#for burntheedges

[something-tofightfor]

Snow and Mistletoe Masterlist

Status: COMPLETE; 4/4 (1/1/2024)

Word Count: 28,186

A gift fic written for PedroStories Secret Santa fic exchange 2023 (for @/burntheedges)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader NO OUTBREAK AU

Rating: M (language, sexual situations, alcohol, implied parental death)

Summary: You and Joel have been in each other's lives since high school, though you wouldn't consider yourselves close ... or even friends.

But when Sarah starts working at your music shop and gets even closer to your niece Ellie, your relationship with him is going to change ... especially if the two teenagers have anything to say about it.

The holidays provide the perfect opportunity for this to happen ... will you make the most of it?

Part 1 (5.2k) Part 2 (6.3k) Part 3 (10.3k) - The Revolver cocktail Epilogue (6.5k) - The version of the song that I based Sarah’s on

[penvisions]

i'd give anything for more time {jack daniels x f! reader}

Pairing: Jack Daniels x F! Reader (Retired! Agent Whiskey x F! Reader)

Summary: He's nowhere, not really. Stuck in the ambient space of a random coffee shop. Doesn't know what he's looking for, until you walk in.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: angst, yearning, mild language, kissing, time loop weirdness, mentions of heath issues, grief

A/N: i'm gonna be real with y'all, i....struggled with this. had something FAR more angsty outlined for the role-a-trope challenge the moment i got the trope assigned to me. but i'm tired and wanted something a little more happy and this was the result. i hope this is kinda on point @burntheedges. mine was time loop / groundhog day with jack daniels and man i hope i did it justice after all this time!! cause i know this is hella late and i apologize for that

-> navigation

The coffee shop is bustling, the grinding of beans, the buzz of many voices, the dings and mechanical sounds of the register, of the phones in people’s hands, music over speakers, the steam want of an espresso machine working away.

And Jack is standing in the middle of it all, for what feels like the millionth time.

He’s not real, at least…he doesn’t think he’s real.

The first few times he was here, it seemed like he just appeared amidst the hustle and bustle of a weekday morning. He’s confused, he was just in the middle of a meeting. Asking if he wanted to pick up a job even though he’s retired. He faintly remembers an argument. All heated words and half responses that had turned into forlorn words. His tall legs carrying him out of a door, out of an entryway lined with frames photos and art, a colorful catchall dish by the door containing keys. He had dug them into his palm as the door closed behind him, he looks at it now though there are no marks or redness.

He had left something behind, someone behind. Even if he can’t recall their figure or face.

All he knows is the hectic space he occupies now. Though even when he stands in line to order, resigned to the task he’s spaced out in the middle of doing, he feels like it’s familiar too. No one seems to care that he’s in line, they walk in front of him like he’s not even there. But he lets it go, mind busy with trying to reclaim the events that led him here.

The job he had taken doesn’t even register, he’s unaware if this is a part of it. Staking out, searching for someone, searching for information. He has no clue how he got here, why he’s here or why the cheery barista behind the counter doesn’t seem to hear him when he saunters up to the register to finally place his order.

She steadfastly ignores him, even as he leans over the counter and tips the hat atop his head. He’s in his typical ‘blend in with the civilians’ outfit, tight jeans, nice dark boots that match his leather jacket over a plain white shirt. His amber sunglasses hang from his collar and his belt buckle clinks against the edge of the marble as he leans closer.  His smile falters as she sees right through him and begins to talk to the woman behind him. Easily taking her order and then moving onto the person behind her.

Shoving off from the counter with a frown, he raises a hand to thumb at his bottom lip. Stretching a hand over the small partition between the display case and the public, he snags a pastry. But no words of ‘hey, sir you’ve got to pay for that!’ or other reprimands color the air.

He wanders around the shop, looking for someone out of place. Looking for someone who could be undercover like him. But everything is normal. Everything down to the minutes ticking by on the large clock, the to go cups placed on the pick up counter and then being swept away by impatient hands to the conversations that he begins to sift through with almost burning ears.

Everything is normal.

Except for the fact that he’s invisible.

Just as suddenly as he found himself in the coffee shop, his vision faded, and he was gone from it too.

-

He tries talking to different people, each time he opens his eyes from the abyss that claims him. But no one ever responds, no one acknowledges that he’s a real living and breathing person. And Jack begins to question if he even is anymore…surely he would know if he experienced a painful death as an agent on a mission?

He’s retired now, he thinks so at least. He doesn’t recall anything recent, nothing beyond the countless times he emerges from darkness to find himself in the middle of the coffee shop. This time though, when he realizes where he is there’s a pull in his navel that has him turning on his heels to face the door just as you walk through. Remnants of a heated interaction flare in his memory and he grasps at the tendrils before they fade. But he’s too slow or a loud noise interrupts and sends him spinning in that direction in alarm.

His heart flutters fast, almost painful. His chest twinging in a way a cramped muscle would even as he sees you approach.

“Excuse me, are you in line?” Your voice is sweet like honey, welcoming and making him feel at ease like a soft breeze of air on a summer’s day. He looks around and expects someone else to answer but you repeat the question with a note of concern and when you’re hand reached out to gently touch his he startles- because he can feel the pressure from your touch.

And he’s gaping at you, because finally, someone is acknowledging him.

He shakes his head, unable to form a polite answer and gestures for you to go ahead of him.

“Oh, it’s alright. You look a little off, how about I order with you, and we can have a sit?”

The way your eyes rake over him has his entire body lighting up- you’re gorgeous and sweet and he wants nothing more than to do exactly what you’re suggesting. As you two order, he keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. Wary that this is all fleeting, and he was right to worry because as soon as you both settle into a set of chairs around a table everything fades once again.

-

It happens again and again, the same way. But you look different each time. Different clothing, different hair styling, despite the conversation being the same. Someone who sees him and offers a kind smile and help towards someone who appears far too confused and out of place.

Then one day he notices the wrinkles beside your eyes, the dark circles beneath them. The weight you drop and the chapped, chewed state of your lips. A once polished and bright woman, now appearing ragged and stressed. He decides to ask if you’re okay the next time he comes to consciousness in the coffee shop, but you don’t show up. He’s back to being invisible and loss pangs harshly in his chest.

-

He doesn’t materialize in the coffee shop after that, the scene he’s damned to visit every day the same entry way he had first recalled what seems ages ago. For what seems like years before his steps allow him to cross over into an empty bedroom. It always feels wrong, the blurred photos along the walls tugging at him though they never clear enough for him to see what they depict. He thinks he can make out the faint outline of you, so fresh from his memory in the coffee shop, the same interaction time and time again drilled into him though it doesn’t do a think to take him back there and see you.

How the way he seems to exist altered the moment he wanted to change things up and reach out, to ensure you were okay. He feels less real now that no one is in this setting, a home that feels anything but. Echoes of a life lived and tainted by a dark feeling he can’t shake.

He's allowed to peel back the covers of the bed this time, his body taking up the space in the bed like he belongs there. The other side cold and empty haunting him. He's grateful to be able to softly snooze off instead of darkness consuming him to end the moment.

-

He’s afraid to open his eyes, to see the empty bed beside him. A lonesome reprieve he had settled into the last time he was aware of himself. He had woken peacefully, of his own accord and it was a blessing to not suddenly find himself standing amid blurred photos and a dark entryway.

But he can hear the soft breathing of someone else, can almost feel the weight of their body as it’s almost close enough to touch his own. He’s shifting, eyes flying open and all he feels is euphoria as he sees you fast asleep beside him.

Your face scrunches up, nose wrinkling and hands coming up from underneath covers to rub at your cheeks and forehead. An eye peeks at him from underneath one and he swears his heart stutters.

“How many times I gotta tell you to stop starin’ at me?”

“Couldn’t help it, you’re as beautiful as a fresh morning bathed in early sun.” The warm words spring from him, praise very much real and his fingers itch to reach for you.

“Pfft, Jack.” You groan, though there’s no real annoyance in your tone. It’s bashful, if anything. But its far too early for his poetic waxing, you haven’t even checked the time yet. But based on the darkness behind the curtains, there’s hours yet until its time to rise for the day. Your thoughts stall as he slides across the bed. Arms tangling tightly around your middle and pulling you into him.

“Roll your eyes all you want, but it’s true.” He’s determined for you to know, to hear, to feel seen by him.

“Such a goddamn sap.”

“Yeah,” He breathes, the smile that breaks out over your face making his chest feel light. He recalls the feeling when you had first made eye contact with him in the middle of the coffee shop and warmth blooms in his chest.

The endless cycle of his dreams that give him vertigo and existential dread quickly fading from his mind as he realizes that’s all they were: dreams. Because he’s here with you and the scar you trace over in the center of his chest tells him that it was all a side effect of the sudden palpitations that had taken over his heart and the way his body coped with the healing he struggled to do afterwards.

He had indeed met you in that coffee shop, his mind taking him back to that moment again and again as he had laid in a bed for months, a coma taking his consciousness after an infection settled into his body. His mind trying to ease him in some twisted way as you sat by his bedside day in and day out. He can only imagine the turmoil you must’ve experienced as everything comes rushing back to him, dizzying him with the onslaught of out of body experiences and how you must’ve felt so lost and confused without him by your side.

But he’s here now, you’re here now and he’s dropping his lips to yours in reassurance when he sees concern fill yours at his solemn recognition of the situation. He's determined to be present, to be aware, and to shower you with everything he had to make up for the time he lost with you.

[mari-positas]

I would like to hear more about that Javi fic please 👀👀👀

hi kate! thank you sm for asking lovely 💕

the gist of the story is, reader is somewhat inexperienced when it comes to sex and has some insecurities knowing about the women javi has been with. she wants to deep throat him but he thinks it might be too much for her...reader is quite the stubborn gal though.

“Javi,” you squeak when he whirls you around, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror as he bends you over over the sink. Javier pushes his hips forward, pressing himself against you, his cock hard against the curve of your ass. “Mira nadamás,” he murmurs, hunching over you, his chest flush against your back. He presses his cheek against yours and grins. “Look at you, nena. Dripping wet, desperate to choke on my cock like a good girl.”

[nerdieforpedro]

Just like the Picture

Dieter Bravo x gn reader

My entire masterlist and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI. I do not consent to my work being used in AI, recommended on TikTok, borrowed or plagiarized.

Summary: Moving into your new apartment went well. Your new landlord seems pretty chill. You see him a lot though, why is that?

Warnings: Non-consensual voyeurism, masturbation (mentioned but not in detail), edibles, weed use, erotic paintings, food mention

Word Count: 936

Notes: Written for the Roll-a-Trope Writing Challenge presented by @burntheedges . I have it in just under the wire. 👀 I wasn’t not sure I’d be able to write something or not, but I’m glad I was. My trope was “landlord Dieter” so here we are. Not beta-ed, I dunno what I wrote so all mistakes are mine.

Main Masterlist/ Dieter Bravo Masterlist/ Writing Challenges

Dieter sometimes wonders how exactly he ended up staring at his media setup in his office. His apartment on the top floor is one of the penthouses that allows for more room. He has four different screens, all active and his gaze is switching between them. He’s sitting in just his robe, rolling some special herbs and spices into his usual blunt. His favorite show is about to start.

You.

It was an easy deal to strike with his cousin who needed a few hundred bucks as his car always stays in the impound. Dieter told him not to ask any questions, just install the cameras and show Bravo how to access them. He did, his cousin had his money and Dieter had the set-up complete. The only reason Dieter gave as he knew his cousin may blab to someone about the cameras being installed, was that the apartment you now reside in was a model apartment to show potential tenants. It took Dieter’s cousin off his scent and it took months before Bravo would finally rent that unit out. 

You moved in six months ago, one of Dieter’s last move-ins. He gave you a tour of the building, amenities, and the unit himself. Usually, he leaves the office manager to do the tours, but they always make sure to at least introduce new tenants to Dieter before touring them. He quickly told him that he would handle things from here. A piece of gum was popped into his mouth as he offered you one as well. You giggled and took a stick of Doublemint from him. His palm touched the small of your back as he led through the building. You’re so comfortable with him, you really shouldn’t be but Bravo is grateful. That way, he won’t feel bad about his late-night viewing. 

Dieter Bavo made sure to be there for the day of your move-in, assisting where he could and providing jokes where he could. He bought lunch for you, some burgers, fries, and a lemonade. Eating on your new leather couch, Dieter finds himself to be enamored with you. He’s thankful he didn’t see anyone move in with you and no other names on your lease besides yours. He leaves and bids you a good evening, though he’s glad to be taking the elevator up to his apartment to view more of you. Over the first month after you’ve moved in, Dieter notes that you have a routine after you get home from work:

Watching you move around your apartment, drop your work bag and keys. 

Sit down to read. (That’s your third book this month. Maybe he should read while you’re at work. What book is that?)

Watch TV later. (Changing the camera angle he can see what show you’re watching, the Glenn guy is everywhere. Dieter has stubble too, maybe not as much, but enough to give a good burn.)

Undress and apply your lotions after your shower. (In retrospect, maybe he should have put one in the bathroom, but he wasn’t sure if his cousin would be able to find one of those waterproof cameras. Maybe he’ll rub that decadent cream on your legs and back one day too.) 

Pulling out your special bog of toys. (Investing in a quality bag to store your nightly enjoyment in is self-care as far as Dieter is concerned. He may need to check out that brand of lube, he’s heard about it, but hasn’t bought it because he’s familiar with the one he uses.)

In the second month, Dieter now not only masturbates watching you but also thinks about whether you like edibles. You’ve commented that you’re not a fan of smoke, no matter cigarette or weed. He could offer you some edibles to try out though, fruit flavors to start. Bravo makes it a point to ‘run into you’ around the building. At the pool, workout area, and mailboxes. You comment that see him often and maybe you should have lunch again, this time you’ll buy. Dieter insists that you don’t and more burgers are had, in his apartment. It’s an open concept, has a lot of light and you see his easel near one of the windows. 

Dieter’s too busy sipping his lemonade and trying to figure out if he’s going to offer grape edibles or apple flavor. He hears you gasp and ask, “What is this?” He now recalls what’s over there and scratches his exposed belly as he stretches an arm upward.

“What I imagine you to look like when you come. What do you think?” Bravo smiles as he walks over to you. Your eyes are fixed on the incomplete painting. The furrow of your brows, placement of your legs, and the surrounding color match those of your sheets, how would he know all of that?

“It’s fairly detailed. You even got my mole and my scars, those edibles help with that?” You both laugh and you take one apple and one grap from Dieter’s palm, chewing them both. 

“Maybe. No other questions thought, most would have a different reaction to this.” His surprise has you walk over to the couch and lie across it. It’s bizarre for sure, but endearing in a way. Plus the toys are only getting the job done but so well. Bravo moves his way over and stands before the couch above you, his breathing quickening as a bulge forms beneath his pajama bottoms. His large palms land on your thighs as he bends down to eye level with you.

“Wanna see if you can have me make that face for you Dee?”

[almostfoxglove]

Hiiii thank you for possibly adding more slots!! I’ll request Din Djarin 🫶🏻

KATE! honey I am so glad you're joining in again - your last angsty din had me on my knees :,) I hope you like the board, CANNOT wait to see what you cook up!! <3

if you need a song to get you started, how about guns for hire?

let's write some angst! (all slots filled)

[wildemaven]

Ok tumblr ate the first version of this and we’re not letting it happen again! lol

One of my favorite things about Poppy and Dieter is how well they fit together, how much they just get each other. How they’re so right together!! So my question (maybe this is 🪩 or 🎨) is what is one time they surprised each other with that? Like one time Dieter was surprised (and felt sooo loved) because she just gets him? And one time he did the same for her? Maybe in a way no one has before? (And they like each other that way)

Anyway I hope that makes sense. Happy anniversary to those two 🧡🎉

What do you get a man who can get what ever he wants???

Poppy had this very thought! Then she came across a random video from a wildlife rescue where you can help sponsor raccoon and aid in their rehabilitation. Dieter having a soft spot for raccoons, it felt like a perfect thing to do. So over the course of a year, Poppy would sponsor raccoons in Dieter’s name. They would send her photos of them, updates on their progress while in the facility, as well as their success stories once they were successfully released. She took all the photos and their information on each raccoon and turned it into a book for him, Dieter & His Happy Trash Pandas. She presented it to him on their anniversary and shared all the videos she had saved of all the little cute critters. He may have she’d a tear or two.

Dieter surprised Poppy and her Mom with a trip to some where tropical for a week

Thank you so much for the fun ask!

Sweet Creature Celebration

[ladamedusoif]

Starting my Pedro Fandom Bingo post as inspired by @burntheedges!

I’m being a little cheeky with the reblog and bingo here as this mini series by @katareyoudrilling is both Dave and Marcus P…

[pedgito]

Hi! This is such a fun idea. Are any numbers left 👀

Hi, yes! I have one left.

Barbecue #5 is TAKEN.

[mothandpidgeon]

hi!! how about 5 and 26?

Hi love!! Thanks for the ask! Let's seeeee

5. A scene you enjoyed creating

There's a scene in The Outlaws where Joel and Missy are forced to share a bed and she fucks with his head (so to speak) and it was sooo much fun. Missy's such a wildcard to write and Joel is just such a strong man, I like getting under his skin!

26. Something that inspired you this year

I'm inspired by SO much. But I was inspired by a VERY spooky podcast and, I guess, my kid to write While the Baby Sleeps. Every time I was sitting in the dark nursery, I started scaring myself seeing shadows after I listened to a really scary episode of Other Worlds. I had to tell myself that they weren't a shadowy figure. Maybe they were a sexy demon watching over me? That doens't really sound less scary but it helped and it turned out pretty hot too.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Get attacked!! ✨🌈SEND THIS TO OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING🌈✨ 💗💗💗

Kate! 💗

I’ve kept this in my inbox for like a week because every time I saw the lil rainbows and sparkles and hearts, it brought a big smile to my face.

Thank you so much for thinking of me!!! I happen to think you are wonderful. I love seeing your posts and reading your stories and seeing the kind comments and asks and things you send others. Thanks for being such a peachy, positive, lovely person!

[alwaysbethewest]

Hi Mary! I’m a fellow Pedro scout 🫡 and I have a question for you!

If you went camping and discovered your car wouldn’t start to go home, which Pedro character would you want to be stuck with? Who would handle it best? (and worst 👀 lol)

Hi Kate! 🥰 What a good question. For some reason I always associate Frankie with camping (I guess because for so much of the film we see him surviving the great outdoors?? lol) and he’s the first character that comes to mind. With his competence, experience, bravery, and personality, I think I’d be happy to be stuck with him.

I also thought of Whiskey, not because I think he’s necessarily a delight to be stuck in the woods with but because I expect he could press a button on his watch and connect to the kingsman spy satellites and get a helicopter rescue in about 20 minutes flat.

Who would handle it the worst? Dieter. That would be a nightmare for both of us 😂

[toomanytookas]

Get attacked!! ✨🌈SEND THIS TO OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING🌈✨ 💗💗💗

No, YOU’RE wonderful. 💕🤭

Hope you’ve been having a good week, Kate!!

[penvisions]

i'd give anything for more time {sneakie peek}

A/N: i haven't quite finished writing for the roll-a-trope challenge the lovely @burntheedges is hosting. but i have this moodboard and a little snippet for it done enough to share! my trope was #13 time loop / groundhog day with the ever entertaining agent whiskey - jack daniels

The coffee shop is bustling, the grinding of beans, the buzz of many voices, the dings and mechanical sounds of the register, of the phones in people’s hands, music over speakers, the steam want of an espresso machine working away.

And Jack is standing in the middle of it all, for what feels like the millionth time.

He’s not real, at least…he doesn’t think he’s real.

The first few times he was here, it seemed like he just appeared amidst the hustle and bustle of a weekday morning. He’s confused, he was just in the middle of a meeting. Asking if he wanted to pick up a job even though he’s retired. He faintly remembers an argument. All heated words and half responses that had turned into forlorn words. His tall legs carrying him out of a door, out of an entryway lined with frames photos and art, a colorful catchall dish by the door containing keys. He had dug them into his palm as the door closed behind him, he looks at it now though there are no marks or redness.

He had left something behind, someone behind. Even if he can’t recall their figure or face.

All he knows is the hectic space he occupies now. Though even when he stands in line to order, resigned to the task he’s spaced out in the middle of doing, he feels like it’s familiar too. No one seems to care that he’s in line, they walk in front of him like he’s not even there. But he lets it go, mind busy with trying to reclaim the events that led him here.

The job he had taken doesn’t even register, he’s unaware if this is a part of it. Staking out, searching for someone, searching for information. He has no clue how he got here, why he’s here or why the cheery barista behind the counter doesn’t seem to hear him when he saunters up to the register to finally place his order.

She steadfastly ignores him, even as he leans over the counter and tips the hat atop his head. He’s in his typical ‘blend in with the civilians’ outfit, tight jeans, nice dark boots that match his leather jacket over a plain white shirt. His amber sunglasses hang from his collar and his belt buckle clinks against the edge of the marble as he leans closer.  His smile falters as she sees right through him and begins to talk to the woman behind him. Easily taking her order and then moving onto the person behind her.

Shoving off from the counter with a frown, he raises a hand to thumb at his bottom lip. Stretching a hand over the small partition between the display case and the public, he snags a pastry. But no words of ‘hey, sir you’ve got to pay for that!’ or other reprimands color the air.

He wanders around the shop, looking for someone out of place. Looking for someone who could be undercover like him. But everything is normal. Everything down to the minutes ticking by on the large clock, the to go cups placed on the pick up counter and then being swept away by impatient hands to the conversations that he begins to sift through with almost burning ears.

Everything is normal.

Except for the fact that he’s invisible.

Just as suddenly as he found himself in the coffee shop, his vision faded and he was gone from it too.

[something-tofightfor]

4 and 28 for the asks! 🫶🏻

thanks for these, kate!

4. mythical creature you think/believe is real?

Ghosts. There is absolutely too much evidence pointing to the fact that they do exist to ignore it.

28. last meal on earth?

ideally, my grandma's veal marsala but since that recipe has never been replicated 100% successfully (even by my dad, whose was a CLOSE second) .... I'll settle for an In N Out Animal Style 3x3 with loaded waffle fries and a thick AF milkshake made with Jeni's goat cheese and cherry ice cream.

[wannab-urs]

I saw your tags and I haven’t read all of your fic (but I will) BUT I would also add “love as seeing something in someone no one else does” to your list! On that post about what fanfic says about us. If that makes any sense.

This is so kind?? I really love that. I suppose my fics do take a unique perspective on our boys.

Thanks for noticing and for letting me know. That’s really fucking cool 🥲

[almostfoxglove]

hi!! I thought I sent numbers but maybe I didn't so just in case -- 19 and 22? and any other of your choice?

hiii kate <3 tysm for these honey bee!!

19. a new genre or style you tried

honestly just the romance genre in general is very new to me! besides some... criminally bad rpg writing I used to do in my Youth... I've not ever written romance/anything romantic before. girl's an angst baby to the core, and usually any romantic/sexual relationships in my personal writing are extremely dysfunctional and/or doomed as fuck. but it's been so fun to write fluff :,)

22. an idea you had that didn't make the cut

UGH I had this little bit of a scene in my head for din - just a portion of a conversation - but I've not been able to come up with anywhere to put it (plus din is intimidating as fuck. I am not a star wars Knowledge Keeper) but MAYBE ONE DAY

💭 artist & fic writer EOY asks