#i could've done better maybe but oh well i still like how they turned out

[murdrdocs]

just read all your imagines and they are so good!! just on here to req anything hobie brown related cos god that man is so fine. maybe like a one-shot where they are fwb cos hobie doest do labels but gets jealous and then asks reader to be his gf and then shows her off to everyone. just like really anything u want to write tbh ✨✨

end of line | h. brown

description. being friends with benefits with your best friend, hobie brown, is fun and all, but you start to realize that maybe firm labels suit you better than whatever this is

includes. slight smut SUGGESTIVE 16+, fem!reader referred to as “girl”, fluff, sweet!hobie, pav gwen and miles mention, rockstar!hobie

a/n: i have no words this was supposed to be uploaded like a week ago but then i went to disney so ... sorry yall. also not edited well bc ... disney. edit: title from the song by daft punk bc tron <3

word count: 1.7k+

things are still in your bedroom. they always are right before he arrives.

you're not a psychic, nor do you have a "spider-sense" (which, with the creepy-sixth sense way hobie described it, you don't want one either), but you like to think that you can tell when he'll come by.

nights when you haven't heard much from him, but the sirens seemed to never stop outside, were usually when your window would creek as it slid up.

you listen out for the sound now as you finish painting your last nail. you'd used the quick dry polish tonight, in hopes that you wouldn't have a repeat of last time, when your fingernails weren't dried but hobie was incredibly impatient and when you were done, you'd realized that your right ring and pinkie fingers were smudged.

the bottle's closed, you'd blown on your nail to ensure it dried, and that's when your window slides open.

there's no point in looking back at him when he tumbles into the room. he starts mumbling complaints as soon as the window's closed, the sound of his shoes unlacing padding his words, something about some common thief who hobie was going to let go but then he went and messed with the lady on the street and her cat.

you'd lost the tail end of his words whenever he started walking closer to you. you sat up straighter, pushed everything out of the way, and waited for him to turn your chair around.

which, when he did, you looked up at him, small smile on your lips as you stared into his deep brown eyes.

"how's your night, hm?" he asked, a courtesy before getting to the real action.

you shrugged, pretending to think. "nothing. just a lot of this."

"no smashing societal standards? picking off misogynists one by one?"

a small laugh in the form of a snort from you. "nah. figured i'd take a day off, you know?" the sarcasm dripping from your words. that's not who you were. you wish you could've been like that, could've been like hobie. but there's one spider-person for a reason.

"oh, yeah, uh-huh..." and hobie trailed off as he leaned in, pointer finger hooking under your chin to pull your lips to his.

it always felt good to kiss hobie.

you'd fantasized about it for weeks before it actually happened. he's your closest friend at the moment, and he occupied the title before this arrangement even existed. and of course you had the worry about ruining your beautiful friendship if you became more, fear that you wouldn't be able to go back and you would subsequently lose probably the best friend you've ever had.

but that was no need to worry. because while you could let hobie pull you up and lead you to your bed, sitting back and pulling you into his lap while he kissed you with a tenderness you know so well, you could also just be friends with him, sitting side by side on the couch and having a movie marathon of horrible biopics without thinking about jumping each other's bones.

there's a balance here that you could only hope would've existed.

and it's never thrown off. not even when he pulls your shirt over your head and his full lips find your nipples and the slightly-faded marks he'd left a few days ago. not even when he switches your position, laying you back and kissing down your torso until he can bury his head between your legs. not even when you whine and cry just a bit, slightly begging for him to pull his suit off so he can fuck into you in a way that only he can.

you try not to think about the equilibrium of your relationship with hobie when your legs hook around his waist and the heels of your feet dig into your lower back. you try to solely focus on the way his cock fills you up perfectly, mostly long with the right amount of girth for your walls, tip reaching deep within you in an almost mind bending way.

but you can't help but think about the way hobie doesn't do labels when he helps you to your bathroom, where he lets the shower heat up while you sit in a shirt he left behind a few days ago when he'd shown up as just hobie brown and not spiderman. you can't help but think about being hobie's girlfriend when his big, veiny hands run along your skin after the shower, smothering you in shea butter as you struggle to hold your eyes open. and you don't bother attempting to fight off the lasting thought of being hobie's while he hums an unknown song to himself with your head on his chest, the deep sound of his voice and the vibration of his chest lulling you to sleep.

you need to be someone's.

the friends with benefits scenario was fun, it worked, it was glorious, but you don't think it's for you. and labels aren't for hobie.

so, you look elsewhere.

you're at hobie's show, standing in the back of the pub with a drink you weren't interested in, with some guy you really weren't all that interested in, either. but he smelled nice, and he seemed nice, and you were just looking to broaden your horizons just a bit.

you and hobie weren't exclusive, but maybe it's a little wrong to flirt with someone else at his show. but you were slightly upset, and craving attention, so it didn't matter.

not until hobie got off stage.

it took a while for him to roam over to you, but even then you were still entertaining the other guy. giggling, tilting your head, batting your eyelashes, your hip popped out and a manicure, that was still fresh, blinging as your hand rested on the bone.

he greets you with a term of endearment that he uses often, but it feels different in this circumstance. you tell yourself that it feels different because you want it to feel different.

"oi, babe! who's this bloke?"

his arm slings over your shoulder and you tense under it. your hands folding over your chest, your smile tightening a little.

“uh this is steven.” your hand reaches out to point to the man, a tight lipped smile spreading onto his lips.

“steven …” hobie repeats the name slowly, and without looking at him you can tell that he’s eyeing the guy up and down.

the air is stiff, the three of you are silent, and unfortunately, steven takes the hint to dismiss himself, and you instantly turn to hobie, a scowl on your face.

“what the fuck, hobes?” you’re pissed, but the nickname still slips off easily.

hobie shrugs and reaches into his back pocket, a cigarette appearing and he sticks it between his lips. instantly, your fingers pluck it out from his mouth, instead putting it in your own back pocket.

instead of looking upset, hobie looks amused. his hands reach out to grab your waist, and you want to give in, but you try to push his hands away instead.

hobie lets you, and you don’t know if your happy or upset with that.

“what’d you mean?”

you stare at him, deadpan, then gesture to where steven had walked away towards.

“you just cockblocked me!”

a cocky grin, almost a little condescending. “i didn’t ‘cockblock’ you, babes. you weren’t trying to get with that guy.” your eyebrow lifts and you can see realization come onto hobie’s face. “oh … you were?”

“yes! of course i was!”

“but why? you are i are together.”

“sure, hobes, but we’re not ‘together’.”

“yes we are.”

“no, we aren’t.”

“why do you think that?”

you suddenly feel a little insecure, eyes scanning the thinning crowd, ears noticing the way the volume in the pub is lowered. “because you’ve never put a label on it, bee.”

another layer of realization. hobie’s hands coming to your waist again, but this time you let him pull you in.

“i didn’t know we needed a label. but you’re my girl. and i’m your guy.”

your body heats up and you bite down onto your lower lip giddily, peeking up at hobie through your lashes.

"thought you didn't like relationships?"

"labels. i don't like labels."

there's a disruption in the atmosphere. goosebumps raise on your skin, the hair on the back of your neck sticks up, and even if you weren't aware internally, the way the magazine you were previously reading floats above the table would've tipped you off.

the portal opens shortly after, but you knew it was coming. it took hobie a while to tell you that he was spiderman, longer to convince you that he was spiderman, and a while longer to convince you of the existence society, and even though you know, you still get a little shocked whenever a portal opens.

he comes through first, thud of his heavy boots against the floor of his flat. the spoon in your mouth clings against the side of the bowl, your free hand reaches out to the tv remote to pause the episode as you look over at hobie.

"oi, didn't know you were still here." is all he says before he's walking over, pulling his mask off on the way, and leaning down. your head tilts up instantly to meet his lips in a kiss, your body warming with the way his hand pushes into the back of the couch, slender but muscular form caging you in.

you expect him to sit beside you and force you to give a recap of the episode, but he stands back, and then three other people come through the portal.

"oh ... are we expecting guests?" surprise sits in your words, the tone amplified when hobie takes your bowl of cereal out of your hands to finish it off himself.

"right," he speaks through mouthfuls, saying your name as an introduction to the other three. "this is pav, miles, and gwendy. spider people." you nod, waving at each.

"this here, is my girlfriend." three sets of spider-eyes widen with the admission and you can already sense what's coming.

"wow, you're pretty. 's nice to meet you."

"i knew it! i could sense the tension as soon as we got here."

"you have a girlfriend? wait. i thought you didn't like labels."

a small smile on your face as you tuck your hands in the pocket of hobie’s sweatshirt that you wear.

in coordination learned from how close you two are, you speak at the same time.

"he doesn't like consistency."

"don't like consistency, mate."

[sytoran]

𝐀 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐄 | 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭.𝟐

the aftermath of your mindblowingly hot sex with the goddess of lust, natasha romanoff. as it turns out, no one escapes the consequences of their actions.

pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!fem!reader (G!P)

note: once again, howdy, folks! this is the even longer-awaited part 2 to the goddess!nat fic! i am terribly sorry for the wait, hopefully this long chapter will satisfy your needs :)

word count: 3.0k

series m.list | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

Previously...

You, a regular law-abiding citizen, saved the gods by accident. The Goddess of Lust, Natasha, granted you one wish as a repayment. You could've had just about anything, but turns out all you need is right in front of you.

Spoiler: It ends up in mindblowingly hot sex with a certain Goddess.

Now, two months later...

"Baby…" Nataha sighs, her eyelids fluttering close as you move under her sheets. 

Or, more specifically, as your tongue moves in her cunt.

There's just something about giving the Goddess of Lust the best head of a lifetime that does it for you. Maybe it's her stupidly sexy moans, or the way she twisted her delicate hands into your hair, or maybe just how sweet she tasted.

Or, maybe, it's the knowledge that you're the only one who can ever make her feel like this.

"Please, oh, fuck," Natasha whines, as you move your tongue in tight little circles against her sweet spot. Not quick enough to make her cum, slow enough to make her feel.

"Oh," she whimpers, hearing the lewd sounds of you eating out her soaked pussy on a Saturday morning. You shift under the blankets, breathing hard as it gets warm.

Worshiping the Goddess as you rightfully should was perhaps your favourite pastime, driving her wild with your fingers and your tongue and your cock.

Which is exactly what you felt throbbing in your pants when a hushed whimper of 'Daddy' falls from Natasha's sweet mouth. Your head spins at the title, just like the first time she had ever called you that.

It was half by accident, really.

On a private rented beach in Malibu, with miles and miles of space and no one else, there you laid under the shade of a palm tree, thrusting into the Goddess with a youthful vigor.

"Oh, you feel so good," Natasha cries, scratching her long nails down your bare back. She shakes with each of your thrusts, melting into your touch like your forgotten ice cream in the Malibu sun.

"Do I?" You tease dangerously, both of your orgasms dangling close to occurrence. "Mhm- Oh, yeah," Natasha responds with a lewd moan, moving her hand down to play with her clit.

That's all the extra simulation the Goddess needs before she's tumbling over the edge, clutching onto you as pound into her cunt.

"Oh, I- Oh, please, daddy!" Natasha shrieks when you harshly pinch her nipple with your free hand. It does wonders for her pleasure.

But as soon as those words fall from the Goddess' lips, she retracts like she's been scorned. You halt your movements.

"Did you just call me daddy?" You ask with a raised eyebrow, as Natasha looks away flusteredly.

"...No."

"Darling."

"No! I mean, well yes, but I didn't mean to!" She tries to move under your grasp, her cheeks turning an incarnadine pink.

You take her wrists and pin them above her head with one hand, and use the other to still her moving hips. The Goddess pouts at you, but you know better than to give in.

"Has the Goddess of Lust never called anyone 'daddy'?" You ask seriously, trying to make sense of her seemingly unorthodox shame.

"It's complicated." Natasha states, squirmimg under your inspective look. She trails her hands down to your cock again, but you deny her of that pleasure. "We're not done here, sweetheart."

"Fine," Natasha grumbles. "That's the first time I've ever called it out, like, in the heat of the moment. I'm always the one doing the seduction and the flirting, so I call my partner that if I think they'd be into it. It's never been… spontaneous, I guess."

"Oh," you say softly, tracing her rib with a ginger finger. "I think I quite like it."

"You do?"

"Mhm."

"Okay, daddy."

"Shut up, sweetheart."

"Make me."

What pulls you out of that blissful reverie is Natasha's whine. You're not in Malibu anymore, you're under Natasha's sheets. 

Even then, you've never felt more fulfilled with this glorious woman by your side.

"Why'd you stop?" Natasha asks, pulling the blanket away so she can see you.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss onto her inner thigh. "Thinking."

"About?"

"You."

"Oh," the Goddess replies, evidently flustered. 

"What were you thinking of?" she then says, flirtatiously. She adds on the charm of batted eyelashes, prepared for whatever you might do to her body.

What Natasha wasn't prepared for, however, was the tenderness in which you regarded her with, a serene smile and a warm glow on your face.

"What is it?" Natasha says, laughing awkwardly as you litter kisses all over her stomach. You're glowing, sickly-sweet and dumbstruck.

"I love you," you whisper. "I love you, Natasha Romanoff. I love you not because you are the Goddess of Lust but because you have the most brilliant heart I've ever had the chance to feel. I love you for everything that you are, everything that you're not. I love you for your bed hair, and your goofy jokes, and your brilliant green eyes I could melt into a thousand times. I love you boundlessly, across the worlds that divide us. And you don't have to say it back, but just know-"

You take in a deep breath, not realizing that you've spoken so much with quavering breaths like you'd die if you didn't profess your love. Like you'd die if you didn't bare your heart to Natasha. You gulp for air, stroke her face. "Just know I love you. So much. So, so, so much."

Oh.

There's silence, afterwards, like the world has stumbled on its axis and the stars have collided. 

Natasha looks at you with an indescribable feeling, like her heart wants to burst out of their seams. It's only when you gently stroke her face that Natasha realizes there are tears on her face. 

Why's she crying? Why do you cradle her in your arms with such a ginger tenderness? What did she ever do to deserve this kind of love?

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed it," you mumble, almost ashamed. You press another kiss on her bare stomach as an apology. "I'm-"

"No, I- Fuck, I love you too." The Goddess voices hoarsely, her shaky tone a far cry from what should be expected of a regal Goddess. "I love you too," she says again, with more confidence, almost as if it would make the words even truer.

That stupid smile is back on your face again, even wider than before. Your cheeks hurt and Natasha's heart melts. 

"You love me?" you ask earnestly, and there's such an innocence and genuineness to your question that Natasha almost cries again.

The impact of 'I love you' sinks in. Natasha feels.

She's never felt like this before. She's never loved like this before.

Finally, in the sacred silence, Natasha whispers. Scared to ruin the moment. Scared to tarnish what could be.

"To every universe and back," the Goddess answers, and your world starts orbiting again.

—

Ever since that fateful day of your love confession, the two of you were inseparable. You would look at Natasha with such wonder in your eyes, wonder what you ever did to deserve this, but the Goddess would look at you the same way, and you knew everything would be fine.

She would take you to any universe you liked, across any dimension. From earth-bound lands to intergalactic islands to space. It was as vast as her love for you.

But, you were riding that high with no heed for the consequences of your actions. 

You were foolish enough to stay with Natasha, dumb enough to drown out the warning signs, blindsided by the prospect of loving a Goddess.

You should've known, from the start, that you and Natasha were a race against time.

You should've known that it would end up in flames for you.

You should've known better.

—

Since the very day she was born the Goddess of Lust, Natasha had her life laid in front of her.

To exploit that thrall she was given, to seduce men and the occasional woman, to live above and beyond because she was a Goddess.

That had been her life for over decades, sitting comfortably at the top of the chain on a gold throne; Toying with hearts like it was a daytime hobby, then shattering them like glass. 

She slept around for the hell of it, just because she could. Just because she was the Goddess of Lust.

Then came along a stupidly charming attorney with a coffee stain on her suit and the most unusual request.

Just like that, her world stopped revolving around what she was supposed to do, and it started orbiting around you.

And, you, were definitely not what Natasha was supposed to do.

Despite how incredible you were in bed. Despite the plethora of orgasms you had brought her to. Despite how she felt her walls to her heart tumbling down around you.

When the two of you shared that passionate confession of love in bed on that fateful Saturday morning, the Goddess knew she was done for.

Which is exactly why she's currently under the scrutiny of Supreme Headquarters: Intervention of Extraterrestrial Liabilities Directorate, aka SHIELD, aka she's completely and utterly fucked.

SHIELD was essentially the Gods and Goddeses' version of a monarchy, that was infamous for its cruel ruling and cutthroat decisions.

"You're a smart girl, Natasha, and never would I have expected something so childishly foolish to fall from your lips."

The Goddess stood in defiance. Despite all her power and her status, she seemed so small in the wide hall, paling in comparison to the mighty Gods that surrounded her.

That previous statement had been made by none other than Wanda, the Goddess of Magic. The woman was a stature of power and composure in her throne, hand poised under her chin like it was a medieval painting.

"I'm not a girl," Natasha snapped at the Goddess, fire behind her eyes. "And I'm very capable of making my own decisions, despite how foolish they may seem in your condescending point of view."

The Goddess of Magic was irritatingly unfazed by Natasha's outburst, flicking that poised hand and in a dismissive wave. God, Natasha wanted to crush that stupid hand.

"Steve, talk some sense into her. I can't bear to hear any more of her senseless arguments." Wanda said offhandedly, looking over to the God of Justice for support.

Natasha wants to retort that she isn't just spewing senseless arguments, but a warning look from the God of Justice shut her up. Of everyone in SHIELD, he was the most likely to give her a fair hearing. Hence his name.

"Natasha, we're not saying that you're incapable of making your own decisions." The blonde man reassures, pressing his hands together in contemplation. Natasha breathes harder than she should be doing.

"We're saying that what you're doing isn't the best," Steve continues, and Natasha is grateful that the eyes are not on her anymore. The God of Justice had a presence that simply demanded respect, an impeccable aura that no one would dare deflect.

"Sleeping with someone not godly is one thing, but entering a romantic relationship with a mortal, a human being, is simply…"

"Unacceptable."

Natasha intakes a short gush of air harshly at the interruption. It's Thor, God of Thunder. For a God who had lived centuries, he was painfully traditional. Narrow-minded, even.

Thor's loud, booming voice carried throughout the hall, from his electric-blue throne at the far corner. Mjolnir, his trusty hammer, was held in his big hands with a firm grasp. Natasha forced herself not to feel threatened.

Thor continued, firm and hard and oh so unforgiving. "Do you want to end up like my brother, Goddess Natasha?" 

At that, the entire hall was silenced. The only thing Natasha could hear was her own sporadic breathing.

Everyone, undoubtedly, knew the story of Thor's brother.

Loki, the God of Mischief. The fallen angel, some said. The devil's incarnate, others whispered.

He had used his power for wrong, abused his status to commit the darkest things imaginable. It wasn't before he was banished from the land of Gods, never to be seen again.

Some say he's still clawing his way out of hell. Some say he's destined for a lifetime of hurt.

"Don't you fucking dare compare me to him, Thor," Natasha growls, and the larger blonde man even seems taken aback by the ferocity behind Natasha's words.

"I- I think what Thor is trying to say," Bruce frantically cuts in, in an attempt to mediate the situation. 

The God of Science was a bespectacled man with quirky mannerisms, ever the peacemaker. Logic, to him, was most important of all.

"Is that you, Nat, are a Goddess," Bruce continues. "An all-powerful being that transcends the laws of space and time. You have been blessed with such power, such strength, unfathomable to lesser beings. And Y/N L/N, this earth-bound creature who lives and breathes on the very ground we carved, couldn't possibly be who you want to run off with. I mean, we- you, you're so much more than that."

"You're going to love her, Nat? Give her your heart? You, an immortal being? She's going to die some day, inevitably, and then what will be left of you? A broken, desolate mess, grieving for the rest of eternity?"

Natasha swallows harshly. She wanted to despise Bruce, hate his reasonings and refute his logic – but she couldn't, could she? He was right. Bruce was right.

But there was a part in her heart that screamed, yelled, kicked - she couldn't give you up, now. Not when she'd finally found what she's been searching for. Not when she can feel again.

Not when she's found the love of her goddamned life.

"I'm on Nat's side," Tony says, mouth full of a pink-frosted donut, slicing through the tensed silence. He spews crumbs as he talks, but Natasha doesn't think she's ever been more grateful for the man. 

Tony was the God of Heroes. Brilliant but brash, proud yet arrogant, charismatic and eccentric. He was a God no one could explain in few words, and for that Natasha was immensely grateful he understood.

"True love cannot be broken," Tony says, folding his arms. "It transcends all else, goes beyond our social status and our physical capabilities and who we are as individuals. If Nat has truly found it, then who are we to judge? It shouldn't be criticized, it should be celebrated!"

Natasha locks eyes with Tony, in silent thanks. The two of them may butt heads at times due to their self-righteous natures, but in the end they were always there for each other.

However, the rest of the Gods didn't seem to quite agree. There was quiet murmuring amongst themselves until Steve began speaking again.

"Let's settle this with a vote. If majority wins, Natasha will be able to continue her pursuit of a romantic relationship with the human and mortal Y/N L/N. If not, Natasha will be forced to cut off all ties with said mortal and they are to never see each other again."

The Goddess of Lust felt her heart clench. Of course Steve would choose the fairest way to determine Natasha’s fate. Of course this would result in a losing battle for her, based on the prior reactions. 

“All those in favour of the disallowance of Natasha Romanoff’s and Y/N L/N’s romantic, physical or any other relations, please raise your hand.” 

Thoughts of you swam in Natasha’s mind, of you smiling while kissing her hand, stroking her hair while she fell asleep, trailing kisses up her spine on sinful nights.

Thor’s hand went up first. 

“I love you boundlessly, across the worlds that divide us.” That was what you had said that Saturday morning, with a serene smile, so gentle it caressed Natasha’s heart. She remembers the warm glow of the sun, the temptations of paradise, the falsehood of the promised land.

Wanda follows suit.

How could Natasha have let it all succumb to this? Why had she let herself grow so soft and malleable around you? The walls around her heart she had spent so long constructing was so easily taken down by you. You, who wormed your way in and made a nest in the center of her universe.

The next hand that goes up is Bruce’s, albeit with an uneasy look from the man, like he didn’t want to be there anymore.

Maybe she shouldn’t have dived headfirst into love with you, professing her feelings so vulnerably. She was the Goddess of Lust, not Romance or any of that bullshit. A long-lasting relationship had been a childish fantasy, much less for someone who was meant to constantly seduce.

Like a final seal of her demise, Steve’s hand goes up, and only then does Natasha realize the tears that have fallen from the corners of her eyes.

There is a deafening silence that follows the grounding decision, and even Tony doesn’t look so aloof anymore. He’s the only one at the table who didn’t raise his hand. 

Natasha swallows harshly, in an attempt to calm the building pressure within her.

She swallows again, willing the tears in her eyes to go away - no way in hell would she openly cry in front of the Gods who put her in this situation.

This time, she wishes the ground would swallow her up instead, to whisk her away from this nightmare of a reality and wake up beside you once more.

“You have until sunset to settle things,” Steve says, a painful lack of emotion in his eyes. “If you don’t coincide by the rules, you know what consequences you will have to face.”

For the first time in an eternity, ever since unknown creatures roamed the multiverse and there was no difference between dark and light, the Goddess felt helpless. 

Even then, there was only one thing on her mind.

How the fuck was she going to tell you that ‘To every universe and back’ had been a bloody lie?

taglist: @natashamaximoff69 @ohsugar-honey-iced-tea @fayhar @bibliophilicbi @screechcat @rowanyaboats @nahnahnahwhat @the-night-owl-blr @nemowevoli @wannabe-fic-reader @natsxwife @wandsmxmff @enanna-h @jemilyswhor3 @manyfandomsfanvergent @jlsammy23 @spongebobs-tie1 @kiyozoe6778 @lovebelt05 @girllcver @godsfavouritelesbiann @natashaswife4125 @ezay @forthelesbians @wlwfanfictionss @forthelesbians @cowxpoke @supaheroine @saqua14 @olsensnpm @33_mrvl @gay4ols3n @knellyc30 @eatkobi @stitch26gp @cqllarbqne @lovelyy-moonlight @diannaswhore @wandaromanoff69 @shuriri4life @inluvwithfictionalwomen @Cooldogs02 @jedi-athen-orion @alyciaddict @blackqueensforeva @lovelyy-moonlight @gingerninja1993 @yourfavdummy @iliketigolbitties @scarlttolsn @blackbirdv98 @mxxnligxt @riomiyawakisstuff @alex4424 @0DeadandCold0 @mr.romanoff @mandy-asimp @idontwannabehereatm @daenerys713 @xxsekhmet @marvel_simp @maowlxslay @lizbugwanda @peggycarter3 @flositaa @dooblekhay @aliherrerasz @theo-021 @hopelesslyfalleninlove @secretbackrooms @natasha10273 @justyourwritter69 @theo-221b @wandaromanoff69 @eatkobi @lovelyy-moonlight @morganismspam23 @unexpected-character @rdfgfv

ok i’m literally so tired while posting this ‘cos i just got out of a seven-hour flight like yesterday, but i reallyyy wanted to post this because i haven’t posted anything in so long. anyways I HOPE YOU LIKE THE LORE and just a recap for everyone before part 3: 

anyways it’s all set up for more angst and hardcore smut (yes i promise that is in part 3)

natasha - goddess of lust

carol - goddess of galaxies

wanda - goddess of magic

steve - god of justice

thor - god of thunder

bruce - god of science

tony - god of heroes

y/n - basic bitch

[cheeseceli]

When your parents don't like them

Pairing: Ot8!skz × Gn!Reader (individually)

Genre: reverse hurt/comfort? Angst? A little bit of fluff perhaps; reaction

Description: their reaction to not having the approval of your parents in their first meeting (established relationship)

Warnings: not proofread; a lot of overthinking and self doubt in most of the scenarios; the length of each story is not favouritsm!! It's just that some scenarios required more details than others

A/n: I should have posted this one a long time ago... Oh well. And I am literally the mix of Han and Lee Know, this would 100% happen to me if I were in their shoes

Bang Chan

‌HE'S SO SHOCKED

‌Parents always love him, so why didn't yours?

‌He believes he took it for granted

‌But he was so sure your family would love him

‌Rethinks everything he said and did

‌And thinks about what he could've done

‌He'll be up all night because of it, you better believe me

"Maybe it's the outfit I was wearing?"

"Chan, for God's sake, go to sleep."

"Seriously though, do you think my clothes weren't appropriate?"

"There was nothing wrong with how you looked baby."

"... So maybe I didn't introduce myself properly?"

"Chan."

Lee Know

‌ He knew he had to talk

‌ But it turns out he was too scared

‌And your parents just aggravated his problem

‌ He'd give only short answers and would only speak when spoken with

‌ Because of that your parents didn't see him as a really charismatic guy

‌ But I swear he was trying his best

"I swear it wasn't as bad as it seemed."

"It was horrible. I doubt any of your parents even know what my voice sounds like."

"You were nervous. I'm sure they'll understand. If you'd like I can talk to them about it."

"Please, don't. The last thing I want is for your parents to think that besides being awkward I'm a coward as well."

"They don't think either of those things. You'll see, you guys just need to know each other a little bit more. They'll love you."

Even with his worried expression, he gave you a small smile "I hope so".

Changbin

‌ You warned him he was getting too close

‌ He was holding your hand, caressing your thigh, hugging you too tight, kissing you a lot...

‌ All the time

‌ And yes, you both were dating for a while now

‌ But your parents didn't really appreciate the attitude

‌ And truly, he thought that by doing that he was showing how much he treasured and loved you

‌ Sadly your parents didn't understand his actions like he planned

"But what was I supposed to do? Stay away from you?"

"Ideally, yes"

Changbin pouted, not even realising it "but I'm your boyfriend"

"They are not used to this fact just yet. Don't worry though, they still have a lot of time to like you. Just wait and see"

Hyunjin

‌ Similar to Chan, Hyunjin didn't expect to be rejected by your parents

‌of course, he wasn't expecting to make the fall in love immediately, but he knew he had some charms

‌and he actually put a lot of effort into impressing them so when it doesn't work he's like

‌genuinely sad

‌And he's scared your relationship might change now that he doesn't have your family approval right away.

"So... About the dinner"

"They are always like this, don't worry"

"How come?"

"I knew they were gonna play hard to get. But don't you stress over it, sooner or later they will realise there is no need to act like it"

"So I can still convince them into not hating me?"

"Why would they hate you? You were really boyfriend material if you ask me"

He laughed, a little bit more relieved "They were kinda... aggressive back there, y'know?"

"Ugh, sorry about that. I swear things will get better"

"You're not mad?"

"Of course not. Why would I be?"

"I thought you'd get sad or something like that since the meeting didn't go that well"

"I'm a bit sad, yeah. But it's not your fault. You did your best. Besides, it won't last that long. It's kinda hard to hate on the Hwang Hyunjin for too long"

He laughed again, openly this time as he replied "I hope you are right"

Han

‌The problem wasn't exactly what he did

‌The problem was that he didn't do anything

‌Literally anything

‌ He'd excuse himself to go to the bathroom to avoid any questions

‌He barely moved besides that

‌After a while your dad even forgot he was there

‌And Han wished he could disappear

"I'm so, so sorry"

"Ji, it's okay"

"I was gonna answer your mother, I swear. But she was looking at me with daggers in her eyes"

"You were just fine"

"Fine? Y/n, your dad sighed in relief after I left the room. They must see me as a loser"

"I'm sure they don't. Besides, you still have a lot of time left to win them over. I know they'll love you"

Felix

‌Your parents loved him actually

‌They just don't think he is fit to be your boyfriend

‌They think that his angel face and sweet personality wouldn't give you enough security throughout your life

‌And Felix wants to prove himself to your parents so badly now

‌He will use his deep voice privilege to try to prove his point

‌He will go to the gym with Changbin until he's "intimidating" enough

‌And he won't fail on reminding them how he has over 60 medals on taekwondo

"How do I look?"

"Great, as always"

"But do I look intimidating? Scary?"

"Lix..."

"But not too scary. I need to look threatening to others but reliable to you"

"You look like someone my parents will like"

"They already like me, but not enough to like our relationship"

"They will though. Soon enough they will appreciate everything that comes along with you, trust me."

Felix smiled and nodded, feeling a certain comfort into your words as you headed to the door

"Just for the record, you do look threatening but reliable"

"Oh thank you. I was going crazy over this"

Seungmin

‌If your parents don't like Seungmin then the problem is on them

‌just kidding

‌Seriously though, I can't imagine why they wouldn't like him

‌And neither can Seungmin himself

‌So he truly thinks that everything was a misunderstanding and that it's only a matter of time until your whole family falls in love with him

‌He will face it like a challenge

"What about we invite your parents to our apartment this weekend?"

"We just saw them less than an hour ago"

"I think we should see them again"

"Did you like them that much?"

"They seem cool. But they also seem to hate me. I need to change their minds"

"What? They didn't hate you at all"

"Your father's glare would disagree. But that doesn't matter that much because by the end of this week they will love me"

"You seem certain"

"Of course I am. I can't have them hating me for the rest of our lives, can I?"

"They don't hate you. They are just... hard to please"

"I'll change this" he faced you with a confident smile "I give you my word"

I.N

‌Kinda clueless

‌Totally clueless actually

‌He can't understand what he did wrong but apparently he did something awful considering your parents disliked him that much

‌Will try to find ways to apologise

‌Will gift them and try to keep a conversation even when you're not around

"Does your mother like flowers? She does, right? Every mother does"

"What are you doing?"

"You said that she invited us to lunch this Friday. I don't want to go see her with empty hands again. Maybe that's what made her hate me so much the first time"

"She doesn't care about those things, Innie"

"No? Then why doesn't she like me?"

"She's just hard to satisfy, you know. But I bet she'll like you in no time. She just needs to get to know you better"

"You keep saying that but I don't know, I feel like that won't happen any time soon. I really want her to approve me"

He had that hopeless expression again, that one that really wanted to change the situation but didn't know how to. You really hated seeing him disappointed on himself.

"Lilies" you said

"What?"

"Those are my mother's favourites. Lilies"

"Oh my God, thank you" he got up and kissed the top of your head lightly, before going to the door of your shared apartment "I'll be right back"

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated! | masterlist

[verysillystarr]

𝙸'𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚊 (𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚊!)

One way, or another, I'm gonna find ya

I'm gonna meet ya, meet ya, meet ya, meet ya

One way, or another, I'm gonna win ya, I'll get ya, I'll get ya

One way, or another, I'm gonna see ya - Blondie

--------------------------♡---------------------------

☆: I originally got this idea from a fic I read but most of the credits got to them

★: Lucifer Morningstar (Magne) x Reader

☆: Mentions of kidnapping and yandere behavior(I think?)

★: Gender-Neutral reader.

☆: Reader is 20-23

★: This is a oneshot

-----------------------×---------------------------

Short Summary: Who would've guessed that a certain devil liked you in particular? Unfortunately, there's no way out for you..

Your friend kept telling you how good this show was. 'Hazbin hotel' I think? It was actually quite popular from what you know, and you already had prime so there was no hassle for you to watch it.

Surprisingly it was quite good. Even had some likeable characters. You only started watching yesterday and now you're on episode 5! Lucifers' character stood out to you. He was so, in a way, goofy but also kind of charming.

Though.. it felt like he was looking directly at you sometimes when facing at the screen. Or maybe that's just something the animators did intentionally. It wasn't that important just slightly off-putting.

Your phones clock read 5:30. Didn't realize it was getting so late. Guess that's what happens when you spend so much time watching TV.

That show can wait till tomorrow, it did kinda waste your day. Though it was hard to shake that feeling that someone was watching you.

You were confused why the next episode was playing. " I could've sworn I turned it off last night."

[ Breif time skip ]

You finished the show. Although, it did dim your mood that it was already over. So much had happened. Yet you'll have to wait for the next season to come out.

Oh well, you could always - " Hello dear! "

That's not right at all.

After the credits ended the screen went black. Meaning it was over. Meaning Lucifer Morningstar should most definitely not be on your TV screen.

" Are you.. talking to me? "

" I don't see any other person in your room. "

You had to sit down on your bed to process this.

" Y'know, Y/N , I've been watching you for a while now. And what else can I say beside you have most definitely peaked my interest! "

" .. But aren't you.. you know, Satan? The devil himself. Why would I be interesting to you? "

At first you assumed this was a hallucination. Maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. But this was to real to not be happening.

That explains a little too much actually. The feeling of being watched was actually true.

But this can't be. He's fake. He's just a drawing basically. He's stuck on a screen. Which actually calms you down a bit.

It made you feel eased that he wasn't actually there. But you were still tense.

" Listen, I don't what you want from me but- "

"Oh it's quite simple my love! I want you to come here! With me! I can do more than a few tricks. And perhaps treat you better than anyone ever could? Or do you need more convincing ? "

He must be delusional to think you're coming with him. Quite honestly he talks too much..

In attempt to escape him you tried turning off your TV. And it.. didn't work. He must have done something.

Unfortunately he knew and (threatened) "persuaded" you to hear him out.

" Uh- hey! It's kinda rude to push someone who loves you away! "

" You're not real. "

" So I guess I'll have to make you come with me then? "

You laid down slightly, not really sure of how much he could do.

" As much as I hate to tell you this there's nothing you can do. You're trapped in there and I'm , thankful , not. So good luck trying to- "

There was a loud sound of something banging against the screen three times and then a shattering sound.. you flinched at it.

And there he was. Standing right at the foot of your bed looking smugly.

" You were saying something about 'being trapped' sweetheart? "

Oh Lord.

[celestialhole]

Simon Riley x GN!reader headcanons

Warnings: Contains NSFW content below the cut, read at your own risk! Sorta proofread, random as fuck but here's your din din. Thinking about Simon Riley who uses his kids as weights for him to lift while working out. Just for fun. He likes hearing his kids laugh and giggle. Simon Riley who gets hella annoyed when your family/extended family buys so much crap for the kids. "The bloody hell they need this for? Don't we already have the damn pool outside!?" Simon looked down at the huge box in their living room, it was a goddamn bouncy house for the little ones. "I dunno Si. We can put it in the frontyar-" "WE ALREADY HAVE THE BALL PIT OUTSIDE!"

Never really celebrated his birthday before meeting you. You started giving him presents, taking him out, and taking him back to hotels (or your home) to ride him til' dawn. Now that you have little ones you all plan a small birthday party for him since he's old and grumpy. You give him one of his favorite desserts, have all the kids pile on him, and show him some love it resulted in him counting to 5 before chasing them all down while you record all of it.

Will fantasize about what life could've been like if his family were still here with him, what it could've been like if they had lived long enough to meet you. He's sure his Mother and Nephew would've loved you, and his brother would tease him n' say something like, "Now you know how it feels, it ain't as bad as you thought huh?" He wished to God he'd get to experience that in another lifetime. In my world, he doesn't celebrate Christmas and we know damn well why. If he's been with you for a long time he'll find a way to make something for you to make it special or he'll buy you something you mentioned wanting a few weeks or months back. But don't expect him to place a big ass tree in his apartment. If you manage to convince him to buy a tree he'll buy it and maybe a few ornaments he likes but the rest you're buying. Riley totally tore that bitch up and trust me, he tried to stop her but it was too early in the morning for that and he didn't want the tree anyways so he just sighs, puts some tea on the kettle grabs his reading glasses and his favorite book, and just relaxes on the couch as his military dog is tearing up your 350$ Christmas tree. "Jesus fucking Christ what happened in here!?" You stumbled over an ornament as you walked into the living room. Simon was chilling peacefully on the couch as Riley held a broken branch in her mouth and they both looked as if there wasn't a shit tone of ornaments and small pieces of the tree everywhere. It looked like a cluster fuck in your living room. "Tree became a chew toy," Simon mumbled. "I can see that.. And you didn't stop her?!" You narrowed your eyes at him. "Tried to, then it fell and I gave up," Simon took a sip of his tea and turned a page of the book he was reading. "Oh for fucks sake Simon.." You rubbed your eyes and leaned against the wall. He glanced up at you from the couch with an amused smile and looked back down at his book. "...This is what happens when we don't listen to Simon says-" "I'm kicking you and Riley out." You cut him off.

I see this man with an uncut shave because he's too lazy for that shit, however, if he notices he has a whole ass fucking jungle down there he'll trim it and then leave it alone for another 5 months. A solid 7 inches when soft and hard. Girth? Lots of it. Saggy balls. The type of man who doesn't notice when you get something done (hair, nails, etc). When you ask him if he notices anything different he'll immediately look at your ass to see if those squats did you any good. Speaking of your ass he loves your ass. Flat or thick he's smacking it when he casually walks past you. If you're plus-sized or just thicc it's even better. Don't ever bend over with this man in your perimeter. And it's even worse when you're in front of him and walking up the stairs cause he's staring hard at it. When you bend over he's smacking it, groping it, caressing it, and if he's really bold he's sneaking a quick hump against it. It's all shits and giggles till he's in that position. And you never hold back either. Now he doesn't trust walking up the stairs in front of you because you won't stop poking his ass and he hates it he loves you anyways. Call him daddy and he's not gonna speak or look at you for the rest of the day. You've made him spiritually nauseous good job. HE'S A BODY MAN BUT IN MY WORLD HE'S A THIGH AND TUMMY MAN! Also, I can see him being obsessed with ya nipple piercings if you ever got them. But nipple piercings are one thing, a genital piercing IS ANOTHER THING. Mutual masturbation is a must on the weekend mornings. He'll wake you up with pepper kisses to your neck while his hand is rubbing your tummy, when you wake up he'll gradually run his hands over your chest and pinch your nipple before moving his hand down to caress your arousal. He sucks the skin on your shoulder and neck to pleasure you and when you turn over to stroke his already hardened cock, he groans and moves his hips to slowly thrust his cock along your hand while his fingers slowly speed up. Now imagine his groans + his morning voice. This man loves you with every fiber of his being and tries his very best to make sure you know he loves you no matter what, so don't even think about asking him if he'll still love you as a worm. He'll keep you safely tucked in the pocket of his shirt and feed you noodles. He doesn't give two shits if you're hairy, plus-sized, or "unattractive". He'll cross the Amazon or even Antarctica to eat your ass I'm just saying. Don't protest or even speak, just bend over and let him have fun with his beautiful partner.

[urf1lterr]

afterglow | pedro pascal [2/3]

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

previous chapter: [1]

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

pairing: actor!pedro x actress!reader

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

word count: 15k

status: 2/3 complete

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

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

"Andrew!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And bless the celebrities near you for minding their business.

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

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

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

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

Which you weren't, obviously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I never said I was stressing over hi-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't get it."

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

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

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

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

Because they really wanted to know the drama.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Andrew smirked, nodding proudly. "Classic move."

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

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

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

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

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

"Was it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had to for your own good.

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

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

You wish you knew.

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

"Did that work?"

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

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

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

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

Like always.

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

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

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

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

But you were human and sometimes humans act human.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did he say?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or anger across.

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

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

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

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

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

"We get it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a way to dismiss your feelings.

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

"I can't do that either!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I mean he did promise her it."

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

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

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

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

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

"And how long did that last?"

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

"Over?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Spill the beans."

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

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

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

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

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

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

He did neither one.

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

"And who were you with?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And that's bad?"

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

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

"Did you really believe him?" Andrew asked.

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

"Let me finish the story!"

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

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

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

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

Point is- always wear protection.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Continue!"

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

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

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

You accepted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know but I had a crammed morning-"

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/n?!"

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

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

"You tricked me!"

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

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

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

"They were gummy supplements!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hit him.

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

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

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

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

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

Sighing in relief, he did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shut up, Andrew."

"Sorry, go on."

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

This was not going to end well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then why did you sleepover?!"

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

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

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

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

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

"Come here."

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

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

It was...peaceful.

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

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

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

Every single time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What an emotional day it has been.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's up?"

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

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

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

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

"You're thinking about him, huh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That must mean something.

Did it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What can you say- she was a charmer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You.

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

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

You got nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you call yourself an actress.

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

You didn't.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gross.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smart.

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

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

But now he's...walking away?

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

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

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

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

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

He really was over you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And I take that back but-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Typical? What do you mean by that?"

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

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

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

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

Very poetic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn't.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fucked up- for real this time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he knew he'd be lying.

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

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

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

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

You wanted him to hurt- but to what extent?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ring? As in, an engagement ring?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+

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[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

××《☆》××

A new task; Kidnap some frogs and a film to get an hour study session with the Annick Sabiani. Things are still unstable with Joseph. Maybe Callum could help. Your fear of hopping creatures makes a boy forget what went wrong.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warning: frogs (whoevers scared of them), swearing, boys being boys, angst

Also, yes, I do know harry potter, I was in both that and the marauders fandom (esp marauders)

===

===

Chapter six: Mischief Managed

===

"Sophia Loren is so beautiful." We look up at a movie poster, stating that only eighteen above can watch.

"What about Brigitte Bardot?"

"My mother says she's vulgar."

"Apparently, we can sneak in through the back door." Simone points towards the cinema.

"How do you know that?" I ask her, curious.

"A boy told me." It's definitely Jean Pierre.

"Is it Eugène?" Oh, Michèle.

"No, it wasn't." Simone shakes her head, and she's basically telling the truth.

We turn a corner. "You think I'll meet him someday?" Michèle asks Simone. I glance at the dark haired girl, worry spreading in me.

"Who?"

"Eugène."

"I don't know."

I stay quiet, a one-eyed boy in the back of my mind.

××《☆》××

Students enter through Voltaire High's gates and head inside the building.

I sit in the very front of my class, tapping a pencil against the table, anxiously waiting for my score.

"Pardine, 10." I sigh in relief, scanning the paper.

Frogs croak loudly throughout the room, making me shiver in fear. Small, slimy, hopping creatures were not my thing.

"And finally, Miss Sabiani, 12." Laubrac claps his hands, followed by the class. Annick has been glowing, much more social and vibrant. Good for her, comparing her old self to now.

I look back at my score, sighing. I could've done better. Could've gotten a twelve like Annick. I clench my jaw, disappointed.

Then, for the first time of many times today, a paper plane lands on my table. I furrow my brows, turning around to see who could've done it. None of them look suspicious, but Joseph looks nice. Too nice. And he's wearing green.

I turn back around, not knowing if I was flushed because of anger or because of him. Probably both. Annoyingly, both.

"Tomorrow, we'll all be dissecting frogs." My stomach reacts badly, making me gag silently.

Sure, frogs weren't my cup of tea, but dissecting them? I wouldn't even wish death on Joseph. Though, a part of me knows hatred isn't the reason for this.

I have noticed today that Joseph's been gloomy. He's off, and obviously not in a good way. His eyes that were once lit by its own sun dims down like when a storm approaches. And he's not smiling. I miss his smile.

No, I don't. I don't and won't miss anything. He hates me, and I guess I hate him, too. He decides to talk shit about me? The audacity of that man. I wish I could just grab his neck and strangle him and look at him and see his fucking pretty lips turn into a smile-

That god-awful smile. It ruined me. And I hate his smile. I hate it. I hate him.

××《☆》××

We're all gathered up in the courtyard, discussing our grades, when suddenly, boys started crowding near Annick. I overhear what they say.

"One hour with Annick!"

I furrow my eyebrows. One hour? That's what they're freaking out about? Well, it was Annick, and they were boys, so I guess I shouldn't be too confused.

"Hey, what's happening?" I walk up to Pichon, and he looks startled as he sees me.

"Annick is giving out an hour private lesson if someone steals the frogs and the film from English earlier for her." Pichon stutters out.

This morning, in English class, we watched a movie called "To Kill A Mockingbird", the film adaptation of the book. I guess Annick liked it so much that she wants someone to steal it for her.

In the corner of my eye, a tall blonde's wafting his arms in the air. I had a sudden question.

"Hey, do you have any idea why Applebaum stopped talking to me? I know it was from long ago, but I sometimes wonder what happened." Pichon pales, and my brows pinch together.

"You know how Applebaum's glasses went missing?"

I nod, remembering the day at the gym.

"Well, that was Descamps. After that, he came up to us and threatened Applebaum's eye if he went to talk to you again. Applebaum whined for hours to us after that. He said he lost his chance at the only girl who's ever given him one."

I chuckle absentmindedly, shocked at the new information. Then, I turn angry.

"Descamps, did that? Why? Why would he want Applebaum away from me?" Pichon scans my face, trying to see if I'm serious or not.

"You really don't know?" I shrug, suddenly embarrassed. Pichon scoffs. "He's in love with you, that's why. Even when he looked like he hated you, from how I saw it, he was so in love it turned him into a mad man. I always caught him looking at you or being near you, even if it was a hundred feet away. Wherever you were, he was, too." It's my turn to scoff.

"He doesn't love me. He hates me. I caught him in the halls, talking about me to his friends and saying I was too clingy." My heart shatters in my chest as I recall that moment.

"Wait. How could he say you were clingy?"

"We've hung out the past few days. He's stayed the night the day before I heard him call me that."

"What? You let him stay the night?"

"Yes? What's wrong with that? We're friends. Or atleast we were."

"Oh my god, no offence, but how could you be so daft? You love him, too!" Pichon says a little too loudly, making the courtyard glance at us before returning to their own conversations.

"I don't! Now keep your voice down, or I'll rip them off." I whisper-shout at him.

"You even talk like him." I roll my eyes at his conclusion.

"Anyways, don't be delusional. He doesn't love me, actually, quite the opposite, and I don't love him. That's that." There's a lace of disappointment in my voice, but I cover it up with a stiff face.

Pichon raises both his hands in mock surrender. "Whatever you say." He walks away, a smile dancing on his lips. I scoff.

He doesn't know what the hell he's talking about.

××《☆》××

I lean against the wall facing Michèle as we wait for Simone in the toilet.

"So?" Michèle calls out to the door.

"Yes, it's my period." The door opens, and Simone walks out. She closes the door.

"Is there a stain on your skirt?" Simone checks.

"No. But my underwear's ruined. The rest is fine. I put toilet paper" I notice how messy she looked. I comb her hair out with my fingers. She grabs her things from Michèle.

"You should go to the nurse, Simone." I tell her, worried.

"Yeah, my aunt will have pads." Michèle interjects.

"No, I'll be fine." I puff out my cheeks at her stubbornness, but dismiss it.

We start to walk, but after only a few steps, Simone clutches on her stomach.

"You definitely need to go to the nurse." She shakes her head.

"You poor thing." Michèle says as we continue to walk.

Once we make it out the door to the courtyard, Pichon pops out of nowhere. I squint at him, still pressed about earliers conversation. He just smiles at me.

"Michèle." He says. "Can I ask you a favour?"

"Sure." Michèle responds, walking down the steps with us.

"Do you know where your uncle keeps his keys? There must be spares. Y/N needs them, too." I raise my eyebrows in surprise at the bold question. Then I remember the Annick situation. I nod along.

A voice butts in. "Hey, are you nuts?" It's Dupin. "Don't involve the dean's niece." He's leaning against the wall with his hand on it, legs crossed. "She's gonna snitch."

"What's he talking about?" Simone asks.

"Oh no, not again." Pichon looks between us and Dupin then walks away. I look at him confused.

Michèle walks down to Dupin. "You think I'm a suck up because I'm the dean's niece?"

"Yes." I know that voice all too well. I look at Joseph, and we lock eyes. I scan his face. Nothing's changed much, but it feels like something did. He glares at me then stares baack at Michèle.

"Let's go, guys." Simone says, walking down the steps. Michèle follows, but I stay.

"I heard about what you told Pichon and Applebaum." I walk the down the steps, looking up at his towering figure. He glances at Dupin and his friend, nodding them to go somewhere else. They follow.

"What about it?" He tilts his head at me, hand in his pockets.

"Why are you threatening Applebaum's eye if he looks at me?" His jaw clenches.

He pauses. "Why not?"

"Why not?" I chuckle half heartedly. "Why not?"

"Did I stutter?" Wow, since when did he have sass?

"You're an asshole, okay? First, you talk shit about me to your friends, talk shit about my friends, then I'm now just finding out you threatened Applebaum?" I raise my eyebrows at this, disappointment seething through my teeth.

"Well, that's just life, isn't it?" What the fuck is wrong with him?

"What the fuck do you even mean? We were so close, Jo- Descamps. We were friends, didn't you think?" I stutter at saying his name, embarrassment coating my cheeks.

"Back to last name basis?" There's disappointment in his tone, but I somehow catch his eye glancing down at my lips. I flush more.

"Yeah. Why not?" I mock his words, jutting my head forward.

"Alright, Pardine. If that's what you want." He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. He's starting to piss me off.

"I didn't fucking want us to stop being friends. We had to because, for some reason, it's only now that I remembered you're an asshole."

"Whatever." He scoffs out.

"Fine." I stepped closer. I already feel his warmth.

"Fine." He steps closer. He smells the same. I wish things were still the same.

"Fuck you." That's the last thing I say before walking away, feeling his stare on my back.

××《☆》××

"Stealing Herman's frogs and Couret's movie? Did Annick cast a spell on them?" I exclaim, raising my arms. Michèle and Simone follow behind me.

"And Dupin calling me a snitch. I may be the dean's niece, but I'm no rat." Michèle says over my shoulder. I nod in agreement.

I glance at Simone, seeing her clutching her stomach. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." She answers simply, face grimacing.

"You should I ask my aunt to write you a note and go home." Michèle says as she rubs Simone's arm.

"You think?" Me and Michèle nod.

"Okay. I have to go to the bathroom. It's soaked already." I nod again and lead Simone to the bathroom door.

"Michèle." I stop in my heels as Simone turns to Michèle. "You should steal the frogs. That'll shut them up." We continue to walk.

I lead Simone down the staircase, her one hand gripping mine and the other on the rails.

"Are you okay, Ms. Palladino?" Ms. Couret says, looking up at the both of us.

Simone talks to Ms. Couret and I excuse myself. Before I leave, Simone looks at me, glancing at Ms. Couret. I remember the film then nod at Simone. She nods back. I go all the way down the stairs, going out to the courtyard and on my way to the gate.

This morning, Callum called. He told me he had some news. When I asked why he chose lunch time to tell me, all he said was it was so important that he wanted to tell me face to face, and as soon as he was on his lunch break. So, naturally, I agreed.

I see the Thunderbird from a distance, its colour eye catching. A tall frame with messy brown curls exits the car, making his way to me, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

"Good afternoon, beautiful." I roll my eyes at the name, smiling. He simply chuckles. I walk out the gate. He hands me the bouquet.

"What is it?" I ask, implying the news he wanted to tell me.

"Not even a hello? I'm hurt." I stick my tongue out to him. "Anyways, how do you feel about Paris?" My ears perk up at the mention of the city.

"Paris? I miss the place. Why do you ask?" My heart beats in excitement, not knowing what to expect.

"Well, the people loved you so much. The company that released the magazine contacted me to get to you." I raise my eyebrows as he pauses. He furrows his.

"You don't get it? They want you in Paris by summer because they want you to model! Like, professionally." My eyes blow wide open and I gape in surprise. My mouth open and closes, not knowing what to say.

"Callum." I stutter out. "Please don't lie."

"I'm not." Tears rim my eyes, and I blink them away.

"I swear Callum if you're lying-"

"I'm not! I swear on my life." He laughs, his breath blowing on my face.

"Fuck, Callum." I give him a hug, wrapping my arms around his torso, gripping him to stay upright, my mind unable to grasp whether this was real or not.

He wraps his arms around my shoulders, rubbing my back and kissing my hair. "You deserve this. I'm so proud of you."

I pull away from his chest, dried streams of quiet tears on my face. Callum still wipes them away.

"Let me take you out tonight." My heart sort of drops. I can't, I tell myself. Why can't I? Then, a one-eyed boy is in my mind again. Oh. I grip my bouquet.

"Sure." Joseph wouldn't care. I then realised that he probably never did. Whatever, it's fine. But really, it isn't. I shouldn't be thinking about him, I should be thinking about the fact people want me to model for real.

But I can't help it. There's a boy in front of me, a modelling opportunity, and a dinner to look out for tonight, but all I can think about is him.

Him and his ash coloured hair, eyes that change colour in the light, smile that makes my heart clentch in my chest, and his lips. His beautiful, plump, pink lips.

Then I look up at Callum, and he looks at me the way Joseph once did. And I crumble internally, realising how much this beautiful boy will break when he finds out how I feel about someone else.

Joseph never loved me. I don't think he did. I felt used, hurt, and betrayed after what I witnessed. And what's funny is the fact that after that incident, that's when I realised I loved him. I love him.

I love Callum, too. But the way I feel for Joseph, it's different. And it's too bad I realised I loved him and that he hated me too late. I can't help but love him anyway.

That's the thing with love, though. When you realise you feel it, you can't let go. The way it feels is so different, you're too scared to let it go because you don't know when or if you'll ever feel it again.

"I'll pick you up at 6?"

A pause.

"Sure."

××《☆》××

My footsteps echo through the halls, too loud, in my opinion. I follow Michèle, her eyes glancing at me from time to time. I guard the door as she walks in and grabs both of the needed keys.

She gives me my set, whispers good luck, and walks to her room. I part to mine.

I quickly unlock the room and close it behind me, a quiet click sounding around the empty class. The film was situated at the table, leaning against some books. It looked like it was meant to be stolen.

Then I hear footsteps shuffling outside. I get under the table, trying to figure out the noise. It was too flat to be heels, and it was too heavy to be a woman. It sounded like thudding than clicking. Then the door opens, and I see brown oxfords. I know those oxfords. They've been in my flat before.

I get up from my spot, accidentally hitting my head on the edge of the table. Hard.

"Shit, Y/N. Are you okay?" Descamps sprints over to me, hands cupping my head and inspecting the hit area.

"It's Pardine to you, Descamps. And no, do I look okay?" I push his hands away, fixing my hair and dress. I look up at him, and he's already looking at me.

"What now?" I groan, crossing my arms. Descamps raises his brows, crossing his arms, too.

"You think you're the only one who wants to get the film?" He bends down to reach my height. I flush at the proximity.

"I certainly was here first."

"Well, too fucking bad, because I have it now." He snatches the film of the table. I grunt, trying to grab it. He lifts it over his head, stretching his arm. He's smiling. How much I hate that smile.

"Fuck you, Descamps." I push him off, making my way to the door. There's footsteps outside again. I stumble backwards.

"Go, go, go!" I nudge Descamps to the table, planning to get under it again. Our knees push against each other as we try to fit in the small area. A couple of swears and names were silently thrown around but were silenced when the door opened slowly.

I held my breath as Descamps did. I absentmindedly grip his calf, and his hand was gripping mine. In other circumstances, he'd be whispering reassurances in my ear, holding me close with his arms, and kissing my head 'till I calmed down.

This wasn't one of those circumstances.

After a while, there was a snore. I furrow my eyebrows. Snoring? I slowly come out of the nook, not before Descamps pulls me back down and asks me what I'm doing. I shush him, going back up slowly. His hand is still gripping mine. It feels the same as it did all those other times.

I make it to the edge of the table, and across the room, one of the janitors was sitting on a class chair, snoring the afternoon away.

I sigh in relief, coming back down to Descamps. He raises his brows at me.

"So?"

"He's dead asleep."

"Do we stay here 'till he leaves?" I think about it for a moment.

"I guess. It'd be too risky to leave. The door's too loud."

"Fuck. I guess I'm stuck here with you." He rolls his eye. The audacity.

"Hey, I'm not the one talking shit about my friend." He scowls at me.

"Well, I'm not the one who's fucking assuming."

We argue whisper shouting.

"I saw you! And I heard you!"

"You don't know why I was saying that!"

"I know exactly why! You hate me!" That makes him shut up.

"What?"

"You hate me, Descamps."

"Why would you even think that?" There's a tone I can't tell. Like he's hurt, or in disbelief, or in denial.

"Because you're-" He cuts me off.

"Why would I ever hate you?" He squints at me a bit, voice wavering.

"You-" He cuts me off again.

"I could never hate you." Tears brim my eyes at his words. I look at him quietly.

"Stop lying, Descamps." My voice breaks.

"I-" He sighs, looking down at his lap.

I sniffle, wiping my nose. I turn around, back against his clamped legs. And he stays still. We've done this before. Except my back was against his chest, and he was combing my hair with his fingers.

"And Annick." I feel him tense.

"What about her?" I scoff in disbelief.

"You're doing this for her, right?" I turn my head, not really looking at him.

"What? Oh, no, of course not. I was here because Pichon told me, or really I made him tell me that you-" His voice gets cut off and I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

"That I what?" I urge him to continue. Incoherent noises come from the back of his throat, stuttering against his teeth. He sighs, wiping his palms on the cloth of his knees.

"That you were coming here." It comes out as a mumble, and I almost didn't hear it from the way my heart was thumping and blocking my hearing.

"Why would you care?" There's a pause again, and it's suffocating.

"So that I'll know how easy it'll be to get it before you do." I snap my head forward, looking at the blank wood of the table.

A few seconds pass by. I hear his voice again.

"What about you? Why do you want an hour with Annick?" I keep my head straight this time while talking.

"I need to keep up with her." I shrug simply.

"Why? You're already doing so well in class." I flush at the compliment, but shake my head.

"Well, I could do better." I sigh deeply, seemingly annoyed at the question. I still want him talking to me, though.

"I mean, sure, but isn't it draining?" My hearing blurs for a second at the question.

"Of course it is." I keep my answer plain, but my voice breaks. I hear his heavy breathing.

"You know that I know how much you study. Even if we're... not so close as we were before, I still think you should take a break."

A memory comes to mind. I lean over my books on my bed, writing notes on the pages. Feet thumping against wood floors doesn't break my focus, but a hand caressing my back does. I still remembered the way he whispered against my ear, telling me to take a break. The way he cupped my hand to stop it from writing. The way that the bed dipped as he sat down and wrapped his arms around my waist. How much I missed those nights.

"You know, I used to fake studying so you could come close." I blurt out, not caring what I say anymore.

He doesn't respond immediately. "Yeah?" I hum in response.

"I used to make every excuse to come close." I shiver at the confession, wishing I could turn back time to every moment he came close and held me.

"It's too bad you're an asshole." He chuckles.

"Really is too bad."

I guess that was where the conversation ended, though I'm not sure, but after a while, we hear the janitor get up and leave. I slowly come out of the hiding spot, dusting my dress again.

Before I leave the room, a hand grabs my wrist. I don't turn around, but suddenly, my hands clasp a rectangular object. Descamps drops my hand and leaves.

When the door closes, I just stare at it. Then, I raise my hand. The film was in it.

××《☆》××

I walk with Pichon to the alley, watching familiar faces look at us. I avoid Descamps' gaze, focusing on Michèle and smiling at her.

"There they are!" One of them calls out.

"So?"

"We've got them." Pichon answers, dropping the bag. I hand the film to Annick, leaning into her ear.

"Descamps did it. Give him the hour." I purse my lips, then walk away from her. She turns her head to Descamps, and I'm too scared to see if she looks at him the way I used to. Well, really, I still do.

I walk to Michèle, smiling at her. Then I look at Applebaum.

He hasn't changed much, and when he catches me staring, he turns as red as his name and looks away. I laugh a little, then start to feel bad about the fact that Descamps had threatened him. I'll talk to him about it later.

We all lean and look at Pichon as he opens the pouch, frogs hopping out of it. I yelp, trying to get away from them.

"It only took five minutes?" Dupin asks.

"He's smarter than all of you." Laubrac answers.

"Can't wait to see Herman's face."

They start to grab the frogs and chase each other with it. Dupin lifts it up to my face, and I yelp, running away.

Strong arms lift me off the ground, the familiar scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne fill my senses.

"Come on, go chase Felbec or something. Not her." Dupin nods and runs elsewhere.

He gently places me on the ground again, cupping my face.

"You okay?" He whispers. I nod.

"Don't talk to Applebaum. I saw you looking at him. I know you know that I threatened him, it's only because he's a fucking weirdo and you know it. Please." He reads me too well. I nod again.

"Thanks. Now go home." He pulls his hands away, grabbing another cigarette.

I stumble backwards, walking away fully.

Almost halfway home, I remember leaving something. It was a tie I accidentally dropped when Descamps lifted me off the ground. It was pretty special, so I went back for it.

Turning to the now golden lit alley, my feet stutter to a stop when I see Descamps against the wall, some girl from school splayed over him, her hand on his chest and lips close to his.

The garbage rattles and their heads turn to me. I make a run for it, leaving the tie to be forgotten.

I should've known. He never loved me. He always hated me. Since when were they even hanging out? What if they were together the whole time? I gag at the thought.

I hate him. I hate him so much. But I don't.

Fuck, this hurts.

××《☆》××

End- Chapter six: Mischief Managed

Next- Chapter seven: Salvatore

××《☆》××

So that took SUCH A LONG TIME. Um very angsty good or very angsty bad? Idk if I spell checked or grammar checked this well, so if u see smth, dm me PLS

Also for the F1 fans, ik im late w news, but 1-2 ferrari, carlos pole after appendix got removed, ferrari and mclaren top 4 domination, hamilton and verstappen dnf, george flipping over on the middle of the track, and fernando alonso getting p1 for a few minutes. Austrailia GP will always be wild.

HAPPY READING!!! 6/10 CHAPTERS DONE

[htttg]

Lasagne - Alessia Russo x reader

Summary: while ur girlfriends away at a game, you make her a lil surprise to come back to...

1.5k words

"Hey guys, what's up, as I'm sure you all know, my girlfriend Alessia has a big game today; a friendly with Scotland and very sadly I can't be there 'cause my big fat leg injury. So instead, I'm gonna just make some food and put the game on, and I thought you could join me," I spoke to my Instagram live from my kitchen.

"Kay, obviously gotta get all the ingredients out - we're making Lessi's favourite, lasagne, and her mum sent me her recipe so I'm gonna have to try my very best to live up to her mum's standards,"

I chatted to my phone absentmindedly as I collected all my ingredients.

"Guys I realise I'm giving you a tough choice here on where your attention goes - to the game or to me making lasagne. Look I will not be offended if you chose the game, I'm not the best chef in the whole of Europe, the Lionesses however,"

By now I had all the ingredients out and had started mixing up the sauce, talking and joking with myself to make the live entertaining. I had Lessi's game up on my laptop just behind my phone.

"I'm warning you lot now," I spoke, "that I'm the worst with onions, the literal worst so I will be in a right state in about thirty seconds,"

I peeled the onion, and diced it finely, trying to do it as quickly as possible as tears seeped from my eyes.

I stuck the onions in the saucepan but had to collect myself still.

Strings of curses came flying out my mouth as I strained my eyes a lot.

"Fuck, you're not supposed to touch them, are you? Maybe that makes it worse. I don't even think it can get worse, fucking look at me,"

I got closer to the camera, showing everyone my bloodshot, teary eyes, which just kept twitching.

I tried to get over the feeling, taking a breather. I rested my hands on my knees to support myself as I leaned over.

Suddenly, from my laptop, there was an eruption of noise and I shot up.

"Did they just score? Oh my god, Lessi scored, ahhh guys England are winning! Fuck my eyes! Awh she's doing so well, look at that replay that's a beautiful goal, jesus my girlfriend is so talented. Fuck my fucking eyes man this hurts. Awh she looks so happy, I'm so proud bless. God I wish I could've been there, guys they scored! My eyes still hurt like hell, god I told you I was the worst. I don't even get this - why me? Fuck!" I took another second, and then tried to continue, shaking my face as if it would help, "Okay, okay I have to keep going or I won't be done in time, shit, my eyes look bloody awful, hold on,"

I disappeared from my phone's view for a moment and came back with sunglasses on.

"What do you think guys? Look good?" I chuckled to myself, "yeah, these actually are Lessi's, not mine, they were the first ones I found. I might have to steal them from her though, definitely look better on me. Okay, let's keep going,"

England had scored another two goals by the time I was starting to construct the layers of the lasagne, with Less getting one of the assists. She really was playing great today, getting many praises from the commentators for her performance.

It really did make me so happy, seeing her beaming on screen. She'd been needing a win since a recent loss that she had taken pretty hard.

I wacked the lasagne in the oven a few minutes later, checking the time left on the match to make sure I had my timing right.

"Perfect, she'll get back a few minutes after it should come out the oven, now we just wait,"

I kept on with the live, turning my full attention to the game now. Scotland managed to score despite England dominating possession, but spirits still seemed high, England still leading by two goals.

Eventually my timer went, it had been 20 minutes since I put the lasagne in, so I went to check on it, even though I knew it would still need a fair amount of time.

"Right the cheese hasn't browned or anything, so I know it needs more time. How do I know though, when it's fully done, just from the cheese on top or what? I'ma give Carol a ring,"

I grabbed the house phone and dialled Alessia's mum's number. As it rang, I did a lil dance to the live.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hey Carol, it's Y/N,"

"Hi love, is the lasagne going alright?"

"Yes, great in fact and I haven't burnt the house down just yet,"

She chuckled a little at that.

"I was just calling to ask how you know it's done; I'm watching for when the cheese brown so when it does should I just take it out then?"

"Yeah, so when it's golden brown on top that's done, and the sauce will be bubbling around the edges. If you want, you can also stick it with a toothpick. If it's easy to push to the bottom layer then you should be good to go,"

"Oh that’s perfect, thank you so much. You watching the game?"

"Of course, course I am. Her goal was beautiful, wasn't it?"

"Sailed right into the net, amazing goal. She really is playing amazingly, she should be so proud,"

"And right after that hard loss the other day,"

"Yeah for sure, and you can see she's having so much fun as well, so nice to see,"

"And she's lucky to have you too, making her lasagne is so sweet she'll be so thankful,"

"Well, I have to give you some credit, it's your recipe after all. Anyway Carol, I better focus on my lasagne, or she'll come home to a burnt brick instead,"

"Of course, well I hope to speak to you soon, I'll give Less a call after the game,"

"We should look at going out for a meal soon, it's been a while,"

"Oh, that would be perfect, bye then,"

"Bye!"

The game ended shortly after, and then I got a message from my girlfriend saying she'd be home in 10. Perfect timing pretty much.

10 minutes later I heard her keys rattling in the door and ran to go greet her.

"Lessi, hun, you did so amazing!" I called out before practically throwing myself into her arms.

She pulled me close, her arms tightly wrapped around my shoulders as mine snaked around her waist. I buried my head into the crook of her neck, enjoying being so close to her after what had felt like ages.

"I missed you," I told her.

I could feel her sniffing the air, evidently the smell of the lasagne creeping into her senses.

"Lasagne?" she asked hesitantly, her voice filled with hope.

I chuckled, pulling away from the hug and leading her into the kitchen.

"I thought it'd be nice to make you something, plus you deserve it with that goal, stunning. Here, come, I'm live on Instagram,"

"You really made me lasagne?" she asked happily.

"Your mum’s recipe,"

She pulled me back into a hug from behind as I was facing my phone, watching the messages on my live fly past. Her chin nestled into my neck.

"I love you so much," she whispered quietly before pressing a kiss into my skin, giving me goosebumps.

"Alright, get off you big lump," I told her, but my tone was light and there was a smile plastered on my face, "I'll serve it up,"

She withdrew from the embrace and sat up on one of the stools.

We talked with each other and with the live as I dished up the lasagne for us both.

"Here, pass," I indicated to my phone which she was holding and propped it up to get a video of her trying the dish I'd slaved over for more than an hour.

"It's good," she said with a grin, it came out muffled with her cheeks stuffed with pasta, and I could tell she really meant it, "it's really good. Mmm! Exactly what I needed,"

"Yayy. I'm glad it's good," I responded, and then we ended the live a few minutes later with a wave to the camera.

"Now that's off, I can do this," I said and turned to her.

I pulled her in for a kiss. It tasted like lasagne. She pulled away when we both ended up smiling into each other's lips.

"You couldn't do that before we ended the live?" she teased. I know she didn't mean it, we'd both talked about pda before, deciding not everyone needed to see it. Best not to encourage the tiktok edits.

"You really did play amazing today Less, I was so proud. You made it look easy,"

She chuckled a little.

"Come back here," she mumbled, putting her hand on the back of my neck to kiss me again. It was more this time, our lips moving together perfectly until she cheekily bit down on my lip.

"Less!" I cried out, pulling back sharply.

"Sorry," she said, clearly not meaning it by the brazen smirk on her face, "you tasted too good I thought you were lasagne,"

[mncein]

SORRY ? SORRY.

in which... minji tries to get your precious forgiveness back with, something, out of hand.

new jeans masterlist | main masterlist

"hey, y/n? sorry."

"sorry?"

"sorry."

"keep that to yourself, minji."

"and that's what she said!" minji huffs in frustration, flailing her arms up. but the girls simply stood there and watch her in her state of distress, hanni kept herself from bursting out laughing at minji, it was minji's fault and plan for making y/n jealous anyways.

"so are you all just gonna stand there and watch?" minji groaned, her frustration escalating to new heights. the situation was undeniably tough, and she couldn't help but acknowledge that she was well aware that you never intended to make her jealous. not only that, she wanted revenge, so it happened intentionally.

"maybe it is, your fault." hanni killed the awkward silence, "you even made us help you get your revenge."

"well it's your choice to help-"

"you forced us to." haerin corrected.

ugh. it was like they were part of the "unhelpful advice jeans", minji stood there, clueless and befuddled, wondering what on earth she should do or say next. she embarrassingly turned her gaze away from the girls, as if they were some audience watching someone clueless, talk about their problems in relationships.

"what really happened? why were you jealous?" minji looks at hyein whom asked. well, maybe that's one thing she didn't really mention, is she really that scared to say something about how she got jealous over something so small?

"uhh... because she invited her friends over and she was taking too long, that i thought we were going to spend time together with you all." minji explained, with an exasperated sigh. the girls looked at each other, but they just saw you in the living room? was that your doppelganger?

"seriously? you got jealous over that?" hanni snorts, judging minji internally.

"yes- well-"

"if y/nnie is my girlfriend, i wouldn't treat her like you do-" haerin interrupts, just wanting to say what's on her mind.

"i'm not treating her bad? and no- that's not going to happen." minji folds her arms, glaring at the girl.

"haerinnie is right though. i'd probably treat y/nnie better than you do." hyein says with a bright smile.

"can we not talk about my girlfriend being your girlfriend?" minji groans in frustration, sensing as if she's running out of time.

danielle entered the kitchen with a panicked face, rushing over to the group. minji tasked her to entertain you while they're planning, but seems like danielle has no right to keep you from leaving.

"y/nnie said she's going back home!" she points at the living room.

and the group was a mess and they hurried to stop you. but the door shut when they arrive.

"well done." haerin and hanni say at the same time.

"i'm gonna find the answer soon." minji sighs.

"good luck!" hyein beams.

"oh no, all of you are helping me."

your phone rang before you could even enter your home.

"hello?"

"unnie! could you come back? hehe." you heard danielle's voice over the phone, your eyebrows furrows, what do they need?

"why?"

"minji said she needs help with something." now you heard hanni's voice, what's happening?

"tell her to do that something herself. i'm still mad at her." you reply.

"she wants you here, immediately." haerin was the next, you imagine the phone on the ground, with the girls around it. did minji force them to do this again?

"okay, fine, i'll be there." you sighed, you have to stop her from whatever she's planning.

"okay, see you soon!" hyein ended the call.

you walk to back to their dorm, purposely taking your time, thinking of the pranks minji could've prepared. taking quick glances at your phone for a message from one of the girls or minji herself. looks like they're all accomplices of minji.

when you arrive back, you softly knocked on the door, waiting.

hanni and haerin swing open the door with a flourish, resembling elegant hosts at a luxurious restaurant. their faces are adorned with playful smiles. as you step inside, your gaze instinctively finds its way to minji, who stands before you with a self-assured grin. what could be she planning in this moment? what's going on? seriously.

"hello, my love. i get lost in your eyes that is shining brighter than the stars." she straightens her posture and bows her head. is this something kind of sick joke? does she think you're joking with her? haerin and hanni stiffled a laugh, looking at each other with faces.

"oh shut up, minji. what do you want?" you rolled your eyes, not wanting to waste anymore time getting pranked. you watched as danielle and hyein step forward behind minji, then they helped minji put on her coat. after, minji fixes the coat herself and smiles, you were so confused, what is she dressing up for?

"ready for our date?" minji took your hand and kissed it. she has absolutely no idea that it is late and is not a perfect time for a romantic date?!

"what date-" hanni interrupted.

minji shushed hanni and turned back to you, "let me take you out, yeah?" she held your hand. you were so close on forgiving minji, but a date during the late night, where?

"we didn't plan about any of that-" you raised an eyebrow at haerin's statement, planned? was this another prank?

you slapped minji's hand away, glaring at her. "planned? are you messing with me again, kim minji?" minji gulped on the full name mention, the girls simply stared.

minji looks at haerin, "haerin- this is all your fault." she mumbles.

"it's no one's fault but yours, minji." you glared at her, minji groans while the girls giggled.

"unnie got roasted!" hyein laughs.

a night without a fake laughter, it was fun, honestly. even though minji's plan was all cheesy and unserious, she still managed to get your precious forgiveness. and your time together with the group, but you made her buy the snacks.

the girls watched as minji cuddled into you with a smiley face.

"minji-unnie looks like a baby." haerin points, hanni cracked out a big laugh with hyein. then minji scoffed, at least she gets to snuggle with you.

"i get lost in your eyes that is shining brighter than the stars." hanni repeats the cheesy pick up line minji said earlier with a funny tone, making you chuckle while minji shifts in annoyance while hugging you closer to her.

"don't you dare hanni, you're more unserious than me." minji sticks out her tongue at the vietnamese.

"says the one who got jealous first." hanni replies with a sassy tone.

"whatever." minji then turns back to you.

"let's redo the thing earlier, yeah?" she asks while you nod, waiting for her to start.

"hey y/n? sorry." she spoke in a more apologetic way.

"sorry?" you reply.

"sorry." she repeats.

the girls cheered when you both kissed to seal the problem.

ps: aaaaand... done! i felt so corny doing this idk why, i just made minji do what i would do if i had a girlfriend. anyways, sorry for the wait, again!

[captain-mj]

MJ please! Serial killer au!! 😭🙏

Roger, roger!

CW for serial killer stuff, blood, kidnapping, generic serial killer au things

Soap had things about Ghost he didn't like. He loved the man more than life itself, but he didn't clean very well for one. Ghost tried his best. Truly did. He follow Soap's instructions perfectly, but he just never seemed able to clean up his messes.

Maybe it was because he was used to just dealing with a messy home. Or he had someone before Soap that did it, but that seemed unlikely.

Luckily, Ghost had gotten much better about it recently. Soap's room was spotless besides the dishes from his breakfast.

He had been given the biggest room in the house. Giant bed that easily fit the two of them with room to spare. A TV, bookshelf full of Soap's favorites, all sorts of things he could mess around with.

A good thing about Ghost was he spoiled Soap. Gave him everything he could want and then some.

Soap shifted, feeling the ropes around his wrists tug a little. Another thing he disliked though was that Ghost liked using rope. Soap had told him time and time and time again he preferred the fuzzy handcuffs if Ghost was going to be gone long periods of time. He wasn't tied to be immobile luckily, the muscle strain would be hell by the time Ghost came home, but he was tied pretty firmly to the bedpost. He could walk a few feet in any direction to grab one of his things and he could get to the bathroom.

But the rope was still tight around his wrists and it was starting to hurt. His skin had been rubbed raw and his patience had ran thin. Ghost better hurry up soon.

As if on cue, he heard movement downstairs. It sounded like he had brought someone alive. The break from routine had Soap on edge.

Was Ghost replacing him?

Oh no.

Soap stared at the ceiling, thinking of how he scolded Ghost for not cleaning the blood out of the rug before it could set in. Yes, they had to replace the rug but it was just a rug!! And he had scolded him for that!

It had been Soap's fault for distracting him anyway.

He kept going through everything he had done wrong recently, fretting over Ghost replacing him with someone else. How could he live without Ghost?

Speak of the devil, his door opened. Soap quickly swung up and went up to him.

"Mo chridhe." Soap started immediately. Maybe if he was sweet enough to him, he'd reconsider.

Ghost had his mask on. A scary skull thing. It had blood splattered and flecked on it. He still had his knife in his hand.

"Hello, love." His gruff voice was heaven to hear after all day in pretty much silence. Soap could've turned the TV on, but it wasn't the same as someone talking to him. Ghost dropped the knife. Blood got on the carpet.

Soap knew he'd have to clean it, but he didn't care. There was another person in their home.

He was about to ask. Ghost was always honest with him. But before he got a chance, Ghost was pulling him in. He felt him up, sliding his hands over his body.

"You're so tense."

Soap blushed. "I heard someone downstairs."

Ghost smiled. "I wouldn't let anyone hurt you, darling." He lifted his mask up just a little to give Soap a kiss. "Found out he liked to hit his wife. Wanted to drag it out."

Soap winced. "Did you sound proof the basement like you told me you would?" The last time, the victim's screams had kept him enough for hours. It had destroyed him for a while.

Ghost nodded and pulled him closer. "Don't worry. I got you covered. Sound proofed the basement and the floor is concrete so I'll just pour some bleach on it. Nothing you have to worry about." He kept rubbing at Soap's lower back, insistent and needy.

Soap lifted his hands, feeling the rope tighten. He started to undo the buttons of his shirt.

Ghost watched him. His eyes had a dead look into them at all times. It had scared Soap when he first started to stay there. He was always watching him. Dead eyed and wearing that mask.

Soap's hands trembled at the thought of those first few days in the basement. It didn't help that Ghost was still wearing his "hunting mask" as he so lovingly called it.

Ghost grabbed his chin and made him look up. "Something wrong?"

"I'm fine." Soap smiled immediately. Ghost saw straight through him.

"I never want to force you to do anything. If you're not feeling it tonight..." Ghost started to pull away.

Soap latched on to him, putting his head in his chest. "The mask. I don't like that one. That's all." He didn't want him to leave. Not yet. He was lonely when Ghost was gone.

Ghost ran his hands down his back. “Alright, love. Come on. I’ll sit with you.” He pulled him along to the bed, putting Soap between his legs. They fit perfectly. Two puzzle pieces.

Soap was faced away from him, leaning into his chest. Nice and cozy. He heard Ghost remove the mask and drop it to the floor. Soap knew that meant not to look. Despite how tempting it was. Ghost didn’t trust him enough for that. As if Soap would ever betray him.

Warm and soft kisses were pressed to his skin. Scar tissue rubbed against his skin. Soap tries to piece that together with what little features he had seen. Trying to paint a picture of him.

Soap felt like Psyche with Ghost being his adoring Eros.

He closed his eyes and turned his head so Ghost would kiss him fully.

“So good for me, Johnny.”

“Yes, sir.” Soap twisted to deepen the kiss. He felt Ghost’s eyelashes on his cheeks. “Movie?”

Soft gloves cupped his jaw. “I’d love to. Anything for you.” Even without looking, Soap could imagine the dead look in his eyes while he talked. He knew Ghost loved him dearly. Had watched the man worship the ground Soap walks on. Even if it was just a few square feet, it was the principle of the manner.

Ghost gently righted Soap so he was facing away again. He put a movie on and his hand ended up around Soap’s throat like usual. A steady, gentle weight. His thumb dug in slightly to feel his pulse.

“Johnny. You eaten?”

Soap shrugged. “Some of the snacks you left but I didn’t feel up for much.”

Gloves were immediately off and bare hands were touching his face to check for fever. “Not getting sick are you?”

Soap kissed his hands, feeling soft burn scars under his lips. “No, no. Nothing like that. Just didn’t want to cook.”

“I’ll start meal prepping. Been meaning to do that anyway.” Ghost squeezed him. Firm arms. Rough fabric. He was a man of many textures. Sensations.

Soap felt himself get lost on the feeling. The movie was interesting but Ghost was there and that was far more interesting. He felt those hands roam over him, not requesting or demanding, just touching. Mapping his conquests out. It made Soap feel… appreciated in an odd way. A piece of art.

He fell asleep. Must’ve. Because they were laying down now and Ghost had his mask back on. They were facing each other, Ghost’s hands on his face, carving out each feature.

Soap smiled. “Ghost…”

“Soap.”

“Are you going to leave soon?”

“In a minute. I’m not going to be leaving for long though. Gonna stay home for a few days. I’m hoping I can make this guy last a long while so I don’t have to leave you for too long.”

Soap smiled. “Such a romantic. What’s the longest you’ve kept someone?”

“I’ve had you for six months. But I only keep victims around for at most a week. They get boring.”

“But not me?”

“No. You’d never get boring.” Ghost traced his lips.

Soap had never. Ever. Ever. Seen Ghost’s eyes change. But they did. Just a flicker. Something soft in his eyes. It frightened Soap more than a knife. That was new. What changed?

Ghost immediately went back to the dead eyed expression but there was more newness. “There’s a guy at my work. We’re… friends. It’s been a while since I wanted to call someone that. They think you’re my husband. I like that idea. Being married to you. Bound by our souls and the legal system.”

Soap’s heart thumped in his chest. He wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. “That does sound nice.”

Ghost nodded and he sat up. “I’ll be back soon.” His fingers were curling and uncurling rapidly, something angry and antsy in his mannerisms. He’d take out… Was it frustration? Anger? Something else? But he was taking it out on that person. And then he’d come up and do mind blowing things to Soap.

Another thing Soap hated about Ghost. The best sex they had was after Ghost was done.

Soap shivered and grabbed the lube out of the nightstand. It was high quality. Didn’t get sticky and was so slick.

He was just trying to take the edge off. He also hated letting Ghost prep him. Ghost took his damn time and Soap was always so strung out by the end that he couldn’t last. It was torture!

Soap got himself nice and settled to continue waiting. And waiting.

“Jesus Christ, Ghost, i wish I could just send you a picture.” It always got his old boyfriends up and going. Maybe he could convince Ghost to let him have a phone. He could text him when he was out. Call him. Hear his voice over the phone whenever he wanted.

Husband. He told people at work he had a husband. And that it was Soap.

Did he call him Soap while describing him? What did he say?

He gently pushed his finger in, feeling himself tighten up and tense immediately. It was an involuntary reaction but it was frustrating. He wished he could just stay relaxed. Make it faster. God he wanted Ghost in here. In him. Slamming right into the right spots. When Soap had finally broken down and asked him to fuck him after weeks of teasing and being built up, it had been clumsy at first. He assumed inexperienced. But no. Ghost was a damn soldier about sex and that was a recon mission. The next time, Soap was two orgasms in and shaking like a leaf by the end. It had only gotten better. Ghost just knew things about him.

Soap strained his ears to listen as he continued. He was able to fit two easily. They dipped deeper and deeper until they gently pressed his sweet spot. Part of him wanted to abuse it. Try to replicate and relentless nature of Ghost. But he didn’t want to be too sensitive and he was sure Ghost would not take kindly to him Fucking himself out before he got up there. So instead, he just avoided it so he get himself ready. When he could take three comfortably, he pulled out and waited.

Finally, footsteps. Soap kicked the sheets off of himself and put himself on display.

Ghost was bloody. Blood up his arms and over his torso. He had stripped to just his pants and mask, meaning the blood was all over his bare skin.

“Good boy. Knew exactly what I wanted.” Ghost shoved his legs open and dragged him to the edge of the bed. “You’re dripping. Have fun?” Some of the lube made lines down Soap’s inner thighs.

“No. Just was waiting for you. Please, just Fuck me. I can’t handle the teasing.” Soap opened his legs more and, with a bit of a blush to his face, spread himself open for Ghost to get a good look. “I need you.”

Ghost just pushed his sweatpants down enough for him to pull his cock out. He lined up, looking at the way his hole tried to clench around nothing.

“Okay, sweetheart. No teasing.” He slid all the way in, bottoming out a swift motion. Soap hadn’t been expecting and he didn’t have any time to adjust before he was being pounded into. Ghost found his sweet spot and hit it every time. Over and over again until Soap saw stars.

He grabbed Ghost’s shoulders tight. “Fuck, wait not so hard.”

Ghost moved one of Soap’s legs so he could go deeper, until Soap could feel him rearranging him. Making room for his cock to fit. “You can take it. Or you can’t. I don’t care.”

Soap teared up, his cock jumping between them. This felt so good. Everything felt so good. It hurt just right. Ghost sped up, intent on driving Soap insane.

Soap came all over their chests despite trying to hold off. He didn’t even get to say a warning. His body shook as Ghost didn’t slow down, still just abusing the little spot in his body. He started to drool, feeling up Ghost’s scarred chest and running his nails over him.

His cock twitched and wept. “Ghost. Please.”

Ghost backhanded him and Soap barely kept himself from coming. “Jesus, Johnny. Such a whore.” He pounded into him more, fingers digging in to him.

Soap nodded. “I am.”

“Nothing but a toy. Something I can take off the shelf and Fuck and put back on it.”

Soap whimpered and nodded, far too close. It wasn’t quite enough.

“Your hole is so tight. Made for me. Next time I leave, I’m going to get something fun for you.”

“What?” Soap asked, eyes crossing. He came again, watching it splash on to Ghost’s chest, mixing with the blood.

“I want to keep you ready for me next time. I think a toy and a ring will do just the trick.” Ghost slammed into him, coating his insides.

Soap mewled as he felt him throbbing inside him. “Why? That’s a new idea.”

Ghost slapped him hard. Soap’s cock managed to leak a little more. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Soap nodded, winded. He felt a squeeze at his thighs before Ghost pulled out. Cum started flowing out but Ghost picked him up and tilted his hips so it would go deeper inside.

“Good little pet.”

Soap nodded weakly and let his lover take care of him.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Last Resort

Pairing: Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x Reader Rating: M

Warnings: Cursing, angst, fluff, reader is a little drunk, Reader and Borracho are exes; bittersweet ending

Notes: Idk, my brain spit this out. Enjoy. Not beta-read.

Summary: You glanced over, taking in the familiar slopes of his profile. He looked good—he'd shaved pretty recently, and you were almost sure you spotted a new streak of grey by his temple. Goddamn. There was no way that he'd gone out of his way to look that good just for you, but you could pretend, right? In that precise moment, it felt like being delulu was indeed the solulu.

"I shouldn't have called."

It wasn't an apology, because you couldn't bring yourself to apologize, not just yet. You knew that you'd technically done the responsible thing, called someone to pick you up rather than trying to get home alone—but fuck, you could've gotten an uber, a lyft, fucking something. Being drunk was an excuse, not a reason. Dialing your ex should've been your last resort.

But there you were, sitting in the front seat of your ex-boyfriend's car.

If Borracho looked at you, you didn't see it—you were too busy staring out of the passenger side window and wishing yourself back to the crowded curb outside of the club. The cigarette and weed smoke would've been unbearable, but fuck—at least you wouldn't be so close to him, smelling his cologne, hearing the murmur of his favorite music.

"...S'alright."

It was about as much as you'd gotten out of him when you'd been together, so why did it sting so goddamn much?

"Did I wake you up?" You hedged, "Take you away from anything...?"

"You mean anyone?"

Damn, he'd sniffed that out fast. Maybe you'd forgotten how sharp he was; maybe you were more tipsy than you thought.

"Whatever," You shrugged. "Did I?"

"No."

"Thought you might be on duty."

"You called because you thought I might be on duty?"

"No, just—When I called, it occurred to me that you might be."

"What would you have done if I had been?"

"Get an uber or something, I don't know."

"Why didn't you do that anyway?"

He sounded more curious than accusatory, but the question still made you slide down in your seat a little, shrinking under the weight of your guilt.

"...I dunno."

Borracho let it hang there. You glanced over, taking in the familiar slopes of his profile. He looked good—he'd shaved pretty recently, and you were almost sure you spotted a new streak of grey by his temple. Goddamn. There was no way that he'd gone out of his way to look that good just for you, but you could pretend, right? In that precise moment, it felt like being delulu was indeed the solulu.

Who did it hurt to pretend that Borracho still wanted to look good for you? That he wanted to see you like this as much as you'd wanted to see him? That when you'd been at loose ends, the only one of your friends that hadn't found someone to go home with, you'd thought of him, and only him—

Well. That last bit wasn't really pretending. You'd found yourself searching for your ex in the face of every stranger since you'd parted ways.

"Is there anyone for me to have pulled you away from?" The question left you before you could even think to stop it.

"Nope."

You thrilled with vindication for a single moment before he added, "You don't have anyone, either."

"What?"

He pulled the car to a stop at a red, turning to get a better look at you. His gaze swept over you, lingering on the length of your exposed thighs where they peeked out of your miniskirt before he met your eyes again.

"You're dressed to go fishing."

Fishing?!

"Oh—Fuck you," You spluttered, reaching for your door handle, only to hear the subtle snick of Borracho locking the doors and clicking on the child lock. "Let me out!"

"At least let me pull out of traffic," He argued, flicking the turn signal on, "You stumble out into traffic and get hit by a truck, I gotta make the report."

You folded your arms petulantly across your chest, glaring through the windshield as he pulled into a vacant strip mall parking lot. He unlocked the doors, and you hurried to get out, half-stumbling as your foot got caught in the footwell. You wobbled, catching hold of yourself on the door before you pulled yourself upright, slamming the car door shut behind yourself. You stomped over to a car stop and ignored your ass stinging as you plopped onto it, pressing your knees tight together and drawing your phone out. You could just get an uber from...Wherever the fuck you were.

You ignored the car door closing and plaintive sigh, followed by Borracho's footsteps.

"You can leave," You snipped as he stopped beside you.

"I'll wait until you get an uber."

"You don't need to."

"I'll feel better if I do."

"Whatever."

You swiped through your apps—crap, you deleted uber for space, didn't you? Fuck, now you had to redownload it with Borracho watching—

"Get back in the car."

"I'm fine."

"I'll shut up. Just get back in the car." He sighed again, crouching beside you. "C'mon, I'm already here—and it'll be cheaper."

...Well, that was true. Your girls night club tab had not been cheap. You cast a wary gaze toward Borracho, who held his hands up in surrender.

"...Fine," You grumbled. Borracho straightened, holding his hand out to you. You stubbornly ignored it and pushed yourself up from the car stop, wobbling before striding back over to his car and climbing inside. You put your seat belt on, sliding down in your seat again as Borracho climbed into the driver's seat and started the car back up.

You managed to keep your mouth shut for a whole block and a half.

"Fishing," You grumbled, "Fuck you."

"I know."

"I can do whatever the fuck I want—"

"I know."

"I can, you can. Whatever." You reached up, yanking the sun visor down and pushing aside the mirror cover. Oh—Damn, when had your mascara run? And why didn't he say anything?

"Your makeup wipes are still in the glove compartment."

You cast him an irritated look as you blindly reached down, yanking open the glove and feeling around for the familiar packaging. You tugged one out, raising it to your eyes and swiping away the run liner.

"You could've said something," You grumbled, sliding it further down and scrubbing off your lip products.

"Didn't think you'd want to hear them."

"So what'd you think I'd feel when I got home and saw all of the run makeup?" You looked over to see Borracho fighting back a grin and shrugging a shoulder. You scoffed a laugh, balling up the used makeup wipe and tossing it at him. "Fuck you!"

"Alright, alright," He waved the wipe away. "Still driving here."

You shut the mirror and visor, leaning back in your seat.

"...You have a good time, at least?" Borracho asked after a few moments.

"I guess. It was fine."

"Just fine?"

"Yeah, I mean. Standard." You considered for a moment. "I didn't really wanna go."

"Why did you?"

"Haven't gone out much lately."

"Why not?"

Why not. Probably because you're mutual breakup hadn't been all that mutual. Probably because whenever you went out with a guy and he mentioned a work function, your mind immediately sprang to hotel rooms, too much beer, scantily clad women. Probably because when you needed to get off, you still heard Borracho's moans in your ear, remembered the heated press of his body against yours.

You felt Borracho turn to look at you, and realized that you had been quiet for too long. You just shrugged.

"Busy with work, I guess."

Borraacho grunted on the other side of the car, muttering, "I hear that."

You smiled a little at the gentle commiseration, and made the mistake of glancing over just in time to see him turning the wheel single-handed. God—damn, but you missed those hands. You swallowed thickly, drawing in a deep breath.

"Y'okay?" He asked.

"I need something to soak up the booze."

"You gonna puke?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yes," You rolled your eyes. "I may piss you off, but I wouldn't throw up in your car on purpose. I know how much you love this thing."

Borracho didn't answer for a few moments, and when he did—

"Yucca fries?"

"Ugh, fuck yes."

--

"Quit hogging the chipotle mayo," You grumbled. Borracho grunted, holding out the little plastic container for you. You shoved your fry into it, scooping out a frankly ungodly amount, and ignoring that dollops that slipped onto his knuckles. You shoved the fry into your mouth, watching him raise his knuckles to his lips and sweep his tongue across the fallen sauce before he dropped the plastic into the to go back. You looked away hurriedly, stomach flipping at the sight. You took the bottle of water out of the cup holder and taking in a deep swig.

"Careful," Borracho grumbled. "You said you're not gonna be sick—"

"I'm not you fucking—" You shove the bottle back into the holder. "Anal-retentive shithead—"

"—Emphasis on the anal—"

"Shut the fuck up!" You spluttered a laugh, shoving your hand back into the to go bag.

"Okay," He muttered, "You good?"

"Yeah."

"Buckled up?"

"Mhm."

Borracho started the car back up, pulling out of the parking lot and steering the car toward the street. You reached into the bag, fishing past the little plastic container for the rest of the fries.

"Want another one?" You asked.

"Sure."

You held it out, keeping it steady as Borracho turned his head, biting off half of the fry. You popped the second half into your mouth, reaching into your bag for another one.

"You on shift at all tonight?" You asked.

"Tomorrow."

"Mm."

"That okay with you?"

You rolled your eyes. "None of my business what you do."

"No?"

"Not anymore."

"Why'd you ask, then?"

"Just trying to gauge how bad I'm fucking up your sleep schedule."

"I'll recover."

"Good for you."

"Early morning for you?"

"Yep."

"Better pound that water."

"I'll be fine."

"If you say so."

You reached down grudgingly, taking up the water again and drawing in another few gulps.

"Happy?" You asked.

"Whatever."

You shook your head, setting the near-empty bottle down in the cup holder. You felt oddly melancholy as Borracho turned down your street. You reached down, taking hold of your purse and undoing your seat belt as he pulled the car into the hydrant outside of your place. You began to gather up the trash, but he waved you off, urging,

"I've got it."

That was new. Still you nodded, looking at your lap. What else was there to do but get out of the car? Nothing—So why weren't you doing it?

"Everything okay?" Borracho asked softly, spurring you into embarrassed action.

"Mhm! Thanks, for the, uh—Thanks."

You got out of the car, gingerly shutting the door behind yourself and hurrying up the steps and not daring to look back as you got inside.

--

The clamor of office was nothing new, but it wasn't helping your hangover. You winced behind your sunglasses as the florescent bulbs overhead seemed to pulse with your headache. You ignored the faux-scandalized ooos that chased you to your desk.

"Lookin' a rough there, mama," Henderson taunted.

"Yeah, cause you're a saint and a goddamn daisy," You snipped in turn. You ignored the surrounding mocking cat-yowls and laughter, the sound of the chair of the opposite yours being drawn out. You glanced doggedly toward your partner.

"Borracho."

He gave you small nod, a flat, "Detective," Before shifting his full focus to his computer. You drew in a deep breath, reaching for the file nearest you.

God, you hated Mondays.

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @thesandbeneathmytoes

[whumpshaped]

it’s been rotating in my head so much, could you write a continuation of the whumpee reacting negatively to comfort?

(https://www.tumblr.com/whumpshaped/733269013900181504/idk-if-youre-still-looking-for-classic-tropes-but)

prev

tw none rly, past trauma and fear of punishment ?

They all apologised over the course of the following week. Every single one of Caretaker's friends. They didn't make it a huge show either: they said sorry, promised it wouldn't happen again, then moved on with their day before Whumpee could've flipped out. And it didn't happen again.

Whumpee was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely, their outburst would have consequences, right? All those apologies couldn't have been real and sincere.

What would it be? Would they start hitting them because of their aversion to kind touches? Or would they hold them down and touch them all over, gently caressing skin that still bore the invisible marks of Whumper's calloused fingers?

Nothing happened. They even refrained from making too affectionate comments, no more 'we love you's and 'we care about you's. Whumpee told themself this was much better; they didn't need fake reassurances. But sometimes... sometimes their treacherous mind longed for it. They wnated to matter, after all, wanted to be loved, it was just that they wanted it to be earnest.

A month had passed, and no one treated them with any less kindness than before. Verbal and physical manifestations of affection turned into being offered a warm meal, or letting them pick movies for the night. No one ever snatched the food away, nor did they ever make fun of their picks. If the paranoia levels had been too high that day and they refused, no one chastised them.

They stood in front of Caretaker's door, knowing well that this talk was long-overdue. Knocking seemed like the most difficult task in the world, right up there with not running away once they'd done so. Caretaker opened the door within seconds.

"What's up?" they asked with a smile. "It's pretty late."

"I know."

Whumpee apparently looked nervous enough to wipe the smile off their friend's face, because they frowned, all the carefree joy gone from their voice as they asked, "Is everything okay?"

They took a deep breath, telling themself these were just words, and no words were more difficult to say than others. Not in theory. "I wanted to apologise. For the, uh... for the way I spoke to you during that argument we had. About the hugs and stuff. And accusing you of being a liar. Clearly, you... didn't lie."

Surprise crossed Caretaker's face for just a moment before their smile returned. "Oh! Well, apology accepted."

Was that... it? "Um..." Caretaker made no move to hug it out, which Whumpee appreciated immensely. But still... No. No, maybe some words were too difficult to say. "Thanks. Good night."

"Good night, Whumpee. Thank you for trusting me."

As Whumpee was walking back to their room, they thought about how they would ever be able to ask to be told nice things again. To be told they were cared for.

Loved.

~

general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpkinpie @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @whump-em @cyborg0109 @morning-star-whump @justanotherlokifan @2in1whump @lthrboy @justletmereadmywhump @florissimps @anonymous-tiangou

[wordsarelife]

—tolerate it

pairing: tasm!peter parker x reader

summary: maybe you and peter had done a good job at ignoring your problems, or maybe there was nothing worth saving anymore

warnings: toxic!peter, basically a very toxic relationship, underage drinking, a bit too much drinking.. let me know if i missed something

note: the ending is a bit in the air, you can make out of it what you want

"hey! how are you?" gwen hugged you smiling and sat down on the sofa beside you.

"i'm good" you smiled "where's harry?" you asked, finding it weird that he was nowhere in sight.

"oh he's off playing beer-pong with his friends" gwen explained "i saw you across the room and thought i'd join you" she paused, unsure if she should say what she was thinking, but eventually did "you looked lonely"

you nodded your head and gwen swore she saw you blink away a tear. "thanks for sitting by me" you smiled and then looked around the room quickly "i don't know where he is, he told me to wait here. it's been an hour since i've last seen him"

"oh sweetheart" you had almost bursted into tears at her caring tone "he just left you here?"

you shrugged, it's not like that was something new to you. peter would often bring you with him to these frat parties, just to disappear into thin air the moment you entered a place.

"i don't mind" you lied and gwen looked at you unbelievingly. "it's great that you are here, finally someone i know" you meant to change the topic, but gwen furrowed her brows at that.

"he left you alone and you don't even know anyone?" she asked unbelievingly "does he know how dangerous these parties can get?"

the question was rhetoric. of course peter knew that.

"i don't drink" you said, as if that would make it any better.

"doesn't matter" gwen shook her head "everyone else does" she took a calming breath "why would you even be here when you just sit on your own?"

"because peter likes to take me with him"

"and he isn't anywhere to be found" gwen looked around the room "typical"

"he doesn't always do that"

"he did it back in highschool too" gwen reminded you "i thought he had stopped with that, i thought he had changed, was the only explanation for me how you guys were still together"

"i really don't mind"

"well you should" she looked at you worriedly "why don't you just break up with that dick, y/n?"

"i love him" you said as if that would excuse everything. "i have loved him for the past five years"

"and he treats you like that?"

you shrugged. "i can't help it" you almost said bitterly "sometimes i hate him, especially when he does things like that, but i still love him"

"do you think that is healthy?" gwen asked genuinely.

you shook your head and tears brimmed at your eyes. "no" you looked into her eyes and she could've almost started crying too. "love shouldn't be like this, right? loving someone should be easy" you turned your head to look at harry and gwen followed the direction your eyes where going "it looks easy for you two"

gwen had to be honest "it's not always easy" she admitted.

"i know" you said "but i don't think it should make me feel how i feel"

"how do you feel?"

"hurt" you simply said "i feel hurt any time i look at him"

gwen was ready to repeat her earlier advice, simply convincing you to finally break up with peter parker, but to her surprise you weren't finished.

you breathed a shaky breath. "and i feel guilty" you almost whispered "there was a time where it was easy to love him, as easy as breathing and doing it made me happy. it felt like back then we were loving each other the right way and now-" you paused and sighed "i don't think we have been loving each other the right way for a long time. but somehow we still belong together, even if that doesn't make sense in the slightest"

"i don't know if it does" gwen said honestly "but that doesn't make it wrong" she thought about what to tell you, and her mind slipped by the question if a frat party was the right place for a conversation like that, but she continued to speak anyway. "did you ever tell peter that?"

"what?" you looked up to her in surprise.

"maybe it would help both of you to talk about it" gwen suggested "he might be feeling the same way" she shrugged. "but just so you know, his behaviour is still absolutely unacceptable and if he doesn't change it up i'll have harry take care of him"

"thank you" you smiled, hugging her.

when you sat back down, there was a loud voice calling your name and soon enough peter entered your field of vision. he was being held up by harry.

"he's wasted" harry explained, which wouldn't have been necessary. you had known it immediately when you had first heard him call for you.

"y/n" peter slurred, trying to free himself out of harry's hold "let's make out"

you sighed and ignored him, instead turning your head at harry and gwen. "could you maybe help me to get him home?" you asked "i would do it alone, but it's late and i don't—“

"of course" gwen interrupted your rambling. harry nodded as well.

"thank you" you said, relieved.

gwen and harry helped you navigate through the crowded party, guiding peter, who was clearly in no state to walk on his own. as you exited the chaos of the frat house, the cool night air hit you, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of frustration and exhaustion.

"he's really out of it," harry remarked, glancing at peter struggling to keep his balance.

"yeah" you nodded, a tinge of embarrassment in your voice. "i appreciate your help. i didn't want to deal with this alone."

gwen gave you a sympathetic look "you shouldn't have to deal with this at all," she said, genuine concern etched on her face.

as you reached peter’s place, you collectively managed to get him inside and settled on the couch. harry, ever the protective friend, shot peter a disapproving look.

"i’ll take care of him," you assured them, grateful for their assistance.

harry hesitated, "are you sure you're okay?"

you nodded, "yeah, i’ll manage. thanks again for helping."

after gwen and harry left, you found yourself alone with peter, who was now slumped on the couch, still lost in the haze of alcohol. you sighed, both annoyed and exhausted by the evening's events.

you unfolded one of the blankets, burying peter under it. then you made sure he was laying on the side and set a few alarms to check on him throughout the night. you left the room, slipping into the bed in the other room.

the night was not as busy as you had predicted it to be. peter did not wake up and was fine and breathing as normal any time you checked on him, probably thanks to his faster metabolism, getting rid of the alcohol as fast as it had registered in his body.

it was only nine a.m. when you silently walked out of the bedroom on your way to the toilet. peter was still asleep, peacefully laying on the couch. your eyes softened when they fell on him. he looked so tired, but still much more like him than yesterday.

he was just sitting up when you came back from the bathroom. "hey" he muttered, his voice hoarse.

"hi"

you contemplated gwen's words from yesterday, the sincerity in her eyes when she spoke about love not always being easy. the heaviness in your chest returned as you looked at peter, wondering if it was time to address the issues that had been piling up between you.

"peter," you said, your voice firm but weary. "i think we need to talk."

he blinked at you, not quite awake yet. "talk? right now?"

"yes, peter, right now" you took a deep breath. "I can't keep feeling like this. like i'm alone in our relationship like i'm waiting for you all the time."

his brow furrowed in confusion, but you pressed on, "i love you, but things can't continue like this. we need to figure out if we're still right for each other."

peter's eyes widened. "what are you saying?"

"i'm saying we need to either fix this or admit that maybe it's time to move on," you replied, your voice steady despite the emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

the room fell silent as peter processed your words. eventually, he let out a heavy sigh, "i didn't realize it was this bad."

tears welled up in your eyes, "it's been bad for a while now, peter. we can't keep pretending like everything is fine."

he nodded slowly, a mixture of regret and realization crossing his features. "i want to make us work, but i don't want you to feel like that" he paused, just for a second, a few tears slipping over his cheeks "i didn't know.."

"i should've told you"

"i should've noticed" he looked up at you, regret evident on his features.

"yeah" you admitted "maybe you should've" you softly put a hand on his shoulder, he grabbed it, comfortingly squeezing it.

"i've been acting like a dick, maybe because i knew deep down that something was wrong. i thought shutting you out would shut the problem out too" he admitted and you nodded, somewhat understanding what he was talking about.

"i've been holding on to something too" you said softly "but ignorance won't help us anymore"

"i'm sorry" he said, adverting his eyes.

"i know, peter" you nodded "me too"

[nescaveckwriter]

Paintbrushes And Romance

Part 2 🥰

A/N: So excited for this, not sure how many part's there's going to be, but I'm sure excited to see where it goes... Embrace the journey with me .. 🐞🥰

Warnings:

The vibration and ringing of a phone breaks your concentration on this sketch, looking at the caller id, you smile, its your mom! Hey my dearest mommy bear, you jokingly answer, Hi my love, you hear your mom's kind voice on the other end, oh the love you have for her, she'll probably never realize, she has helped you overcome some difficult times in your life, honey, she says did you forget about meeting up with my friend for the mural piece she wants done? Comes the question, oh Shit! Mom I'm so sorry I got lost in this, well this piece I'm working on you say a blush creeping on your cheeks, I'll tell you all about it later, you always tell each other everything, I will be there in a little while mom , I promise you, sorry I totally forgot, regret clearly noticeable in your voice. Oh honey you are so forgetful, she says laughing a little, see you soon honey, be safe, love you. Love you too mom, see you in a few.

....

Black velvet from Alannah Myles, playing interrupts Dean and Sam talking about the case he can't seem to catch a break on. The music playing comes from the corner you sat in, wow okay, he said thinking that, classic rock didn't really suit the, softness and gentleness that you were beaming out, a smile tugging at his lips, you are quite interesting he thought to himself, seeing you packing all the stuff in your bags, he's heart sank a little , will it be the last time he ever saw you.

Seeing you stand, you must be about 5 foot 2 if he guessed, quite shorter than he'd expected, but adorable looking. You definitely carry yourself with confidence, but also not thinking too much of yourself, he is good at reading people but he can't quite put a finger on you. She's probably got some damn lucky guy in her life, he thinks to himself.

Usually he would go and chat you up a little, get your number, spend the night, but something tells him your not that kind. His thoughts get interrupted by two kids running into you, probably going to the playground he saw over there, waiting for you to freak out and get angry, but instead your voice sounds like honey , all while you ask them if they got hurt, your voice not high pitched or too low, just well just sweet, he'd probably listen to you talk all day not ever getting tired of how you sound. Watching you, sort off in a daze, Dean catches what looks like a sketching book, slightly showing what looks like a man's face, if he didn't know any better, he'd say it was him, ha! Yeah right she didn't even notice me, he thought to himself, while reading the title of a book lying on top of the sketch book "Burning Rose" author "lady bug" seems strange , dark cover with a red rose covered in flames, she quickly grabs everything, throws it in, and for a moment time stood still, you look up into his eyes, Dean could've sworn he was drowning in your eyes, he can't help it, with a smile as wide as the county he looked at her, seeing her cheeks, turning to a light rose color, she shyly smiles back, that gave Dean a glimpse of what heaven probably looks like. He wanted to get up say something, maybe even just kiss you right then and there, but you left, like a little hurricane out by the door, a hurricane he wouldn't mind being caught in, he thought to himself.

..........

You get out of the cab, at John, and Mary Winchesters home, humbly looking house but still big, amazing garden, this is so much fun, you love doing murals, feeling comfortable, walking in, You've been busy for almost a week with this piece, looking at the wall of the front entrance, its all coming together, the green of the leaves and the white of the magnolia flowers , complimenting the decor of, the entrance, filled with neutral tones aswell as splashes of dark green and bright yellow.

Good morning darling you hear a kind voice say, morning Mrs W, how are you doing this fine morning you ask cheerfully. Oh good dear, John had to go on a business trip again, so I have the house all to myself, she says, not looking really happy about it. I'm so sorry, why don't you and my mom go doing something fun, drink coffee, maybe even a bit of wine, just don't get to tipsy now, you say teasing her! Oh really honey, you hear your mom's voice behind you, tipsy, ha! We are classy ladies, we don't drink wine this early, but no one said there's something wrong with Irish coffee, you all three burst into laughter. Come on Mary lets leave her alone in her art world, while they walk out you hear your mom laughing and saying I love you honey, you too mom, you say while picking up the brushes you need and sticking it into the back pocket of your jeans , climbing up the ladder, already humming to whatever classic rock song is playing, into your earbuds, knowing this is what you are meant to do with your life.

..........

It's about three in the afternoon, and he still haven't returned the pastry dishes to his mom's house, damnit, like I have time for this, letting out an irritated sigh, driving into the drive way, with his black chevy impala, he'd name her baby, all while a song of Led Zeppelin is playing, he gets out, grabs the clean dishes out of the back seat, he walks towards the front entrance , puts down the dishes on the table right by the door way, looking at the picture in front of him, a woman standing on a ladder, hair braided loosely, with a black t-shirt and jeans on, covered in paint, humming and swaying to what sounds like a Bon Jovi song, while admiring the view, she loose her balance, tumbling down, Dean catches her, wide-eyed and confused she looked at him, its her, the coffee shop angel.

Fudgesticks up a fudge tree Dean hears her say, what? He looks at her while still holding her in his arms, the feeling of her so close to him its electrifying, oh sorry she says laughing a little, I try not too swear to much. Not making the effort to get out of his tight grip, he puts her down, seeing the black shirt she has on is a Guns n Roses paint splattered shirt. Well thanks for saving me from, ending up like humpty Dumpty she smiles. Oh my pleasure, he wanted to ask what's she's doing for the rest of her life, but his phone rang and he had to answer since he is the Sheriff of the town. Yeah, what is it he asks with the irritation back in his voice,? There's been another victim boss, says the young deputy, okay Jack I'm on my way, just hold on , he closes the phones speaker with one hand, looking at the beauty in front of him with paint all over her, even on her even on her face, all he can say is good day miss and he starts walking out the door, not waiting for a response.

.....

Arriving at the scene, there he sees it again, this damn killer is toying with them, its one big game to him, like a treasure map, they need to find, he placed the dismembered body all over, the dogs and coroner is already on scene, working. The almost gifted wrapped torso on the park bench. Dean is looking around the scene for clues as to how he chooses his victims, thinking, he doesn't have a specific type, so to say, some has light hair with light skin, some have dark hair with olive skin, its victim 8, its been 8 months since this case came to his attention, but still no clue, how he gets his victims, since he seems to toy with his victims for 3 to 4 weeks all sedatives maybe used, is already out of there system.

Waiting for the coroner, what seems like hours, he finally gets the call, Sheriff Winchester you can come and look at the body. Yeah on my way, before going in, Dean inhales a deep breath, not so much for the smell, but more for the courage to see another life taken, someone's, daughter, sister. He is a rough man, but sometimes the stuff what he sees can also take its affect on him. Shaking off whatever he just felt, walking in, he sees the women neatly placed on the cold steel table, every body part pieced together, looking at her face , she can't be older than 20-25 he thinks, while listening to the coroner telling him, how she has the rope burn bruises like all the other seven vics, the dismembering is clean, like it's done by a professional, no signs of sexual assault, the coroner goes on to say, she's been washed in some sort of alcohol almost like sanitizer to remove whatever traces of DNA there could've been. But I did find something odd by one of the cuts, the coroner said. Yeah well get to it doc, Dean says, okay jikes! Its another piece of meat, most likely beef, but its getting tested and I will let you know. Good, Dean said thanking the man, giving one last look of the woman lying there. Hell sometimes I hate this job.

....

The stars clearly visible in the dark skies, while sitting on his porch, whiskey on his breath, a worried look on his face, thinking about the day, the case, the parents of the woman he had to let know that they found their daughter, but she didn't make it, how they had to ID her and the damn tears and despair afterwards... Taking another sip of his whiskey, thinking about the coffee shop angel he saw again and how happy and carefree she is like she doesn't have a worry in the world , not a inch of sadness he detected in her eyes or her sweet honey filled voice.

Wondering why he haven't seen her around in this old town, contemplating what he already knows about her, she doesn't really like to be seen, she likes classic rock, she doesn't like swearing, clearly she likes fudge, and she must be an artist, he can't help it but he starts smiling when he remembers her laughter filling his ears, oh yes and she likes to read remembering the book he saw, quickly taking out his phone he does an internet search of this author "lady bug" three best selling novels, there's the one with the rose, he reads the review and then the ending, of the book because he ain't much of a reader so his not going to read the whole thing!

Wait, what! This book its, clearly one of those steamy romance books but its also a thriller, okay , she is something else, he reads the ending of the book again. "Like a burning rose he ignites your soul when his lips come crashing to yours, flames of passion dancing in your eyes, hands and body intertwined, his love for you burning away all the thorns of past heartbreaks and mistakes, knowing his touch is crumbling your walls and with the thought of knowing your safe with him, you give into the flames engulfing your soul."

[givemea-dam-break]

that funny feeling (locklyle part 2)

a/n: the highly requested part 2 for my locklyle fic! just as a warning, this does include spoilers for the start of The Creeping Shadow, but my books are currently packed away for moving so this is from memory more than anything else - there are still spoilers though! and, of course, i hope you enjoy the feeling of me breaking your hearts &lt;3 i've also linked lucy's locklyle fic just because :D

warnings: early creeping shadow spoilers taglist: @slag-for-the-fetch @neewtmas @superpositvecloudshipper @waitingforthesunrise @toburnmykruge @irisesforyoureyes

part 1 ,, because of her

Lockwood had never realised how hard it was to knock on someone's door before.

He'd done it plenty of times before when calling in at clients' homes, but this, this, was so much harder. Maybe it was because Lucy was behind this door, fully within her rights to tell him to leave her alone. After all, she had no obligation to humour him anymore, did she? He wasn't paying her. Well, not yet.

His hand hovered in front of her door, and for a moment he could only stare. A few centimetres separated his fist and the wood. One simple movement and he'd knocked. But he couldn't bring himself to. What if she turned him away?

And, a horrible thought dawned. What if she'd moved on from him, from Portland Row?

Part of him, that part that shone through in newspapers, asked how could she have? It was Portland Row, Lockwood and Co., for god's sake!

But the part of him that was vulnerable, that was lonely, asked how couldn't she have? What did he have to offer her? A dusty attic bedroom? A tea-stained mug? An attic bedroom piled up with George's clothes? The feelings he was far too scared to ever share? No, it would make sense if she had moved on from them. Even if they hadn't moved on from her.

Even so, with the anxiousness choking him, he knocked on the door.

For a minute, there was nothing. No sound, no wiggling door handle. He hadn't even stopped to consider that she might have had a case last night! She could very well be sleeping.

But, then, there. The sound of her muttering, likely to Skull, and locks being undone. With a rattle of her doorhandle, the door swung open.

And it was as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs.

There Lucy stood, right in front of him. She hadn't changed one bit. Her hair was still bobbed, curling just so around her ears and by her chin. Her eyes still shone with a familiar challenge and warmth, and it had something in his chest squeezing. And, there, the mole just below her mouth that she hated so much, but he loved because it was just so Lucy. She was dressed in wrinkled clothes much like the ones she'd wear on her cases, and her hair was mussed with sleep.

It had him completely and utterly stuck for words.

"Hello, Lucy," he managed and somehow, somehow, he managed to plaster on that smile of his.

She looked dumbfounded for a moment. "Lockwood. Uh, hello."

He felt breathless. "How are you?"

"I..." She glanced around a little nervously. "I'm all right. You?"

"I'm good," he said. Lied. "Oh, these clothes were sitting out in front of your door. Thought I'd get them for you."

Lucy said nothing for a moment, and then her cheeks went bright pink. "Oh, those. I'm just keeping them safe for a neighbour."

"You keep your neighbour's washing for them?" He frowned, glancing down at the clothes he could've sworn were Lucy's. "What a strange place."

She took them from him and disappeared back into her flat, stashing them on a chair as she hesitantly gestured for him to come inside. And he did, gently shutting the door behind him.

Her flat wasn't much. A one-room with a tiny bed and a tinier kitchen, and, to put it simply, it looked like a bomb had hit it. Back home wasn't much better, at least it hadn't been before he'd hired Holly, but part of him felt horribly guilty. Lucy was living in this, while he had his own four-storey and an assistant who cleaned it like the world would end if she let one speck of dust sit for too long.

"Oh, you can just sit on the bed if you want," Lucy said. She was rushing around the flat trying to haphazardly clean. "No, wait, never mind. You can sit here."

With that, she pulled a towel off one of her two dining chairs, and a pile of laundry toppled to the ground. If possible, she flushed even redder, and Lockwood could sympathise. If she had just shown up out of nowhere, he'd be this nervous, too. Hell, he had planned to show up, and, still, his hands were clammy and he was struggling to breathe a little bit. God, he hadn't seen her in so long...

"I'll just stand," he said.

She nodded, still flustered, and made to boil the kettle.

And she couldn't have looked better if she had tried. For a moment, it was as if they were back in the kitchen at Portland Row, the morning after a case. It was one of those days where Lucy would make the tea, the kind he far preferred over George making them, and they'd sit, aimlessly doodling on the thinking cloth, wondering what strange remarks Skull was making.

There he was, Skull, perched on the kitchen counter. It seemed that in the past four months, he hadn't grown any more fond of Lockwood than he had been. If the crude expressions being made were anything to go by, he figured Skull felt worse about him now.

"Hello, Skull," he said rather plainly.

Skull's mouth moved, likely forming some swear words no one had ever heard of before, and Lucy scolded him in that tone of hers, throwing a tea towel over his head.

"Don't mind him," she said, stirring milk into her tea and then a little bit in Lockwood's. "He's been tetchy lately."

"Same as usual, then?"

It felt strange saying that. What was usual didn't exist anymore. Not for both of them. Lucy's usual may still include a grumpy, foul-mouthed Skull, but Lockwood's didn't anymore. His usual consisted of all-consuming loneliness, teabags wasted, and hammering through days he had no will to get through.

But there was a shadow of a smile on Lucy's mouth. Not quite there, just hidden, and it had his own smile growing less performative. More Anthony than Lockwood. Lucy had that effect on him.

"We had a case last night, and he helped a lot with it. Terrible Rotwell team."

"I hear you've been doing well for yourself."

He did. Every time he went into the Fittes furnaces to burn any sources they found during cases, as all agents were now legally required to do, one specific staff member would talk all about her. How she'd picked up so-and-so source on a case, how Rotwell's wanted to hire her over and over again. Yes, her flat may not be the best, and he may not be happy that this was where she lived, but she was making her own way in the world. And while it hurt him so, so deeply to think that, he couldn't help but be proud of her.

Lucy shrugged, handing Lockwood his tea. "Why are you here, Lockwood? I've told you. I'm not coming back."

And there it was.

He'd been waiting for her to say it, for her to be angry that he had shown up. But not to say it with so much regret.

He wanted to tell her all of it: the embarrassing stuff, the bad. How every night he slept in her bed, clinging desperately onto the few pieces of her they had left at Portland Row; how he or George or Holly would sometimes call out for her by accident; how he, someone entirely not religious, prayed to any and every god that would listen for her to come back. The very thing he hadn't wanted - to leave people hoping he walked through the door one more time - now haunted him in the form of Lucy's absence, and it was worse than any ghost.

But he couldn't tell her any of it. The words wouldn't take form, left to aimlessly jumble in his throat as he thought and thought of something, anything he could say.

"I wanted to ask if Lockwood and Co. could hire you for a job," he said after a minute.

It hurt to say the words. To make it out to be that the only reason he was here was to use Lucy's Talents, but what else could he say? It wasn't as easy as simply telling her how he felt. That he missed her more than he'd missed anything. That there was a Lucy-shaped hole in his chest, crying out for her to come back.

"Lockwood -"

"No, hear me out, please?"

With a soft sigh, Lucy nodded. She ran a hand through her hair, smoothing the frizz slightly, and took a long sip of her tea as if preparing herself. The same as she did back home. Well, his home. For Lucy, it wasn't home anymore.

"Penelope Fittes contacted us, offering us a job. After our success last November, she's been helping us out - referring clients to us for jobs, giving us little bits of equipment. This latest case, though, well, we need a Listener. A good one."

"There are plenty of good Listeners," Lucy said. "Kat Godwin. That girl from Tendy's."

A small smile played on Lockwood's lips. "Are any of them really as good as you, Luce?"

"Of course not."

"Hence why we need you."

Why I need you, he thought.

"Our Visitor manifests only with noises, so George, Holly, and I are all virtually useless. You were my first thought."

You're always my first thought. Morning, noon, night. She was all he could ever think about.

Lucy hesitated. She glanced over at the tea-towel-covered jar, then down at a little notebook on her table. Her fingers played with the edges of its worn pages gently, and Lockwood saw that it had a label stuck on the front with thick, black writing that he couldn't quite clearly see. Lucy noted his interest and swiftly covered it.

"Lockwood... You know why I left."

"No, actually, I don't."

He hadn't meant for the words to come out so harshly, but he really didn't. Not being in full control of her Talent... well, to put it plainly, it was a bullshit excuse. He didn't believe a word of it. As for her saying that she didn't leave because of Holly - Lockwood was sceptical about that. Lucy really hadn't liked Holly, and their argument had been the thing to make things go wrong back at Aickmere's, but after that, they'd seemed on - half - decent terms. So why?

"Either way," he said, trying to lighten his tone, "you don't have to decide right now. We're meeting with Penelope at the Fittes head office tomorrow morning. If you're interested, then you can come along and join."

I hope you join, he wanted to say. I need you to.

Because, really, he did. These last few months had been a struggle, and he wasn't sure how he was still alive with how things had been going on cases. Without Lucy, it was like a protective barrier had collapsed, leaving him free to slip off the edge of a cliff. George in particular thought it was a miracle that Lockwood was even well and breathing.

So, he left her with her decision, albeit reluctantly. He suffered the walk back home alone, worried and far too anxious, trying to figure out if she'd agree. He spent the night, once more, in her bed, beneath her covers, hoping and praying to see her again, for he wasn't sure how much more his heart could take.

Any amount of Lucy would be enough. But, still, he wanted more.

And, thank god, the next day she appeared at the Fittes offices, rushed and awkward but so, so Lucy Carlyle. She was there, she was real, standing beside him and smiling in that small, almost hidden way of hers. But she was there next to him again, right where she needed to be - where he needed her to be. And it was all he could ever wish for.

[footballfanficwriter]

Fights turns into nightmares

Summary:where Jude and the reader get into a fight

"Why do you always pester me Jude"

"I'm not, I'm just asking questions"

"Why do you not trust me, I promise you it was nothing"

"It didn't look like nothing y/n he had his hands all over you"

"Yeah but I stopped him from touching me"

"You looked like you enjoyed it"

"If I enjoyed it I wouldn't have stopped him"

" it still happened though and I'm not happy about it"

"Did you think I was happy when I saw that girl's hands all over you huh?"

"That was nothing"

"Exactly, just like this event that took place it was nothing"

"But it's different"

"How is it different"

" because he could easily take advantage of you"

"Yeah but he didn't"

"But he could've"

"Jude, you're overeating"

"I'm not overreacting"

"For goodness sake Jude stop, what is the matter huh?, it seems like you've got a problem with everything I do nowadays, if it's not me cooking then it's the fact that I forgot to fold the laundry, if it's not that then it's me not spending time with you, what do you want from me?"

"I want you too do the things you're suppose to do"

"Oh yeah and what is that exactly"

"I bring most of the income in this family, I pay a huge amount of money to sustain our way of living"

"Really is that what we're doing now, comparing our salaries?"

"Mine is higher than yours, so yeah"

"Ok, the reason why I forgot to fold the laundry, cook and spend time with you is because, I've had a shit ton of work that needed to be done, I get pressured and stressed by my boss then I come back home to a person whose upset with me, it's not fair Jude"

"I get stressed as well, you know"

"That, that right there is why I can't approach you anymore and am scared to Express my feelings ,you always turn the conversation back to you and make it about yourself"

"All I said was that I get stressed as well, what am i not allowed to be stressed?"

"That's not what I'm say"

"Then what are you saying"

"I'm saying that when you feel stressed or when you feel down, I always comfort and make sure you feel better about yourself, but when the shoe is on the other foot, you can't do the same"

"How am I suppose to comfort you, if I don't know you need comforting"

"Well maybe if you asked me how I am, you'd know, everytime I try and tell you about my feelings, you always shut me down"

"WELL, QUIET FRANKLY I DON'T CARE, I'M TIRED OF YOU, YOU AND YOUR FEELINGS"

There's a silence between us and I look at him with a hurt expression and he looks at me with a shocked one

"Babe I-I didn't mean it, that's not what I meant to sa-" he tries to step closer to me and I pull back

" yeah but you still said it"

"Babe I didn't mea-"

"I think we should get some space from eachother for a while"

"Y/-"

"I'll sleep in the guest room"

I walked to our room and grabbed my pajamas and all the things I might need for a few days and went to the guest room

As I open the door to leave I find Jude standing there

"I'm sorry" he says

" ok" I say and walk past him

"Does that mean you forgive me?" He asks as I walk away and slam the door

I go to the guest bedroom where I do my night routine

After doing that I make the bed so I can sleep and get comfortable

I get into the bed and try to fall asleep, but recent events keep replaying in my head, preventing me from sleeping

After a while I find myself unintentionally crying not knowing where the tears have come from all of a sudden

It's been 2 hours since I got into bed 30 minutes later I hear Jude screaming from the other room

I quickly get out out of the room and race to see what's happening in the room

When I enter I see Jude sweeting and him tossing and turning and mumbling words

.

I'm frozen for a second but quickly snap back to reality and attempt to wake him up

"Jude"

"Jude wake up"

"Jude come on"

After not being able to wake him up I make him sit up and shake his body, all that seems to do the trick because he wakes up with sweat on his forehead , wide red eyes and heavy breathing and panting, just like a dog would

"Y/n you're here?"

"Yeah I'm here, where would I be"

"I-I thought I had lost you, it was so real it all felt so real"

"Well it's not ok it wasn't real"

A-Are you crying" he says noticing my red eyes

"N-No, I'm not crying"

"Y/n stop, you don't have to pretend that you're not hurting" he says

"Jude, I'm perfectly fine"

"No, you're not, I've hurt you so much in our relationship,that you don't even feel comfortable coming to talk to me about your feelings, I'm so sorry I truly am, and I didn't mean what I said, when i said I don't care about your feelings"

"It's ok"

"I'll do better, for you, it's the least I can do considering everything you do for me"

"Are you ok?" I ask

"Yeah I'll be fine, I guess it was just a nightmare"

"About what?"

"I dreamt that we had an argument, that ended up with you dead because- because I had killed you, I just I don't want to be a monster, I don't want to you to end up being afraid of me"

"I'm not afraid of you Jude, I just want you to be there for me the way I'm there for you, I know you're stressed with everything that's going on right now, but I feel like you're neglecting me or that you don't want me anymore"

"Ofcourse I want to be with you babe, i just never thought you needed all of the attention, you seemed to be doing just fine with everything happening in our lived, I just didn't think you'd want my attention and affection"

"I do Jude, I really do"

"And I'll give it too you"

"Thank you"

I get of the bed and start walking towards the door

"Y/n"

"Yeah?"

"Please stay, babe, please stay with me"

"Ok I'll stay with you"

I walk to the bed and get into bed and snuggle up to him and he puts an arm around me and kisses my forehead

"Goodnight Babe"

"Night Jude"