#so i didn't bring isaac back but...

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[dilf-docs]

I Recall Late November, Holdin' My Breath

husband!pedro pascal x younger fem!reader

summary: becoming an actress has always been your dream, and this job you've taken to be elvira lind's assistant is a step closer to doors of an industry so far has only given you meaningless extra roles, but you get more than you bargained for.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, dry humping, fingering, humilliation kink (ooc but a girl can dream for a man to be mean on bed and cute outside of it), mutual pinning, hurt/comfort, holy trio of angst + jealousy + possessiveness, ptwt cameos went on vacation for this chapter, lots of pov change, why is this so long and tortuous omg my bad if it's shitty but my current delusion/pain is pouring into my works.. if y'all don't comment ill unalive myself didn't pull an all nighter with my statistics hw and this for nothing

word count: 12,515 words

side note: inspired by a comment left in the og call it what you want and this req. finally, this became a series! y'all love this couple too much and so do i! for the record, this has been imprisoned in my drafts since jan 20; i have no shame. i reallyyyyy tried to let it out of draft asylum for his bday―THAT BEING SAID HAPPY (four days late) BIRTHDAY TO MY 50 YEAR OLD BABYGIRL―but it got too long and i'm too tired with uni and midterms coming up. my procrastinating inconsistent slow updater ass is to blame as well, my bad ++ i made an edit because i love p a normal amount

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You hated parties.

Scratch that. You hated parties where you didn't know anybody.

It isn't like you were anxious or an extreme introvert, and though you valued a lot the time you spent alone, it's more in the sense you can't help but overthink in this type of events, especially given the industry you're in. And so far, that industry had only given you meaningless roles. But it was better than nothing, of course, and you were glad to at least be in Netflix's call sheet for extra roles.

Your dream, however, was very much still alive. Hence, this job you've taken: working as Elvira Lind's PA, wife of famous actor Oscar Isaac. Did that guarantee you something? No, but it was closer than you were months ago. It is also the same reason why you're stuck in this party: Oscar Isaac's birthday, which you planned. You were forced to stay, both insisting it was unfair you did all that effort and didn't get to enjoy it. You didn't mind it, really: you loved planning parties. Thought, you felt in no position to deny the couple of anything, so you agreed.

Which brings you back to now, where you lay against one of the walls of the garden, sipping your drink: away from the music, chatter and people.

Today, the last thing you need is this.

You stare at your nails, bitten to the very finger in an anxious self-hating manner. It's a cruel reminder of today's failure: the audition, rejection burning in your back like a second skin.

You're growing tired of it: the closed doors in your face, the look of pity to let you finish even if you won't get the role, the condescending tone of I'm sorry, you're not what we're looking for.

You glance back at the party, your boss obviously having a good time with her husband. Well, at least she did. Sighing and trying to stay far away to be a Debbie Downer by yourself and not ruin the mood, you empty the glass in your hand in one gulp. Hey, maybe the alcohol will make the rest of the night more tolerable. Your aunt said you were a fun drunk once; you haven't seen her since you move to LA.

Isn't all this too depressing for a birthday party?

"Fuck" you exhale out loud, closing your eyes and letting your head rest against the wall.

"Rough night?"

You pay no mind to the new voice, deciding to sulk in private. So you keep your eyes close, humming as to answer: not out of wanting to engage on conversations or politeness, but because you hate silence.

"Looks like it"

More silence settles in. You refuse to open your eyes, hoping they're gone.

Despite it all, you find yourself replying. "You have no idea"

"At least there's a free bar" their voice is laced with mischief. "Very mindful of the person who organized this. And I know it wasn't Oscar, maldito tacaño" (fucking cheapskate)

Maybe it's because you shouldn't laugh, since it's your boss' husband. Or it's the way they haven't been deterred by your dry demeanor, or the fact that the voice sounds... familiar, for a reason you can't quite place.

"I did"

You open your eyes, turning to the person who decided the lonely sad looking woman on the pathetic silent corner of the garden was more interesting than the party going on behind.

"Ay, carajo!" you jump, soul practically leaving your body. You swear, after such shitty day, your head is playing games with you, and for some reason has decided to imagine your favorite actor as a coping mechanism. "Pedro Pascal?" (oh, damn)

He laughs, "Unless there's another way of calling me I'm not familiar with"

Of course he would be here. You organized the whole thing: went through the food and drinks as much as you went over the list of guests. But Elvira said that he probably wouldn't be able to make it, so of course, there was no reason to expect him nor try to put an extra effort in your look and plaster a fake smile.

Yet now he stands before you, and it's like your brain has crashed.

"Uh- You okay?"

"Definitely no" you're quick to answer, your voice sounding distant. "Now less"

"Oh!" he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, as his face flushes a pretty pink. "Is it my fault?"

He looks genuinely sorry about it, making you borderline distressed.

"Yes" Pedro raises his eyebrows, "but not how you're thinking. Yes, in the sense you're right here, right now, when you weren't supposed to. Ms. Elvira said you wouldn't make it but oh- Don't feel bad. This is my fault, for acting weird" you start rambling. "It's just, you're my favorite actor, and I we met while I'm wearing the worst dress in my closet on my worst day ever"

Pedro gives you a shy smile. "I would've never guessed"

You quirk an eyebrow, heart slamming against your chest, agitated.

"Guess what?"

He shrugs, as to mantain the mystery. "It's up to you to decide"

You look down, to your dress. You play with a loose thread as you speak.

"It's definitely not about the dress"

He laughs, but the sound is small, as if it was for you only. Like he wanted you to be the only one to hear it, like a secret of yours to keep.

"Can I tell you something?" he leans in, and the smell of clean and his cologne get in your nostrils. "I think you're the prettiest sight I've seen in a while"

The air is knocked out of your lungs at his breathless confession. The party goes quiet, and for a second, the cold of the condensation that spills from the drink and mingles with that of the night's wind is gone. All you know is there's a warmth you've never felt before, one that is settling in your chest like it's making itself a home, like he is entering your life for it to be felt now ever since.

Everything has changed.

"Please, stop talking" he looks shocked at your harsh words for a moment, but then your face turns redder by the second. "I think I'm going to throw up and I haven't even had a full drink yet" your glass sweating as much as you now a testament to this.

"Oh-" he sheepishly looks down. "I'm sorry"

It's been a long week. You still can't believe this is happening. How could anyone in their right minds believe so?

"I don't know you"

He offers you a small smile.

"I thought you said you were a fan"

You can't choose what burns more: your face, lungs or chest. It's like he's breaking you, little by little. You're folding. And it's the unknown that terrifies you: you're not exactly a control freak, nor a cold person, but this is all too new and too soon. All he had to do was look at you, make you feel seen, and you don't know if it's years of fighting to be noticed or the way you easily believe in every word he says. He might as well just caught you the moment he first spoke, world stopping to hear his every breath and your shaky heart.

You look at him, sternly, trying from a different angle.

"You can't just say things like that"

"Why not?" he tilts his head, "last time I checked, lying isn't bad"

You gulp, hardly.

"You don't mean it" you insist.

"Why not?" he repeats. "Is it that hard for yourself to believe you're pretty?"

"It's rather hard to believe Pedro Pascal of all people rather spend his time complimenting me in a room full of pretty and famous guests"

"I suppose I like telling things the way they are. And how I see it, no matter how much you try to downplay yourself, you're still the most interesting person in this room"

Your stomach can't decide if to tie in a knot or let the butterflies fly.

"You're trying to tell me I'm pretty?"

"It's even better when you say it" he purses his lips together, satisfied. "Don't you think?"

He leans against the wall, next to your small wallflower spot.

"Pretty" he whispers into the air, his exhale condescending into the night.

"I still can't believe you'd choose to be here" he looks at you, eyebrow raised. "I mean, how interesting can your friend's wife's PA be?"

He laughs, loudly. You don't think what you just said is that funny.

"What?"

"They did said you had a bit of a character"

You scoff, pouting lightly. Pedro sees your posture relax a bit, shoulders less tense, and smiles.

"My boss talks behind my back?"

He shots you a look. "Don't you do the same?"

You place a hand on your chest. "I'm actually a honest person. If I don't like you, I'll say it to your face. Same if I do"

"And how are you liking me so far?" he asks, smirking.

Pedro knows he's playing with dangerous waters, seeing the conflict in your eyes torn between letting go or holding back, but he can't help it. Ever since the moment he went through the door and caught your lonely figure in the back, away from the noise and the livelihood of the party, he was drawn to you, intrigued by your guarded posture. Like you were bracing yourself.

"Who's that?" Pedro asked Oscar.

"Elvira's new personal assistant" he answers. "I told you about her"

"You did?"

He's surprised about that. He thinks he'd remember.

"Yeah, y/n. Rings a bell?"

Oh, that y/n. "The one who got you the costumes for your kids last Halloween?"

He thinks of the picture Oscar sent him, the words accompanying the photo carrying love and pride for his children, all dressed up. The costumes were nice, detailed, like the person behind them just knew what they were doing.

"Yeah, she did them herself. Pretty smart and useful girl; been working with us for a while. Seems part of the family by now"

He nods, distracted. Oscar gives him a knowing stare accompanied by a smirk.

"Hey, why don't you go talk to her? Está toda solita, ¿no ves?" Oscar nudges him. "Use that nice smile of yours. She's had a pretty rough day" (she's all by herself, don't you see?)

Despite his interest in you, complimenting you (more like flirting) hadn't been exactly his plan, yet as soon as he went by your side, your perfume clouded his judgment and the sight of the silhouette of your curves under your flimsy dress made him dizzy. All common sense went out the window, and by Oscar's earlier reaction, something tells him his friend expected this to happen.

"So, the rumors are true" your voice breaks his train of thoughts, "you're a heartthrob"

The tip of his ears go red. God, he loves the way your eyes lit up with fierce passion, as if accepting some kind of game he isn't aware of. That fiery crack, spark of yours was all too consuming. Pedro finds himself drawn to the fire of your spirit, not minding the burn.

He can handle the heat, anyway.

"Look how the tables have turned" you say, smirking. "Am I making you nervous?"

Maybe not that much.

But your smile, victorious grin on display, carrying the same illusion of a child on a Christmas morning, brings him down to his knees. He finds himself wanting more of it, being the one to provoke it.

"Very" he decides to reply. "But it's a good thing"

"We're good then"

"Pedro Pascal" he offers his hand. "But you know that"

"Y/n" grabbing his hand makes something settle deep in your bones. "But judging by how Elvira and Oscar look at us, I think you do too"

"Jesus" Pedro murmurs, "what are they up to?"

"Nothing good, I suppose" you look in their direction, and they both play clueless, looking away. "Don't worry, they'll pay for that"

"Oh, look at you" he teasingly touches your shoulder. Even if for brief seconds, your skin feels on fire. "Little evil thing, who would've thought?"

You barely contain a smile. "There's a lot to me you don't know"

He leans in closer to you. The lingering smell of alcohol on his breath gets under your skin. Talking about it, you need another drink, fast.

"Well, I'm interested in learning"

"Are you?" you taunt.

"Trust me. You aren't getting rid of me"

Pedro was many things: funny, charming, loyal, educated and hot. Like, offensively handsome. But he was also honest and a man of his word.

Just as told, he kept his promise to stay, committed to the whole knowing me, knowing you bit.

Months had passed and he had stayed.

You went from talking about coffee orders with way too many shots and the weather to political stances and failed auditions. Dreams and secrets. Things you'd probably never say outloud to anyone else. It had begun with loud laughs and conversations turned to hushed whispers under the palm leaves of his house. He invited you to his home: gave you a chance to enter the most kept part of his life, away from the noise and cameras, and let you settle inside, like you always belonged. Let you carve a space on his heart and mind, where you where for most of the time if you weren't sitting on his couch, two big for one person but that now felt complete, dipping under the new weight of someone else. Someone to keep.

(He told you about missing Chile and his family. You told him you had always wanted to be a mother. Spoke in Spanish sometimes like the language belonged only to your world. He shared his brief swimming career. You told him about your first kiss; bad. Said your fears, like heartbreak and the sharp solitude of being forgotten. Fame. Failure. Pedro told you to be patient, no one better to tell you so, but allowed you to break down in tears as you mumbled a What if it never happens? as he whispered back a It will, sounding so sure, your heart quieted and you allowed yourself to believe him. You always would, ever since his first promise: You aren't getting rid of me)

Oscar and Elvira, of course, had noticed. How could they not? Their most trusted and professional employee and one of their closests friends had fallen together in the slow delicious burn of the amber flame of love.

It was obvious to everyone but you. Or maybe you knew, teetering around the edges of a delicate friendship that pressed with a hurting softness on your ribs, trying to remind you it shouldn't be like this if it only meant that. Perhaps you were scared of the sharp corners that threatened your frail dancing around the real, big question:

What are we?

Maybe summer was the answer: with it's sun, salt air and sweat on shirts of flimsy material. He had already your spring and your winter. New Year's was at his house. Happy New Year, he had whispered, so close to your lips, it felt like a kiss. A silent I want you here, for all year promise behind his hushed tone, just for you to hear, no matter the fireworks and the glittery noise of music and mellow conversations of excited purposes with new chapters to be written. It was just you and him, as when you sat on the Santa Mónica Hills, white Hollywood sign below your feet, or when the poppies on that park he took you to brushed your feet with the sweet blossom of spring.

He'd taken all your cold and daises with him. The leaves growing and falling. Growing again. The smell of grass that reminded you of when you were young, running around with your brother without a care in the world. Safe. You weren't religious, but believed in a God out there who heard your prayers for Pedro to be by your side all the time.

You'd give him all your seasons. All your life.

"Nice view, isn't it?" Pedro asks, leaning to your side.

His smell, one you wore as your own, the hugs (wasn't he touchy as hell?) and fleeting lasting touches to blame, fills your nostrils. Your body stiffens at the closeness, never allowing yourself to relax at how close you were: to hearing his breath, to mapping all his face... But he always managed to amuse you, like today: his moustache was a tad bit unkempt, new greys here and there. So was his hair, yet managed to look breathtaking as the scenery below you.

"Listen, if you were going to peak this much all the trip, you could've taken the window seat" you chastise with no malice behind your soft voice. "I offered you so"

"I wanted you to have it"

There it goes. The reason you had thought about him all the flight. But again, when weren't you?

"There's no winning with you, huh?"

"Oh, please" he makes a funny face, lips in a pout. "You love to be close to me"

"As if, old man" you joke. "Whatever suits your delusional ass"

This banter makes Oscar and Elvira, sitting in the row next to you, roll their eyes.

"If we knew you'd be this annoying, we wouldn't brought you along"

Life had been crazy right now. Lots of roles and filming, especifically Pedro finishing to film The Mandalorian, a series soon to hit Disney's streaming service and one that could make him a household name. You just knew it, despite how many times he looked insecure about it. Still, he was excited, probably more than he was with the Wonder Woman sequel. Yeah, the role Oscar convinced him to take was what got him excited for the rest of the year to come.

So, before Pedro went to film a Netflix movie he didn't want to tell you about (you wondered why he seemed embarrassed to talk about it, despite committing to the role, as always) and Oscar went to fully inmerse in Dune (God, you were excited for that one), Elvira had suggested to take a break, and as a Thank you for the almost three years working for her, they took you with them. Now, Pedro was a last minute addition, him being surprised about being invited at all, but judging by the continuous stares from the couple, you think this was their plan all along.

"We're about to descend, isn't it great?" Oscar shares, holding his wife's hand. "I needed this"

"We all do" she agrees, leaning on his shoulders. He hums happily, closing his eyes as the pilot's voice announces for seatbelts to be worn.

"Should we do that too?" you whisper to Pedro, wiggling your brows.

"Oh, we should" he agrees in an exaggerated sweet tone, grabbing your hand. You're used to it, but today, more than ever, your heart beats fast. You lean to him, closing your eyes to avoid his brown eyes that seemed harder not to fall into each passing day, so inviting.

"You're not funny" you hear Oscar's voice say. "What a weird sense of humor you have, my sweet girlfriend"

Pedro clicks his tongue. "You guys are gross"

"Right, you won't be saying that when you fall in love" Elvira adds.

"You'll have to die waiting" he says, still holding your hand. "You know I don't do that"

You tense, and he must've felt so.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I just hate the landing"

But your heart sinks like the plane over the tracks, crestfallen.

Despite the initial sadness, the blue of the sea took away the one in your heart.

Water had never seemed this alluring, so transparent you could see your feet pruning and the sand below your toes. You laughed under the sun, skin sprinkled with the salt of the sea and sweat.

"I wished the sea would swallow me away"

Outloud. Voice distant. The water isn't even at your waist, but Pedro looks at you. The couple are behind, sunbathing in their towels while music plays from their speaker.

"I would never allow that" sounding so serious. "I can't let you leave me"

You're taken back to your first night. You can't just say things like that.

"Right" you continue, "I'd do you a favor"

"The favor would be to stay. But I'd rather have it be a promise"

Promises. Funny. Why did Pedro say this things so freely, as true as a breath, when then he'd go and voice his fear for commitment and refusal for love in the next beat? Of course, you can't force nothing, nor have the right to change him. But it stings, that you no longer know what his initial promise meant. Friends. Yeah, could be that, but boy, didn't it hurt?

It isn't enough.

Your heart doesn't get the memo though, fluttering with his words.

"The promise to bother you forever?" you try to keep your tone steady.

"I can live with that if it means to keep you"

You suck in a breath.

"Look"

You kneel down, trying to avoid his face. Pedro should notice, he always does, but he's too busy staring somewhere else. Someone else. By God, this bikini you're wearing... It's making him insane. And hard. Under his swimtrucks, but you can't find out. He already feels like a creep, staring at your ass while you bend, giving him your back. Obscene images fill his mind, brain racing with filthy ideas of the position, reimagined.

He's a fucking joke.

"What?" he asks, mind elsewhere, somewhere between the tanning marks that have started to appear in your skin.

"A seashell" you hold your discovery to his face, giggling like a high schooler.

"It's cute" he murmurs, big fingers brushing past yours. He sees you gulp. "Like you"

You gulp again, this time with difficulty.

"Stop it, bobo" (dummy)

"You make it hard"

No, he made it hard by saying this things without a care in your poor heart.

You splash some water onto him, making Pedro laugh. Feisty girl, his deep voice rasps, making your cheeks flare up as your bottoms start to feel wet, and not by the shallow water. You remember then your menstrual cycle app. Fertile week, the notification said.

"If you ever say something like that again, I'll drown you"

"The compliment or the berating?" Pedro's quick to reply.

Jesus Christ.

"I'll tell Oscar and Elvira to send you home. Now"

"You wouldn't" he responds, laughing.

Your own laughter quiets down.

"That's right" with a soft, quiet acceptance. His laughter dies too at your tone, looking so deeply into your eyes, you feel dizzy. There's something you can't quite place in them. "I wouldn't"

A wind breezes by. The air has shifted. And the worst part is you both feel it.

Later that night, you joined the couple for dinner. Pedro was already there, changing his red swimming trunks for a Cuvabera shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and showed a weak peak of his soft silhoutte.

"Good you joined us"

"I wouldn't miss it" you reply to Elvira's sincere words, taking a seat next to Pedro.

What he wouldn't miss, is you. Holy fuck. Had you done this on purpose for him being a teasing ass to you earlier? No, how could you? You didn't know the effect you had on him.

The same effect that's making it so hard to ignore how your breasts are pushed up, and how it graciously adapts to your figure. He feels blood rush to his face and cock, and by Oscar's teasing snicker, he knows he's been obvious with the staring.

Nevertheless, conversation flows easily as the drinks and food. After rounds of wine and pasta from the hotel's restaurant, you feel a bit drunk. Nothing too alarming, just enough to do something stupid.

Like saying I love you.

"Are you okay?"

Despite being his usual loud self, Pedro's been spacing out here and there, and it always seems to happen when you talk.

"Yeah. 'M fine" you try reaching for him, but he stands up, abruptly so. "I just need some fresh air"

"I can come-"

"No!" his voice cracks. Fuck. Did he just yell at you? Judging by Elvira's glance, he did. God, and to your sweet offering and smile? He's going to hell. "Sorry, just better off by myself"

You flinch. Something like hurt makes its way to your face. He's hating himself more by the minute.

"Okay. Have fun"

But it's emotionless. You let him walk away, and it doesn't even take a minute of Pedro's back leaving the restaurant for the couple to gossip.

"Must be work stress"

"Sure it is, babe"

You don't like their tone, as if they knew an inside joke you aren't part of. Like you're the joke.

"I'll go after him"

You don't know what bothers you more: their silent stare or how they didn't stop you.

You find Pedro on an alleyway, propped against the wall. His features are lit by a dim glow.

"I thought you quit"

He blows some smoke. "And I thought I told you not to follow me"

You sigh, standing next to him.

"You smoke when you're nervous"

He doesn't look at you when he replies. "I don't"

You click your tongue. A beat.

"You do"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Expert On Me" he mocks, taking a drag.

"Fuck you" you retort, tired of his off-putting behavior during dinner and now. He gives you a bewildered look, making you angrier. "And don't give me that face, you're the one who's been acting weird all night. I'm just trying to be a good friend"

"If you were a good friend" he delivers the words in a way it feels like a slap to your face, "you would've leave me alone"

Pedro hardly lost his temper, yet now, his eyes burn with a barely contained rage.

"P..." you try one last time, never one to beg but finding yourself doing the impossible for him. Using that silly nickname as your last weapon.

"Go" is his last plead.

"Not until you tell me what is going on"

He loves how stubborn you can be.

He hates it.

"Go" he insists.

"No. You can't just- act like this! Shutting me out and..." you feel frustrating bubbling up your chest. "I don't know what's happening, just talk to me. Help me understand. Pedro, you can't treat me like I'm a nuissance when you have flirted with me hours-"

The words spill out before you can contain them. He lets out a cold laugh that chills your bones.

"Flirted with you?" Pedro takes another drag. "Jesus, y/n"

It's the way he said it that makes you want to vomit. Like the sole idea of it is offensive.

"Why do you say it like that?" you shove him.

His jaw tightens. Eyes red from the wine and anger. Cigarrette dangling from his lips.

"Like what?"

"Like the thought of it makes you sick, pendejo!" (Bastard)

"Why can't you just leave me the fuck alone!" he finally snaps, shouting. You stumble back slightly, almost falling due to your drunken senses. "See? This is why I told you to go. I say things I don't-"

"Don't you fucking dare blame this on me" you seethe. "It was your choice. To hurt me"

He hates how your voice cracks. Guilt creeps in.

"I don't want to" he runs a hand through his already messy curls. "I'm sorry"

"But you did. Why?"

Why do you hurt me when all I do is love you?

"Because I'm stupid" he leans against the wall, his regrets falling like the ash losing among the patters of the sand.

"You are" you stiffle a laugh. Without asking permission, you steal the half burnt cigarrette from his hands.

He let's you, without a word. He always has given you everything.

"We need to stop dragging this" you let out, flat. Decisive, as you stomp the cigarrette in the ground.

His heart beats so loud, it's the only sound on his ears.

"What's this?" voice barely above a whisper.

This means all those times he'd lean in too close, suffocating, because he'd always knock the air out of your lungs. When he'd hold your hand for too long, mind wandering to places it shouldn't. How your toothbrush stayed at his place, and he didn't tell you to take it back. How you changed the way the pillows on his bed where lined up, because it was comfier, and he never changed it to the way it was. You had changed his life in so many little and meaningful ways. He just couldn't imagine a life before you.

Without you.

"You know what this is" your voice is calm, accepting. "But you can call it what you want"

The moon shines above. The water crashes softly on the shore. The air feels humid and hot, but not smothering. Not anymore.

"I'm scared" is all he says. "Ever since one morning, I woke up feeling different. I just... I wanted you to be there. That your face was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes"

You always know what to say. Words seem to bloom out of you. Now they're stuck in your throat, choking you up like thorns.

"I think I've known for a long time, but you know... It's hard to accept something familiar yet foreign. Old but new"

You gulp. Your heart races.

"Pedro" your own voice feels foreign to you. "You don't have to-"

This was an apology. A search for answers. This is it. It's too much to take. You'd never guess you'd hear him utter any words that spoke about the nature of your relationship, made it clear, gave it a name, less to be under the pale moonlight.

"I'm not ready, but I want to. For you. Us"

His lips aren't as close as they have been other times, yet now, it feels it can end with a kiss.

"I can wait" you reply softly, cupping his face. Your fingers grace his two day stubble, focused on the small heart resembling patch where no hair grows. "For you, anything"

You'll kiss. Finally.

But then―

A ping. Small sound. You recognize it as the one you've designated for emails.

"What's that?"

You take out your phone, seeing the mail app icon badge on your notifications. With shaky fingers you unlock it, heart trembling. Pedro places his hand on your shoulder, as to ground you. Doesn't he know you well?

It's from your agent, the one Elvira had recommended you.

You suck in a breath. Casting call, reads the subject line.

"Oh. My. God" you cover your mouth with your hand. "P-Pedro! Fuck, look!"

He has always loved your victory face. It's the best view, even with the sea in front of him.

"I got the role" you whisper. Some tears of happiness show in your eyes.

"I knew you would"

"I-I got it" you jump in excitement, a scream lost in the night. "I got it, I got it, I got it!"

This time louder. Happier. More excited. He just watches mesmerized every little jump you do and how joy seems to ooze out of your body, the energy contagious. He finds himself smiling at you, something warm as pride settling on his chest.

"I would've personally hunt them if you got rejected"

You stop your celebration, looking at him between playful and breathless.

"Good thing they didn't"

You get close again. He doesn't know when, just that now he can see the acne scars on your face.

"Because they know what's good" he replies, tucking a loose strand behind your ear with a gentleness never known before.

You can't help but smile, your nose brushing with his.

"Don't we all?"

There's a kiss. Strong. Full of yearn, like the one on movies. On songs. This is what they want to write and sing about; try to put the feeling into words. He bits your lower lip and your tongue slides into his mouth, eager. His hands find their way to your hips, tight as a promise, pulling you even closer.

"God. You taste so good. So sweet" Pedro mumbles. Drunk. Wine or you, he doesn't care. It all makes him feel warm and fuzzy. "Need more"

With a sudden burst of movement, Pedro spins you around, pushing you up against the wall, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. His eyes are dark and breathing ragged, as if he's lost control.

Your heart jumps in your throat.

"W-what are you doing?"

His other hand slides down the curve of your side, over the flare of your hip, to grip your ass, pulling your hips flush against his own as he grounds the thick ridge of his erection against your core.

His voice drops.

"Don't be surprised, baby. As if you haven't thought about it"

He was right but also wrong. When you came looking for him, this was the last outcome in your mind.

Other nights, alone in your bedroom, however...

Your voice comes out in a breathless whisper. Pleading. "You know they could come looking for us any minute by now"

"Let them" he whispers, heavy breaths out of his mouth, mingling with your own. "Don't you want to properly celebrate, baby? Don't act like you don't want it. What if they walked in right now and saw their assistant grinding on their friend? Dripping all over my pants like the dirty slut you are?"

He whines as you grind your hips down on him.

"Then we better put on a show, don't you think?"

The khaki does a very poor job of hiding the wet patch already forming in the fabric over his tip, and if you had more time, you'd probably ask to suck him off; that's how equally horny and grateful you are now.

"Dirty girl"

So damn hot, your arousal pools into your now wet and sticky panties. Shout out to the dress: you don't think you could've handled the pulse of your aching cunt inside jeans.

"M'sorry for not being able to, you know-" he wiggles his eyebrows, smile soon strained by gritted teeth. "Wish I could just fuck you, here and now"

"Well, you can always come to my room tonight" and pull out the spare keycard the hotel gave you, taunting him with it like a hungry dog with a bone.

He gives you a hopeful look.

"You bet I'll be there" and bites it away from your grasp.

It's so sexy, but he's soon dropping it somewhere, falling with a soft click to the sand, because he's kissing you again, whole mouth devouring yours. Pedro makes little noises, all too strained and eager, groaning as his head falls back, your damp panties pressed intimately against the cloth of his shorts.

Pedro is fucking flying. Borderline ascending. All he knows is his cock throbbs hard as your clothed pussy grinds down on his lap while you rock your hips against his.

"Fuck-" he curses, "shouldn't wore such a small little frail dress while parading around me, baby. Es una puta tortura" (it's a fucking torture)

He grips your hips tighter, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he fights the urge to grind up against you. His large hands slid up your sides, skimming over the side of your ribs, the swell of your breasts. Pedro hums in satisfaction. Along blooms something akin to pride in your chest.

"You like it?"

"More than I should" he admits, cheeks flaring up.

"So that's why you were distracted" you laugh at him, playfully swatting his chest. "Couldn't handle the y/n charm?"

"Shut up" he mumbles, embarrased.

"Make me"

He rests his head down in your collarbones, stubble making light tickles as it grazes against your flushed skin, down in the crook of your neck, hiding his face there. Pedro breathes you in, musk mixed with sweat and the fading notes of your floral perfume, then growls.

"I don't know how I'll stop myself from not having you, baby. You've fucked me up, I swear" you moan at the intensity of each word that spills from his mouth, "might not care if Oscar and Elvira walk in now-"

"Pedro!" you yelp as his hips rolling to meet yours. A pink embarrassement washes over your face, not only at the thought but also at how you're not entirely displeased. "D-don't say that"

"Oh, please. Will you tell me you don't like the idea? Should've thought about it first, then, naughty girl" he rasps, voice a low, desperate rumble. "Don't you feel what you do to me? How hard I am for you?"

With each word, a new thrust of his hips, khaki shorts against your panties rubbing deliciously. He could feel all of your heat even through the layers separating you.

Pedro groans softly, hips rolling urgently against yours as he pinned you harder to the wall with his body, his soft planes molding with your own.

What a vacation.

(Dry humping with Pedro Pascal on a hotel room during a getaway with your boss, who happened to be Elvira Lind, wife of Oscar Isaac? After being handed a role you fought hard for? Never ever even dreamed of it)

"You want to come on my cock like this?" Pedro purrs in your ear. "Want me to dry hump this little cunt until you're coming?"

The thick bulge of his erection rubs right over your clothed slit. He feels your body tensing, breath coming in short gasps. One of those dies in your throat as you feel his fingers dipping underneath to touch your slick folds.

"Jesus, baby. You're soaked" he speaks as his fingers part your lips, delving deeper to stroke over your swollen clit. "Is this all for me, sweetheart?"

He circles your clit with the rough pad of his finger, feeling your hips buck and writhe against his touch. He can feel your walls starting to flutter, your body tensing as your climax approaches.

"Let me reward you, then, for bein' such a good girl" voice a low rasp in your ear. "My future movie star"

Pedro rubs your clit harder, fingers pumping in and out as he ground his cock against you, chasing his own desperate pleasure. He too was so close, balls tight, cock throbbing and leak on his pants.

"Fuck, Y/n... come on, baby. Come for me"

He feels your body stiffen and then fall against him as your orgasm crashes over you. He groans long and low as he feels your slick walls pulsing and fluttering around his rough digits.

It's not long before he comes, hard, his cock jerking and pulsing as he spills himself in his pants, seeping through the cotton and staining the fabric.

Now it's his turn to slump against you, pinning you to the wall with his larger frame as he struggles to catch his breath. His fingers still their movements, pulling them out of your soaked heat as he tries to even his breathing.

He nuzzles into your hair, wearing a lazy smile you can't see.

"That's my good girl. Came so pretty, all for me" Pedro praises. "Made a complete mess of yourself, didn't you? Even when you knew they could come looking for us, but that didn't stop you at all, dirty baby"

You chuckle, readjusting yourself.

"Time to head back, dirty boy"

"Boo, you're boring" he jokes. "But whatever my girl wants"

Pedro leans to kiss your hand, softly. You giggle.

"I like my men obedient"

"And I'm into submission" he winks, "so we're even"

Oscar and Elvira don't ask about your thirty minute absence, yet by their unspoken married couple secret language, it's like they know or at least guess what happened. And your shared glances and smiles give it away, anyway.

"I'm heading to my room" you announce after dessert, brushing your fingers with Pedro's. A small reminder.

"It's barely ten" Oscar replies with a strange tone.

"Tonight was fun but I'm tired" you offer a rather lazy excuse. "Goodnight"

The copy of your key burns in his pocket. He abruptly stands up, not even five minutes after. He is as obvious as impatient.

"Wow, slow down buddy" Oscar grabs his arm, forcing him to sit down again. His cock twitches, as pissed as he is. "Easy. There's no rush, is it? Or do you have somewhere else to be?"

He gulps down.

"Oh, look at them. Didn't I tell you so?" Elvira laughs.

"I thought so too!" Oscar argues.

The woman just gives him a glare. "Yet who came up with it first?"

"Fine, wife wins this round" he slumps on his chair. Then looks at Pedro, pointing her. "You can't win with this one"

She ignores him, leaning forward, elbows propped in the table.

"So, did you two-"

Pedro's cheeks burn. "I'm not gonna share that-"

"-Talk" she finishes, "but now I'm curious to know what you aren't meant to share"

"Secundo eso" Oscar chimes in. (I second that)

"I need to go, really" he insists, thinking of you. On your bathroom, propping yourself in the mirror, starring and smiling too much at your reflection.

"I get it, time's precious" his friend coincides. "You aren't getting any younger dude"

This is his banter with Oscar, all playful no damage meant. But his stomach sinks.

In a way, he's right, and some of the doubts that held him back come crawling and settling on his head. They whisper until their words cut deep and find home in the darkest corners of his mind, feeding from the shadows.

A young couple passes by him. He hadn't even registered he'd stood up until the perfume of the woman, fruity, wafts into his circle. Until the man's voice and laughter is clear, full of life and less burden of the years passed by. They look so good together, and then she leans in to whisper to him, looking at Pedro. The man turns around, smiling but then looking at her, lastly at the exit doors. And they're gone. Maybe they recognized him, but right now, it feels like the universe has sent him a message.

A cruel unwarranted blow of reality.

(Aching joints meeting your brand new. The coloring of his hair that hadn't started in yours. The rough of his skin against the soft of your own. The wrinkles you had of laughter and expression opposed to those he simply had because of time. His soft planes compared to your rigid body. The size difference. The age gap. That was his reality and it fucking sucked)

His phone chimes in on cue.

Thank you for tonight. That was amazing

Pedro smiles, sadly so, as he types an answer.

It was

In past. Fitting for an ending. A goodbye.

The key burns still. But he doesn't take it out, not even when the shorts drop somewhere on the pile of clothes on his room's couch. He just falls in bed, burying his face into the pillow until the pushing force of guilt and feelings lull him to sleep.

On the other side of the hotel, moon shines it's light into an empty room, waiting bed cold with deception, many questions asked to the silence, not sure if you want the answers.

You should always trust your intuition.

It didn't fail you when you decided to leave your country behind, despite the failure, homesickness and loneliness gnawing at your heartstrings season to season.

Now? You were about to star in one of Netflix's original romcoms, and while to others it may seem small, to you, this leap in your career from background roles to lead meant everything.

It also didn't fail you when it came to Pedro. Whom you caught his first stare across the room, holding it dearly to your heart like the night you met. The age gap, different stages in life, work... all of it blurred to the sound of his low laugh and voice.

I think you're the prettiest sight I've seen in a while.

You loved being right. You hated not being proved wrong now.

For the rest of the vacation, is like Pedro did a whole switch: he made it his mission to act like nothing happened, like you hadn't happened.

Maybe, the thrill or vacation release was what he wanted, and the hoping was only on your side. The deep connection you'd nurtured for months was gone in seconds, taken away from you before you even learned what loving was.

He was commited, you have to give him that. Even on the plane, in such reduced space, he managed to remain quiet, not even batting an eye at Oscar and Elvira's questioning stares. They were probably as confused as you.

It all stayed back in the island: the sound of waves, sand in your feet and the hot sun of stolen stares and whispers lost in the humid night. The hard of the wall pressed against your back. The moonlight over the sea as he said Us. And how he tasted, like the wine and cheese he glazed his pasta with. In every cup and serving, he will be now, not like you wanted but like a ghost. Haunting.

It was over.

So were your days working for Elvira, who had become sort of a mother figure to you, especially after being away from yours. In this new stage of life, being an assistant just didn't fit into your schedule anymore, and as grateful as you were to have met them―what the family did for you―, it was time to go.

This meant you'd still keep in touch, though. Still, the chances of seeing Pedro again were low, and you have yet to decide if that was good or bad, because what made you feel giddy had turned to dread.

Despite it all, you forced yourself to remain positive. Shooting for your role was about to begin and you weren't going to let a man ruin it. You hadn't let this things hurt before, why should they now?

Pedro was different.

If for fleeting time had your paths converged, you're aware you'll remember those weeks for the rest of your life. You know it by the way your digits twitch with need, his number ingrained into your mind due to the hours spent thinking about it. You called your parents all the time, as usual yet felt guilty because now, Pedro was the first person on your mind.

He was the one you wanted to speak. Talk about your day on set. For him to go through your lines with you, like he had done before your audition. Take this, and he gave you one of his hoodies that day, the Carrie one. I'll be there, Pedro said. Now you won't feel alone. You wish you kept it, just to remember his smell, gone weeks ago of your house, last reminder he once lived in here like it was his real home.

You hated driving across his house, not daring to step a foot inside. How leaves turned from green to yellow, the orange spicy cinnamon air of November's autumn welcoming your still broken heart. How the premiere for his series was around the corner, days away, and you kept staring at the phone for too long. To congratulate him. Ask how he's been. If he's nervous. If you'll watch the first episode together.

"Hey, y/n" you raise your head from your phone, fingers hovering over his contact, yet again. You turn it off, embarrased. "Got any plans for later?"

It's your co-star, Jordan Fisher. You both share a passion for dancing, something you do a lot in this movie, Work It. It had been fun so far, and you've met the two leads, him and Sabrina Carpenter, spending much more time with the latter as you play her bestfriend. While not being the main role, you would treasure this experience forever.

"Um, I don't think so" you answer, smiling. "Why?"

"I was going to grab some drinks in this café nearby. Want to come?"

You look at your phone, then at him. You tell yourself this is okay, even if a part of you is screaming in betrayal.

No, you deserve to be happy. To go out and not think about Pedro at all. Enough moping around when no one is looking. Enough of forbidding yourself from moving on, holding onto heartache like it's a crown or a badge to wear with honor.

"Sure" you stand up, throwing your phone inside your bag. For the first time, you truly smile and don't think about Pedro and the summer sorrow. "A coffee right now sounds perfect"

Pedro has been miserable.

Ever since you came back from your trip, the distance got even bigger. Not louder, quieter: long gone the loud laughter and endless conversations. You didn't question him, just gave him those eyes full of grief, pain and confusion he hated. He avoided your stare, knowing he would cave in the moment he gazed back. So you respected his silence and distance, helped the breach grow bigger. Pedro doesn't know what hurts the most: that you stopped trying because you respected his boundaries that much, without a question, or that you had given up on him that easily.

He's currently sat on his living room, some movie playing in the background as he scrolls through his phone. He never thought he'd be one of those people, but once the bad habit started, he couldn't quit it. You'd chastise him: Look at you, trying to fit in with the youngsters and our bad etiquette. Your voice was light, teasing, but now he's reimagining it with a cruel light to it, laced with mockery. Not joking with him. At him.

His phone chimes in. It's a text from Oscar.

Pedro. Have you seen this?

Three dots. Erased. Then again. Finally, he gives up and just sends a link.

Jordan Fisher And his Co-Star, Y/n L/n, More Than Friends?

He turns off the phone, unable to see more. His breathing turns frantic, lungs burning with each breath he takes.

Pedro turns it on again, like he wants to punish himself in a way. His fingers presses over the blue text, the article showing up in no time on his screen. If the title hurt him enough, the picture below kills him.

That smile he misses, again seen through a screen, as the one's he's captured and keeps on his phone, seeing them when it's late at night and the pain of your absence becomes unbearable. But he's not the reason why you smile. It's him: young and handsome, coffee in hand with the same logo as yours.

Did he know you preferred brown sugar just because you liked the color? It's my favorite color, while looking at his eyes. Does Jordan know you always buy extra whipped cream when you order it cold? How does he know what to say to make you laugh the way only he knew: eyes crinkled, corners wrinkled and that loud sound that lit up a room? It was his, in a way, a trophy as important as any award the industry could give him. But now he's staring at it through an article, a young man by your side.

You look good. Beautiful. A dark part of him wishes you weren't doing well, that it's just a facade, like him. That deep down, you can't sleep at night thinking of him, and when you close your eyes, he's the last thing you think of and the one you dream of.

He wants you to mourn this fight that went down with cold acceptance. For you to feel the same tug at your heartstrings when you look around you, because for him, you're everywhere: in every corner of his house and life, haunted by the brushstrokes your colors painted on his life. But now the paint has dried, cracked, and he's selfishly wishing you haven't moved on. That you think of him as much as he thinks of the sand, your moans and your sweet taste. Of being so close to paradise and letting you go.

That you're hurting just means it mattered to you, yet now, with the smile mocking him on his face, he thinks you never cared.

Worst part is he deserves it. He was the one who pushed you away.

His fingers hover over his phone. No, it's not the right time. It never feels like it is, regret washing away with cowardice his chances. He's dialing other number. It takes a while for the line to pick up.

"I was waiting for your call"

Pedro rolls his eyes. "Very funny"

Oscar scoffs. "I wasn't trying to be"

"Why'd send me that?" he's asking, knot on his stomach.

"Why do you think?" voice stern, acompanied by a matter-of-fact tone. "Usa la cabeza" (use your head)

"To torture me?"

He only laughs. "So you can do something about it"

And the only thing he did was grab the closest bottle and drink until the tears of his amber eyes melted within the mirroring liquid, world reduced to a quiet blur of ringing ears and broken heart on his lonely bed, missing your smell and how it dipped under your shared weight.

Grief turned to anger fast. A fury that went in burning circles of regret and helplessness.

How could you?

Why hadn't you fight more for...

How could he even call you both?

(Call it what you want, you said)

No. He had no right being mad.

But, was he that easy to forget?

Anger makes his face hot with embarrassement and rage. His fists turn white, curling and uncurling. His hair is a mess and he knows every breath he takes now reeks of whiskey. What he doesn't know is how he ends up in front of your house after months of not being able to even call you on the phone, same white knucles now relaxed into a bright pink that matches with the drunken blush of his face, falling into the peaceful familiarity of coming home, all pain gone for a fleeting moment as soon as he senses the faint smell of your plants in the porch. Daises are my favorite, the entrance to your house filled with them. He gave you one for your birthday last year.

"Pedro?"

Had he already knocked your door? He stares at his trecherous hand. Pedro doesn't even know what to say, his name called by you sinking into his chest.

Despite his slurred senses, he can see you: your soft hair, still damp from the shower. The roses and milk aroma on your skin he so dearly missed. The way the loose t-shirt hangs from your body, paired with your Cherry Blossom socks with Van Gogh's painting on their pattern. Your bare legs make him dizzy, as if the alcohol had not done enough damage to his balance already.

"Pedro" you repeat, "what are you doing here?"

Good question. He doesn't even know the answer.

(Or maybe he does, but damn, isn't he a fucking coward?)

"Are you with him?"

"What?"

"That guy" he tries explaining, his own voice sounding distant to himself. "Are you dating?"

You laugh, coldly. He takes a step back, like you've landed a blow across his face.

"What makes you think you have the right to show up at my door after months of ignoring me to ask that?" you lean on the doorframe, dismissive, but he feels you're blocking the entrance. Blocking him out of your life. "It's none of your bussiness"

"Y-you can't be with him"

Weak. Like a fucking beggar.

"I beg your pardon? Jesus, the nerve that you have-" you throw your hands in the air, a thing you do when you lose your temper, which is frequent to happen. As calculating and driven you were, you weren't a patient woman. "Did you think it was a good idea to come by and tell me what to do? On top of all that, drunk? Fuck, you're a mess"

His shoulders slump down with the weight of shame, running a hand through his messy hair, distressed. He looks up again and examines your features.

They're the same, and he doesn't know why he's relieved, as if you were to change in months. But to be loved is to be changed, and God knows he was scared of finding another version of you behind the door, one without free hair and floral scent: one that didn't belong to him anymore.

"You didn't even call for my birthday" he looks up to you, but you look at the floor, voice breaking. "I knew that's when it was over. For real"

"Y/n-"

God, you missed the way his voice would call you. But the hurt is too much to bear, months of piled up sadness forming a storm: the one you've always been, never a calm sea like the one in front of you when you kissed, but always roaring, each word aiming to hit like thunder.

You had spent so many hours, shrinking in fear under the force of pain, body trying to cry―to release, anything―and live through just another empty night.

He, the reason of your ache, now standing before you, looking as miserable as you feel.

"You need to go"

Final. No room for more to be said. He just hates how determined you are sometimes.

You're closing your door. Shutting him out. He can see the pain on your face, let's himself believe there's a chance as he tries to erase feeling so dumb for succumbing to harmless teasing words of his friend―mixing with previous fears, and the image of you, holding hands with another. Kissing another who gets to taste the flavor of those strawberries you ate so frequently and that of your gloss. To be whole with someone who isn't him.

But it's his fault.

His, his, only his.

He doesn't want to lose you. He can't. Even if love isn't natural for the likes of you and him, he knows it's yours and his.

It can't be over. Can't. He doesn't know nanything like you. Has got nowhere else to go.

"I love you" he tries, desperate.

Your eyes go wide, with surprise, then sadness and finally rage, one that's quiet, simmering and scratching the surface to let wrath go loose.

"You can't love me"

He might as well have already lost you.

"What you did to me" The silence. The betrayal. Closing off. Throwing away in the blink of an eye. Asking why's to a rusted dead line. "Not even a friend would do" your hand grabs the doorknob with ending resolution, but it shakes. With vitriol, tears or uncertainity, he doesn't know. "So don't talk about love like you mean it. You can't just say things like that"

The soft waft of alcohol in your breath. Petricor mixing with the smell of freshly cut grass. Your shy smile and light blush despite the flame of ambition in your eyes. Your words take him back. To the night you met. He would go back and tell himself not to be stupid, not to fuck the best thing on his life.

"Please" like it pains you to say it, "stand up. Don't make this harder"

He's on his knees, begging. For what? It's over. He not even prayed but is willing to sacrilege vows he hadn't taken to keep your love.

"I'm sorry" he buries his face in your thighs. Feels the humid of his tears running and the warmth of your skin combing through his hair. "I'm an idiot"

You chuckle weakly. "I know"

"One" Pedro holds tighter, wretched. "Just one chance"

"P..."

You feel his grip loosen.

"Don't" choked up, "don't say it like a goodbye"

You kneel down to his level, tilting his head with gentle fingers by his chin as he refuses to meet you in the eye.

"At least now you know how it feels" and brush a stray tear away.

"I love you" he repeats. "I'm sorry I didn't know how to deal with it"

You let him continue, hand still on his face, stubble rough, prickling your skin.

"When I found out... This is gonna sound very corny, but that one phrase about not knowing what you've got until you lose it? It's fucking real, baby" he laughs, humorlessly. "The moment I saw those images, all I could think about was our kiss and how I'd never get to kiss you again. How you were there for me, had me like no one before. How we talked for hours, and you listened, bringing things we said sometimes, like trinkets on a box or charms of a necklace. Tiny things and moments that belonged to us. And to think you'd share that connection, that- silence, that only comes when two people understand eachother... It fucking ruined me. I forgot about my fears, our age gap-" he cuts himself off, self-conscious. "All I could think about was saying those three words I've felt since we first spoke on Oscar's garden, but was to afraid to say. Even know. You have no idea how crazy my heart is beating right now" he breaths in, deeply. "I'm sorry for loving you and having no idea how to properly do so"

It takes a while for you to realize he's now cleaning your tears. That you've stayed silent for too long.

"Why?"

"Because you deserve someone better. Someone who isn't too old. One you waste your youth with. Like him" he can't even bring himself to say his name. "You looked so good together. Fitting. No one would say anything, no one would disgrace your name. But I'm selfish, I know. Didn't wanna see you with him. At all. Almost broke my phone screen"

Each word punctuated with a green colored hurt. And that, even in all this blues, makes you feel flustered.

"Pedro" you softly call him. "Look at me"

"I can't-" he whispers, browns elusive. "I'll never forgive myself for hurting you. I wanted you to be as miserable as me, but now that I see it to be true, I hate myself"

"Were you jealous?"

He can't deny it. "Fucking seething"

You laugh. God, he longed for it. Prays for it all to be back to how it used to.

"Happy birthday"

You laugh. "What?"

"Did he tell you that?"

"Jordan?" Pedro nods. "We just met. Shooting isn't over yet"

"Well, happy birthday"

"It was two months ago" you counter.

"Only I get to wish you so" face closer to yours now, whispered words ghosting over your nose.

"Silly" you smile, sheepishly. "Are you the birthday police? You can't decide who gets to congratulate someone on their special day, you little jealous freak"

"But I get to decide this"

He captures your lips in a searing kiss, pouring every ounce of his passion and desperation into it. The unsaid yearning and ache on his tongue. It delves deep, claiming your mouth as it tangles with yours in a dance of hunger and need.

Like a couple of young highschoolers on their mother's porch, breeze flowing by their little town. It smells as home. It's simple. It's real. It's extraordinary. It's just what you wanted.

Love.

"I missed you"

You feel a surge of love and lust at his breathless confession.

"I missed you too"

With rushed steps he takes you to your bed. Your room is still the same. Your picture stands on your nighstand.

"I'm surprised you didn't tear it"

His hands slide down to grip your thighs, pushing them apart.

"I'm surprised you think I would"

Clothes go off with the desperation of two people who have circled around eachother for too long. Your bed feels full, unlike the one of the hotel, where you waited until your tears dried in the pillow.

"Well, you're full of surprises" he adds, voice strained.

Pedro settles himself between your thight, the hard, thick length of him nestling against your slick, heated flesh, groaning into your lips at the feel of you. Warm, soft... Ready for him.

His lips mark a trail down your throat, teeth grazing your collarbone. He licks and nips his way down to your breasts, taking one rosy peak into his mouth. His tongue swirls around the hardened bud.

"Pero sí fui un pendejo" growled against the skin in the middle of your breasts. "Forbid myself of tasting you when you taste so fucking good. Could devour you for hours, baby, and never get enough" (i was such an asshole)

"Please, P. Just quit the fucking talking and make me yours"

A surge of emotion and desire wash over him. He holds your stare, seeing the longing and desperation on your face. This unbridled want, he felt it too.

"Shit, baby" he breathes, voice rough and thick with emotion. "You have no idea how badly I've wanted to do this. To feel you with me, next to me and under me"

You allow yourself to believe in him. In his words and touches, cracking a fire in their wake.

"Then do"

To show just how much he means it, he forces your mouths into a fierce kiss. Pedro pours every ounce of his love, his need, his desperation into it. His tongue delves deep, claiming you. Consuming you. Making you his.

All you've wanted.

"For the record, Jordan and I are just friends"

He reaches down to grip himself, lining the thick, hard length of his cock up with your entrance.

Pedro grunts, feeling the promise of warm tight walls taking his dick.

"I don't care"

He rubs the swollen head through your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal.

"You're not even looking at me" you tease. "He's getting married next year, by the way"

He groans into your mouth at the feel of you, so hot and ready for him.

"I don't care" he repeats.

"Said I could come to the wedding if I wanted to"

Right after the last word you speak, with one powerful thrust of his hips, he buries himself inside you. A broken cry comes out of your mouth, desire coursing through your veins like the most powerful and addictive drug there is ever to exist, only rivaled by him: he, who after years of being his fan, months of friendship, a summer of love and some other months of radio silence filled with unspoken terrifying truths, is finally yours.

"With how much you bring it up, I'd think you're in love with him"

"And by how much you refuse to listen to my words, even as you're buried inside me, I'd think you're jealous"

He hilted himself fully, cock throbbing as it stretches to fill you completely.

"Quit sayin' that, when you know it's the other way around" a broken wail leaves your lips at his girth inside of you, your folds trying to adjust to his size. "Got all giddy with him, at his dumb stories and jokes. But does he know how you like you coffee? No, but I bet you fluttered your eyelashes and laughed like a fucking attention starved brat when he handed you your order. Bet he's a whole gentleman who payed for your order. Probably offered you a ride home, but can't play any of your favorite songs. The ones I know" he throws his head back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat at the exquisite feel of your tight, wet heat enveloping him. "Yet the funniest part is he doesn't know you did all of this for me"

"P-Pedro" you plead, reduced to a moaning mess.

"Tell me you didn't, but we both know how the answer goes" he grabs you by your chin. "Tell me that you were desperate to get a reaction out of me. That you wanted all of my attention. That it's me who you really wanted and not that fucker. Say you did all that little flirty whoring show to make me angry, because guess what? It worked, you desperate slut"

You should be humiliated, but instead, your treacherous brain makes your mouth whine.

"Dirty baby" he whistles, amused. "You're into that? Like me to call out your bullshit, huh? You're a real bad girl"

"I'd call myself resourceful" your voice is strained, "a girl can only do so much for to get her supposed bestfriend who dry humped her last summer to talk to her again"

He laughs, a sound that makes you nostalgic.

"And I take full responsability for that"

"Why don't you fix it the best way you know?"

"Can I get a clue?"

"Shut your mouth and start moving"

He's so compliant is hard to watch and not moan just by his sheer obedience. Surrendering himself to you and your alluring voice clouded with lust. Pedro starts to move, his hips rolling and rocking against yours in a slow, sensual rhythm. He takes his time, savoring every inch of your silky walls as he slid in and out of your depths.

"Fuck, y/n" he pants, voice ragged. "You feel so fucking good, baby. So perfect, so right. Like you were made just for me"

He leans down to nuzzle into your neck, his lips brushing against your ear.

"I love you, y/n" he murmurs the three words again, tone low and intimate.

You tangle your fingers on his hair, pulling him closer for a kiss.

"I love you"

Feels good to put it out there, but maybe he's more excited than you are, given by the goofy grin that takes over his features, eyes shining like the stars on the starry night outside.

His heart soars at your words, and Pedro can't help but kiss you with all the passion and commitment burning inside him, pouring every ounce of his devotion into the press of his lips against yours.

"Three words and you've made me the happiest man on earth, baby"

He thrusts into you harder, driven by the overwhelming feelings on his chest. He wants to mark you, claim you.

"That's it, you naughty little girl. Getting yourself all worked up after your little devilish plan" he grunts. "Gonna make you mine now and fuck you until you can't walk. Until you become a mess. So dumb you can't speak anything but my name"

His hips snap against yours with each powerful surge of his cock, the wet, obscene sound of flesh meeting flesh filling the bedroom.

"Mierda, you'd should be so fucking embarrassed, shouldn't you? Ashamed of opening your legs for a man who could be your father"

He can feel his release building, the hot, tight coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter in his stomach. You pull him closer, arms around his neck, pulling him off his thoughts.

"I'm not ashamed" you purr in his ear. "In fact, I think it's fucking hot"

"Oh, yeah? Dirty girl likes old men?" he grits his teeth, fighting it off, determined to hold back until you cum first. "Loves to be stuffed up nicely by men old enough to be your daddy? Quit that moaning or I might just give you what you ask"

You whine, receptive to his words.

"That's it, baby. Cum for me. Cum all over my fingers like a dirty little girl. I want to see your pretty face and hear your pretty noises. Need to prove if they're better than I imagine as you clench yourself on my cock"

Pedro lets out a roar of triumph as he feels your pussy spasm around his cock, your scream of ecstasy pushing him over the edge. With a final thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside your warm cunt, cock pulsing and throbbing as he erupted.

"Take it, baby. Take every last drop of my cum like the hungry whore you are. Let me fill this hungry little pussy like you deserve"

He grunts and shudders as spurt after spurt of his hot, thick seed paint your walls.

"Now I get to show him and any other fucker who you really belong to"

He collapses against you after emptying himself, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he continues to twitch and pulse inside you. Pedro peppers your face with kisses, restless hands roaming over your curves, touching and caressing every inch of you with desire.

"Baby, listen"

His voice is soft with scary twinges laced within as he rolls to the side, pulling you with him so that you were draped across his chest. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, the silent vow to never letting you go on his strong grip.

"I know I keep making the same mistakes every time" he sighs, his hand stroking your hair. "Yet, it's worth it. The fame, my name, the press... It all reduces to nothing. Because when I look at you, I know at least I did one thing right"

He tilts your chin up, his eyes burning into yours with fierce intensity.

"Then run away with me" you say softly. "Where no one knows who we are"

"We can't" he laughs. "But I'd love to. For you to be mine, forever and always"

"To be with you, I would do anything" you lay on his chest, humming with approval. "I mean it"

"Well" he grabs your hand, "we can't exactly run away, but I have a close idea to it"

"I'm all ears"

He looks deep into your eyes, afraid of his own words.

"We can talk about it more later on but, how about keeping this matter... private?" your body gets goosebumps. "Just you and me. Some friends and our family. Teams too. But it'll be our little secret"

It's the start of something. That something that started on Oscar's birthday when he first called out your name. It was all about falling since then, never quite landing, not knowing what to say. Hiding behind silence the loud thoughts you wanted to shout, words you both couldn't get out, ones to be proud of.

Maybe one day you'd get to do so.

"Something to keep" you add as your way to agree. A promise, to follow him everywhere. To bring him home when he needed. To build something out of what you both feared: with late dinners, kitchen dancing, shared clothes, line reading, fleeting touches, long showers and deep kisses.

You lay again your head on his chest, content and at ease, feeling it go up and down, his heartbeat tranquil and your body soft against his rising and falling tummy. It feels right, like where you should be. Forever and always.

"Like you"

"No, Pedro" you whisper, lazily kissing him as sleep starts to lull you in to the best night you've had in months. "Like us"

It's only getting started.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @trashcora

[lazysoulwriter]

the wrong time of us - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you. ♡ content: Pedro x actress!reader, slow-burn, friends-to-lovers, past unrequited love, she's dating someone else, jealousy, shifting dynamics, Oscar Isaac is the honorary best friend, mutual pining, emotional tension, fanship turned real, angsty fluff with glimmers of hope.

---

You met Pedro in the kind of cramped, underfunded theater that no longer exists in Manhattan—back in 2005, when you were just an actress with rent due and a highlighter-stained script clutched in your hands. Pedro had a crooked smile and a voice that stuck to your skin. Oscar was always late, and always carried snacks.

The three of you were inseparable from the beginning. Rehearsals bled into late-night dinners. He shared his hoodie. You shared your fries. Oscar became family, and Pedro—well.

Pedro became everything.

You were twenty-something and naïve enough to believe that something that good couldn’t possibly be just friendship. You thought the way he looked at you meant something. That the way he let you fall asleep on his chest during those early, exhausted subway rides was a sign.

But Pedro never kissed you. Never flirted. Never hinted at more. So eventually, you forced yourself to believe him.

And god, you tried so hard to un-feel him.

You dated other people. You found success. You traveled. But nothing, no one, ever quite compared. You told yourself it was just nostalgia. That what you had with him was safe—a once-in-a-lifetime kind of friendship. Something purer than love.

Then came 2024.

You started seeing someone new. A writer. Charming. Kind. He says all the right things and listens when you talk. You’re trying. Really trying. Because he’s not Pedro, and maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s what makes it work.

But Pedro’s… different lately.

He lingers in doorways when you say goodbye. Calls you baby more often, but his voice always dips lower when he does. He doesn’t talk about your boyfriend, even though Oscar brings him up all the time. And when the three of you go out, Pedro barely touches his drink.

“You’re being weird,” you told him last month, during a rooftop party in Silver Lake. “Since when do you care who I date?”

His answer was a tight smile and a soft shrug. Since always, it meant. But he didn't say it.

The truth hangs between you in every room now, unspoken but obvious.

And god, it hurts.

Because you spent years trying to unlearn your love for him. You buried it in your twenties, convinced it wasn’t mutual. You told yourself he saw you like a sister, a co-conspirator, his partner-in-crime. The internet noticed what you couldn’t let yourself believe: that the way he looked at you was not friendly.

“You and Pedro are soulmates,” a fan tweeted last week, under a photo of you two at a red carpet. You were laughing, his hand at the small of your back, eyes locked on yours like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

You didn’t retweet it. But you didn’t disagree either.

Oscar notices before you do. “You’re gonna break your own heart trying to make this fair,” he says one night, leaning against your kitchen counter with a beer in hand. “Just ask yourself what you want, really.”

You don’t answer. Not yet.

Because there’s too much history here. Too many years. Too many almosts. And maybe—just maybe—Pedro’s ready now. But are you?

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[imaginingmanyfandoms]

don't shut me out - jaime tartt x kent!reader

part 2 to - worlds worst brother

summary; you've been ignoring roy, jamie helps roy fix things

Roy'd been iced out since the argument between you and him. Or rather since him yelling at you.

Jamie had acted completely normal during training, both with the team and one on one, but would go silent if Roy so much as hinted about asking about you. Jamie was giving him nothing and it was killing him. You were worse, completely ignoring him. His calls, his texts, wouldn't answer the door if he knocked.

Everyone was on edge around Roy. He was acting like a cornered animal, barking at anyone who got too close. Even made Ted falter before approaching him.

He couldn't stand you just being... gone. Roy fucking loved you guys, his sisters and Phoebe came before everyone, he'd give up anything for you guys at the drop of the hat. He just got mad when he saw Jamie in your room, Jamie didn't deserve to be in your room. Roy knows first hand what it's like to be the footballer in some girls' room. He just couldn't handle his emotions about it.

But a full week of you ignoring him gave him all the perspective he needed. He could tolerate Jamie, at least that little prick would be too scared to do anything to hurt you, if not anything else at least the fear of repercussions.

So as Roy stood in the locker room, arms crossed as Beard explained something new they were going to try at training today, he was just thinking about what he was going to say to you when he could finally get ahold of you. The team starting to get up and head to the pitch is what brought him back down to Earth.

"Jaime, hang back," he said, uncrossing his arms. Jamie looked hesitant, but did it anyway. A few stragglers looked on, wondering what was happening between the two now. Surprisingly, even though you and Jamie had agreed to stop hiding your relationship, Jamie had kept it tight lipped still, until you'd been able to sort things out with your brother.

"Look, if this about football I'm all ears, if it's about anything else I'd rather go with the team," Jamie said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder where the lads had gone out. "We shouldn't bring this stuff here, y'know, ain't proper."

"And who's fault is that, prick?"

Jamie frowns. "This is why she didn't want to tell ya." Jamie starts to leave, and Roy feels his breath catch in his throat.

"No, wait, you're right, I'm sorry," Roy chokes on the words but gets them out anyway.

Jamie stops. Turns. And squints at Roy, as if trying to decide whether he believes him or not. "It was never just fooling around, you know. I was always serious abou' 'er." Jamie crosses his arms, "And she wouldn't have even been sneakin if she thought there was another option."

Roy has to look away, just seeing Jamie and knowing what you two get up to behind closed doors grosses him out. He remembers the hickeys across Jamie's chest and has to close his eyes. Roy grunts, unable to think of the right thing to say.

"She almost broke up with me you know, that night," Jamie says, voice quiet as if the memory alone hurt him, Roy's seen Jamie vulnerable before, but this was different. "Same night we said I love you for the first time she almost broke up with me, scared the fuckin' daylights out of me. I had to convince her that it was okay for us to be happy together and that you would come 'round to it." Jamie crosses his arms. "So fuckin' get around to it."

"I'm trying," Roy says, guilty and frustrated, "but she won't even talk to me."

"Yeah, I know," Jamie whispers, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've been tellin' 'er to call ya back, but I don't want to push my luck, scared she'll kick me out of bed."

"Please, Jamie," Roy groans, "fuck! I can't fix it if I can't talk to her."

"I should really get out there..." Jamie looks over his shoulder at the door. "But maybe you overheard me tellin' Isaac that I made reservations at seven at her favourite restaurant."

Roy doesn't say anything, just nods, and Jamie finally heads out to training without looking back.

"Jamie," you whined, holding his hand over the console of his car. "What if the paps see us, this is a popular spot."

"I thought we were gunna come out with it, love." He pulls your hand up to his face to pepper sweet kisses along your knuckles. "We don't have to hide away anymore."

"What if Roy thinks I'm shoving our relationship in his face?"

"Let's just focus on us for tonight, hmm? Focus on me and you going on a little dinner date without having to drive half an hour just to be out of sight of our friends? Isn't that a good thing?"

"It is," you relent, "it's so good. I don't want to feel like a secret anymore."

"Neither do I," he says, placing one more dramatic kiss against your hand, "so let's go be normal and have supper, yeah?"

"Okay," you say, "I love you."

Jamie smiles so wide it takes the unease right out of your mind. "Fuck, love, I'll never get tired of hearin' you say that. I love you too."

And he gets out of the car, rushing to your side to open the door for you, holding your hand to help you out of it, and guides you to the door with a gentle hand on your lower back.

"Ah, Mr. Tartt, welcome. Your table is ready, and your guest has already arrived. Follow me please," the maître d said, guiding the two of you to a nice table in the back.

"Who's the guest?" you whisper, leaning more into Jamie's side.

His hand on your back remains there, comforting and supportive. "Don't be mad," is his only reply, and you see why when Roy is sitting at the table, fiddling awkwardly with the collar of his shirt, like it was too tight around his neck.

As Jamie pulls out your chair for you, you hesitate to sit down, looking between the two of them with a frown. Jamie just smiles reassuringly, taking your hand in his and leading you to take your seat.

"Please," Roy says before anyone else can speak. "Let's just talk. You promised me we'd have a sit down with your new boyfriend, and here we are."

"I don't want you to yell at me in public," you say, voice low and worried, and Roy's heart breaks all over again, just at the thought of you thinking of him like that.

"I won't yell," he promises, "I just want to apologize and talk to you both, okay?"

You nod, and don't say anything. Jamie's mouth forms an uncomfortable smile, and orders wine for the table when the waiter comes by the first time.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean it." Roy shakes his, eyes cast downwards, afraid to see anymore sadness on your face. He's supposed to pummel anyone that hurts you, and he's the cause of it this time. "I love you, you have to know that by now. I was just, it caught me really off guard, yeah? And it hurt me to find him sneaking around and I couldn't handle is so I lashed out at you, but I didn't mean it. I could never be tired of you, ever. We're best friends, right? I'm your big brother, I'm supposed to be a prick about who you're dating. Especially when you're dating a prick."

You smile a little, but you also kick him under the table. He laughs, "and you're my little sister. You're supposed to drive me to the edge and date the worst guys."

"I'm right here," Jamie says, scoffing. "This apology to her is insulting to me."

"You'll be fine," you and Roy say at the time.

"Where is that wine?" Jamie asks, looking over his shoulder. "I'm bein' ganged up on."

"I love you, and I'm sorry."

"I love you too Roy," you say reaching across the table to grab his hand. He squeezes back, smiling. "And I love Jamie." Roy's smile drops. "And if you're not going to be okay with that then I don't know what to do."

"I'll be fine," Roy says, squeezing your hand again. "What matters is that he makes you happy, that's... that's all I care about."

You let go of Roy's hand, and slide over to grab Jamie's, the two of you sharing a dopey, love sick smile. "He does."

"But if I ever see another hickey on either of you I'll kill you both." Roy crosses his arms. "Please, don't ever shut me out like that again, if you're mad at me, yell at me. But don't just disappear, okay?" Roy's eyes held sadness, and you nod your head. "And you," he points to Jamie, "are never, ever allowed to talk about your sex life in any way, shape, or form in the locker room. I don't care if I'm in my office or fucking Canada, not a word."

"Not a word," Jamie says nodding his head thoughtfully, "no matter how fuckin' great of a sex life it is."

Roy's eye twitches. You hit Jamie in the arm.

[uhhhj13iguess]

do you want to have sex with me, yes or no??

stiles stilinski x reader

summary: it had been a week since stiles kissed you, and you began to question how he was feeling. lucky for you, nothing with stiles ever goes the way you expect it to

wc: 1.6k

okay this is the scene from new girl in s2 ep19 where nick and jess fight and make out, and i just think that stiles stilinski has such nick miller vibes

i want to be clear that i did use a lot of the exact language from in the scene! a large chunk of the dialogue is not my work and is from the show, i just wanted to envision it in a stiles x reader sense! does that make sense lol

obvi all involved are 18+! no explicit smut, but mdni!! fbi!stiles but it's new girl vibes where you live with scott, isaac, and stiles.

masterlist and taglist!

you sat on top of the kitchen island, a soft blanket around your shoulders and ben and jerry pint in hand. you sat in humiliation, shoving the ice cream into your mouth as you recounted earlier at stiles' unit holiday party.

stiles was grabbing drinks for you and scott, talking your ear off about something you couldn't quite remember. you were too busy staring at his lips as he spoke, the two drinks in you flooding your brain with memories of your first kiss with stiles last week. you could still feel his lips on yours, and it gave you butterflies every time you thought about it. you hadn't spoken about it since, but the combination of the alcohol and seeing him somewhat dressed up made you feel bolder.

he handed you a glass, your fingers brushing long enough to ignite something inside of you. and by the look on his face, it seemed as though he felt the same.

"stilinski! good to see you, pretty boy," a voice echoed as you turned to see an utterly gorgeous woman walk up to your group. stiles' face immediately turned pale, panic apparent on his features. she slapped his ass with a wink, earning shocked faces from you and scott.

"who'd you bring tonight?" she sat with her arm resting on his shoulder, eyeing you up and down.

stiles sat wide-eyed, glancing between the two of you as he cleared his throat. "oh uh, well, chief, i-i mean, nora... you know... scott,"

nora gave him a wink, flustering the alpha. his response didn't give you much confidence.

"and this is, um..." your name fell from his lips, trailing off as he stared at you. nora gave him a weird look.

you raised your eyes at him. "yeah stiles, who am i?"

"this is my... um... fr-, uh... room...mate...?"

you scoffed, downing the rest of your wine before handing the empty glass to scott. he flashed you a pained smile.

"it was nice to meet you, nora. scott, i'll see you at home. have a good night, guys."

you left the bar, hearing stiles call after you in the distance. you bounded towards your apartment, ignoring the regret in your heart at your immediate reaction to the entire situation.

you hadn't meant to get so jealous. it was just one kiss. one, hot, hungry kiss. but that was all. you weren't together, and stiles didn't need to justify himself to you. he hadn't brought it up since it happened, and you were beginning to wonder if he wasn't thinking about it the same way you were.

you pouted and sat in your discomfort, hands wet from the condensation of the pint. you heard the turn of the lock in your silence and instinctively pulled your blanket tighter.

stiles walked in slowly, eyes still glazed from the night previous activities. he approached with caution, an unknown tension in the air leaving you both on guard. he took a deep breath.

"well, i've got some explaining to do—"

"shut up," you shovled another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth. he stared back at you, lips pursed.

"i'm really glad her name is nora, you know? really rubs the dirt in it." stiles cringed as you referenced his fling last year with derek's sister.

"mhm."

you let out a strained, short laugh. "what's next? lia? heather? ha!"

"listen, (y/n), okay. look, i need to talk to you about something. last night when we were drunk, you told me you want me."

you froze instantly, but jumped to play it off. you let out a scoff, making mockery at the idea he'd even suggest that. "pfft, shut up, stiles."

"you put your hand in my pocket. you said this little piggy wants to go to the market." he deadpanned at you.

"what."

"if that's something you were just saying, that's fine, that's cool. we'll move on and won't talk about it," you ran you hands up your temples, memories of last night flooding your brain.

"but it is something i've thought a lot about. and you never said anything about it, and we haven't talked about anything over the past week, and so i didn't know if this piggy was, you know, was available to other markets, and... you know, i didn't know. and—"

"WHAT are you talking about?!"

"do you want to have sex with me yes or no?!"

"YES!"

the both of you stood frozen, staring at each other with wide eyes.

"i mean no! yes, i mean, i did! i did, before i knew you were doing all that with your boss!" you quipped, quickly saying anything you could to take it back.

stiles huffed, his hands in the air, but his eyes still gave away his shock. "fine! forget the boss!"

you scoffed back at him and crossed your arms. "yeah well, you know, i just thought it was nice seeing you trying at something at work, you know. applying yourself more."

stiles' face contorted into confusion.

"that's why you're more attached to me??"

"no, well i—"

"you're a fucking golddigger!" he promclaimed. your jaw dropped in awe that he would even suggest such a thing.

"WHAT!"

"that's what you just said!" crossing his arms, stiles stood taller as though he'd won the argument.

"if i were a gold digger, do you think i'd go for you, stiles? you spend $20 a week on groceries, and it's exclusively on microwavable burritos!"

he stood firm in his accusation. "gold digger!"

"what? i'm not a freaking golddigger!"

"i'm so disappointed in you."

"shut up! i am not a gold digger!"

there was a pause between the two of you, heavy tension suddenly filling the room. you felt hot, the quiet exasperating your senses and overwhelming you. stiles was quick to notice the change in the air, taking advantage of it and stepping closer to you. he never lost your eyes, bringing a falter to your knees.

you softly cleared your throat, internaling deciding to match his energy. you took a step closer to him as well, now nearly chest to chest.

stiles looked down at you, his eyes immediately and shamelessly on your lips. "then prove it."

you took the final step that closed the gap between you, attaching your lips to his with force. he kissed back instantly, his hands firm on your waist. everything about it was hungry, an overdue release of tension that had been building for far too long.

it didn't take long for the initial kiss to intensify, stiles' hands rough in your hair as you trailed your hot lips down his cool neck, the sensation alone sure to leave burn marks.

nothing about what was happening was quiet. you groaned against each other's lips, each kiss wet and noisy. stiles took you firmly by the shoulders and backed you towards the dinner table, never once daring to remove his lips from yours. a sharp gasp left your lips.

this is the moment you'd both been waiting for since your first kiss a week ago, and nothing was about to stop you.

stiles took another step, miscalculating how close you were to the table already. his foot landed harshly on yours, immediately pulling you out of the moment.

you bent over to grab your foot, looking up at him to gawk at him. "stiles, what the hell??"

"i'm sorry, get your damn foot out of the way! shut up and keep kissing me, right now!"

you let out a huff of frustration and swung your head upwards, aggressively colliding with his. sharp groans harmonized throughout the loft.

stiles grabbed his nose. "what the actual hell was that!"

"get your damn head out of the way!" you echoed his words back to him, finger pointing at his chest.

"you're fucking impossible. you are such a mess!"

"you are the most insufferable person. ever!"

"why are so you annoying all of the time?"

"shut up and take off your clothes right now. i mean it, take off your clothes."

your response caught in your throat as you heard him, but you don't let it throw you off for long. you couldn't dare let him know he had that effect on you (you think as you began to unbutton your flannel).

"you are the worst, stilinski! i still cannot believe you calling me a gold digger. you actively do not believe in banks. what am i supposed to do with that!"

stiles was shoving everything off the kitchen table as quickly as he could, groaning in frustration as you rambled on. he grabbed the last few tools off the table and turned to you with a fury.

"stop talking! this is not the time to be talking! take off your shirt!" as he yelled at you, his hands flew out in exaggeration to gesture towards your half-unbuttoned shirt.

there was a loud CRACK as his left hand made contact with the 4-foot aquarium in the middle of the kitchen, glass and saltwater flooding the room around them. you both stood in shock as you watched isaac's new lionfish flop for dear life on the ground.

"holy shit, isaac's gonna kill us."

[notwithoutafight]

List of posts from 2024-2022 that Daniel deleted/archived on Instagram ⬇️

[there are probably other posts I couldn't find, sorry about that. the links are from tumblr blogs and a couple from twitter. unfortunately, I realized way too late that I didn't keep track of the sources, so I can't list them here, apologies again!]

Unfortunately we just didn’t have the pace this weekend. Fortunately, Singapore is a few days away (Azerbaijan 2024 - September 16, 2024)

Pizza. And some racing (Monza 2024 - September 2, 2024)

Got the most out of the car and myself yesterday, but unfortunately we just lacked overall performance. We’ll get it sorted for Austria 👊🏼 (Barcelona 2024 - July 24, 2024)

Tricky day. But feeling fast. Bring on Sunday (Hungary 2024 - July 20, 2024)

Celebrating 20 years of Red Bull Racing. No 🎂 for me though, just some 🍩 (Goodwood 2024 - July 14, 2024)

Challenging day, some issues in FP2 held us back. Looking forward to tomorrow - rain, hail, shine or whatever 🇬🇧 summer brings! (Silverstone 2024 - July 5, 2024)

Sweet sweet syrup (Canada 2024 - June 6, 2024)

Q3. Good job team. Ciao. (Imola 2024 - May 18, 2024)

Miami 24’ 🎨 Let’s get it 😈 (Miami 2024 - May 2, 2024)

Close to Q3 but all in all not a bad day. Bring on tomorrow. (Suzuka 2024 - April 6, 2024)

The game was right there, can you blame me? (F1 24 ad - March 15, 2024)

3️⃣ (VCARB photoshoot - February 9, 2024)

Honda thanks day 😊🇯🇵 (Honda Thanks Day 2023 - December 3, 2023)

2023. A unique year! But found what I was looking for and very happy for that. Yesterday we celebrated Franz even if he hated every second of it, but his contribution to this team over the years, his pure passion for the sport is something that can only be admired. Thank you Franz!! (Abu Dhabi 2023 - November 27, 2023)

Was fast. But a lap down 🤷🏻‍♂️... team did a great job repairing the wing. Wish they would’ve got rewarded. On to Vegas. Still having fun 😊 (Brazil 2023 - November 5, 2023)

Great weekend from start to finish. Very happy 😊 Grazie @.alphataurif1 (Mexico 2023 - October 29, 2023)

Tough day, some damage on the car cost us pretty big unfortunately. It’s the way it goes, Austin you always have my heart. Until next year. Hook ‘em 🤘 (COTA 2023 - October 22, 2023)

Another day on the sim. Getting closer. See y’all in Austin. (Sim work selfie at Milton Keynes - October 5, 2023)

Full circle (Selfie at the factory in Faenza - July 15, 2023)

Bonjour Monaco (Selfie at Monaco - May 27, 2023)

Weekend 🙃 (Miami 2023 - May 8, 2023)

Don’t leave me hangin 🙃 (Seat fitting, Red Bull garage, Australia 2023 - March 31, 2023)

Great night with @.okx_official. Excited to visit their new office in Oz when it opens 👏🏼 (OKX Event with Scotty, Australia 2023 - March 29, 2023)

We made the last Q3 of the year. Was worth a smile 🙃 (Abu Dhabi 2022 - November 19, 2022)

Mehico (Mexico 2022 - November 1, 2022)

[Not sure if this was a post or a Story, sorry] (COTA 2022 - October 20, 2022)

School in session ✏️ (LA - October 18, 2022)

Tokyo traditions. It’s good to be back! (Dinner with Felipe Massa Japan 2022 - October 4, 2022)

Chillin (Photo at the beach with Isaac and Isabella - September 27, 2022)

Singapore sweat baby sweat prep. I also have no idea what’s going on back there. [Not sure if he posted it on Instagram or only on Facebook] (Selfie with Michael - September 19, 2022)

The mini masterpiece is finally here. (2022 mini helmets - September 6, 2022)

What a legend. Happy retirement mate. (Photos of Vettel after his retirement announcement - July 28, 2022)

😊 (Baku 2022 - June 11, 2022)

Seat time Miami style (Sea-Doo Ad - May 5, 2022)

Miami. We made it. (Dinner with girlfriend and friends. I believe this was the first photo he posted with Heidi, Miami 2022 - May 4, 2022)

Good start to the weekend. FEA. (Imola 2022 -  April 22, 2022)

Alright first Q3 of the year. Not a bad place to do it 😊🇦🇺 (Australia 2022 - April 9, 2022)

G’day. Fun Friday. Good to be back 🐨🦘(Australia 2022 - April 8, 2022)

Shame  we didn’t finish but all in all a better weekend and making steps in  the right direction. We’ll keep at it! Got to watch the last few laps  for the win also, great battle, these cars are pretty awesome going  wheel to wheel this year 😌 next stop, Melbourne! (Jeddah 2022 - March 29, 2022)

Better this week than next…. Unfortunate to miss the test, but I'm starting to feel better. I'll stay isolated and just focus on next weekend. Appreciate the well wishes from everyone as well. (Selfie when he tested positive for Covid, Testing 2022 - March 11, 2022)

Too good not to share. What a record Gang of Youths! (March 4, 2022)

212 laps in a day and a half! Solid start @.mclaren (Testing 2022 - February 26, 2022)

Just happy flying the flag for Australia. Really appreciate the recognition. You can take the boy out of Oz but you can’t… anyway haha big thanks to everyone 🦘🐨 (At the farm, winter ummer break 2022 - January 25, 2022)

[verdant-mistress]

It started with a question.

"Can you feed me?"

What a strange request from your roommate. Admittedly there was always some sort of tension between you two, though you never really understood the nature of it. She had a boyfriend after all, and seemed to be happy. You didn't want to ruin that so you never acted on it. But tonight was strange. The torrential downpour outside meant neither of you had the excuse to seclude yourselves in your rooms with a delivery order and you were going to have to make dinner. As much as you loved her, your roommate never really did learn how to cook, let alone take care of herself. Even back in college you were always having to dote on her just to make sure she was doing okay. You shamefully enjoyed the freshman 15 that piled up on her as a result. Though, she managed to loose it once you both graduated and moved into this apartment.

You reminisce as you prep dinner for the two of you. Bolognese. Her favorite. She always had quite the gluttonous side to her. There's that shame again. Desire. Well...what if. No. You push the thought down as you click on the burner. It's quite the storm out there.

After some time you assemble the rest of the dish and tuck it away in the oven to finish up. The tv from the living room drowns out the howling winds and you notice how cold you are. Joining your roommate on the couch, you both settle in while waiting for the sauce to cook.

"Ugh. So I got in an argument with Isaac over my weight."

Shame.

"Oh? But like, you're not even fat?"

Sympathy.

"I mean...yeah. But I don't know. It just seemed like he was getting mad about something else but just blamed it on my weight."

Comfort.

"Well hey, that's on him. He needs to learn how to communicate better and not just act out of frustration."

Consolation.

"I know...but I guess he's not wrong about the fat thing. I've been kinda putting on weight recently."

Desire.

"Oh. Well uh-"

The oven dings before you can finish your thought. There's an awkward silence left as your head clears and you get up to finish up the dish. Tossing the whole thing together you let the guilt of your passions linger somberly but you put on a brave face as you bring out the dish to the dining room table. Before you can put it down your roommate asks if you want to bring it over to the living room so you can watch tv together and snuggle up for warmth. You oblige despite your internal hesitations.

You forgot how good of a cook you are. Damn it was good. But clearly someone else was remembering too. She was already scrambling for seconds by the time you settled in and you could see in her eyes that thirds was already in the works.

There was something so beautiful about the way she ate. It always drew you in. Desire, sure. But something else too. Maybe you loved her. The radiance she glowed with when she was bigger was heart-rending and at times you just wanted to admit what had been building up for years. What a beautiful laugh she has.

Shame. Oh well. Enjoy these fleeting moments in silence. At least you got to experience them.

"Hey."

You notice she stopped eating. Heaving breathing.

You look at the pot...you swore there were going to be leftovers. Yet, there was just enough for one more serving. You just barely finished yours.

Desire. Burning desire.

Your body goes numb as she stares submissively...knowingly, into your eyes.

"Can you feed me?"

[sundrop-writes]

[Hope this is okay]

Could you do a wee thing about the Teen Wolf guys supporting their [mate/partner/wife/other] giving birth?

Your teen wolf stuff hits me right in the feels and I am thinking of this one a lot lately.

see, this is why I love keeping old requests in my inbox, because then when I am feeling the creative flow for that fandom again, I can just go back to those requests

also, I just picked four of the first guys from the show that came to mind, but please let me know if you want me to talk more about Vernon or Jackson or others. they are underappreciated and I love them too

Teen Wolf requests are OPEN. Please read my Rules before requesting!

How would the Teen Wolf boys help you through giving birth?

Included: Isaac Lahey, Scott McCall, Derek Hale, and Stiles Stilinski.

Warnings: usually I try to do GN!Reader with my reactions, but this one called for Fem!Reader - so the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant; obviously, there is mentions of giving birth and the types of medical complications that can come with it (though I purposefully didn't go into too much detail with the unpleasant aspects of giving birth); in every single one of these situations, the reader is dating the specific character and the pregnancy would be due to having sex with them, even if it's not explicitly mentioned; mentions of the reader's stomach 'getting rounder' with the progression of pregnancy, but this isn't meant to indicate that she was previously thin, just a mention of pregnancy causing the stomach to look more filled out; mentions of general Teen Wolf themes like danger, the main characters being targeted by killers, etc.; and I think that's pretty much it for this. This is mostly just fluff about our favourite guys. And like usual with my reaction fics, it's unedited.

A/N: Also I apologize in advance because I kind of went haywire toward the end and just had fun coming up with dramatic situations where someone could give birth. It's the fanfic writer in me - nothing can be peaceful, everything has to have some kind of drama.

...

Isaac would be incredibly sweet and attentive.

Isaac is someone who is good under pressure - in fact, because of his (deeply unfortunate) childhood, he genuinely thrives under pressure. He didn't react well when he found out that you were pregnant - at first, he believed that he wouldn't be well suited to being a father, and he genuinely believed that you wouldn't want him to be the father of your baby, so he tried to run from the whole situation for a while.

But once you assured him through love that you knew he would make an amazing father, he had the whole duration of your pregnancy to settle in to the idea of it, and he shifted from skiddish and timid and seemingly constantly terrified to hurt to you to someone who was far more confident as your partner. He turned into a genuine support system.

He became someone who cradled your stomach, constantly had a hand on your back, always ensured the safety of you and your unborn baby - whether it was something as small as you lifting a box or carrying in groceries, he went out of his way to take care of you.

So during your labour, he was nothing short of a servant. He put a cold cloth on your head, made sure you always had water with a straw ready at your lips the moment you turned your head, made your voice was heard so that you got exactly what you wanted and needed. And of course, he was the type of partner to bring you a giant serving of whatever food you were craving that you hadn't been able to have during pregnancy once you had been medically cleared, and he had been assured that everything with you and your new baby was fine.

He would do anything for you, and he had no problem letting everyone around you know that.

...

Scott would be a nervous wreck.

Scott is someone who is really unsure and when he has time to think about things too much, he begins to panic. So him having multiple months to think about everything that could go wrong with your pregnancy would just mean that he has multiple months to panic about it. He is excited to be a father, yes - but he is also absolutely terrified about it.

So when you called him and told him to rush to the hospital because you had gone into labour, Scott found himself stalled. He rushed to the hospital, found out what room you were in, and then - for some idiotic reason - found himself stuck in the hallway. His brain was desperate for ways to cope, and as he sat on a plastic chair outside of your room, bouncing his knee, he kept thinking about the fact that if he didn't go inside your room, then nothing could go wrong. At the very least, he wouldn't know it if anything went wrong.

But eventually, his mother came out - looking to get you a cup of water - and she gave him a harsh, disapproving glare when she found him sitting there when you had complaining that he had been late and not answering his phone. And after a stern talk where she told him that it didn't matter if he was scared, parents have to push down their fear and just do it anyway (because that's what she had been doing for him during his whole life) - he finally stepped through the threshold and found you sitting on the bed.

You were in some pain, but otherwise - perfectly fine.

And when he held your baby in his arms for the first time, he realized that what his mom said was absolutely true. He would just have to face this like he had faced deadly Alphas and hunters and giant killer lizards - terrified, pretending to be brave, and most of all: with love in his heart reminding him what was most important. He would push past all of his fear because he loved you and your new baby.

...

Derek would be incredibly protective.

Right from the moment that you found out you were pregnant, Derek was incredibly protective of you. He was weary of you riding in the car with anyone else driving but him - and in fact, he traded in his Camaro for something with much higher safety ratings, and a roomier backseat so that he could install a highly rated carseat (which looked odd to outsiders when your pregnancy wasn't even showing and you didn't have a baby to put in there, but he wanted to be well prepared). He insisted on preparing all your food himself to make sure it was safe, and any time you slept, he stayed away to keep watch over you.

From the moment he knew you were carrying his baby, he became a slave to his wolfish instincts, needing your safety to be his top priority at all times.

So naturally, this meant that he didn't trust you to be locked up in some hospital to give birth. After a lot of discussion about why it was important to him, you agreed to participate in a ritual that was ingrained into the Hale family for generations - giving birth outside. It was a werewolf thing - the need to commune with nature, especially when a baby's life was just beginning. Derek set up a very nice tent for you, and called upon the Hale family emissary - Deaton - to help you through your birth.

But other than that, he was very strict about who else was allowed to be around, still incredibly protective over you. He held your hand the entire time, coached you through the pain with soothing words and a strong hand on your back. And ultimately, your baby was born under the light of the full moon, the first member of the new generation of a strong Hale family that Derek once believed to be dead.

...

Stiles would be an unexpected hero.

Someone who threatened to faint at the sight of blood and once nearly vomited just at the mention of having to amputate Derek's arm during a similar type of medical emergency - he literally became your rock. It was a well known fact that Stiles loved to research, and from the moment that he found out you were pregnant, he had a book in his hands, a highlighter between his teeth as he tried to force himself to remember all the relevant information about breastfeeding, infant neck support, foods that could be harmful to a nursing mother.

And as your stomach grew rounder and your due date drew nearer, something that Stiles grew increasingly obsessed with researching was field deliveries. You had a birth plan in place - you were going to go to the hospital, and Melissa and Stiles were more than prepared to advocate for what you wanted - a drug free, natural delivery with very little medical intervention.

But for some reason, Stiles - every the paranoid one, especially after everything he had been through - was growing increasingly fixated on the idea that you simply wouldn't make it to the hospital once your labour started. So he had to soothe himself by researching stories of babies who had been delivered in the backs of taxis, babies who had been delivered on the side of the road, babies who had been delivered on boats in the middle of the ocean and technically didn't have a legal country of origin.

And he also became increasingly obsessed with researching any possible complications you might have during labour - because he believed that he would have to be the one to deliver your baby. And when you came across him with his laptop open, watching delivery videos again like a how to - you told him that if he didn't stop fixating on this, stressing you out, then you were going to give birth in the middle of the floor.

Little did you know - once again, his intuition had been spot on.

So when you got stuck at The Beacon Hills Animal Clinic - the power knocked out due to a raging thunderstorm, a circle of Mountain Ash that Deaton had put down being the only thing keeping you, Scott, and Stiles from being torn apart by a pack of raging Alphas - and of course, by your luck, just then your water broke and your contractions rocketed forward two minutes apart...

It was then that Stiles stepped up and actually insisted that it was one of the better situations you could have been 'stuck' in. You were surrounded by medical supplies - the Mountain Ash was keeping the Alphas at bay. You had all the time in the world, and all you had to do was trust him. So you held Scott's hand and stared into Stiles's eyes, and he used all of his well researched knowledge to bring your baby safely into the world.

...

If you enjoyed this, definitely check out the rest of my Teen Wolf Masterlist

[theblacklewinsky]

Note: now branching into Tyrone. watched the movie a year ago, but now I'm writing! <3

TRAPPED. | JOHN BOYEGA.

Plug! Toxic! Tyrone x Black! Female Reader.

Warnings: MDNI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( you're being recorded! penetrat!on (unprotected p in v, don't do that!), breath play, water sports, slapping/hitting, degradation, he finishes on your face ), extreme language (cursing, use of b-word and others.) slight daddy kink if you squint. Tyrone's the plug! Mentions of a Glock. Not proofread.

Summary: in which Tyrone stakes his claim on you, for another to view.

girl, it's all over your face, there's someone taking my place,

guess that's something that I'm dealing with now.

Tyrone's face contorted into one of complete irritation as you babbled on and on about how he shouldn't be concerned about what you were doing, posting on social media, seeing other people—all because you were broken up. His top lip quirked up, his head tilted and eyes narrowed as he stared blankly at you.

Even in the heat of your rant he looked so good. Too good. Coming to your house looking way too good hair freshly braided (and who was playing in his hair, cause it surely hadn't been you). The spider branded sweatpants slouching off his frame just a bit, the mismatched black tee he accompanied with it, risen just a bit to where you could see the waistband of his Jockey branded boxers, handle of his peanut butter block exposed. Only big dick niggas wore Jockeys. But that wasn't your aim today.

"- you so worried about what I'm doing! Worry about you, last time I checked you had so many bitches in them instagram comments," you rambled on, giving away your indifferent facade, you'd stalked his socials just a little bit in the midst of your four week break up, so what. "Not to mention, them thirsty ass hoes in your messages, 'bring me a three five,' " you mocked the recantation of the text message in a high pitched voice before rolling your eyes, "whole time you probably was over there droppin' dick off."

Tyrone kissed his teeth in response to your drawn out rant, your words falling on deaf ears, you knew what he was here for. "Man, you' talkin' bout some whole other shit I don't care about," he bluntly replied, "is you fuckin' that nigga or what?"

"Who?" You chirped, furrowing your brows. Playing your little coy act. You didn't need to ask who, you knew you weren't fucking anybody. This toxic, exhausting, and dare you admit, exhilarating roller coaster you and Tyrone stayed on wasn't near over, and you didn't get get back in giving your pussy away. But, you did like to make him sweat.

Who was Issac, of course. Isaac was his most sworn opp, and even though it was surely fucked up for you to even politic with this man—this cycle of toxicity had you doing the most obscene things to be seen. Of course his homeboys had seen you, you'd damn near made it obvious. Hopping out of his blacked out GMC Terrain in the middle of downtown, with a pink ruffled mini skirt that barely covered your ass, and a crop top with the words Ed Hardy sprawled across the top, paired with the expensive sneakers you'd asked Tyrone to buy you. You were wearing shit he bought you, on a date with a different nigga. His opp. That shit was a violation in itself.

His homies wasted no time in being absolutely federal, taking pictures and even starting a verbal confrontation with Isaac when you left the restaurant. It was only dinner for you. You weren't the slightest bit interested in Isaac—this was mostly for the anger of Tyrone, all the chaos he'd put you through with different women you seen in his phone, this was his payback. But, you couldn't deny that the attention felt nice. Still, you compared Isaac to Tyrone on a daily.

But you wouldn't tell him that. Right now, you were in some toxic shit of your own. The back and forth cycle between you two was a normality now, and your circle of friends and family knew that too. One day the both of you'd be walking around, saying fuck one another, and the next day ducked off, fucking one another.

"Fuck you keep playin' with me for?" He asked inching closer toward you, his hands clasped together in front of you. He was so sexy like this, intimidating and fuming. Damn, you were such a slut for shit like this. You ignored the throbbing in your pussy at the edge in his voice. "You know who I'm talkin' about. You runnin' round with the opps doin' weird ass shit with this lame ass nigga."

"Now I'm doing weird shit, but it wasn't weird when you were leaving the house at four in the morning talkin' about plays," you emphasized, using your fingers for air quotations, "but really you was goin' to see bitches."

"Is you fuckin' this nigga or not?" He simply repeated, not even giving a single reply to the accusations you posed against him. Had any of the shit you spurred out been true—you wouldn't even be here, allowing him the liberty of being in your apartment, in your space.

Everybody knew Tyrone was a charmer, a ladies man by default, bitches loved watching him pull up in that bright red Camaro, engine rumbling, him making quick small talk while he waited on an impending cashapp from his customers—a nice portion of his patrons being women.

But he wasn't a cheater. Not in the slightest. He had a flirty personality sure, but he knew boundaries and he never allowed bitches to feel comfortable enough to even think they had a one up on you.

The messages you read in his phone, prior to your breakup told a different story though. A couple of women felt a little too comfortable, nobody should've been texting your man about weed at close to four in the morning. And no amount of money, should've coaxed this man to leave your bed.

He'd been coaxed out of his slumber by your constant tossing and turning and angry muttering. Which then prompted a huge argument when he decided to ask what the problem was, only for you to boldly expose what you found in his phone, to which he angrily asked you why you felt the need to look through his shit. That prompted more angry yelling, and years of frustration from you, because why was your man yelling at you? And that led to Tyrone, breaking things off once again.

One thing was clear and true about the both of you, you'd both never experienced healthy relationships. Insecurities, and immaturity clouded your relationship, and nearly made it impossible to have any sense of stability and healthiness in your relationship.

However, the two of you were dangerously enthralled with one another. The toxic bond you two shared made it impossible to just break away. No contact for the two of you, was constant contact. Who could make who jealous? Who could make who cave first? There was never not any contact. Whether it be subs on social media, or persistent angry text messages.

Still, you wanted to carry this on. Wanted to see how far you could really push him. Couldn't he see that you'd done all this because you missed him? How desperately you wanted his attention you dabbled with his enemy in public? It was a power move on your end, he had to cave first. And just as you suspected, he did.

Shrugging your shoulders you avoided his impending gaze, "I don't see how that's any of your concern." You bleakly murmured.

But it was all of his concern. That much was evident when you found yourself sandwiched between him and your creaking mattress. His mushroomed tip plunging constantly against the spongy spot right in the back of pussy, that spot he hit every time he bottomed out. His strokes were deep and rushed, the absence of hesitance in his strokes showed you that he missed you the same. " 'm so wet daddy," you mewled, lowered eyes glancing back and forth between your sopping pussy, squelching and leaking all over his dick, and him watching you earnestly on the iPhone camera he was recording on.

You couldn't care less about that fucking camera, way too blissfully fucked out to care about whatever he planned to do with that video. And neither did he as he continued his assault on your spasmodic pussy, slight rushed breathing and grunts letting you know he was enjoying this just as much as you. His left hand came down to press on your lower tummy to hold your squirming body in place, the pressure seemingly weakened your bladder, the loud sound of your arousal splashing around his dick filled your ears, drowning out your pretty, drawn out moans. Tears brimmed in your low eyes at how good you were feeling, the curve in his dick continually attacking that same spot in you. "Missed you so much, daddy." You whimpered.

"fuck up," he simply replied kissing his teeth, hand that was pressed against your lower tummy now coming up to slap firmly against your exposed cheek repeatedly, "you got this nigga' takin' you out on dates, spendin' money on you, thinkin' he got a chance..just for you to be wettin' my dick up the same night, sayin' you miss me." He t'skd. "Slut ass bitch."

The edge in his tone only furthered your arousal, bringing you closer to your undoing. His hips undeterred as he kept fucking into you, consistently. His left hand now fisting the material of the neckline of your crop top, using it as leverage to plow into you. Your bottom lip trembled, teeth chattering, eyes going cross as you tried to ward off your quickly approaching orgasm. You knew the rules damn near better than he did, he controlled every bit of pleasure you received, orgasms included. You tried your best to ignore how loud and audible your arousal was, tried to ignore how loudly the bed was creaking, tried to ignore the loud claps your skin produced when you clashed together. Your mind was fuzzy, breathing erratic and voice unstable, you found enough consciousness to mutter out the words, " 'm not with him d-daddyy!" You stuttered out through a moan, words spewed out in between heavy breaths and gasps.

The statement brought a sense of satisfaction to Tyrone, a soft groan slipping past his lips, the way you squeezed around his dick let him know that you meant everything you managed to get out. Your pussy was almost molded for him, the most snug, comfortable fit. He knew you weren't with Isaac, he knew you weren't fucking him, and even if you had, any future thoughts would be hindered when he received this video. "Yeah? Say that shit again—look at the camera and tell him you ain't his bitch while you squirt on my dick," he cooed, the vulgar words in such contrast with the sickening sweetness of his tone had you tumbling toward the edge. Your breathing halted as you felt Tyrone's fingers dancing across your clit.

The sound of your was arousal even more audible as he continued fucking into you, your hands shot up from their original vice grip on the sheets underneath you out to the broad arms of the man on top of you, acrylic nails sinking into the flesh there. "Ooouuu, shit daddy!" You cried out, voice hoarse and broken, as you tried to focus your hazy vision in on the camera perfectly angled above you. But you couldn't see anything, not that damn camera, not Tyrone, not even the high ceilings of your bedroom. White stars danced against a static background behind your eyes. Your brain was completely mush at this point but you knew you couldn't cum until you uttered the words, "m' not your bitch, fuckimcummin!" You rushed out. Your breathing halting once again, no sound seemed to be able to accommodate the way your juices spurted out, almost on a steady stream as it soaked the both of your lower half's.

Tyrone's lips coaxed into a smirk as he continued recording you, a soft chuckle slipping past his lips as he watched you come undone right in front of the camera and him. The sight before him was too good not to marvel on, "look at 'er," he chuckled, "you thinkin' you got my bitch, showin' her off and she over here squirtin' and goin' dumb on my dick," he taunted, his tone patronizing and rough, he took his eyes away from the screen momentarily. Taking the time to look at your almost limp body, his hand smacking against your cheek repetitively. "Get back here bitch, ain't none of that zonin' out. Look at me while you cum, wanna see them pretty eyes while you squirtin' on me," he roughly spoke to you, grabbing your slackened jaw in his hand and spitting down right into your agape mouth.

That seemed to ground you somewhat, bringing a gust of air back into your lungs as you remembered to how to properly breathe. Your now blurred vision meeting his, faint strobes of colors you couldn't put a name to, and stars still clouded your vision. You felt like you were coming down off the wildest trip you ever had, like psychedelics had altered your perception. This shit was witchcraft, whatever he had on you. This shit was dangerous.

His strokes never halted, even when he was sure you'd rode out your previous orgasm, he watched your watery, low, dazed gaze as he continued his assault on you. Hand now firmly clamped around your neck, tight enough to where it fully restricted your airways, your hands immediately wrapping themselves around his wrist, "fuck off me," he spat firmly, ignoring the tears of overstimulation brewing in your lash line.

Everything was beginning to feel like too much. And it felt like too much earlier, it felt like way too fucking much now. You were completely overstimulated, the sensation which was now pleasure was now contorted into a mix of pain and pleasure. "Can't breathe pa," you managed to get out through a choked voice.

"You know what you need to do then, get this nut up outta me first," he smugly replied, moans and expletives following his statement as he watched the color in your deep brown skin flush to a dark tint of red, eyes watering due to lack of oxygen. But that didn't stop you from squeezing around him as tight as you could, attempting to thrust back against him in your folded position, fucking yourself dumb against him to feel the flush of oxygen back into your lungs.

And just when you thought you were so close to passing out—when the colors behind your dazed face started to fade to black his slurred, loud groans accompanied his rushed out statement, "fuckkkk bitch, I'm finna nut—where you want it?" He panted, quickly pulling out of you with a loud squelch.

Your breath seemed to come back to you in one big gasp, as he finally freed your neck from his vice grip. You still managed to give him a response between heaping breaths. "on my face daddy, please nut on my face," you gasped heavily inhaling through your mouth as you watched him stroke right over your face. Thick, warm ropes of cum painted your pretty features, Tyrone's lousy guttural groans and grunts accompanied his orgasm, he made sure to capture that part on camera especially.

He sent the video from your phone to Isaac before he got you all cleaned up. He smirked seeing the read receipts pop up immediately.

He definitely hated the both of you now.

i hope you enjoyed <333

no tag list bc I wanna see how this performs!

[canihaveacalmtime]

What's the experience growing up with a playboy and a spoiled brat? You will them wear a very different personality in front of other people and take it off when you three go hangout together.

Getting related to them is already tiring enough but being their childhood friend? You must tolerate them a lot, thats how others think but in reality, you really cherish your friends as they have been there with you ever since you learn how to speak and walk.

But ever since you three enter college, they have.. changed, not a lot but it's very noticeable because they begin to avoid you. Like, avoid avoid you, they do talk and make conversation with you but right after the conversation ends, they leave immediately. Do you feel hurt or sad? Of course you do, you even start to questioning yourself what you did wrong.

Turns out you did nothing wrong, the problem isn't even because of you, it's because of them.

It's because now that the size gap between them and you have significant change with you look completely smaller than them as they now look much bigger than you. Whenever they look at you or stand next to to you, to simply put it, they can not stop their dirty minds or get those images of you looking weak on the bed off of their minds.

For you, you just kinda accept the fact that your relationship with them is probably wittering away while as for them, they are thinking about how they going to express their feelings for you because they just... can't take it anymore.

-----------

One late night, Isaac (the play boy) and Evelyn (the spoiled brat) have just returned from the bar after probably hitting up with some newcomers, what they didn't expect to see is the TV still running and a small sleeping figure laying on the couch.

"(Y/N) looks so cute when they're letting all their guards down, huh.."

Evelyn said while playing with your hair and caressing your cheeks, Isaac slowly and carefully lift you up in a bridal style, bringing you back into your room and lay you down on the bed.

"I wish we could just lock them up somewhere for ourselves."

"Wow, what a crazy thought of yours, sac. But I guess I also want to do something like that, too."

They standing there, silently, by the sleeping figure on the bed when suddenly Evelyn climbs onto your bed and start kissing you. Isaac was shocked as he stands there, dead in place until he also climbs onto the bed as he holds your back and give you some bite marks on your neck.

Feeling uncomfortable, you open your eyes and immediately make eyes contact with Evelyn, Isaac also noticed as you three just suddenly froze in place like they just got caught in a bad act and you are just.. shocked.

"Guys- what are you two d-"

You were pushed down onto the bed with both of your hands tied with a ribbon, without time to even react to what just happened, you are force kiss again but this time by Isaac as Evelyn begin playing with your nipples.

Isaac let go of the kiss and the moment he sees your face all red, tears rolling down on your cheeks and the mess he made? The urge to ruin you is never so hard to resist like now and Evelyn seems to notice the signs too as she let go of you, making you fall down on the bed due to dizziness but the moment you see them begin taking their clothes off, you knew that running is your only option left, before you can even make a run for it, you are pinned back on the bed as you look at your friends in fear, tears already falling, while they look back at you with full of lust in their eyes.

"Maybe if you weren't so naive, we'd have ruined you long ago, (nickname)."

"Don't worry, we'll be as gentle as possible."

[cr33pz-mck3nna]

heyy, i'm glad the poly carnival post s doing so well!! i'm a sucker for them, so i'm back here to ask for them x reader again but this time having a date at a carnival!:3 hope you're having a good day!

Date Headcanons with the Carnival trio

At the fair!

Warnings: Not many this time(except the possible some mentions of blood and death bcs it's creepypasta so-) bcs it's fluff!, Jack being a tsundere bitch-

Ft: Our favorites! My versions of Jason, Jack and Candy!

I was listening to this and this while writing!

Jason the Toymaker

The ringmaster!

• You two had met at the carnival so of course he loves to take you back there! Most of the time Jason cannot leave the carnival, too busy keeping up the performance, so if you decide to show up or go to another carnival on his night off than best bet that all his attention, when he can be with you, is on you

• Jason has always looked so much like a human so it's easy for him to blend in with them if you go to any old carnival

• You had been walking through the crps carnival with your friends when you saw a very interesting man dressed in a casual suit, or as casual as a suit could be- It was the hair that had first caught your attention, a brighter red than the lights, and in your words he was "Fucking awesome!", words he obviously heard, oh he loves remembering your face when it was time for the tent show and the lights cued on him in the center of the rings

• You brought something too heavy? Don't worry, it's nothing to him! You didn't bring money? Really don't worry because oh BOY this man is filthy rich- Absolutely anything you want to do, see or eat, it's always paid for!(and they said chivalry is dead! guess you just needed a serial killer-/j)

• He will never admit it but the rides scare him, they're still his favorite part though because he loves watching you and your divine smile as you have fun, he will hold anything you have on you and encourage you to go have fun

• He doesn't usually eat human food but he makes an exception for carnival food, and I hope you do too because nothing will be a better date experience than devouring half the carnival with him

• And now that the sun has gone down it's time for his favorite part of bringing you here for dates, your hair flowing softly in the cool night wind and the lights shining so perfectly on your face, this is perfection to him, this is the closest he will get to seeing heaven

"You look so perfect under the lights my dearest..please, stay like that for a moment, let me burn this moment into my brain enough that I may keep you with me on the many nights we stay apart.."

Laughing Jack

The Clown

• WHAT IN THE WORLD IS WRONG WITH YOU!?!? Is exactly the thoughts Jack has about you. He is in no way even slightly like a human, usually when his clown act with the others comes out that's the point when the audience starts to get scared, but you...you thought he was hot!? Like actually what is wrong with you!? He just had to know more!

• He doesn't usually leave the carnival, the many nights away from you always nags at him, so whenever you decide to show up to surprise him OH BOY you're gonna have ADHD Jack on your hands- If there was ever a time when Jack was the most like he used to be before Isaac it was whenever you surprised him

• He is immediately pulling you to all the different rides, he's very out of character for himself, usually being a short tempered snarky prick and a MASSIVE tsundere(we shamelessly call out the tsundere, worse than mammon* istg-), but you're truly seeing a glimpse of who he is or more appropriately who he was. He is flying for the haunted house every time, if someone's around he'll still by force of habit act uninterested but when they leave he's straight on to ranting about how they still couldn't get it right and it's not scary enough.

• Expect him to be the best person ever at finding the best places to eat, he's been there so long he's bound to have eaten everything atleast twice, he's a MASSIVE sweet tooth but he also can't help himself when it comes to pizza, something about the soft yet crunchy dough, the rich cheese and the slightly sweet sauce, it's almost as good as candy!

• If you see a prize or item somewhere and so much as give the hint that you might want it, like it, hell even just see it, and Jack will take it upon himself as a personal mission to win/buy that thing for you, you're not going anywhere until he does-

• It's late so he takes you to the carousel, as you spin around on it, the lights and people slowly flashing by, you're falling asleep on him and he smiles

"Did you have fun sweetheart? Good. No, we don't have to get up just yet, rest your head, we have all night."

Candy Pop

The Magician

• Anyone who sees him would assume he's part of the creepy clown act, but no, this brightly colored dream demon is the most skilled in his tricks, magic or not, and you thought his act was the coolest

• Candy loves when you come out to visit, he can't take you places like a normal person would, like he wishes he could, but when you show up at the carnival he makes sure to make it the best time you've ever had!

• Anything you wish to eat? Here you go he already had it! You enjoyed a particular part of the show? Let's go meet the performers in person! Everyone likes Candy so it's pretty much set that everyone likes you too.

• Candy is always performing, he barely knows how to stop performing, it's all he's ever done, but you...you make him feel like a normal person who doesn't have to constantly perform, you make him feel human and he'll always love you for that

• You drag him on to a ride or two, buy about 20 different kinds of food, and unlike the other two he's fine with or without the rides and food, you're all he needs, if you want to do something then so does he, if you don't like something then neither does he even if he loved that thing prior to meeting you

• He's always fidgeting with his playing cards, spinning them in one hand as you drag him around by the other. When you're there he performs like he never has before, great feats of magic all for you, ginormous bubbles, a fake elephant, houdini tricks, you name it and he's doing it to show off

• By the time night fell you're in his personal tent, unwinding and chatting over a cup of cocoa

"Well that was an excellent day! Possibly the most thrilling I've had! But I guess that's how every day with you is gumdrop~"

OMG I STARTED WRITING THIS YESTERDAY AFTERNOON, LOST THE ENTIRE JASON SEGMENT, HAD TO REWRITE IT LAST NIGHT ALONGSIDE JACK'S PART AND THEN JUST GOT WOKEN UP BY MY MOTHER BLASTING CHRISTMAS MUSIC IN MY FACE AND WROTE CANDY'S PART- I go all out on these requests man, speaking of requests WELCOME BACK ANON! You've requested so much I shall now call you "🤡 anon", you've earned a special anon name! Have a lovely day my little gremlins! -Creepz

@sketchist-art

(I'm tagging you sketchist bcs ur bbgs have returned for another fic and you were probably gonna read this eventually so imma just start tagging u on carnival trio posts- XD)

*shameless obey me reference-

[plum-coke]

salt lake crew made a private party for christmas, they (abby) invited you . . . ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

you arrived in the middle of the year, rescued during an exclusive salt lake crew patrol that ended up escalating too quickly. it took you a while to adapt to the stadium, but you never stopped doing what was asked of you.

and someone didn't fail to notice this effort.

“ abby! ” manny shouts.

“ huh? ” she turns to him.

“ we need to get the decorations, what are you doing? ” he follows abby’s gaze.

she was looking at you, patiently cleaning the dishes in the refectory kitchen.

“ we should invite her. ”

he takes two steps back.

“ abigail, are you serious? mel already got mad that i wanted to invite my… uh, nevermind. you can try but don’t come crying to me after this, let’s go! ”

both go out to get the christmas decorations they had prepared for the party at the aquarium. as they walked, mel and owen appeared in their field of vision.

“ mel, found you! ” abby shouted. “ are you going to the kitchen?! ”

“ wow! yeah, calm down. i need to make the hot chocolate and finish the decoration of the cookies. ”

“ amazing! owen, help him! ”

the blonde escapes from the manny(ual) labor to start using her charms.

“ can we talk…? ”

“ you’re already speaking. ”

abby tries to match the velocity of mel's steps.

“ i was wondering if we could bring someone else to the party…? ”

“ not you too?! manny already tried to invite his gorgeous situationship and i— ”

“ it’s the girl we rescued. ”

“ oh! ” mel stops walking abruptly. “ cute pie? awwww of course we can invite her. ”

abby stops more confused.

“ i’m sorry? cute pie? ”

“ yeah! this girl is a living blessing. i can't think of another name as dedicated to diverse tasks as her. isaac kinda noticed her too, you know? he says we can’t let her in patrol as long as she wants, this stadium can’t loose her. ”

“ and how was i not aware that isaac talked about her…? ”

“ since you mentioned it, i've found you very airy since october, it seems like you're living in your own head. what happened? ”

“ is making the cookies already driving you crazy? be careful with the sugar, diabetic. ”

the blonde tries to change the topic by saying that and rushing to the kitchen.

“ hey… ahm, hi. do you need help? ”

you look at her, noticing the awkward behavior.

“ hi abby! no need, i’m already finishing. ”

mel arrives and says hi to you with a bright smile.

“ are you free today sweetie? ”

“ uhum, finished everything in the refectory. ”

“ great, abby wants to tell you something. ”

mel says, and walks away to make hot chocolate. you look at her with curious eyes, standing in a classy and relaxed position.

“ you know, since we rescued you, i mean… we are very glad to have you with us, specially me and the others… of course the rest of the stadium too but— ”

you wait patiently and a slight smile appears in your face. it’s kinda funny to see abby, this tough and big figure, for some reason all nervous while taking with you.

“ i want to invite you to our private party. that’s it, mel agreed too, and i think you don’t deserve to celebrate your first christmas here alone. not that the others would not include you! i mean— ”

“ yes! ” you chuckle looking at mel, she is smiling too. “ that’s so sweet of you… really, i appreciate that you’re thinking about me too. do i have to bring something? ”

“ NO! no! never… ” she shouts. “ sorry. i’m stressed about the organization. but no, you’re our special guest, you just have to be there and enjoy everything! ”

she quickly looks at mel, who was moving quickly around the kitchen.

“ sweetie, why don’t you go get ready? i will knock at your door when the party starts. ”

“ uhum! see y’all later! ”

you leave the kitchen not too bouncy like a rabbit, and calm like a cat.

“ you’re a disaster, abby anderson! ” mel bursts into laugh. “ i think i got all the answers i needed. ”

“ what do you mean?! ”

“ nothing! ” she chuckles. “ when the time comes, you will pick her at her door. don’t question it. go help the others, i want some time alone to make everything here. ”

mel can be scary and sullen at times, but she almost feels like someone watching a teen movie seeing the other younger members of the salt lake crew fall in love.

abby leaves the kitchen speechless.

“ this face… she didn’t let you, doesn’t she? ”

“ shut up manny… i invited her. ”

“ who? ” owen asks.

“ the girl we rescued months ago, abs seems addicted. ”

“ shut up! oh my goodness! how’s the decorations going after all?! ”

manny and owen share grin and a look.

“ it’s almost done, i already told the others to get ready. mel just have to bring the food and we can start. ”

they finish decorating the aquarium, finally! it's adorable: all the fake branches of leaves, the lights that never stop flashing, some carved reindeer and a christmas tree right in the center of the principal room. abby returns to her room and starts to get ready, some uncertainties appear.

should i do a better braid?

it’s already perfect.

what if i’m stinky and only i can’t notice?

her smell is like pine trees with a touch of cinnamon, thanks to her cologne and the perfum that she found in one of the patrols.

there was nothing wrong, actually.

abby was just nervous to talk to you more then five sentences.

and speaking of you…

you were doing the final steps of your makeup when door knocks can be heard.

“ i’m so sorry! mel mad— ”

abby pauses her speaking, and for a reason. in your months on the stadium, it’s the first time you put on a tight dress to go out.

“ nora found this one weeks ago, i just washed and it’s pretty to use again… ”

you notice the clearly smile, abby was genuine enchanted by you. her eyes were sparkling like snowflakes falling down.

“ you’re gorgeous… ” you blush hard.

“ thank you, abs! ”

abs…

SHE CALLED ME ABS !!!

“ you look gorgeous as always. ”

she notices your shaky hands and the way you were avoiding her gaze.

“ about mel, you were saying… ”

“ ah, right. she had to stay into the kitchen a little more, buts everything’s okay! ”

she pauses for a moment.

“ it’s pretty cold outside, they’re waiting for us in the drivers anyway but take this— ”

“ you’re too kind, the aquarium isn’t that fair. ”

“ hey! i insist, i don’t want you to get a cold. ”

she puts her jacket around you.

“ so cute. ” she says. “ i mean, you’re cute of course! but mor— ”

“ abigail anderson! ” leah shouts from the end of the corridor. “ you’re a fucking snail, let’s fucking go! ”

abby and you share a look giggling, and you two walk with leah to the driver in a awkward silence. everyone finally arrives the aquarium. mel already told everyone that you would be there and they’re being kind to you. as always.

“ hey, you hungry? ” you nod negativly. “ great, wanna see something cool? ”

you agree, abby asks you to close your eyes and she guides you to somewhere else in the aquarium you’ve never been before.

“ you can open. ”

it’s a secret little room, with candles, a mat all rounded with cushions. and a big window opened to the water. yeah, there’s life swimming there too.

“ sit down, please. ”

“ abby… you made this? ”

“ yes, i mean— manny and owen helped me some hours ago. can i… hold your hand? ”

if you remember, that’s literally the first time you’re touching abby. you two never had the opportunity to hug or anything else before.

“ oh, you’re warm! ” she chuckles.

“ and you’re kinda cold… are you okay? ” you ask genuinely concerned, abby’s just nervous.

“ i feel better now. i want to tell you something… you can slap my face and run away if you want, you’re in your rights. ”

pause.

“ since when we found you, all scared, hurt and hiding from the infecteds… i couldn’t stop thinking about you. when i saw your figure all fragile and hopeless like that, i felt a deep feeling to be the one protecting you. and when i noticed everyone being kind and respectful with you just in your first day here, i noticed something. your soul is the most pure thing ever… i don’t wanna sound like a stalker, but i was noticing you in everything you offered yourself to do! you’re perfect, and just in this month, the last of the year, i noticed that i’m genuinely falling in love. ”

what would you answer to that be? :D

[gratelove]

i had an idea for a stiles stilinski fanfic but i'm too lazy to write it and i love ur style the most so here it is

stiles has had a crush on you for a while but you didn't know so when isaac asked you out to somewhere like a theme park, you were ecstatic (he said you could bring others and it could be like a group thing)

and basically stiles helps you pick out an outfit and drives you there but he's in an awful mood bc he's jealous

and at the theme park as the night escalates it ends in him telling you his feelings? idk if that works but i had a dream abt it

It’s Always Been You

I hope this is what you were looking for! I hope you enjoy! Thank you for your ask! ❤️

You stood in front of the mirror, holding up two different shirts. One was a casual red tee, soft and well-worn, and the other was a black tank top that hugged your figure a little more than you were used to. Stiles sat on your bed, scrolling on his phone, but his eyes kept darting up to watch you, the crease between his brows deepening every time you glanced his way.

“I don’t know,” you said, tossing both shirts on the bed with a sigh. “I want to look nice, but not like I’m trying too hard, you know?”

Stiles glanced up, barely hiding the frown tugging at his lips. “Yeah. Totally.” He picked up the red tee and held it up, appraising it like it held all the answers. “This one. It’s… you.”

You tilted your head, studying his expression. “You think?”

He nodded, but his smile was tight, almost forced. “Yeah, it’s… comfortable. Plus, it looks good on you.”

You grinned, relieved. “Thanks, Stiles. I knew you’d help.”

You pulled on the shirt and grabbed your backpack, throwing in a few essentials before slipping on your shoes. Stiles was still quiet, his gaze glued to the floor. You brushed it off, figuring he was just tired or maybe stressed about something supernatural. It was Beacon Hills, after all.

The drive to the theme park was filled with music and chatter. You kept the conversation light, but every time you looked over at Stiles, he seemed… off. His hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tight, his jaw clenched as if he was holding back something.

“You okay?” you asked, adjusting your seatbelt as he took a turn.

He glanced at you, his expression softening for a moment before the tension returned. “Yeah, just… long day. You know how it is.”

You nodded, though it didn’t seem like the whole truth. You didn’t press him, not wanting to ruin the mood. Isaac had asked you to join him at the park, and though he’d invited others to make it less of a date and more of a group hangout, you’d been excited at the thought of spending time with him. Isaac was sweet, funny, and he always knew how to make you laugh. It was nice.

The night started well enough. You rode a few rides with Isaac, screamed your lungs out on the roller coasters, and devoured enough cotton candy to make your head spin. Stiles stuck close but kept his distance, his smiles strained and his comments laced with an edge that made you pause. He watched you and Isaac like a hawk, his eyes narrowing every time Isaac made you laugh or put his arm around you.

At one point, you caught him watching you from across the game booth where Isaac was trying (and failing) to win you a stuffed bear. The look in Stiles’ eyes was something you hadn’t seen before—a mix of sadness, frustration, and something else you couldn’t quite place. When he noticed you staring, he looked away, pretending to be engrossed in a nearby shooting game.

The night continued like this: little stolen glances, Stiles’ mood dipping lower, and your own confusion mounting. You could feel the tension simmering just below the surface, but you didn’t know how to fix it—or if you even could.

The rest of the night was a blur of lights, laughter, and a strange, growing tension between you and Stiles. Isaac was his usual charming self, winning you a small stuffed animal after several failed attempts at the shooting game. You tried to enjoy the moment, but every time you glanced at Stiles, he looked a little more distant, a little more lost.

As the night wound down, you all decided to ride the Ferris wheel, but Stiles opted out, mumbling something about feeling queasy. You watched from above as he stood alone, hands shoved deep in his pockets, staring off into the distance.

After the ride, Isaac offered to walk you to your car, but Stiles quickly interjected, saying he was heading the same way. You waved goodbye to Isaac and followed Stiles through the parking lot, his footsteps heavy and his silence deafening.

The drive home was awkward. Stiles kept his eyes fixed on the road, the usual chatter between you replaced by an uncomfortable quiet. The only sound was the low hum of the radio, playing some old rock song that Stiles usually sang along to but now barely seemed to hear.

You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, stealing glances at him every few moments. The streetlights flickered past, casting shadows across his face, highlighting the tension in his clenched jaw.

“Are you still mad?” you asked finally, breaking the silence that had stretched too long.

Stiles’ grip on the wheel tightened, and he let out a long, frustrated sigh. “I’m not mad. I’m just—” He stopped himself, his words hanging in the air. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you.” You leaned forward, trying to catch his gaze. “Talk to me, Stiles. Please.”

He pulled up in front of your house, turning off the engine but not making any move to get out. For a long moment, he just sat there, staring straight ahead, his fingers tapping an anxious rhythm on the steering wheel.

“Do you like him?” Stiles asked suddenly, his voice tight.

“Who? Isaac?” you replied, a little taken aback. “I mean, he’s kind, and charming, and funny.”

Stiles huffed, shaking his head. “That didn’t answer the question. It’s a simple yes or no.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, sensing something deeper beneath his frustration. Your own annoyance was growing at his attitude. “Why don’t you tell me why it matters so much? I asked you a question first. You answer it, and I’ll answer you.”

Stiles hesitated, his expression torn between anger and something softer, something vulnerable. His silence stretched out, and you could feel the weight of the unspoken words between you.

“You really want to know what’s bothering me?” he asked, turning to face you fully, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and vulnerability.

You nodded, heart racing. “Yeah, I do.”

“It’s you,” he said, his voice cracking. “It’s seeing you with him tonight, laughing and having fun while I’m stuck on the sidelines, pretending like it doesn’t kill me to watch.”

You blinked, the weight of his words settling in. “Stiles…”

“No, just—let me finish,” he interrupted, his voice suddenly fierce. “I’ve been in love with you for longer than I can even remember, and I’ve been too scared to say anything because I didn’t want to ruin what we have. But tonight… I couldn’t take it anymore. Watching you with Isaac, seeing how happy you were with him… it hurt. A lot.”

Your heart ached as you listened, realizing just how deeply he’d been holding all of this in. All the small moments, the lingering touches, the way he was always there when you needed him—it all suddenly made sense.

“Stiles,” you whispered, reaching out to touch his arm. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, his eyes closing briefly as he tried to hold back the emotions threatening to spill over. “I know. I didn’t want you to know. But I can’t keep pretending, not when it feels like I’m losing you.”

His confession hung heavy in the air, the raw honesty of his words leaving you breathless. You didn’t know what to say, but you knew one thing: this was Stiles, your Stiles, the boy who’d been by your side through everything, and you couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, too.

“Stiles,” you began softly, cupping his cheek with your hand. He leaned into your touch, eyes opening to meet yours, filled with a mix of fear and hope.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you asked gently.

“Because you deserve to be happy,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I didn’t want to be the one to ruin that for you.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you brushed your thumb against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin. “You’re not ruining anything. I didn’t know… but I’m glad you told me.”

His eyes searched yours, that flicker of hope growing a little brighter. “You are?”

You nodded, your smile widening. “Yeah, I am. Because it’s you, Stiles. It’s always been you.”

The relief on his face was immediate, his shoulders sagging as if a weight had been lifted. Before you could think, Stiles closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was everything—soft, urgent, and filled with all the unspoken words between you. You kissed him back without hesitation, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as if you’d been waiting for this moment just as long as he had.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless and smiling, Stiles rested his forehead against yours, his grin wide and genuine. “I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time.”

You laughed softly, your heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. “Me too.”

And as you sat there in his jeep, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s presence, you knew that whatever came next, you’d figure it out together.

Because it was always going to be you and Stiles.

[missust3l3vision]

Chess Queen Part One

Description: Arthur needed a little extra encouragement from Italian Bach to talk to his YouTube crush.

Spending the day on a rainy football field was far from what Y/n thought she would be doing right about now. Not only had it been much too early but she was also sure she'd be soaked by the time filming was over.

Y/n L/n, the newest member of the UK Youtuber World was not alike the others. Rather than pub crawls and football matches. She was known for streaming playing board games or yapping to thousands of fans. Despite being new, she was popular.

"Oh my-!" Y/n heard, her head snapping to see who had been yelling. There she saw Italian Bach, or Isaac as she been told to call him stood with a man's hand slapped across his mouth.

The two stared at eachother, her bringing up a hand to wave, only for the man to take the hand off and jog up to you, leaving a baffled man standing still.

"You're Y/n right!?" She nodded and he continued "Oh my god, your literal biggest fan is my best mate, I'll go grab him"

He ran back over, hauling with him the mam who slapped him. As he got closer you recognised him as Arthurtv, or just Arthur.

"Its Isaac and Arthur right?" She asked once they were close enough. Arthur going bright pink when she pointed at him.

"Yeah, Arthur here is again your biggest fan. He had heart eyes when you played chess the other day" he explained as his friend died next to him

"Ah, so you saw me mercilessly destroy them all" she joked, in actuality she had done decent, able to win every game. She was surprised when he answered

"You did really good!! Probably better than me," He announced. His voice a little louder than he was wanting. Isaac stood next to him, watching on like a proud dad "I play a lot of chess" he admits quieter.

"We will have to play together some time" she smiled, something that made the man short circuit. His ears going pink as he responded meekly.

"Yeah! Uhm..please" He peeped out. You were going to get his contact information when KSI called over the group to start the video.

After filming, the group all sat under a tent as the rain beat down around them. Looking up at the clouds Y/n let out a deep sigh, catching the attention of Arthur.

He was embarrassed to admit it but his eyes never left her. She had even caught him a few times.

"Are you okay?" He asked, catching her sights. She turned to him, her biting her lip

"Yeah, I'm just sort of dreading walking to the train station" she confesses, Isaac popping out of nowhere

"You're out on Berry right?" She nods "well Arthur here lives like 2 blocks away. Why don't you catch a ride with him?"

He claps his hand on Arthur's back, who nods eagerly.

"Would that really be okay? I don't want to put you out" Arthur shakes his head and hands.

"No!! It'd be no trouble at all" Arthur and you start walking out to his car, the whole time you have slightly awkward small talk.

Arthur had so many things he wanted to say to him but didn't know how.

"So, you film alot" she asks "Your film schedule is like double mine" she jokes.

"What can I say? The camera loves me" he wiggles his eyebrows. The two of you sharing a laugh.

As the buildings pass, the awkwardness passed with them. Pulling up to Y/ns address she didn't want the conversation to end. Inviting him in the two ordered dinner and spent the entire night chatting.

It felt calming and fluid, talking to Arthur she felt like herself.

"I should probably get going, George has been spamming me about not being home yet" you giggle and agree.

"I suppose I'll let you go. Can I see you again sometime?" He stutters

"I would be honoured to see you again, I'm holding you to that chess offer"

And so, the two split up. Once alone they both unaware the other was also freaking out.

One thing was for sure, they both had to practice playing chess for when they did play together. Both were determined to win.

[darlingxs-blog]

HIIII im the anon that requested the part 3 for Luka's fic!! i love the part 2 so muchh, you really highlighted his spiraling mind into thinking about reader. ALSO THE CLIFFHANGER?!?!?! pls feed us more hello mother?? and the reader just gets shot but survives??? and luka sees her dynamic with the others in the gang like dewey and isaac ? ? OMG ILL SEE MYSELF OUT 😯😯

A/N: YOU CAME BACK!! HiHi!! Okay so I kinda went a little funky with this one but you have to see the vision just stay with me

Luka ALNST x Reader

pt.3?

Tw/Cw- description of getting shot, description of pain, mention of a gun, if I forgot anything please let me know!!

Part 1 part 2

Luka's gaze shifted from Hyuna who was staring at him with a mix of shock, resentment and longing. He felt the longing too but whatever God's above him he was scared, of you.

The faint shape of you. He could see your hair, your outline in the black jacket with those neon green cuffs. You slid your hood down and took of that hat for a second and he could see it was you. But he knew, deep down. That he would recognize you anywhere.

He didn't want to admit it, you have engraved yourself in his mind, in his soul. He wanted to tear you away, protect himself from that feeling of guilt- he identified it when he locked eyes with your very first wanted poster, your second debut.

He didn't know why he was feeling like this, you were nothing to him. Just an opponent, just another enemy on the stage that he beat with his vocals alone. But you didn't let him win like that.

You just had to be there, constantly, from when you both were kids to grown performers you would linger but never talk. It infuriated him, he didn't understand you.

He saw how your body slowly turned around and when your eyes locked with his he found himself shifting his gaze back to Hyuna- back to where it should be. Why did he turn his head so fast?

Hyuna makes his heart flutter in a way he craves- he knows the difference now. You make his insides sink, Hyuna brings them back. He needs her and needs to push you away.

He needs to get closer

He takes a step forward, enough to draw the attention of one of the other members in the rebellion. The gun is pressed against the side of his forehead and it makes him stop for a moment, does he care that he is being held at gun point? No, not when his love- his everything is right there in front of him.

Luka walks on his toes, with his arms outstretched for a kiss and a hug. The finger on the trigger gets tighter.

Hyuna moves.

You move faster.

You had no idea how you could cover that gap of distance in such a short time but that didn't matter, you embraced Luka like you've dreamed of before- not for your comfort, but for his safety.

You can't even make a half turn before the bullet rips through the air and pierces you, again. You've felt this before but it's different. The flesh of your hip makes it sting a little more.

You have one passing thought before you fall

Why is it always my side?

Pain- that shit hurts. Especially when you can feel it all over and you haven't even open your eyes yet.

You take a peek and have to get adjusted to the sudden flash bang of a warm white light above your head- you swear you died under dimmed stage lights, again.

Your eyes flutter open once you get used to the lighting and you see a crowd of people around you, you try to sit up but a hand on your chest pushes you right back down. "I'm fine." You're not, but you're sure there are other people who are worse then you.

"You are the only person to get shot, the only person lying in this bed with a bandage wrapped around their waist. Lie down, and stay down." Ah, Hyuna knows you so well. Knows that you put others before yourself with the simple excuse of 'you saved me, and I'll do anything to keep you all alive.'

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It's been a few weeks. You aren't perfect, but you are in better condition. You took the first chance to get out of bed and talk with your friends again, you really missed them even when they visited you every chance you got.

Your injury still hurt but it definitely wasn't stopping you from moving at all so if you can move, you can walk.

Your feet carry you to Hyuna, who is talking with Issac and Jacob. You smile and sneak up on them. "Hey guys!" You couldn't think of anything better to say

"You're up?!" Hyuna's head snaps back behind her and she gasps with a wide smile and eyes filled with shock "You're up! You're okay- I'm glad you're feeling better" you can't help but chuckle as she goes from being so excited to nonchalant about it in the same sentence. You nod "yeah so...is there anything I can do?" You reply with your hands on your hips and your fingers tapping on your shirt.

"Tired of us already? Nah- yeah, Alien stage is over now... so we are just getting others out of Anakt Garden and getting them comfortable here. It would be a pleasure if you could help show some of them around." Hyuna answers smoothly and you nod, thankful to be able to do anything after not helping out for two whole weeks.

You wander down the halls and Hyuna didn't lie, you do spot unfamiliar faces and ask if they need any help getting around or getting comfortable. Sometimes you take the new ones on a tour, others you just lead them to the wash room. You make sure to be extra gentle with the children, you don't want to frighten them more then they already are after learning the truth.

The recovery from the failed attempt at getting the final contestants out of Alien stage hit the rebellion hard. You helped as best you could by moving boxes with a smile, reassuring others with a soft voice or a simple pat on the back or a hug if they asked but with every turn you make down the halls you can't shake the feeling of intense eyes that make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

Luka has been following you this entire time, studying every word that feel from your lips, every gesture of kind and caring and it made his stomach churn in a way that wasn't so delightful. He swore that it was your love that made you so easy to manipulate, that your love was the only reason you were gentle to someone like him. But no, you were just a caring person...

He hated it, he hated knowing that you were being kind to someone else. Because kindness is what made you stick out in his mind and what got you killed, he hated that smile. Hated your patience, hated every gentle word or glance towards a trembling figure because those were only for him,- no, that's what made you easy to manipulate. That's all, you were just a doll to him and that's it. Every feeling stemming from you deserve to be ignored and pushed down.

A/N: did this take way too long? Yes. Is this what I wanted to write? No. Is Luka incredibly OOC? Yes....BUTTT just see the vision and wait okay? I swear I'll get better at writing. and I am so sorry if this doesn't make any sense

A/N: To Anonymous- this is most definitely not what you were expecting and I'm genuinely so sorry but nothing else would like work? BUTT if you send a request again and give me one more chance I swear I will make it up to you.

[call-me-kermit]

We Weren't Together

Warning: Pack Mom Stiles(mostly Off screen), Derek is the Alpha, Everyone is Alive, Derek is Jelly, Mild Angst, Misunderstandings, Significant Background Character, Lydia is the best Meddler, Happy Ending Summary: Derek and Stiles are not a couple. Simple as that. Not really sure where I was going with this one. It might be total shit. Womp Womp. NOT PROOFREAD

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"Cheater!"

"I didn't cheat!"

"You so did! How else would you have all that money when you own two properties!" Erica flung a shoe. All Stiles could do was laugh until his ribs ached.

"Okay," Lydia sighed setting her cards down and backing from the coffee table to lean against the arm of the couch. Allison looked on unimpressed, but only because she knew Stiles cheated.

"Oh come on," Scott groaned. "This is why I never play Monopoly."

"Who's Idea was this?" Isaac threw his cards down and looked around, a scowl due for the culprit.

"Yours." Lydia supplied with an unimpressed expression and a tilt of the head.

Derek sat back with a privet smile. It had been a while since he had gotten to work bringing the old Hale house back to a livable condition. And once the majority of it was done, the pack, without being asked, began coming over every Saturday to spend time all together. He'd see individuals pop in throughout the week, but he loved when they'd all be here together.

"No," Isaac defended. "I said we have, Clue, Uno, Scategories, and Monopoly. I never said I wanted to play this one."

"The way you said 'and Monopoly', made it sound like you did." Stiles offered with a look in his eye Derek couldn't place. "And who could say no to that adorable ridiculous scarf." He teased with kissy lips and a pinch to Isaac's cheek. Isaac swatted his hand away but his cheeks went red.

"If nobody wants to play I'd rather not waste my time." Boyd piped up, the first thing he's said since he reluctantly agreed to play this.

"Okay, we wanna do a different game or a movie?" Stiles offered starting to clean up the pieces into the box.

"Movie!" Erica cheered. "Who's turn is it to pick?"

Derek, who was already up and walking into the kitchen, stopped and checked the calendar on the wall. It was a calendar bought from the vet clinic with different dogs for every month, posing in costumes related to that month's holiday. You can guess who bought it.

Thinking of a name that rhymes with Biles Bilinski.

Who took the commitment to go through the calendar and alternate the pack's names on every Saturday, to mark their turn to choose. Since nobody could ever agree.

"Erica." Derek grinned with his back to the living room while Erica and Lydia cheered, while most of the boys groaned. Whenever it was either of them, they teamed up to find a movie literally only girls would like- according to Jackson. They've been made to watch The Notebook five times, The Princess Bride three times, and 10 Things I Hate About You four times.

Derek leaving the girls behind to settle on what to torture the boys with, he pulled bowls from the cabanit and a pot. Oiling the bottom of the pot, pour in corn kernels to coat the bottom. He covered the pot and let it heat up, turning to get butter from the fridge. But a hand was already on the fridge pulling it open.

Stiles always had a smile on his face when he was at the house, just as happy to be here with everyone as Derek was. Derek watched as Stiles took out the butter opened two sticks into a bowl from the dish rack and plopped it in the microwave. While the corn began popping Stiles and Derek danced around each other in the kitchen, working in perfect synchronicity to stock the large tray with canned drinks, bottles of water, and other various snacks.

Derek eyes all the sugary garbage on the try without making a sound. He had a sweet tooth sure, but he preferred actual baked goods, not the overly processed Debbie cakes and Oreo cookies they kept in the snack cabinet. Just as he was about to settle for just popcorn and water Stiles's hand came into view as he wordlessly put a bag of homemade cookies on the tray. Sharpie scrawled out 'sourwolf' with a smiley face on it.

Derek said nothing, watching Stiles turn and ready the three big bowls for the popcorn to be sorted into. Things like this made Derek feel like a very lucky man. Stiles never even thought about it, just did things like this. Not only for Derek but for the rest of the pack as well. Always taking one extra step to make sure everyone was happy.

Derek knew when Stiles was overthinking things; his nose would scrunch up, sometimes just the slightest bit, and he'd fidget a little more than usual. Derek knew what Stiles had to think before he did something, he never stopped to think about this stuff.

Stiles was a good friend, and Derek was happy he was pack.

After getting the popcorn buttered and evenly distributed they scooped everything up and brought it to the living room. Everyone was finding their seats on the two couches and the armchair, with a movie called Clueless qued up on Netflix.

Derek set the tray down, grabbed a water bottle and his cookies, and found his stop on the end of the couch he always takes. Stiles passed out the bowls of popcorn and settled in. Derek had gotten distracted watching Scott and Isaac fuss over who gets the last can of coke. He snorted dryly and turned to look at Stiles, who always and something to say about their childlike bickering.

Except when he turned to his left, it was the body that sat next to him. Boyd wasn't even paying attention to him. Huh, odd.

Derek looked over to the other couch where Stiles was squished in between Lydia and Erica who were explaining all the reasons Stiles was gonna love this movie. Stiles was smiling at the girls and chuckling, amused at how excited Erica was.

He was confused for a moment about why he assumed it would be Stiles sitting next to him. It didn't matter though, Stiles can sit anywhere, it's not like it matters.

He thought about it while everyone quieted down and the movie started.

Derek thought about all the previous times they settled in for movie night, and from what Derek recalled, Stiles sat by him every time. Derek thought about it for a moment and found himself amused.

If he told Stiles about it he knew what Stiles would say. Something about Pavlov, and Derek subconsciously thinking Stiles would always be next to him when they watched a movie because up until now he was.

But it didn't really matter where anyone sat, Derek convinced himself. He is just as happy sitting next to Boyd as he would be next to Stiles, or anyone else for that matter.

But as the movie went on, and Erica and Lydia both started leaning more onto Stiles, laughing at the funny parts and basically snuggling together, Derek decided he didn't like it.

Something in him became unsettled when by the second half of the movie Stiles started dozing off like he did almost every movie night, his head laying on Lydia's shoulder.

If Stiles were sitting over here, his head would fall onto Derek's shoulder like it always did. Stiles would wake up after the movie was over, everyone going home, and say something along the lines of 'good flick'. To which Derek would tease him for sleeping through most of it and use the drool on his shirt as evidence.

Derek didn't have a word to describe the feeling, didn't have the slightest clue as to what caused it, because it really didn't matter. The pack is pack, he was happy to see Stiles and everyone getting along so well, being so close, but it still bugged him.

After the movie was over, everyone did their share of cleaning up, said goodnight, and was out the door. Erica and Boyd being the last to go, as soon as the door was closed and locked, Derek sighed and his smile fell. This pit in his stomach only twisted more, when Stiles only gave him a one-word goodbye and offered Lydia a ride him.

"So," Isaac awkwardly swayed a little as Derek entered the kitchen. "Are you and Stiles fighting?"

"What?" Derek paused his stride through the room to stare at him.

"Well, tonight you guys," He studdered for a bit, the awkwardness he was feeling just asking very prevalent on his face. "Seemed off tonight. I don't know."

"No," Derek shook his head. "We're fine."

"Okay," Isaac clearly didn't believe him and bound up the stairs to his room.

Derek stood there for a moment and shook it off. He stuffed the feeling down like he did with almost anything unpleasant and went to bed.

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It was 11:43 pm. It was slightly rainy and cold out. Stars and the moon shone over the preserve, eliminating the front yard.

Derek stood in the kitchen leaning against the counter, watching out the window at the driveway. Sparing a glance at the clock every few minutes.

Isaac was late. Super late. Not answering his phone, not sending a single text.

He was about to give up waiting for something, anything when a familiar jeep rolled up the long dirt road and onto the gravel driveway.

"Man," He heard Isaac's faint voice from outside. "He's still up. I'm in deep shit."

Isaac followed with dragging feet as a very amused Stiles him and Scott up the front steps.

When they entered they kicked off their shoes and joined a very disappointed-looking Derek. He stood tall with his arms crossed over his chest. The three gathered in front of him awaiting hell to rain down, except Derek didn't fail to notice the subtle grin on Stile's face.

"You're late."

"Sorry, we lost track of time." Isaac pouted like a picked puppy.

"You have a phone."

"It died." He shrugged.

"Neither of you have phones?" Derek glared at the other two.

The three looked between themselves and gave each other the "why didn't we think of that" look.

Derek sighed pitifully, "If I ask you to be home by a reasonable hour I don't think that's too much to ask. Full moons right around the corner and-" He groaned pinching the bridge of his nose. "Don't worry me like this again, " He waved the topic away.

Issac nodded shamefully and muttered an apology. The fear of being reprimanded stayed firm in his eyes and stiff body. It almost made Derek feel guilty for being upset in the first place, but he knew he had every right to worry.

"It's fine." Derek shook his head. "I just need to know where you are or at least be able to get in touch with you if something happens. I was worried Isaac, I'm not mad."

Isaac nodded, taking a breath and relaxing his shoulders.

"How was the party?" Derek didn't care really, he just wanted Isaac to feel comfortable.

"Fun, the whole team was there. We got bored when everyone else was too drunk to even talk to so we bailed and got some food and Mami's Diner." Scott smiles recalling the evening.

"Yeah, parties aren't as fun when you can't get tipsy with everyone else."

"Too bad for you guys." Stiles sighed with a goofy grin. They all took their spots at the breakfast bar.

"You didn't drink a drop tonight though." Isaac pointed out.

"And trust one of you to drive my baby?" Stiles accused as if the two were actively planning a first-degree murder in front of him. They all merely chuckled at his dramatics and moved on from that.

"Derek," Scott started with a grimace. "Can I stay the night? Moms working a double and I don't wanna wake her getting home this late."

Derek shrugged, indifferent. He'd gotten the guestrooms ready from the rest of the back. Hell, any of them could show up wanting to spend the night, with no excuse or reason, and he'd be happy to have them. It's why the rooms are there.

"Me too!" Stiles piped up. "I have no reason, just too lazy to drive I guess."

Derek chuckled a little and welcomed them both to a guest room of their choosing.

Isaac excused himself to the bathroom to shower, as Derek led Scott and Stiles up the stairs. He showed off the finished rooms and let them pick and choose. Stiles picked the one next to his room, claiming dibs because the other room had a draft.

"How much work left is there?" Stiles asked mindlessly looking down the hall at the section of the house still covered in plastic to protect the new wood flooring. Tools, wood varnishes, and cans of paint sat out in the hall.

Derek motioned him down the hall as Scott, uninterested, entered the room on the other end and settled in for bed.

Stiles followed Derek into an unfinished bedroom and took a look around. Derek flicked on the lights he'd just wired and put in the other day. The drywall was fresh and the whole room was covered in plastic, tape guarding the fixings and crown molding. The room was nearly ready to be painted and furnished.

"Just need to fix the wiring to the other room, mount the shelving, and this window," Derek strolled over and giggled the latch. "Needs to be fixed or replaced at some point. It won't open."

Stiles nodded looking around and smiling to himself.

"Other than that, it's just fixing up the back porch and the half-bath downstairs." He turned to look at Stiles. "What?"

"Nothing," Stiles shrugged, smile never fading. "I'm just happy."

"About what?" Derek asked curiously approaching Stiles like he was about to get a pie in the face.

"I don't know. Just in a good mood tonight, I guess."

When Derek was close enough he stopped, twisting his head and pouting at a smell invading his nose. Stiles almost made a kicked puppy joke until he saw that something was defiantly bothering Derek.

"What is it?"

"You smell weird."

"Well, I was just at a party with about sixty or seventy drunk teenagers, so."

"No, it's," Derek stepped closer slowly, leaning in just enough into Stiles's personal space to not make him uncomfortable but close enough to get a good whiff of the insulting aroma. "You smell like-" Derek stopped and his face dropped a little, leaning back and eyeing a very confused Stiles.

"Never mind." He shook his head and turned the lights off as he walked out. "Goodnight, Stiles." He left Stiles standing there completely bewildered.

Derek locked himself up in his room and changed into sweats before climbing into bed. All with a deep frown dragging his features down.

Stiles smelled like arousal. Like sex. But it clearly wasn't Stiles's scent.

Stiles smelled like someone else's arousal.

Derek racked his barian all night who that prick could've been. Why was that prick all riled up and close enough to rub his lasting odor on him? Was Stiles dancing with someone at the party? Did Stiles make out with someone at the party?

At that question, his mind supplied him the images of Stiles bumping and grinding with some random dude, hands on Stiles's hips, moving and swaying with him. The creep Kissing up on Stiles's neck and lips and offering to go somewhere private.

Derek turned onto his side and shoved his head in under the pillow, hiding from the thoughts as he let himself be taken by sleep.

But that night all he dreamed about was chasing some faceless vermin through the woods; hunting him like he was nothing more than a feral wild wolf, despite still being completely human in the dream.

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Danger came to Beacon Hills in the shape of Faeries.

Tiny winged spirits with a knack for trickery and mayhem. Derek wasn't sure how they ended up in Beacon Hills if they've just been migrating this way, or if someone let them loose. But people were getting hurt by their 'pranks' so they had to put a stop to it.

Tricking Faries was not an easy job in the slightest. But they managed it after a long night of chasing and fighting, finally trapping the three in silver cages and handing them over to Deaton; who swore he knew how to handle them and remove them from Beacon Hills safely.

The pack headed separate ways and most of them followed Derek back to the house. They arrived home just as the sun began to come up. Derek, still too anxious and worked up to sleep, went straight to work on the downstairs bathroom. He began preparing the grout to lay the tiles in place on the floor.

As he was checking the leveling of the pitch, he heard Stiles, "Need some help."

"Not really," Derek shrugged. It was a small bathroom, only enough room for one person to stand comfortably in between the sink and the toilet. Stiles sighed and started backing away.

Derek frowned and shook his head, not meaning to have come across as cold as he did.

"Actually, you can pass me tiles?" He offered, trying to brighten his tone. Stiles was plopped down just outside the doorway in a second. He smiled v\softly, almost unnoticeable, if it hadn't been for the fact that Derek noticed every detail about Stiles.

"You all grumpy with me for not staying behind like you said?"

"I'm not grumpy." He defended. Stiles gave him a look. "Yes." He sighed as if he was admitting to something as embarrassing as wetting the bed until you're fifteen.

Stiles chuckled, watching him work.

"You're not the only one that worries about everyone you know." Derek spared him a loot while reaching for a tile. "I know I'm human, der. You don't have to remind me that I don't heal, and I'm in more danger than most of you, but I still get this feeling that if I'm not there-"

Derek paused what he was doing to sit back and give Stiles his attention. Stiles started at him for a bit before continuing.

"I want to be there to look after you guys too. We've had close calls before, and nearly lost people. If I cared any less I'd listen to you when you tell me to stay back and out of the way, but I just have thing feeling that I need to be there in case something happens."

Derek gave him a sad smile. "And what if that something happens to you?"

Stiles frowned and lowered his head, shrugging. "If I can help, there's not really anything you can do to stop me from trying."

"Yeah," Derek nodded. "So I've learned."

Stiles chuckled and handed Derek another tile, smiling at him as he took the subtle hint the conversation had ended and turned back to laying the tiles in place. Stiles watched him intently, adoring the alpha.

"You got any plans tonight?" Stiles sighed when he was bored of the quiet.

"Back porch is fixed up, might get someone to help me put together the table, and cheers I ordered. Maybe fire up the grill?"

"That sounds fun." Stiles nodded, a look on his face like he was considering his options.

"You got a better idea?" Derek teased, because Stiles always had something to say about the activities Derek came up with.

"No, I just," He paused and thought to himself a moment. "I met this dude at the party the other night, and he texted me earlier asking if I'd be down to meet up later tonight."

Derek's heart sank a little. Oh, that prick.

"Oh," Derek nodded. He didn't wanna ask questions, he didn't wanna know. So Stiles just nodded.

"If it doesn't take too long I'll swing by after." Stiles delivered the empty promise with a grin. "Save some food for me."

Derek only nodded.

Stiles never showed.

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Derek was in a bad mood.

Everyone in the house felt it and kept to their best behavior.

He didn't scowl or glare, he didn't yell or stomp around, he just kept his head down and mouth shut.

It was a Thursday night, and his betas had come over after the Lacross game like they always did. Boyd having joined the team, came along with the other players plus Erica, after every game. Although Jackson never showed, he only made an appearance when Lydia did.

Except tonight was different. Stiles hadn't come.

Apparently, Stiles was invited by the guy he met at the party to hang out after the game. A date.

He got all this from Erica who told him with a look of pity and confusion etched into her feature. Derek said nothing, just nodded, and went on making dinner for those who did show.

After eating they settled into the living room and watched a movie Derek wasn't paying attention to. He'd been on autopilot half the night, stuck in his head wondering about where Stiles was and what he was up to.

He didn't understand why he felt sick in his gut that Stiles was out with someone else.

It just made him feel dizzy with something he didn't have a word for. Every time he pictured Stiles laughing at the guy jokes, playing footsy under the table, holding hands on the walk back to the car, kissing on his front step- his chest tightened painfully.

He knew what this disgusting feeling was now, and he felt pathetic for it.

Derek stood and without a word went up to his room and crawled into bed.

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Summer break had officially arrived and Derek was having the boys help him set up the pools in the back yard.

He hadn't seen Stiles in the past few days and it's been both wonderful and absolute agony. He was grateful to have a break from seeing Stiles's smile and shining eyes, hating knowing it was never for him. But he missed it all the same.

Either way, the space between them allowed Derek the room he needed to rebuild his walls. If Stiles was dating this other guy fine, Derek hadn't had a chance anyway. He'd very his heart and settle for just being pack.

The girls sat on the front steps far enough away from the guys on the other side to not hear their conversation. Even with super wolfy hearing.

"So, what happened?" Allison eyed the two who clearly knew more than she did. Both of them are closer to Stiles and Derek, respectively. "I was under the assumption they'd be giving us invitations to the wedding by graduation."

Erica chuckled sadly, "I don't know. But you should've seen Derek when I told him Stiles ditched us to go hang out with Markus."

"I don't know what's gotten into Stiles," Lydia grumbled, she hated being left out of the loop. "Just last month I was giving him advice on how to woo a man. Mind you, Markus was not the man I thought he'd be running off to woo."

"I don't think anyone thought that." Allison sighed.

"It's weird," Erica grumbled. "The past few days honestly feel like my parents are divorced. I only see either or, Stiles gets us on the weekends." Lydia laughed.

"How does that work?" Allison questioned.

"I don't know," The blonde shrugged leaning back on her hands. "I've never really asked. But it's all sort of instinctual. Like Derek is the alpha, he gives orders and dishes out punishments. Stiles is there to comfort our wounds and give Derek a smack upside the head if he's too hard on us."

"Instinctual?" Lydia grimaced. "Wait, like even your wolf thinks Stiles and Derek were on the road to being a thing?"

"Well," Erica sat up and frowned. "Honestly, before Stiles ran off with Merkus after the game and I told Derek about it, I thought they already were. It just made sense. Isaac said something a little while ago when I came over cause 'Mom and Dad are fighting again'. We all just kinda felt it I guess."

"Huh," Allison thought. Lydia smiled, the other two girls eyeing her suspiciously.

"What are you thinking?" Allison asked carefully.

"Oh," She smiled watching a blur jeep pull up the driveway. "Right on queue. Follow my lead ladies."

The two spared a look at each other before watching Stiles climb out of the jeep plastic bag in hand and a box-taped shut- under his arm.

"Hey, where is everyone?" Stiles eyed the house while approaching the girls.

"Outback." Erica supplied with a nod of her head.

"Surprised to see you showed up." Lydia offered, standing and going inside without giving him a chance to respond.

Allison followed without a word and Erica, slightly confused, gave him a quick look before rushing to follow. She didn't understand what Lydia's plan was but he didn't exactly wanna be left alone with him. She was not a fan of awkward situations.

Stiles stood there slightly hurt and very confused.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked following the girls into the kitchen. "What did I do now?" He busied himself unpacking the baked goods into the snack cupboard and the sunscreen he'll be needing later on the counter. He took a second to tuck the box off the side in the corner out of the way.

"It's nothing, Stiles." Lydia sighed, as though she was more hurt than anything else. The other two followed her mellow demeanor and avoided looking at Stiles.

"Okay," Stiles groans, getting a little paranoid. "So either I did something stupid and you're angry with me, or I did something really stupid and hurt your feelings?"

"Stiles," Lydia warned, lifting her hand to stop him from talking. "I don't wanna talk about it here, it's not my place."

"Heh," Stile let out a dry chuckle. "Since when is it not your place to talk about things I did to hurt you?"

"Cause you didn't exactly hurt me." Lydia put up a good front of being frustrated and emotionally exhausted.

The two were so focused on each other, that no one but Allison saw Erica's eyes widen and head start to shake as she motioned to the doorway leading out the back of the house.

"So I did do something stupid and hurt someone's feelings." Stiles nodded like he was finally getting to the bottom of it. "What happened?"

"Stiles," Lydia gave him a firm glare like it was supposed to be obvious what he did. Stiles just freaked out a bit at the knowing accusation in her tone and shrugged exasperated. "You broke things off with Derek!" She said louder than she really needed to.

Stiles blinked, obviously confused. "What?"

Erica cleared her throat, making the two look towards her and Allison who just started at something over their shoulders shifting awkwardly.

Stiles, mouth still slack with complete and utter confusion followed their gaze and looked to see Isaac and Derek standing there looking just as awkward. Well maybe, that was more Isaac.

"Um," Isaac cleared his throat daring a glance at Derek who stood completely still and stoic. "Pools ready."

Stiles looked around at each face in the room, all of them looking at him with uncertainty and then to Derek with sympathy.

"What?" Stiles asked again more exasperated. He gave everyone a look one last time before addressing the room as a whole, "There wasn't ever any breaking things off, me and Derek were never together."

"You weren't?" Issac asked completely unsure, looking to Derek for confirmation.

"Yea-" Stiles rolled his tongue along his lips and put his hands on his hips like an offended mother. "I think I'd remember being all up on that." He motioned to Derek who only raised a brow.

"Oh," Isaac nodded, still unsure. "You hen you and Markus... " He trailed off.

"Huh," Now Stiles looked really offended. "As if."

Lydia laughed at the unintended reference before she quieted herself and motioned the girls to ditch the awkward air with her. They all, as though if they moved too fast someone would be angry, stepped out into the hall and went the long way around back, through the front door.

"What is happening?" Stiles looked to the two completely bewildered as to where any of this was coming from all of a sudden.

"Um," Isaac looked to Derek who hadn't moved an inch. "I'm gonna-"

"Hold it!" Stiles raised his hand and pointed an accusatory finger at him. Isaac stopped in his attempt to back out of the room, frozen in place. "What the hell is all this drama about?"

"Um-"

"Say 'um' one more time, I'm gonna burn your scarf."

"Wh-" Isaac pouted for a moment before awkwardly shuffling between his two feet. "We kinda all thought you and Derek were, um-" He froze and dared a glance at a very unamused Stiles and an increasingly amused Derek. "Together, and you've been spending a lot of time with that Markus guy so we figured you two split-"

"That's enough." Stiles waved him away. Isaac was grateful and ran out back without a second glance.

Stiles sighed, facing Derek with a blank stare. Derek looked even more amused about all of this now that everyone was gone.

"You think this is funny?"

"I didn't realize that's the conclusion the pack came to." Was all he said.

"Well, we should probably make some things clear before the kids side with you in the divorce." Stiles scored playfully trying to hide his nervousness. He really didn't expect this to be the way he ended up addressing his and Derek's relationship.

"You think they'd take my side?" Derek raised a brow. "You're the one that spoils them."

Stiles just laughed, it's all he could do. They were standing ten feet apart, dancing around the subject.

Derek took a whiff of the air and smiled at the scent of stiles that became more and more permanent every time he came over. If it weren't for the past few days, and Isaac living here, Stiles was here the most out of everyone.

"So," Derek tried to think of the jerk's name, "Markus, you guys aren't," He made and gesture with his hands, looking away from Stiles.

"No, god no."

"Right," He nodded, "Cause when you came home from that party, you smelled like. . ."

"What?" Stiles tilted his head. He remembered being left in the dark room wondering what made Derek look so uncomfortable, and actually a little angry. He had a hard time trying to sleep cause his mind kept asking questions.

"A stranger, and sex." Derek put it bluntly. Stiles's eyes bulged out of his head and Derek almost laughed.

"What? No," Stiles recoiled in shock, not expecting him to say that.

"Then you started leaving us behind to go hand out with this guy you met at the party." Drek shrugged.

"The dude I met is not-" He stopped himself from saying the word, it sounded too absurd. "I met Markus, he was DD'ing for his friends, we got to talking. He offered to pay me to help him study. That's it!"

Derek nodded in understanding. He didn't need to hear Stile's heartbeat to tell that was the truth.

"Must have been a good amount of money for you to ditch the pack twice," Derek said, not really making it a question. Stiles chewed on his lip as Derek approached the kitchen island and leaned on it. "What?"

Stiles sighed turning to grab the box and placing it on the island and slinging it over to Derek. "The allowance I get from Dad every now and then wouldn't have been enough."

Derek stared at him for a moment before turning his attention to the box curiously and carefully opening it.

"It's just a housewarming gift," Stiles shuffled in place, looking anywhere but Derek.

Derek looked down in the box at stacks of plates and bowls, cups, all individually wrapped. Derek took a plate and gently tore it free from the plastic wrap, examining the intricate royal blue patterns along the edges, and the vibrant red and yellow flowers painted in the center. The flowers are arranged in the vague shape of a wolf, with leaves surrounding it like a nest. The dish was glossy, polished, and shinny, and smelled of somewhere old but clean. turning it over he saw painted in very neat handwriting, "The family is One of Nature's Masterpieces. Proberty of Hale, made by A. Bartosz."

Derek looked up to Stiles who started at the plat in his hands.

"Um, they're hand-painted, I went to a place out in Allens Town. A polish place. You've been using paper plates and stuff so I figured," Stile trailed briefing a look at Derek before returning his gaze to the plate. "In Poland, there's a belief that the beauty of the dish enriches the flavor of the food. You're always cooking for everyone so I thought-" Stiles cut himself off with a sigh and scratched the back of his neck.

Derek carefully set down the plate and walked around to Stiles who was still looking anywhere but him.

Next thing Stiles knew, he was warm. Really warm. Warm around his waist from Derek's arm, warm in his cheek where Derek held, warm on his lips where Derek kissed.

Stiles melted against him with a relieved sigh. It felt like he was in a dream he never wanted to wake up from. A dream the never thought would come true, no matter how many times Lydia told him to go for it.

He lifted his hands and placed them firmly on Derek's chest, one sliding further up to the base of his neck. He had no idea what he was doing, and he was fairly certain Derek knew it based on the rumble of laughter in his chest. But he followed Derek's lead and soon found a rhythm that made Stiles's knees weak.

When Derek finally pulled away, Stiles straight-up whined in protest, earning a chuckle from the alpha.

"Thank you," He smiled softly stroking Stiles's cheek with his thumb.

Stiles was giddy at the affection, smiling dreamily up at Derek. It made something in Derek stir back to life. The walls he tried to build back up the past few days crumbled down around him as Stiles pushed up into another kiss, hands coming up around his neck and into his hair. Derek hugged and his waist and pulled his impossibly closer, sighing in contentment.

"No," They heard a sudden shout, pulling apart and looking to the back door. Erica was moving away with her back to them heading back into the yard. "They're busy eating each other faces!"

"Oh, my god." Stiles groaned. Derek only chuckled turning back to Stiles and pulling him back in.

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•Kermitts Masterlist•