definite step as a challenge to myself, a new experience and again choosing a project that will attract a strong influence (how ironic that this play attracted too much attention - first with sales, and then with the casting of actors). Honestly, at some point, because of these words about fame, I thought that Tom would really move away from acting, but I think that in the coming years he will definitely not participate in a new project like remakes or like Unchanged.

Paul needed to wait a little, see how Gladiator 2 would affect his career and level of fame, and express his feelings about this in a different way - and so he wants to show himself as an actor who wants to act, and not be famous, but for such statements you need specific time and actions

Wait.... I'm trying to figure out your logic Anon, because I'm not understanding.... And then one minute you're talking about Paul, and then, the next minute, you're talking about Tom... 🤔

Paul was speaking in the context of what might happen once his Gladiator 2 film comes out.

It's no secret that "Gladiator 2" will be the biggest film in his career (thus far), and will more than likely catapult him into a different fame level bracket, whether his film does huge box office numbers or NOT. (I predict that it will)

This was literally all that Paul said:

X

I don't see the big deal?? 🤷🏾‍♀️ I think ANY actor would be feeling the pressure when it's their first lead role in a large film such as this.

It sounds like he's trying to prepare himself for what's to come once the film starts getting promo, a press tour, various premieres, and finally comes out to theaters.

I don't think it's so farfetched to think that his life MIGHT change fairly significantly (like most actor's do) when he's in a lead role for a pretty HUGE film, with actors such as Denzel Washington and Pedro Pascal also on the roster. 🤔

He was being honest about how he feels about that possibility. He reiterates also in the interview that he is still very much an indie film type of guy. But this was a great opportunity for him, so I'm glad that he took it on, but having your life be more scrutinized with higher fame isn't smthg that most actors enjoy.😕

Even Tom has talked about this downside himself as well.

No doubt, Paul has either seen for himself, or ppl have told him how an increase in fame can affect your private life. So I think he's just bracing for that. 🤷🏾‍♀️

I didn't view it as arrogance?