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#ITS NOT CHEATING IF I ANSWER IN THE TAGS RIGHT
wannab-urs · 6 hours
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The King Has Lost His Crown
Pairing: ex!Dieter Bravo x gn!Reader
Summary: Dieter shows up on your doorstep
Tags: dieter being a pathetic loser, drug mention, angst WC: 703
A/N: This is my entry for @freelancearsonist's ABBA Drabble Challenge. I could have gone smutty with this, but I went angsty instead. I may still write the smut version later idk.
Dieter Bravo Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi
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You sit down on your couch with a glass of wine, settling in for a nice evening of watching mindless TV. Your phone starts buzzing – Dieter Bravo is calling you. You’ve removed his contact, but you couldn’t ever bring yourself to block the number you know by heart. You hit the red Fuck You button and toss your phone to the side. 
Throughout an entire episode of some shitty reality show, your phone lights up with texts. You finally pick it up to read them:
Please answer the phone
Its Dieter 
I miss u
Can u call me pls?
Baby
Baby
Baby
Baby ]:
Just as you’re about to tell him to fuck off, your doorbell rings. You check the ring camera and see that he’s standing on your fucking porch. You hope LA suddenly has a cold snap and he freezes to death out there. Okay, maybe that’s a little harsh. But he could stand to lose a toe or two. 
He rings the doorbell again – starts just continuously pressing the button until the sound drives you so crazy you have to open the door. And he’s standing there looking like an abandoned puppy in his brown fuzzy coat and a pair of basketball shorts that are too long. You used to find his disheveled appearance endearing, but now it just adds to how pathetic he seems. 
“You have 10 seconds to explain where you found the audacity to show up at my house, Bravo.”
He winces at your icy tone, brow furrowing over those pretty brown eyes. He tugs a few strands of his hair, making it stick up even more.
“Baby, just let me in and I’ll explain everything.”
“No. Explain here.”
Dieter sighs, world weary, long and drawn out. You go to close the door on him, but he shoves a croc covered foot into the crack before you can get it closed. 
“Wait!”
You open the door enough to see him, but not enough to let him push his way inside the house. 
“What happened with your new girl, Dieter?” 
“She wasn’t you.”
For a second you almost believe him. Almost. But liars never change. 
“Don’t give me that bullshit. What actually happened?”
“What do you think happened?” He mutters, rolling his eyes. 
“I think you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants, as usual, and she got fed up.” 
“Yeah? Well. Maybe you’re right,” his tone shifts to something like shame, his face turning red. “Are you gonna let me in?”
“Oh absolutely not. You really think you can show up here after getting dumped for cheating on the girl you cheated on me with? Do you think I’m stupid?” 
“No,” his brow furrows even deeper. “Of course not. I just thought–”
“It must be so hard for you. All the drugs and pretty people you could ever desire and all you ever do is fuck it up. You’re a disaster. A fucking disgrace. I bet your mamá is real fuckin proud of you. Get out of my face, Dieter. Get off my porch. Go fuck someone else’s life up.”
You slam the door in his face and start crying immediately. The tears come faster than you can wipe them from your face, leaving tracks down your cheeks. 
You loved him, you really did. Maybe you still do. But you can’t put yourself through that bullshit again.  
–-
Dieter slumps down on the doorstep, not quite ready to accept defeat. He thinks you’ll come out soon, offer him a cup of tea and a snack, maybe cuddle with him on the couch. 
His life is a mess, but the one good thing he’s ever had was you. He lost you and it was completely his fault. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get over you. He needs to win you back, prove he can be a good person, a good partner. 
He leans back against the door, prepping for an uncomfortable night – sober and stuck outside. He falls asleep eventually and wakes with the sunrise. You never came out to get him. Didn’t even offer him a blanket. You are well and truly done with him, and he only has himself to blame.
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effervescentleaf · 10 months
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they never should've told me about laziness
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roseykat · 4 months
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TITLE: Play Bite
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PAIRING: Hyunjin x Jisung x female reader
SUMMARY: You, Hyunjin, and Jisung have a really fun time playing a dirty truth or dare game after the plans for everyone to go out failed. Part 1 to the 'Play' series.
WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSWF SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.
Part 1 - Play Bite Part 2 - Play Fight Part 3 - Play Right
TAGS: Hyunjin, Jisung, and reader have all consumed alcohol but are not fully drunk, smut, kissing, hickies, making out, dirty texts, dirty talk, erotic truth or dares, use of pet names such as 'bub', 'baby' and 'pretty', swearing, food play (nothing heavy), solo orgasm, female masturbation, suggestive material, very vague mentions of choking (not emphasised), slight traces of top!Jisung.
MASTERLIST
A/N: Think of this as a prelude to this hard thought I posted a while ago. If you haven't read it, it will give you some context into what will come in the future for this type of concept. Also just to preface but not give away too many spoilers, nobody is cheating in this story.
-
“Remove one piece of clothing, socks do not count,” Jisung reads aloud from the card in his hand. 
It’s the third task into the deck of dirty truth or dare at Hyunjin's apartment. After the entire group’s plan to go out for the night fell through when it started pelting down, it was in all three of your guys’ best interests to not waste the night. So, although he invited the rest of the group over for drinks, only you and Jisung decided to go around. 
An hour later into the night and already just past the point of tipsy, the three of you progressed to playing games. A set of dirty truth or dare cards was the first thing that caught Jisung’s keen eye as he analysed the plethora of games that Hyunjin had on a shelf in his living room. 
“You’re not even wearing socks, so you have no choice,” Hyunjin chuckles, almost evilly.
Jisung dons his best thinking face, eyes narrowing as he tries to come up with which item of clothing he wants to take off. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls the entire fabric up and over his head before placing it beside him, careful not to knock over his drink. 
Your eyes glue to his gorgeous bare top half for a few seconds too long before averting them to the floor like you weren’t supposed to look at him. It’s not like you’ve never seen him topless before in all of his honey toned glory. Almost always will Jisung proudly walk around half naked unprovoked when you’re around him. 
“Your turn bub,” he continued.
You clear your throat then lean over to pick a card up from the middle, then read it out loud, “oh…”
“What’s it say?” Jisung peeks his head over to see what’s written down before his jaw unhinges. “Let the person to your left select an area of your body for them to give you a hickey. Wow.”
Hyunjin, to your left, stares back at you in shock and horror. His cheeks were ballooned and full of liquid after taking a large swig of his drink before setting it down. The more silent seconds that tick by, the more flips his stomach keeps doing. But, he had to expect the unexpected with this game.
You and Jisung were ready to play by the rules and Hyunjin wasn’t going to exempt himself from it just because of the card you pulled. 
He swallows the mouthful of alcohol, “alright. Are you okay with me doing this?”
You nod even though you can feel your heart picking up its pace, “I am.”
He takes your answer and runs with it then ponders on the best place to plant a hickey on your body. It doesn’t take him long to think of a number of unspoken places where he would and even though he’s tipsy enough to disclose those areas, he decides to keep that to himself. 
“Okay, can you lie down for me then?” He asks. 
“Lie down?”
“Mm, otherwise it might be awkward to reach,” he explains vaguely. 
You start jumping to conclusions at the instant you hear his request, yet your mind is so hazy that your body just ends up listening to what Hyunjin has asked of you instead. You end up lying back on the floor, your head next to Jisung’s thigh who looks down at you while Hyunjin moves. 
His long body straddles yours but not fully putting his weight down on you. With his hand, he pulls back some of your hair so he can reach the area he wants before gently tilting your chin up and to the side towards Jisung. 
Hyunjin then sinks his face down just to the side of your throat and sucks. For a second, your body squirms at the slight achy pang that he brings to the surface of your skin. Still, with the way that your body is buzzing, it undoubtedly feels amazing. He remains there for a few seconds and uses his tongue to swipe over the surface he just marked.  
Jisung watches with his mouth ajar. He takes in the contorted look of concentration on your face, the way your eyelids flutter closed. 
It’s not long after until Hyunjin peels himself off of you then takes your hand to help you sit back up again. In hindsight, you wonder if it was all but necessary to lie down for him in order to give you a hickey. But Hyunjin’s thinking was that to reach your throat, you had to be on the ground. 
“That might’ve been-“ his face contorts with worry just looking at the fresh, deep and reddish mark. “A bit much, sorry.”
“It’s fine,” you respond, trying to act cool under the pressure. “It felt nice anyway. Okay, Hyunnie’s turn.” 
He draws another card, reading it in his mind before his eyes dart to Jisung, “make out…with the person beside you for one minute.”
“W-Which side?” You ask. 
“My left which is-“
“Me,” Jisung responds, pointing at his chest. “Alright then.”
Hyunjin stares blankly at his friend, unsure if he's joking or not, “wait, you’re…you’re serious?”
Jisung shifts his body closer to Hyunjin, his face nearing him, “that’s the game right?”
“Y-Yeah,” he replies sheepishly. “Yeah, okay then.”
“I can set a timer,” you announce.
He’s never done this before - kissed a friend, made out with a friend. For one, Hyunjin knows Jisung has done so multiple times, having been an impartial witness to it. Whether it was while Jisung was drunk, sober, high, it happened. Even with the same gender. 
“Alright,” you say, pulling out your phone as you go to the clock app to set a timer for one minute and place it on the ground. “3, 2, 1, go.”
You’re not sure who it was first that leaned in for the kiss after being so warped by the fact that they were even doing this. It was like Hyunjin offered his mouth and Jisung went for the kill. Both of them started off slowly by the time ten seconds hit. Twenty seconds in and Hyunjin’s hand comes up to the side of his friends’ face when the kiss deepens even further. 
You watch the glide of their tongues move so languidly with one another, doing unspeakable things in between your legs. Similar to Jisung’s reaction when Hyunjin gave you a hickey, your mouth was on the floor. There’s no way in hell could you ignore how hot it was to see them make out. 
After forty seconds, the pace had picked up a notch as they continued to move in sync with one another. Jisung’s hand had made it onto Hyunjin’s lap with some unintentional plan of slowly hiking up his thigh. In his mind, the more touch, the better. He already felt floaty because of the alcohol. Now Jisung touching him, kissing him, was an enhancement. 
At the mark of one minute, your phone rudely blares its alarm. Hyunjin pulls away with red lips, Jisung’s as equally as glossy as the other. They stall for a second, almost as if they briefly thought about going back at it again…
“Minho was right,” Jisung breaks the silence willingly. “You are a pretty good kisser.”
“What?” Hyunjin exclaims, his eyes almost popping out of his head. 
“What?” He whines. “He and I were trying to figure out who in the group would be the best kisser. Minho reckons you are.”
“You say that as if you’ve kissed everyone in the group to try and find that out,” You realise. 
“Well I just kissed him, so it’s everyone except for you now. Which there’s still time for since it’s my turn now,” he responds in a slightly hopeful tone and picks up his next card. “Huh, maybe not - what’s the most amount of times you’ve had sex in one day?” 
“Is that the first truth question?” Hyunjin points out, trying to subtly keep himself calm after what just went down with Jisung. 
“I think so,” you reply. “We’re nowhere near halfway through the deck.” 
“Three and a half,” Jisung answers. 
“And a half?” You and Hyunjin parrot in unison, the confusion very present in both of your tones.
“Halfway through the act, got caught, had to wrap it up and leave,” Jisung explains very succinctly. “It would’ve been four if it weren’t for fucking Seungmin. Doesn’t matter, it’s not like I’m holding a grudge or anything.”
“Sure,” you trail off, trying your best not to laugh at his misfortune while you go to pick up a card. “Uh, lend your phone to the person on your right and let them send a dirty text to someone in your contacts.”
Jisung claps excitedly, “hand it over baby!” 
You roll your eyes, reluctantly passing him your device, “anyone except my family otherwise I probably won’t live to see another day.” 
He takes your phone earnestly with a cheeky and devious expression before delving righteously into your contacts list, “don’t worry, I wouldn’t do anything like that.”
Jisung’s thumb scrolls excitedly trying to find the right person to send the right message to. He pauses over a couple of names and then finds one he thinks will give the most entertaining response. He creates a new message and types in what he wants to say.  
From You: I’m horny. Come over and fuck me.
The silence was palpable as the fate of your dignity rests in your friends’ hands. Once the message is sent, Jisung keeps your phone on standby while you all wait for the response. The sheer riskiness of the dare calls for you to pick up your drink and finish the rest off, knowing that you’re going to need it. 
“What did you write?” You ask him anyway, setting your empty glass aside. 
He looks smugly at the screen again and repeats what he created, “I’m horny, come over and fuck me.”
Your eyes widen in horror, “t-that’s not…who did you send that to!?”
“That’s a bit straightforward isn’t it?” Hyunjin laughs. 
“Doesn’t matter now, your turn, go,” Jisung nods to you.
“Fine,” you groan, snatching up a card. “How many times a day do you get off? Once, maybe twice. Done. Next, you go.” 
Hyunjin blinks in surprise at the information you so rapidly provided and leans into the circle to grab his card, “alright. Choose one person to sit in between your legs for the remainder of the game.” 
“I think considering that he and I just made out, it’s your turn to do something now,” Jisung smoothly contends his point before you could even get a word out. 
“Fair enough,” you respond coolly.
The move is practically childsplay in comparison to what they’ve done so far. Nonetheless, it quickly proved itself to be rather effective on your body. 
Hyunjin tries not to grin and spreads his legs for you to slot perfectly in between them. You’ve been this close to him before - in a hug at least. But never has Hyunjin been as acutely intimate with you as of right now. As he’s pressed up behind you, it’s hopeless to try not to be so affected by such subtlety. The warmth from his body glows like a heater onto your back and the steadiness of his breathing is comforting. 
“Sungie’s turn,” he says from behind you. 
Another card is taken from the deck and Jisung reads once more, “feed someone a food item with your mouth. Okay, but what kind of food?” 
“There’s that bowl of grapes just there on the coffee table,” Hyunjin points over to it. 
Jisung spins around on the floor and sees the assortment of snacks that they had laid out on the table earlier on. He turns back with the entire silver bowl in his lap, popping a couple of them in his mouth and eating away to his heart's content before proceeding with the dare. 
“You’re breathing heavy,” Hyunjin whispers teasingly in your ear while Jisung isn’t looking. 
“S-Shut up,” you utter back to him, trying not to act so utterly embarrassed by the truth he’s managed to highlight. 
Jisung pops in two more grapes and goes to sit beside you before talking with his mouth full, “bo’ o’ ya.”
“Huh?” Hyunjin retorts, trying to decipher what his friend is saying. 
You ponder for a second, “I think he said both of us?” 
Your guess comes up as correct because without a proper verbal answer from Jisung, his actions spoke louder. He leans towards your face first - closer than it has ever been since you’ve known him. The purple grape sits between his teeth as he goes to pass it to you by his mouth. It was awkward to manoeuvre at first, but the pair of you discovered that using your lips is key. By that point, Jisung manages to exchange the fruit as you crush down on the grape that explodes with such a sweet flavour. 
Then, he moves a bit behind you to reach Hyunjin. Both of them struggle to pass the grape without fully touching each other's lips once more. Then again, that was the point of the card that Jisung pulled. 
“Yummy?” he asks, sliding back to his original spot with the bowl. 
“Mm,” Hyunjin hums while he chews. “Sweet.” 
Half of the stuff that you’ve done so far with them makes you realise that you’re not that nervous to do these kinds of things. It could’ve been the alcohol, that definitely helps. But also because they’re two of your best friends and wherever they are, you feel safe in their proximity. 
“My turn,” you say as Jisung picks the top card off of the deck and slides it to you across the floor. “Oh - same as Sungie’s, remove a piece of clothing, socks do not count. Isn’t this just a forfeit card since it’s already been picked up?”
“No, not necessarily?” Hyunjin answers. “Plus, what if you forfeit that one and pick another one but it’s worse?”
He had a good point. It was a very mellow dare in comparison to the others you’ve all completed. With that in mind, your hands find their way down to your shorts, contemplating whether to take them off or not. Considering Jisung already has his top off, you went for the opposite in a sudden spur of confidence that was short lived when you saw the look on your friend's face. 
Jisung’s eyes couldn’t leave where your hands moved as you freed your legs from the fabric, allowing you to remain in your underwear. However, it becomes very apparent to you that taking your pants off wasn’t such a good idea when you know that you’re wet. Whether they knew it, particularly Jisung who had a full view of you, was too late. 
Behind you, Hyunjin was trying to keep himself calm as you moved around a bit, “w-who’s turn is it now?” 
Jumping onto a different topic gave time for Jisung to blink away from your body. He feels guilty for even staring at you like that in the first place. Then again, it’s not like you weren’t doing the same ever since he took his shirt off. 
“Yours actually,” you answer and without any spatial awareness whatsoever, you lean forward just a bit to pick up a card for Hyunjin that your ass slightly pushes back into his crotch in the process. 
After the fact of the matter, you realise what you’ve done. But it wasn’t intentional. You just wanted to pick up a card for him so that he didn’t have to move from behind you. As you come back to sit between his legs properly, you feel his forehead rest against the back of your head - a silent sign to prove he definitely recognised what you did to him.
Although he didn’t say anything because what was there to say to that? In hindsight, it might’ve been better forJisung to just read it out for Hyunjin. 
“H-Here,” you offer the card to him, playing it off. 
He lifts his head back up from yours and takes the item, “what is your dirtiest fantasy and why?” 
Right now if Hyunjin was able to answer honestly, he would say ‘fucking you while his best friend watches.’ But even for a filthy game that they’re playing, he thought it would be inappropriate to say. On top of that, it’s not actually his dirtiest fantasy. He could do way worse but just doesn’t know what at this point in time in his sex life. There was still time for him to explore…
“I haven’t really got one at the moment,” says Hyunjin. “I suppose just real…rough sex.” 
Jisung immediately becomes intrigued, oblivious to the fact that Hyunjin had it in him to admit such a scandalous piece of information, “what does that mean to you though?”
He becomes even more flustered under the heat of his friends’ question, it doesn’t help that he’s nearly fully hard behind you either, “it means things like…choking or hair pulling-”
“What…you like to do those things or those things being done to yo-
“Both, I like both. Anyway, that’s not the question,” Hyunjin interrupts impatiently. “Just move on.” 
It’s difficult for you not to laugh at him, yet as you go to pick up a card - more carefully this time for Hyunjin’s sake - your smile fades quicker than you could blink. Not one doubt crossed your mind about how obscene this game could get. Yet this card refuted all of that. 
“I…get…get yourself off in front of someone,” you mumble in a very quiet voice.
“Get what?” Jisung tries to reiterate. 
Hyunjin’s brows knit in concentration as he reads the card from over your shoulder, “she has to get herself in front of someone.”
An ‘o’ forms in Jisung’s mouth before he responds to that statement, “that’s a…an interesting card.” 
The three of you fall deathly silent to the weight that the dare has you under. Your mind wants you to do it, to satiate that instinctual appetite to pleasure yourself ever since the game heated up. To do so in front of your friends doesn’t appear to be a bad idea which technically it isn’t from the way they already have you unintentionally wet. That in itself said a lot.
Therefore, you spread your legs and bend your knees. 
An expression of realisation washes over Jisung, coming to grips with what’s about to unfold. As for Hyunjin, he can only sit and remain in place as a support for you to lean against when your hand slips down the front of your underwear as you begin to rub. A sigh of warm relief then pushes past your lips. The pads of your fingers collect your damp essence to use as you circle over your clit. 
Already, a hefty volume of pressure is escalating in the pit of your tummy, tingling and spreading throughout your lower half. All from being turned on by the game. The person in front of you and behind you feel the exact same way except the one behind you was already there a long time ago. Their cocks fill out against the inside of their thighs and Hyunjin is positive that you can feel him through his pants. 
“Y/N,” Jisung says. “Does that make you feel good?”
“Jisung,” Hyunjin warns him sharply, not wanting his friend to fuel the fire that’s burning. 
“Mm, y-yes,” you stutter, breath catching at the base of your throat the more you try and push yourself towards an edge. 
It could be better though. It could be the pair of them groping and teasing your body at their will. You know that they both know how to use their mouths with the way that they made out earlier on. Not to mention from the grapevine, you’ve heard about Jisung too; how he knows how to eat pussy. Then you have Hyunjin, who just exposed his fantasy of liking having rough sex. The possibilities with his ideas would be endless and fun. 
With the pair of them, you don’t think you would ever run out of orgasms. Just thinking about it makes your fingers speed up, becoming increasingly more wetter. Your muscles jerk every now and then when you inch closer to the tail end of your orgasm, which causes you to unintentionally move against Hyunjin’s crotch once more. 
“Y/N,” Hyunjin breathes out against you. 
“Don’t touch her,” Jisung snaps. “This is her dare.”
“I-I’m not fucking touching her,” he presses back madly, then mutters just to himself as he hides behind you. “Can’t help it Jisung.”
“K-Keep watching…” you plead. “So…close.” 
Hyunjin’s nails are digging deep into the carpet beneath him and his restraint not to touch you teeters dangerously on the last millimetre of a cliff. He’s throbbing, achingly hard. For you. Jisung can see his friends' knuckles turning white but he understands. He too remains hard in his sweats, which was obvious to you. Even just the slight outline that you can see indicates to you that he’s big.
Your mind starts wondering what that sort of length would do to your body, how would it feel to have inside of you? As you ask yourself those questions, you try to imagine that sensation when you start fingering yourself. 
You whimper pathetically, curling over that sweet spongy spot, “yes, feels so good. Makes me wanna cum…” 
“Yeah? Gonna cum in front of us?” Jisung eggs you on. “Gonna make yourself cum just for us?
Your dozy eyes lock with him just for a few seconds before you nod against Hyunjin’s body, “j-just for you both.” 
“F-Fuck,” Hyunjin squeezes his eyes tight shut, gritting his teeth so much that his jaw aches. 
As that familiar euphoric bliss catches up to you, a silent scream paints over your face while your eyelids clamp shut and your eyebrows are furrowed together, focusing on the pleasure. For a moment, you’ve forgotten that Hyunjin is behind you as you can’t help but shiver helplessly against his body from the waves of your orgasm. Quiet yet very audible moans ring throughout Hyunjin’s apartment, making themselves known as you gradually come down with heavy gasps. 
“Holy shit,” Jisung murmurs in awe, he can see that you’ve soaked through your underwear. 
The large wet and sticky patch makes him want to lurch forward, tear the piece of clothing from your body and taste you for himself. To have his face buried in between your legs would be the Atlantis of his own fantasy right now, to have you use his mouth and tongue until you’re cumming all over again. 
In the moments of quiet when the still air is filled with nothing but your staggered breathing and depleted whimpers as you try to collect yourself, your phone buzzes on Jisung’s thigh - the reply to the dirty text he sent from earlier on.
He looks down at the glowing bright screen and his jaw drops to the floor once more. His mind sobers quickly.
From Chan to You: Again? Still horny from this morning? Alright then, I can come over and give you what you need x
There was no way.
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neteyamsilly · 1 year
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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 3
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summary ;; Sullys stick together. You learn the hard way what happens when you don't. PART 2 | PART 4 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; descriptions of blood and violence incoming, beware! shout out to the ppl who predicted the stuff in this chapter LMAO so um... i couldnt tag everybody who asked when i said i would... there's apparently a limit to how many people you can tag. please forgive me 😭 im not taking any tagging requests anymore since i cant do it. so sorry about that,,,, seriously also, thank you so much for 1160 followers! i still cant fucking believe it... daddy issues solidarity 🤙🏻🤙🏻
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“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”
Rain covered the rustling of clothes and the click-clacks of readjusted weapons as concentrated silence hung in the air, thick and heavy like the morning mist swallowing up the forest.
No answer. 
What face could your parents be making right now? Heartbeat in your ears, you tried to hide your shame by looking down, but a jerk on your queue set you straight. the avatar holding you digging his gun sharper in your neck.    
“What, cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” The leader’s stare found yours. “Let me give you a quick remedy.” 
They’d linked your device into another for the sound to be relayed outside and the voice detection range could be wider, in other words, they wanted your father to hear what was happening to you. Your braid was yanked as if the one pulling it wanted to snap it right off your skull, no amount of training could stop the scream torn out of you — all the show just for him. 
The line was deadly still, save for some rustling, crackling static that you could have easily mistaken for hissing.
A ghost of a smile shadowed the man’s face, he extended his rifle to tip your chin up. “Guess we’re gonna have to be louder than that to wake daddy up sweetheart.” 
“Stop!” Father yelled, the unexpected timing of it made you jump. That earned him a group chuckle from the avatars around you. “Stop.”
He talked. He didn’t leave you to fend for yourself in this. Thank Eywa!
“That was fast,” the captor behind you said. 
“Thought you’d have forgotten English by now, playing native.”
“...Quaritch?” 
Quaritch. That awful, awful man from the stories your mother killed? Spider’s father? But… But he was dead. How could sky people know how to cheat death?
“In the flesh.” 
Father’s voice wavered, you’d think he was scared if you didn’t know any better. “That’s impossible.”
“Back from the grave just for you, Jake.”
“Then I’ll just have to put you right back where you belong.”
The squad of avatars openly laughed at that, boisterous, confident, arrogant. 
This was Toruk Makto they were openly mocking. None of them would last for one minute in front of him and yet—
“Quite the teary lovers reunion we’re havin’ here, but you got busy while I was gone, huh?” He looked down at you again, yellow eyes filled with mirth. “I have this tiny bird here we plucked right out of the air. Imagine my surprise to learn she’s yours. Is this the only one, or you got yourself a litter now?”
Silence again. 
“What do you want?”
“Straight to the point as always.” The smug smile momentarily twitched into an unamused, withheld resentment. This man was nearing the end of his capacity to keep taunting. “I don’t think I’ll tell yet. You know I love to be a tease.”
Your ears rotated upwards in treacherous hope at your father's next words. “If you touch one hair on my daughter’s head I swear to god—”
“You exchanged your god for this shithole, Jake. Let’s not kid ourselves now.” Any hint of playing around was gone, now, eyes fixated on something on the ground ahead. “Your daughter will be my guest for a while. Think of it as summer vacation. Don’t worry, unlike the Na’vi, we’re very hospitable.” His thumb brushed over a button. “Until next time.”
“Fucking bastard—”
With one beep, the call was over. Quaritch was touching the band around his neck this time. “Iron Sky, Blue on Actual. We are standing by for extract, over.” 
You began to tussle against the avatar behind your back. “No! No! Let me go!” 
“Be advised. We're bringing in a high value prisoner.”
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“Dad’s really gonna flay her alive this time, I can’t wait.” Lo’ak, positioned just behind the flap of the tent to not be seen from the outside as he peeked with one eyeball just in case, was watching his parents vehemently yell at each other in whispers that started out loud, but got hushed probably to not reach him and his siblings. Aggressive limb gestures were flying in the air, and at one point, his mom had tried to run off somewhere and was forcefully stopped. 
Dad was currently pacing around like a wild animal with one hand permanently stuck rubbing his face, and mom turned away from him, holding her forehead. “They’re really going at it, huh?
Kiri was not amused with his insistence to breach their privacy. “What’s so interesting about watching this kind of thing?”
“Catharsis?” He remarked in English, feeling sophisticated. “You remember Spider talking about it? Purification and emotional cleansing through relief that you’re not going through the horrible tragedy, the character on stage is.” 
“You’re normally so dumb.” Lo’ak bore his fangs at her matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Your brain only comes back on when it’s about chaos.”
“I’m petty, and what about it?” A tilt of his head to dare Kiri to ask for her point, then his attention was thwarted by an incomprehensible cry from his mother. She was pushing dad from his arms, furious like Lo’ak had never seen before as the upset man tried to hold her more. “Look at mom and dad breathing fire at each other! You think they’re discussing how to punish her?”
“Stop spying already skxawng, mom will be angry if she sees you. We’re supposed to be in bed.”
“Shut up, I’m trying to listen here!” His ears were tilting at every angle to make out any words that reached to him as nothing but a cluster of broken sounds. “Why did they have to go far?” 
“Because they wanted to be away from peeping toms like you?”
“And you’re still here too, so?” Lo’ak gave his sister a meaningful look. “I know you wanna see too.”
“Ugh!” Kiri shoved out her tongue at him, eyes dead. “And it’s not funny, by the way! They are fighting. Stop being happy about it.”
He knew they were fighting about his older sister, and that she’d get all the heat and fallout from it the moment she was back. Lo’ak’s head was full of what he could get out of it, or what to ask her for in return for helping her out in her detention. So satisfying to be the sibling who wasn’t in trouble. He should do it more, actually. “It is funny when it’s not about me.” 
“You’re sick for taking joy in another’s suffering.”
“Oh, I’m doomed, then.” Kiri took whatever fat was on his thin arm between her thumb and forefinger, and twisted. Lo’ak had to blink away the tears that rushed to his eyes, snatching his limb away from the displeased girl and pushing her away in return — he was annoyed at how much that hurt, why was that so damaging for no reason? “Yeouch! What the hell?”
“Will it kill you to practice mindfulness once in a while?” 
He raised his voice’s pitch to mock the wobbly, ear-scratching whine of yours, and exaggerated his body movements to match, too. “I hate you!”  
“Gross.” She tried to shove him, he caught her hands in the air, pushing her back and getting the spiteful annoyance of his sister as a result. “Dad was actually hurt by that.” Lo’ak’s eyes could roll down the hills by themselves the way that sounded, but Kiri, as always, was bothered so inexplicably. “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling.”
That bad feeling was the herald of dad’s upcoming cranky ill-temper and what would follow after you inevitably had to come crawling back home with tail between your legs, Neteyam dragging you from the scruff of your neck. Lo’ak was refusing to sleep so he could enjoy the fight. 
“Me personally, am over the moon, ikran duty is so gonna be off my hands. For months.” He halted at the idea that just went off in his head, tail swishing with the hype. “I wanna tell Spider. I’ll go get him.”
“Absolutely not. You sneak off now and they’ll laser-focus all the anger on you!” Kiri was pointing a warning hand at him, but slowly lowered it, one corner of her mouth twitching up. She was holding back amusement. “Hey, you know what? Nevermind, you can go. I want you to go. I have to see this.”
“Ha-ha.” Lo’ak’s tail stuttered, losing enthusiasm. “Attempted murder, much?”
“Guys, what’s going on…”
Upon the unexpected voice that wobbled its way into their conversation, they both looked down to see Tuk gripping her weaved blanket with one hand and dragging it on the floor as she made her way to them, the other rubbing her eyes one by one so sleep dripping from them would fly away.
“See, you woke her up! What do we do now?”
“You woke her up by yelling, why is it my fault now?”
“I didn’t, you—”
“Did too.”
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“Did n—”
“Guys…” Tuk pulled on Kiri’s hand, and the foreign object she was clutching the whole time distracted Lo’ak. It must have dug into the older one’s skin that she carefully picked it up to inspect. The ear pieces they took off before they went to sleep. This one was Kiri’s.  “Neteyam’s calling. You didn’t hear…”
Grinning, Lo’ak snatched it up and skipped backwards and put it in his own ear, ignoring Kiri’s hushed yells to give it back now and the groans about ruining it with his stinky, cheesy earwax. He had to keep bouncing around, the girl was chasing him around the tent. “Bro! Tell her she’s sooo dead. Dad’s literally keeping guard in front of the tent—”
“Lo’ak, quit it.” Neteyam’s tremulous answer was harsh. Lo’ak’s smile wavered as he dodged Kiri’s arm and jumped over discarded cups on the floor, knocking over wooden spoons. “I need you to tell me what’s happening over there.”
“Aw, baby’s so scared to come back she needs to make a game plan first?” He laughed, slapping Kiri’s hands away. “I’ll only tell if she gives back my karambit knife.”
His older brother sighed, a bit too exasperated. 
“Yeah, I’m not letting that one go and I’m also making it your problem—”
“Lo’ak, she isn’t here.”
He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”
“She isn’t here. I couldn’t find her.” Kiri bumped into him, unable to stop herself at the right time to hit the brakes due to how abruptly Lo’ak had stilled. They’d almost tumbled over. “Dad told me to wait until he contacts her and I’ve been waiting for minutes. Now tell me what’s going on over there.”
“Bro, you’re serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I be serious, skxawng!” 
He turned to Kiri in disgusted discomfort, who had damn-near glued her own ear to his to hear better. “Forget months, I’ll be free for years. Dad’s not gonna let her take one step off the camp anymore.”
The girl would stomp her foot if she was a couple years younger. “What’s this about?”
And Neteyam would shake Lo’ak from the neck for ignoring him this long while he was fussing. “Tell me already you—!”
“They’re having a fight bro.” He leaned better to peep outside the tent. “Yeah.”
“She came back? Why didn’t you tell me?”
It was uncommon for Neteyam to completely disregard the previous input he’d been given. Lo’ak didn’t understand this level of anxiety. “Are you having a brain fart? Would we be having this conversation if she was here? It’s mom and dad who are fighting.”
It wasn’t that serious — on the contrary, his sister was quite simple to understand. She didn’t want to be found and had changed her place of hiding. End of story. The golden boy’s worrywart nature was keeping him from reasoning. 
“Don’t be a smartass.” Lo’ak practically felt Neteyam’s want to land a loud smack on his back. “Were they only able to reach her, then? Is that why they’re fighting?”
“You’re asking me?—”
The older boy began to grumble under his breath. “This is why I called Kiri.”
Said girl’s ears perked up over picking her name from the static-surrounded line. Lo’ak snorted. “Ouch, bro.”
Kiri shook him from the elbow. “Me? What about me?”
“Great title for your autobiography.”
Kiri raised her arms to give him a beating and Lo’ak was already bolting away from anywhere near her vicinity. The siblings didn’t even take notice of the line with Neteyam going dark as they focused on their own play-scuffle for a while. 
Until Lo’ak bumped into someone.
It wasn’t Tuk. 
Shoulders pulled into himself, he turned around torturously freaked out to find dad standing there like a ghost, his tactical vest packed to the brim and gun hanging from his back the way they wore their bows. 
The blue of his skin had faded into an ashier tone, amber eyes wide and bloodshot, the veins on the normally put together Olo’eyktan’s forehead were bulging, even a socially clueless person would pick up something was seriously wrong. He commanded cold authority of the battlefield simply by the way he stood, immediately triggering Lo’ak into soldier mode.  
He took a few steps back, chin hanging low at the lightless, unblinking stare his father pushed down on him. “Sir.”
All the sleepiness that had Tuk unresponsive and nodding off through Lo’ak and Kiri’s push-and-pull was knocked out of her at the sight, she was now unnerved and frightened. “Dad?”
The man’s intensity was somehow eased by his youngest’s reaction, but he held back from taking her in his arms like he normally would to comfort her, didn’t even care to remark on how they were supposed to be sleeping — how they’d woken their little sister up, instead focusing on Lo’ak. “I want you all to listen well. Your mother and I are heading out for a minute and your grandmother will be with you soon — Neteyam is Oscar-Mike to come back here. Stay put and don’t go anywhere, understand?” His finger pointed accusingly at him. “Don’t cause trouble. Looking at you boy, what I’m saying here is Marine proof. I’m at the end of my wits here, don’t even think about slipping a tail out of this tent.” 
The potent severity of whatever the hell was making him this agitated to the point of a voice so hoarse it was unrecognizable got the wheels in Lo’ak’s head whirring. “What’s happening, dad?”
“One child!” The thundering shout came down on him with the force of a falling mountain, making Lo’ak jump out of his skin. “I need one child of mine to listen to me without asking any questions today!” Dad’s voice broke when Tuk whined, he shut his eyes as if he was in physical pain, and flexed his jaw, shaking his head and pulling the girl in from her shoulders to soothe her. Still no direct hugging. “Jesus Christ.”
“I’m sorry sir,” Lo’ak said immediately, distraught by the over-the-top reaction, hands unknowingly curling into fists by his sides. Whenever that sky people word ‘Jesus’ slipped from dad not having any control between the border of his two languages, the boy knew it was demanding gravitas. “I heard you CFB.”
“Good.” He thinned his lips. “Kiri, please.”
Lo’ak frowned at dad basically asking for her to play her brother’s keeper in Neteyam’s absence in two simple words.
She nodded. “I know dad.”
He caught a glimpse of his mother running in the distance, her father’s bow in her hand. 
Just what was happening? What had you done? 
Eywa, it had to be sky people. 
Dad saw the realization in his face. “Stay,” he emphasized, one final time before he was also gone with the wind. 
Lo’ak wouldn’t have obeyed if it wasn’t for his grandmother arriving just in time, keeping them busy with a story about the arrival of a wounded ikran with no rider.
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You realized the gunshot wound puncturing your upper abdomen was there the whole time when the avatars put first aid and later slapped a rectangular sky people bandage on it that helped clotting or whatever it was called, the pain simply not being there had played a big factor in it with the body running on pure adrenaline. 
(Crouching close to you, Quaritch had bragged, “We aren’t so bad after all, huh, sweetheart? It’s called civilization. Your daddy ever taught you about that?”
Civilization, your ass. They needed you. There was nothing well-meaning about what they were doing.
And the nickname had ticked you off, sullying the good memories of father, your head slammed into his nose in full power after a hiss.
“Now my daddy taught me that!” you spat in English as other avatars had tackled you. The man claiming to be Quaritch was smiling as he wiped away the blood trickling down his nose.
What was the point in trying to patch you up if they were going to do this, then?)
You were now a part of an elaborate trap to lure your father in. Bait. The worst position to be in. This was the kind of trouble Lo’ak would get himself in. It was too late to go back now, the mess you’d gotten yourself into had made itself known. 
Think, think! How could you get out of this?
Within the unsleeping forest’s nightly noises chirping all around you, a specific call in the air halted your train of thought. 
It was mom. 
Your parents were here. But how? How did they know where you were, exactly? Dread and expectation pooled in your heart, coexisting in a nauseating mix. 
Father must be thinking that you already caused so much trouble, they couldn’t know you were also hurt, you’d never hear the end of it.
But there was no time to think, the pain you should have been feeling was ebbing its way into your body, and she was calling in the night to inform you to get ready.
All hell broke loose when the man who held you tight from your queue was shot right from the back of his head with an arrow, collapsing right on top of you. 
You couldn’t get away in time to not be crushed by his dead body and promptly got squished between the mossy soil and him, his gun was hurting you, the wound on your stomach getting in the way of you using your core to push the body off. 
How many minutes had passed with you struggling to get him off as a hurricane of bullets roared, you didn’t know (it hurt, pain was climbing towards the threshold) — mom was able to break free from the weight of a whole AMP suit, as you’d heard as a child, a Na’vi was naturally strong, but you couldn’t even crawl out. Panic was a rope tightening around your ribcage as your breathing picked up
All of a sudden, the weight was gone, and the only remaining thing from it was the big gun left from the avatar you found yourself hugging for dear life, eyes wide as saucers. Before you could see whoever had done that, you got hoisted up right back on your feet and tried to run, only to be held tighter and pulled behind the trunk of a tree.
“Hey, it’s me, it’s me!” Clumsy, overwrought hands were cupping your cheeks and — and oh, it was your father. 
You didn’t know whether to be afraid or cry from happiness.
Once he was sure you registered it was him by staring intently in your eyes with that edge of the softness you’d missed so much, his hold shifted to your neck and around your shoulders, and he gave you a look-over, checking for any wounds. Too bad what he was searching for was behind the gun you were holding. “Are you hurt?” He shook you when you were too stunned to answer. “Are you hurt at all?”
“No,” you shook your head automatically, it was weak against the explosions of bullets raining down all around you, but father had picked it up regardless, only focusing on you for the moment.
In the darkness, nobody could see the blood running down your body, that bandage had come out at one point. 
“On my mark, we’re gonna run, okay?” He nodded to you, tomahawk axe in hand coated in a dark substance, commanding your full attention. “Follow me. Ready? Ready?”
You weren’t ready at all, stomach feeling like it was being stabbed at every heartbeat, but you couldn’t tell him that. 
Instead, you ran like hell, moored by father’s taut clutch on your forearm pulling you forward to match his incredible speed dodging roots, bushes and branches. 
Things stopped moving only when you were enveloped in mom’s embrace, consciousness almost flying off from the relief that washed over you. Kisses were peppered along your hairline and forehead, her mumbling your name in gratitude blending with your panting. Tears burned bitter in your eyes, but you couldn’t cry, not when father was looking at you like that, chest rising and falling. You instantaneously remembered why you were holding that gun at the intensity he was radiating, tail escaping between your legs and letting mom hold you. 
At least this way he wasn’t able to objurgate you.  
Over her shoulder, you saw three ikrans instead of two. Heart soaring, you were skipping towards him in pure astonishment in a heartbeat. “Hey buddy!”  
His head lowered down towards you in bird-like movements. In this angle, it looked like he was giving you a razor sharp-toothed big grin. 
“He brought us here,” your mother said. The hand you were going to pet the ikran with stopped midway at her dejected tone. “You have passed Iknimaya, I take it. On your own.”
You didn’t know what to say, feeling immense guilt at having made her this disappointed over it. If this was any normal situation, any normal fight at all, you would have shot back with, ‘Well father told me to do it.’
But you were tired. 
Your pain threshold was being threatened, and you needed to get to your grandmother before any of your parents saw the situation you were in and this escalated into the worst fight you were going to get into in your entire life. 
Father’s only response was a dead cold, “C’mon, we gotta get outta here.”
He didn’t talk to you after that. Not one word. 
Squatting on an ikran’s back on a flight with an abdominal gunshot wound you were trying to hide was not an option unless you wanted to pass out midair and was looking for a free dive, so you were all but hugging the poor thing’s neck like a monkey, trusting him to follow your parents while you concentrated on mentally fighting to level out the pain. 
Nonsensical as it was to believe the gun stuck between your ikran’s neck and your stomach was acting as a tampon to lessen the bleeding, you were concerned with how dumb it must have looked to father and mom, how incompetent they must think of you that their daughter didn’t even know how to ride right. 
Got an ikran for nothing. 
Would they be less proud of you seeing how funny it appeared, nevermind that it was to contain your pain all the while not trying to faint?
But no words were exchanged about it. 
Father clamping up right after he’d made sure you weren’t hurt (yikes) had resulted in this awkward trip succumbing in total silence. They had sandwiched you between them, only necessary space for the ikrans to beat their wings freely left, so close that you could discern the scariest look on father yet, deepening the lines of age in his face while simultaneously expressing his barely contained desire to kill someone. 
A ticking time bomb. 
Forget speaking at all, but not only did he never address you until now, he didn’t even look in your direction for once. You knew because staring at him for five minutes straight for him to just acknowledge your existence had proven to be unfruitful. 
And the tears involuntarily streamed down your cheeks with how utterly worthless and alone that made you feel, trapped in this agony you couldn’t help but hide because he’d think you didn’t deserve to complain after bringing it upon yourself. You would rather bite your tongue and bear the pain than stay dreading his reaction. 
Yeah, no, he couldn’t know. 
Mom was looking over at you every one minute to make sure you were okay after her ears picked up on your sniffles, arrows of worry shot from her side sinking down your skin every single time, and you hated to make her this way. 
Your ikran kept comforting you through tsaheylu until you landed.
Father had promptly jumped down, agile and making haste away somewhere, passing you by and giving the cold shoulder. You all but slid off your own ikran, managing to make the gun stay where it should be, as you couldn’t help but weakly call out to him for one drop of consolation. “Father…”
He didn’t stop for you, quickening his steps, but his ears twitched, the tail beating the air ferociously halting and lowering before it returned to the previous motions, and those were the only indications that he’d heard it Lima Charlie.
The man just didn’t want to talk to you.    
And you had to make yourself believe it wasn’t the emotional devastation that had you falling down, but the wound sucking out all your energy now that you had gotten to safety. 
“Ma’ite?” Mom rushed to you. “Ma’ite, what’s wrong? What is it?”
“I’m okay, mom, it’s okay.” You were sitting on the floor, cross-legged. Thank goodness you still had the unbreakable willpower (and not the fear of Eywa put into you by father) to hold your shit together. “I’m okay. Just tired. My knees buckled. Weak, you know?” You swallowed, smiling. “I’m just… Just resting.”
Her gaze full of concern studied you, zeroing in on the gun you clung on for dear life against your stomach. Her hands lovingly brushed your hair, gripped your shoulders and elbows even though you were disgustingly clammy all over. It was grounding, anchoring within the ocean of pain washing over you in waves. 
“Oh, why are you sweating so much? You’re freezing.” You clutched the gun harder in a panic when she grasped it, most likely to put it away. It was the wrong reaction to have, but you weren’t exactly in the position to function healthily. 
Mom, as any other person would, got suspicious from it, her eyes flying up to your owlish ones — blanked out like a frightened animal. “You’re fine now,” she whispered, thankfully attributing it to how disturbed you must be, still not out of survival mode. “You are safe, my daughter. Mom is here.” She cupped your cheek, but every touch to your body hurt now, even when it was away from the gaping wound, still gushing blood, trickling down your hips and getting you scared that it’d be discovered once you stood up. “I’m here.” She searched your soul to know just why you were grimacing at her attempts of comforting. “I will take this now, you do not need it anymore.”
You snapped out of the gradually darkening gray haze mom’s lulling was laying you down gingerly into. “No, please don’t,” your breathing hitched. She was going to see. She couldn’t see. You had to avoid this somehow, as long as you could. Grandmother’s tent. You would make it, you had to.  “I’ll… I’ll just sit here for a while, okay? I need to just… take a small break, and then I’ll… Can you go back? I’ll follow later. Father is angry, I don’t—”
“Nonsense.” Incredulous and enraged suddenly about something you couldn’t put a finger on, and before you could stop her, she tried to haul you up with her by gripping your upper arms — colors exploded behind your eyelids, getting you you to lose consciousness for two seconds, your vision flooding back in a starry kaleidoscope. When mom’s voice reached your ears, it was in staccato exclaims your ears were ringing too much to discern. She was shaking you. 
You weren’t able to sit up straight anymore, leaning forward — mom had caught you, utterly confused and panicked at the same time. And then your head was lying on the crook of her elbow resting on her legs she’d tucked under herself. The moment you’d switched from sitting to straight up lying down was missing from your memories. 
A baby being cradled. Yes, this is exactly what it was like. Gentle arms surrounded you amidst the pulsating sea of agony. 
Your body was letting go, but your arms were vices around the gun, still holding that last line. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. They can’t know. Father will be so mad if he learns. “‘m okay… ‘st restin’…”
When your eyes cleared enough for the surroundings to be only a bit blurry, your mom was looking at the hand she’d just tried to take away the gun with, caked with your blood that had stained it, out of it and perplexed like she didn’t want to believe it. 
Her gut-wrenchingly stunned numbness sent the misery clawing its way inside into overdrive, pulling your consciousness down to the earth from the clouds it was ascending to. “Not mine,” you forced out, but it came out as begging. Everything was falling apart. The plan was so simple, why couldn’t you do anything right? “Not mine. Please. Mom, it’s okay.” 
“No…” Mumbling, she started sharply swaying back and forth, and with one brutally vigorous attack, she ripped the gun away from your arms, and hurled it away — then it was over. Your sob wasn’t due to the motion hurting you, it was all entirely for the broken wail of your mother at seeing the bloodied mess, tears spilling from her eyes as she reached down to press down at the pouring liquid. “No! No! Oh Great Mother! Why did you hide this! Oh, my daughter!” 
“No, mom, I’m fine, it’s nothing. Not my blood. Not my blood, okay?” You reached up weakly and wiped at her cheeks with trembling fingers, your heart got crushed worse than the pain could beat you down at her grief — lungs constricting. Where was all the air?  “I’ll get up. I’ll go to grandmother, don’t cry. Just resting.”
Frantically looking around, she yelled, “Jake!—” but her voice didn’t quite come out, breathy as if she’d been punched in the ribcage seconds prior.
A heartbeat’s worth of nothingness, after which you were full-on freaking out. Only one thought: Father will be angry. 
“No!” You shrieked, and blood swelled in one strong pump against mom’s fingers. She looked down at you in anguish, pupils blown wide, arm tightening around you as if you were a flailing bird. “Don’t tell him! Don’t tell father! He’ll really kill me for this—”
“No, no no no,” she shook her head, frenzied, tone cracked from beginning to end. “Do not say that. Don’t you ever say that—”
But you were struggling in her arms, wanting nothing but to crawl away into a hole, no reason registering whatsoever, only instinct. “He’ll be so angry,” you begged, pleading, pink spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth. The sound of gurgling accompanying the words you forced your whole body to form. “You can’t tell him — you can’t! He already hates me!”
The more you thrashed around and kicked your legs, the more you bled.
“Please, Great Mother!” The more mom lost her mind, hissing and howling hysterically, crazed, hugging you tighter and rocking. “Jake! Jake! Ma’Jake!” She put her temple against yours. “Not my daughter, please, Eywa…”
Why was she being like this? It wasn’t that serious! You were okay!
Delirium claimed you hot as she kept calling his name and her unbreakable hold on you kept you in a cage of a mother’s despair. In your feverish mind, a threat to your life was coming. Weakness spread like wildfire around your body and chipped away at the pain, slowly picking it apart to replace it with drowsiness. “Don’t call ‘im,” you continued to repeat, over and over again. “I’m just taking a break. Don’t call him over. He’s gonna be angry. He’ll hate me. He hates me. Please, mom.”
The sentences slurred together, shortened, wilted away pitifully, your voice died down, tongue deteriorating into only echoing, “He hates me.” A withered away, old flute. 
Your ikran was bellowing in the distance and you looked. The torches on cave walls were illuminating him and finally revealing to you his beautiful color scheme.    
And then your father was here, falling to his knees right beside you, his glistening wide eyes flying everywhere around your body — tracing all the blood, hands hovering above you as if he didn’t know where to start piecing a shattered vase back together.   
It was over.
Fully expecting the chastising you were about to receive to shake the floating mountains so bad the enemy would be able to spot you, you began to apologize — pride be damned, this battle be lost, you’d failed anyway. “Please don’t be mad,” you shuddered, meek and unsteady, tunnel vision flickering at the edges only perceiving him. “It’s my fault—I’m sorry—please don’t be angry—”
“Stop talking,” he ordered, rough and harsh, eyebrows knitted tightly, and out of breath — probably because of how hard he was trying to hold the anger back. You knew. That had to be it. “Don’t speak.”
Ah of course. This was only natural when he had refused to utter a single word at you the whole way, denying you the temporary comfort of a simple glance. 
Even the hand he pressed down so ruthlessly firm on your stomach it might as well be a boulder pinning you down was meant to be punishment, the whines your unbreathing lungs couldn’t stop turned into yowls — you hadn’t even noticed your hands were wrapped around father’s wrist in an effort to push him away, scratching him, but he only added his other hand on top of the other in return.
“Hang on, sweetheart, I got you, please hang on a little longer,” he pleaded, but you were already too far gone, Eywa was cruel to have plugged your ears to the endearment you’d been dying to hear from him for so long, making the last things you were aware father said to you the fact that he didn’t even want to hear you talking. 
And you fulfilled his wish. 
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nereidprinc3ss · 1 month
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okay i know this is kind of a specific request but can you do something with professor Spence and uni reader where they get into a spat and argue bc she did something stupid and he gets mad and she’s like “noooo pls don’t be mad i hate when you’re mad at me I’m sorry🥺” bc she literally cannot function knowing she let him down (me with everybody) but he’s like super stubborn and goes all closed up and quiet so that he doesn’t like blow up on her until she finally says like “pls talk to me” and he’s all pissed and like “hell na bitch u crazy!🗣️‼️” but then later he’s like “it’s ok i love u but neva do that shit again ho” then they make up and it’s good again 🎀 ok i explained that so poorly (and comedically if i may) but i hope u get it and pls make it SO DRAMATIC bc I live for drama! like she steals test answers or something or does something that could like get her kicked out of school OR him lose his job 🤔 sigh … idk I’m leaving now. Also i LOOPOOOCE ORRKGOOVI love your fics. Luv em
hey girl (gender neutral) this made me laugh bc genuinely sometimes i write spencer so ooc that is what he sounds like. and i'm not sorry! anyway this is potentially a vyvanse fueled nightmare but i wrote it and i'm posting it MY BLOG MY RULES BITCHESSSS!!!! but genuinely read the content warning LMAO this one got a lil kick to it
warnings/tags: ANGST, HURT/COMFORT, fem!reader, spencer and r get into a for real argument like they're mean to each other, spencer is a lil toxic but its resolved, emotionally neglects reader just for a teeensy second but then he's really nice and sweet again, discussion of his past addic+ion, gets fluffy because i'm not EVIL, gets suggestive at the end bc i am secretly evil.......
a/n: i don't know whats happening. this confuses me just as much as it confuses you. its 3 am in the morning. im gonna post nice happy things soon. Gootbye
“I cannot believe you right now. I don’t even—I don’t even know what to say.” 
“Spencer, you don’t have to say anything. It has nothing to do with you, and I’m not looking for your approval.” 
He looks up from where he’d been rubbing his temples, like you’re a headache, eyebrows raised and lips parted in indignant disbelief. 
“Oh! You’re not looking for my approval? Well thank god for that, because if you were one of my students I would recommend expulsion to the board.” 
“Are you fucking kidding me? I just said I don’t care about your opinion on this, much less your hypothetical opinion from some alternate universe where you have any authority over my education whatsoever.” 
“You distributed an answer key to half of your class! Objectively this is the kind of thing that gets people expelled. I don’t understand how someone so smart could do something so fucking stupid.” 
The words bite more than you were prepared for—but what hurts even more is how much he seems to mean them. In arguments past you’d both said things you didn’t mean, and then would immediately melt into I’m so sorry’s and the fight would resolve itself. Spencer’s clenched jaw and inability to make eye contact with you do not lend themselves to tender apologies. They cannot be attributed to miscommunication. 
You take a step closer to where he’s bracing himself against the countertop, arms crossed defensively in front of your chest. 
“Spencer, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was such a big deal. People cheat in college all the time.” 
Still no reply. His head shakes so minutely you wonder if you’re imagining it. Panic wells in your chest. 
“Please talk to me. I really hate when you ice me out. I’m sorry, okay? Just... please say something.” 
Finally, his eyes slide to you. They lack the fiery anger of moments ago but there’s not much softness there either. His normally warm gaze now feels too abrasive, too cold and sharp on your bare skin. You're exposed, much too soft for that grating look, and it feels like he can see everything that’s wrong with you. 
“Believe me when I tell you this. I am doing us both a favor by not speaking to you right now.” 
And then he’s leaving the kitchen—nothing but a breeze against your cheek and the sound of a door slamming to prove he was ever there. 
The apartment is silent. You stand in the middle of the kitchen, unsure of what to do next. Spencer very, very rarely gets angry at you to the point of neglect, and you know he’s doing his best with what was modelled for him as a child and his tendency to feel things so deeply it’s nearly disabling; but that doesn’t make it hurt much less. It doesn’t make you feel less abandoned or alone.  
You’re sad, and you’re still pissed, and maybe you’re in just a bit of shock as you robotically move back to your nest of blankets on the couch and resume your schoolwork. What else is there to do? Unless Spencer is right—unless you really are about to get expelled after getting the answer key for an upcoming test from a friend, who then gave it to another friend, and so on. But is that really your fault?  
It’s a struggle to stay focused as your mind keeps drifting back to Spencer in the other room, those cruel words and that cold steely look in his eye that isn’t supposed to ever be aimed at you. It’s not a secret that side of him exists, but it doesn’t belong in this apartment. It’s not something he needs to use against you. He’s supposed to be on your side. But instead, he’d said you should be expelled and essentially called you stupid. And now you’re doing homework for a class at a school you may not even be a student of come Monday. 
---------------------------------------------------
The sound of the office door opening forty-five minutes later spikes your blood pressure and simultaneously makes your heart flutter, because no matter how mad at him you might be, Spencer is still Spencer.  
He comes to stand behind the couch quietly, but you don’t acknowledge him. Maybe your typing gets a bit more aggressive, but aside from that you flat out reject his presence. 
“Can we talk?” 
You let him sweat for a minute as you finish your paragraph. 
“I don’t know, Spencer. Can we? Or are you not done with your temper tantrum?” 
“That is... well deserved,” he sighs, rounding the couch and tapping the bottom of your foot, signaling that he wants you to move your legs. You despise how automatically you comply, pulling your knees to your chest to avoid touching him as he sits next to you. There’s a long moment of silence, in which you resume typing. Spencer scoffs, leaning in slightly to peer at your screen. “Are you doing homework right now? I’m a complete asshole to you and you just... do your homework?"
“What the fuck else was I supposed to do?” you almost-yell, slamming your laptop shut and blinking away potential tears. “The only person I wanted to talk to called me stupid and fucking left!” 
The tears realize their potential once you admit the blunt truth. 
Spencer carefully moves your laptop and pulls you into his arms—and you just let him. There’s not much fight left in you. There wasn’t a lot to begin with. 
“I am so sorry, angel. You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have yelled, I shouldn’t have said what I said, I shouldn’t have walked away. I overreacted.” 
“Yeah, you really did,” you cry, allowing him to run his hand over your hair. “Why did you do that? Why were you so fucking mean?” 
His voice shakes slightly as he responds, betraying his own anxieties, and a new, unwelcome sense of trepidation slithers through your veins. 
“I was wondering that, too. Even as I was saying it, I knew—I knew it wasn’t what I wanted to be saying. And then I was in the other room and I wanted to be out here, and I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t. But I think I was just scared. Which—I know, doesn’t really make sense, but... I think about when Ethan dropped out of the academy, and ended up doing heroin in New Orleans for three years, and I think about when I almost left the BAU because I was so convinced I’d never get clean that I didn’t even want to anymore, and—and the idea of you losing your education and your direction like that terrified me, probably unreasonably, and I took it out on you. And I’m sorry.” 
“But I’m not like you or Ethan. You don’t have to worry about that. Even if I... even I do get in some sort of disciplinary trouble. That’s a road you don’t have to worry about me going down, ever.” 
He fixes some unseen wrinkle on your shirt.  
“Yeah, but, remember... I used to not be like me or Ethan either. Do you think twelve-year-old Spencer would have ever even considered that of the infinite realities and universes which exist, he was living in one where someday he’d be shooting up in the bathroom at work?” 
“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head and burying your face in Spencer’s shoulder. The sound is more of a plea for him to be less descriptive than an answer to his rhetorical question. It’s still much easier for him to talk about that part of his life than it is for you to have to actually imagine it. You didn’t know him then, but you’ve seen pictures, and you know Spencer now, and it’s... it’s just too much. Too sad. 
“Okay,” he agrees soothingly, still playing with your hair. “I digress. My point is that literally anything is possible, and while it’s not necessarily likely, I more than anyone know that anxiety even over the most improbable of things is never completely unfounded.”  
You sniffle in response, too emotionally and physically exhausted to contribute much to the conversation by this point. Thankfully, Spencer can talk for two. An idiosyncrasy which you love and comes in handy every once in a while. He can play his own devil’s advocate; in this case, you. 
“But that doesn’t mean I get to take it out on you. Ever. I truly, truly, sincerely apologize for that. I never want to hurt you.” 
You let the apology sink into your skin like a salve, soothing every abrasion those earlier words had left in their violent wake. 
After a few minutes, you find the energy to ask a question that might best remain unanswered. 
“Are you still mad at me?” 
He’s quiet for a beat, seemingly contemplative as his fingers trace abstract patterns in a language all his own on your arm. 
“I’m not thrilled. But you were right earlier. It’s not my place to be mad at you for something like that.” 
“Mm... it’s a little bit your place. You’re an actual professor.” 
He chuckles. 
“At an entirely different university.” 
“Thank god,” you laugh. “You and me at the same school would be such an HR clusterfuck.”
While it’s almost a serious matter, the smile in his voice is evident. 
“Yeah... I, uh... try not to think about it.” 
“Okay, but seriously. In your professional opinion. Am I fucked? Like, do I need to prepare an appeal and character witnesses or whatever?” 
Spencer sighs. 
“It was incredibly reckless and irresponsible. You should be ready for disciplinary pushback from the schoolboard if you get caught. That being said... because over sixty of you got a hold of the answer key, I doubt anyone is getting expelled, and even if they did, it would likely only be the TA and the student he gave the key to. It’s my tentative, professional opinion that you’ll probably be fine.” 
You relax slightly, allowing a tension you didn’t realize was there to shed like an old skin. 
“I’m not gonna cheat again,” you promise on an exhale. It’s simply too much risk for too little reward.
Spencer’s response is quiet, and comes much faster than you’d expected. 
“Oh, I know you aren’t. Because if you do, you’re going to have to worry about disciplinary action from me. And I’m not nearly as nice as the dean of your school, darling girl.” 
But something about the way he says it—a thinly veiled threat/promise contrasted by a sweet kiss to your forehead—doesn’t exactly make academic honesty look all that exciting.
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handwrittenhello · 1 year
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i think its kind of ridiculous to think that homestucks are seriously using bots in this poll because why the hell would they bot this poll instead of the tumblrwoman poll which was the poll EVERYBODY in the hs fandom was actually making a big deal out of . also because im going to be real but i dont think anyone cares about polls enough to rig one? even the bayonetta/miku poll turned out to actually not be vriska voter fraud (most people in the homestuck fandom voted miku anyway) i think people are just unable to comprehend that a lot of people are still dormantly into homestuck & probably just saw vriska serket at the front of the trending disco elysium tag and thought it was funny. like oh my godddd no one cares enough about the outcome of this poll to bot it . somebody with a lot of followers probably just posted about it on twitter or something mundane like that its not that deep . a lot of people on tumblr have read homestuck its not extraordinary that a lot of vriska voters exist. disco elysium fans im sorry your blorbo is losing you’ll probably be back in the lead in a couple hours anyway all of you need to chill out‼️‼️‼️
answering only this ask about the cheating/botting, and no others, because i'm getting a lot of asks about it. congratulations, this contest has officially had all the fun sucked out of it.
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here's data i've been collecting for every poll i've run. it's organized by votes the character received per round, then the total number of votes on that poll, for all five rounds. then there are two columns for totals.
the next five columns, Notes 1-5, are the number of notes on each poll. i've highlighted two posts that were circulated with a greater-than-average frequency even after the poll ended (the loki/JC one because people were memeing on JC, and then HDB/Howl one because it gained popularity following a popular blogger reblogging it.)
V/N is the votes to notes ratio for each poll. it was taken by dividing the number of votes when the poll ended by the number of notes on each post. one limitation is that this was not taken at the same time each day, and so older posts will have slightly higher notes. however, i believe this uncertainty isn't enough to discount the conclusions i'll come to.
i've highlighted vriska's V:N ratio in red at the top. as you can see, round vriska's V:N ratio wasn't even the highest; she beat kaeya alberich easily, and the comments in the notes reflected that.
in round 2, things started to get interesting. this is where i and other people noticed a sudden flip, but i didn't think much of it. she was up against izzy hands. izzy was leading all day, and when i queued the next day's poll and went to bed, izzy was leading by 60%. when i woke up, it had flipped to 53/47 in vriska's favor. it's not a HUGEamount, but it is a NOTICEABLE amount.
keep in mind that every single day, there have been other, closer polls, that hovered around 49-50-51 all day, and which also flipped at the end of the day, or remained 50/50 and could only be determined by tumblr. in these cases, the notes also reflect the split. these polls also never swayed more than one or two percent.
in round 3, when vriska faced zuko, there was a clear and immediate lead for zuko, with him leading by 80%. keep in mind that by this point, all 28 other polls i ran, besides vriska's the day before, never swayed more than 1 or 2% once a clear lead had been established.
this poll went from 80/20 zuko to 59/41 vriska. that's RIDICULOUS. the only way that's possible is if an OVERWHELMING amount of people voted vriska and NO people voted zuko. for such a thing to happen, this post would need to spread really rapidly, right? surely this post had tens of thousands of notes and comments!
the V:N ratio for round 3 is TWENTY-SEVEN to one. that's the most out of any poll. the standard deviation for the round 3 polls is 9.0, compared to 4.8 and 4.9 the days before. not to mention reading those notes also does not get us an overwhelming amount of comments rooting for vriska.
today has also been highly suspicious. it started out with an 85/15 lead for harry. i wouldn't necessarily expect it to hold exactly at that percentage, but the flip was immediate and drastic. you can see the trend being tracked on this post. not at all suspicious, right? also note that the comments all day have been 95% rooting for harry and maybe 5% for vriska.
please also look at the GRAND TOTAL column, which has reliably predicted the winners of future polls each day. vriska has received 49,064 votes over the course of the whole contest. harry has received 64,644. that's 24% more votes. and yet the poll is locked at 50/50?
and if this isn't enough evidence for you, then remember the tumblr sexywoman poll. it is a FLAT FUCKING FACT that those polls were spammed by bots. out of respect for their privacy i won't go into detail, but they outright admitted it.
TO CONCLUDE,
it's pretty fucking obvious that something is up, and although i admit that there's simply no concrete way of proving it, there would have to be a really standout explanation for this.
and besides this being super lame, it's also removed all the fun from this contest. it's a stupid tumblr poll that wins literally nothing, congratulations!
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also, to everyone making death threats in the notes, BOTH SIDES, you've failed my secret challenge of not being rude which means i'm judging you personally. be fucking nice.
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urf1lterr · 10 months
Text
afterglow | pedro pascal [2/3]
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"tell me that you're still mine, tell me that we'll be just fine, even when i lose my mind"
previous chapter: [1]
summary: being nominated for an oscar was a dream come true, until you had to spend the rest of the night near your deceitful ex who still loved you.
pairing: actor!pedro x actress!reader
genre: acting world!au, enemies/exes to lovers ?? au | angst, fluff, fighting, mature
word count: 15k
status: 2/3 complete
author's note: SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT LOVES. even though its gonna be three parts lol i still want you to want more. i've been confused on my writing because tbh- i feel like i could do better and keep rushing with these storylines and end up regretting them AFTER they are posted lol. not edited- it really isn't.
"Let's cut the chit-chat and get some real answers, why did y'all breakup?"
"Andrew!"
"Three days have passed, she's fine now," he defended, shrugging as Florence shot him an irritated look by his prying behavior.
It has indeed been a few days since the terrible night that consisted in you meeting your favorite artist, crying beside her, running awkwardly away right after, having a screaming match with your ex, and then passing out in the car.
So, you couldn't deny it wasn't a memorable night.
The past three days could've been better to say the least if your management team stopped spamming you with text messages concerning the fight, maybe even ignoring the loads of pictures of your crying face.
Oh, the pictures. Not a fun sight to see.
Luckily for you, the pictures were only ones inside the party near Andrew- not Pedro. Unfortunately, though, your picture was turned into a 'crying in the club' meme.
You couldn't exactly be mad over it, you loved memes.
Thank the Lords the paparazzi were clueless and never ended up catching your argument with Pedro or you wouldn't know how to cover it up.
You could never get away with the typical 'friends fighting' after he shouted how much he loved you.
And bless the celebrities near you for minding their business.
To clear up your meltdown, you took it upon yourself to send out a quick tweet the next morning with a "i'm sorry i'm an emotional drunk. one second we're talking about 500 days of summer and then...well you already know how THAT ends."
In that moment you couldn't care less if people believed you or not, this was going to pass fast anyway.
Now here you were, sitting in front of your kitchen bar as Andrew and Florence decided to pay you a visit because they missed you- or so they say.
Realistically, they wanted to see if you were still a hot mess.
Which you weren't, obviously.
Shailene would have tagged along, but she was busy doing grown up things, such as working on her latest project Andrew claimed which was a slight bummer. She was the mediator, now who else was going to stop the arguments calmly between your two friends.
Florence disagreed, shaking her head. "You can't just ask her that, it's impolite."
Sighing, Andrew sent you an apologetic glance. "Okay, I am sorry." Not taking his eyes off you, you could feel his curiosity and eagerness from the other side of the kitchen. "But we're all thinking it."
Judging by how unresponsive Florence became, you could tell she wasn't going to fight him on this. And well, she was secretly on his side because your fight with Pedro was seriously excessive.
She just wanted to know what he could've done to make you so angry, it didn't make sense to her if he did cheat. He didn't seem like the type, but some people do the most surprising things- so she couldn't really tell.
"Do you want the last reason or all of them?"
Widening his eyes, Andrew shares a glance with Florence for a swift second before finding your eyes. "Last reason?"
"The last fight we had that led us to finalize our breakup."
"Finalize," he giggled, leaning on the marble counter. "This isn't a divorce process."
"For a person who is so concerned about my relationship crisis, you seem to be catch on to the most irrelevant stuff."
"So you admit you still want to be with him," Andrew declared, giving a smug look as you tried to process his words. "If you're still stressing over him, it means you don't want to let him go."
"I never said I was stressing over hi-"
"Did she or did she not just claim she was undergoing a crisis-," Andrew interrupted, slightly raising his voice. "-a relationship crisis, to be exact."
Florence sheepishly looked your way, capturing your stern expression before slowly nodding.
Your male friend clapped his hands loudly before bursting out a wider grin, happy someone had his back. "There we have it, if he's on your mind that much to turn into a crisis- you still love him!"
Furrowing your brows, you didn't know how to respond. It was true, you had many moments where Pedro agitated you even when you haven't been near him for quite some time.
But isn't being wound up over an ex part of healing?
Truth be told, you knew your feelings for Pedro hadn't completely disappeared, but love? You weren't even sure love existed by your past experiences.
"I do not love him," you hiss, vigorously snatching the water bottle on the counter and aggressively opening it. "How can love be real? It's baffling."
"Questioning the real question with a question," he sneers, making Florence and you become confused as ever. "You're so in love him."
Florence cuts in, squinting her face in puzzlement. "Wait- what's the real question she's supposedly questioning with a question?"
"Love!" he cheers happily before placing his hand on his palm, dreamingly gazing at you. "You have your doubts on what love may be, but without knowing it you're having them because you're questioning your love to Pedro since you're too scared to admit you still love him."
"I don't get it."
Rolling your eyes, you swiftly turn away and head towards your living room to lay on your couch. You were not in the mood to have someone else tell you what your feelings were when they weren't you. "I'm done with this conversation."
Hearing a low slapping noise, following an irritated hiss, you could make out Florence's displeased voice. "See what you did! Now she's not going to tell us."
"So much for moral support, you really are nosy," Andrew fought back, whispering loudly.
A minute or two went by since you couldn't make out what they were saying before rushed footsteps soon made their way near you as your friends awkwardly smiled, hoping they didn't upset you too much.
Because they really wanted to know the drama.
Pushing him roughly from behind, Florence sent you an innocent smile as Andrew landed near your side of the couch, trying his best to hold his composure and not turn back around and start another fight.
Placing a light hand on your shoulder, you blankly glance at it before meeting his attention. "We just wanted you to know we totally understand if you aren't comfortable...expressing your past-"
"Get your hand off me and let's get this over with so you two can leave already."
Florence quickly sat right beside Andrew, both not offended with your statement because they were fully aware of how annoying the were becoming.
Before you could say anything, Florence quickly spoke aloud. "Start from the beginning!" Andrew slowly looking back to her, he sent her a confused look. "So we aren't lost, of course."
Laughing lightly, you nod before adjusting yourself on your seat. It was going to be hard to remember all the details clearly because there really wasn't an exact time issues occurred, it kind of just naturally appeared here and there.
Now that you think of it, majority of the tiny disputes during the earlier days of your relationship were probably on the same level as when you two were splitting, but maybe the dense ones created towards the end really made it hard to continue.
"If I'm being totally honest, we never really had problems when we first started dating. He was really great," you begin, clutching onto a pillow you found right beside you. "And he would always make sure to watch me make it inside my house before leaving, that was when I knew he wasn't some fling."
Andrew smirked, nodding proudly. "Classic move."
Smiling at the thought, you focused your mind to uncover the ugly truths that slowly tore you two apart.
"But then one day, I wanna say a few weeks after our second anniversary, we just started...fighting?"
Tilting your head, you look down as sad memories began pouring through your mind completely. "It wasn't our usual small fights over who left the bathroom floor wet or dropping his ipad in the pool-"
"-you dropped his ipad in the pool?" Florence coughed, bewildered by your scandalous actions.
"He wanted to know if it was waterproof," you defended.
"Was it?"
"No," you nervously reply, avoiding their eyes. "But he had it backed up and I bought him a new one!"
"That was kind of a bitchy move," Andrew muttered, catching your pissed gaze. "But at least you made up for it!"
Maybe it wasn't that great of an idea to just throw it in, but he did say he was really curious and wanted to dump it under the sink.
"Anyway," you start back up again, making Andrew lowly sigh in relief. "Our fights were never that serious, or at least not until he started filming for that new tv series he joined."
Florence spoke up, lightly questioning "The Last of Us?"
Nodding, you shrugged. "I guess it's normal to say the time apart did cause a rift in our relationship, but it wasn't too bad. He always made sure to call and facetime at least once every two days."
"But one day when he was visiting during his week break he just...snapped?" you frowned, not even wanting to visualize the tiny argument.
You had to for your own good.
"He had been home for maybe two days before he suddenly became moody. Like- his attitude was insane, I have never seen him like this ever," you sigh, closing your eyes for a second before continuing. "He didn't want to go out to eat, didn't want me to make him food, and when I offered to have it delivered he slammed the bedroom door on my face and claimed he was going to bed."
"Woah, why would he do that?" Andrew asked, seriousness splattered all over his face.
You wish you knew.
"Not sure, I just thought maybe work was stressing him out so I wanted him to have his alone time to clear his mind."
"Did that work?"
Sitting up straighter, you send a sorrowful smile. "For the rest of that week-yes. He ended up apologizing to me when I tried going to bed and said his manager was being tough on him for some scenes they had done."
You remember the moment you walked inside your bedroom, disappointed that he was awake. Not wanting to cause more tension, you planned to sneak under the covers and deal with the incident in the morning.
But his arms slowly wrapping over your waist as you had your back facing him said otherwise. Pulling you closer, you remember the soft "please don't be mad at me" he whispered near your ear, making sure you felt his tight embrace as if to prove you were his.
That night ended with you turning your body over to face him, accepting his open arms as a way to answer his pleading way of forgiveness.
Like always.
"Once he went back to work, we still talked- but I could tell he wasn't fully engaged like he always was," you sulk, remembering the first time you caught him not listening. "It got to the point where I purposely stopped answering his calls."
Your friends quickly send you a shocked look, you continue before they could intercept. "I couldn't handle his lack of attention, I would rather have him panic from the rejected calls than just tell him why I was upset."
It wasn't your best move, but you were frustrated. It wasn't fair that he was the one who got to treat you poorly and you had to accept it.
You admit, maybe if you communicated with him about these issues you could've prevented many future arguments and even saved your relationship.
But you were human and sometimes humans act human.
"Then what happened?" Andrew asked, a curious appearance plastering his face. "You continued ignoring him?"
Laughing lightly, you shake your head. It was the plan, but plans don't always work out. "Actually, he secretly took a flight back home one weekend and confronted me."
Gasping, Florence jumped up in her seat and moved her leg under her. "No way!"
"Yes, way," you sheepishly reply, embarrassed at the memory. You can still picture the way Pedro stood in your shared bedroom as you stepped out of your bathroom, jumping at the sight of him.
Standing with his arms crossed with his bags thrown by the door, he was determined to figure out what was going on with you.
"I wouldn't say we engaged in a heated argument, but it was surprisingly really emotional."
Andrew leaned his body closer, too interested not to let his questions slide. "Were you guys never emotional? I feel like every couple experiences those moments together- it's what makes them stronger."
It should've made you two stronger, but instead it made you weaker without you realizing it.
"Pedro and I had our minor instances, but it never involved problems we were facing," you began, sighing slightly. "All I remember was finding him standing near the bed with no emotion- none. I couldn't read what he may have been feeling, he just looked so....empty?"
"Empty? That's not good." Florence commented.
"That could mean a lot of things, not necessarily anger," Andrew added, trying to make you feel better.
"I knew deep down he was mad, as he should be- I was the one ignoring him," you defended him, taking full responsibility over your childish actions. "But I could tell he was more hurt that mad."
"What did he say?"
"What's going on?" Pedro questioned, his eyes not daring to leave yours as you freeze- stopping your attempts at brushing your wet hair, extremely confused as to why he was here.
He wasn't supposed to visit for another month, or so he said.
"Pedro?" you squint your eyes, still not sure if he was really in front of you or maybe you were daydreaming. You were high off many shots of espressos, it's finally hitting you. "Is that you?"
Still staring plainly at you, he stays right where he was. In any other circumstances he would have run up and wrapped his arms tightly around you, but this night was different.
He looked disorientated, out of place. His eyes lacked intensity as his body followed, looking as stiff as ever. Even his breathing matched his energy, calm yet unsettled.
You left him confused and he did not like that. "Answer my question."
Batting your eyes faster, you realize what was going on and where he was. Gasping, you do the exact opposite of what he wanted. "What the hell are you doing here?! You're not supposed to be home- you could get fired a-"
Taking a hold of your arms, he stills you and ignores your rambling. "What-" he begins, moving his right hand to the back of your neck and forcing you to focus on him only. "-is going on?"
Freezing, you try to back your head away from his grip but he tightens his grasp, making sure to not be too rough so he doesn't actually hurt you- he would never do such a thing. "I don't understand-"
"You haven't been answering my calls, what else is there to understand?" He sternly recalls, not wanting you to bullshit your way out of this. "So you either have been ignoring me on purpose to be petty or this is your way of hinting you don't want to be with me anymore."
Shaking your head frantically, you try to talk but he cuts you off again. "-And don't say you've been busy. You and I both know I would have figured out if you had added projects to your schedule- your mom tells me everything."
If this were a good time, you would have laughed at his side comment regarding your mother, but it wasn't.
"Not everything," you spit out, causing him to squint his face and release his hands from you.
"Are you trying to tell me something? Are you not happy? Is that why you've been avoiding my calls?" he questions, tilting his head in bewilderment, not liking your attitude at the moment. "Because if you really don't want to be with me you should've told me sooner than leaving me feeling fucking clueless while I'm out in another country working."
"I'm not saying I don't want to be with you-"
"But you aren't denying it," he intercepts, firmly nodding in realization. "I get it, I'm just glad I know now and won't have to wait another month to finally understand how you're feeling."
Walking away from you, Pedro walks towards his bags and reaches down for them. You scoff at his disturbed demeanor. There is no way you should be the only one at fault here- you both made mistakes.
Pushing his backpack off his hands, he watches at it lands on the floor before instantly finding your eyes. "Are you seri-"
"Just because I'm avoiding your calls doesn't mean I want to end our relationship" you shriek, glaring at him as his eyes soften at your hidden truth.
Your angered expression and stiff posture hits him like a brick, there was something really bothering you and he was too oblivious to acknowledged it until you began overlooking him.
Taking a deep breath, you watch as your boyfriend intently examines you as if he's trying to read your impractical mind. Sometimes, he wished you would speak up when something was bothering you, in fact- he has told you many times in the past to do so.
But the idea of patiently waiting until it erupts is what he's sure you've normalized in fear of desertion. Or maybe refusal of reality- the two of you weren't perfect.
"What's going on?" He calmly questions again, dropping any signs of fury and replaces it with worry and concern. Reaching out to you, he softly clasps your shoulder before moving in a few inches. "Am I making you upset?"
Slapping his hand away, you cross your arms over your chest in agitation. "I'm mad at you!"
Blinking a few times, he couldn't believe how fast you spilled and chaotic your energy was. He's never seen you act this hysterical and to be honest, he was really debating asking if you were on your period or not. "Why?"
Pursing your lips together, you release your arms and let them fall on your sides. "You know why!" With that, you turn your back to him and make your way back to your bathroom to hide.
At this point, you felt it was acceptable to act unbearable- he left you feeling insignificant and you weren't going to hold it in anymore.
If you stayed there any longer you knew you would break down into tears. Showing your vulnerable side this early into an argument was too easy, you have to show how bold you were in order to get your point across.
Or anger across.
But it was really hard to hold a grudge, he was just so- loving, despite your recent incidents. Deep down, he did care about you and wanted to validate your feelings- or as best he could.
Grabbing anything you could find near your sink, you begin opening some moisturizer and splatter it around your hands to keep you busy. You could feel Pedro come inside your shared bathroom but you don't dare to peep his way.
"Honey- please," you heard him release a soft sigh as he stood behind you, watching through your huge mirror in front of the two of you. He could make out your distressed appearance and you were absolutely not fine. "You can't just steer clear from this, we need to talk about it-"
Slamming the poor jar on the counter, you swiftly twist your body to his front and feel all the rage taking control. "But did you want to talk all those times I called you?! No, you didn't give one fuck about me or Leia!"
"You named your dog after Princess Leia? That's smart," Andrew butted in, grinning. "You know, since he's in the Mandalorian and Star W-"
"We get it."
Maybe it was wrong to bring your beloved corgi into such a serious topic, but she was abandoned by her father too.
"I did talk to you! I made sure to call you whenever I had time an-"
"I'm glad I made it into your schedule- but maybe if you considered adding some compassion and empathy it wouldn't feel like I'm just another business call you hate!"
Panting, you send daggers his way as his eyes widen. Did you just say he doesn't care about your calls? Impossible- he loves your calls, it makes his days better.
"You aren't a business call and you know that. Honey, please understand- hey!" He cuts himself off once you finally had enough of his poor attempts to defend himself, trying to flee but he ends up being quicker on his feet and yanking you back to his arms.
But once you were wrapped around him, even though it was for pure captivity and not warmth, you instantly broke down. He didn't know you were in tears until he felt his shirt become damp and still then he just thought you were trying to spit on him out of anger.
Hearing your tiny whimpers, he immediately glanced down and lifted you up to catch a clear view of your face, despite your protests and blockings. "Baby, I-I didn't mean to make you cry-"
"You don't mean a lot of things," you spit out, swatting his hands that dared to reach your face. You weren't in the mood to make up, all you wanted to do was sleep your troubles away, especially with the draining work day you had.
Continuing your pulling, Pedro began becoming annoyed with your strong protests against his affection. Isn't this what you wanted? "Why won't you let me hold you? I want to console you, can't I be your boyfriend for the night and tomorrow you can continue hating me?"
"You see my tears and now you want to hold me but admit we'll still be out of place tomorrow? That's acceptable for you?" you laugh ruthlessly, allowing space to be brought in front of you. "Do you hear yourself?"
Groaning, he rubs his face hard before speaking his mind, trying not to sound too furious and scare you. "What do you want me to do? I admit, I did lack some energy-"
"Some?" you snort to yourself, your face still wet.
"Don't interrupt me," he declared, shaking his head at how rude you were becoming. "I wasn't the best partner, okay?! There, I admit it, but you don't understand how it is working constantly and not being able to see family and friends and-"
"It's like you don't even know me at all," you ignorantly chuckle over his nonsense and walk towards your bed.
What a way to dismiss your feelings.
"That's not what I meant," he sighs, following after and stopping you from opening your covers and hiding underneath them. "It's just hard being away from everyone I love, I'm in a different country. It's not like I can drive an hour away and suddenly see them!"
"I can't do that either!"
"Can't you just please, please, please- consider that my mindset is not good right now," he declares, his eyes filling with sadness as his arms slowly find your waist. Taking a deep breath, you watch as he looked up at the ceiling before biting his lip. "I know I am not being the best partner right now- or for the past few months, but I am trying."
As soon as uncertainty flushed your face, his hands tightened as his expression deepened into an emotion you never seen him explore before- dejection.
"I can't promise you I'm suddenly going to wake up and give you 110% every interaction we have," he began, his voice lowering as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "But I confess- I am being a little shit and I am willing to work on that. Just please- please don't push me away. Try to understand my situation."
He wasn't wrong, his life switched around once he accepted the role of Joel Miller and you should've known from the start he would face some difficulties. Maybe you were being too self-centered and invalidated his feeling too, not just him.
Sometimes he wasn't good with words when expressing himself and made you feel as if you weren't as popular as him, but you knew it was never his intention to hurt you like that. He had a heart and loved to use it.
Fighting over work should never be a reason to be miserable especially when it's how you both get your income.
"I-I understand," you lightly speak up, watching as his eyes light up by the sound of your now calm voice filling his ears. "I just want you to know that it didn't make me feel good-"
"Of course it wouldn't make you feel good, I was being horrible," Pedro intercepted, pulling you into a tight hug and landing his face in your neck. "And if I wasn't thousands of miles away I would totally spoil you with kisses and chocolates as my sorry."
"Chocolates are still in favor," you joke and feel him softly swat your bottom in disapproval.
Pulling away, he leans his face closer to yours and plants a sweet kiss upon your lips before backing up an inch and whispering softly, "I love you, you know that right?"
Smiling, you slowly nod and surprise him with a deeper kiss before answering him back with a familiar, "I love you, too."
"You better," he smirks, pulling his body on top of yours, hearing your light squeaks once your back hit the mattress and his lips snuck their way into the crook of your neck.
"Did you end up getting chocolates?" Andrew immediately questioned once you finished your long recollection of memories.
"That's not important," Florence rolled her eyes.
"I mean he did promise her it."
Chuckling at his curiosity, it amused you how focused he was about some candy. "Yes, he did- for like a month and then I got over them."
"Understandable," Andrew replied, looking down at his lap.
Florence jumped over him, making herself sit closer to you as he winced at her sudden movements. "Then what happened?! I mean, there had to be more right?"
"My god woman, I hope you're not working for TMZ," Andrew joked.
She shushed him before leaning closer to you, signaling you to continue on with your memories. "After that fight, things became pretty normal again. We would call each other with far more energy than before and he would even fly back home often to keep our communication strong."
"And how long did that last?"
Frowning, you took a small breath. "Like three months- then we started fighting more."
"Over?"
Rubbing your face, you groaned. "He went back to lacking energy! But that's not even the worst part."
"Please don't tell me he cheated," Andrew begged, covering his eyes with his hands while pulling a sorrow look. "I would never be able to look at him the same."
"I don't know if he did cheat- but I did find out two months before we ended things that he stayed the night at his exes."
Loudly gasping, the company you had began freaking out with their jaws dropping- literally. Florence angrily furrowed her brows, "you've got to be kidding? How is that allowed in a relationship?- It's not!"
Crossing your legs, you shrug as a way to answer her. You really did wonder what was going through his head when he did that. Sadly, you couldn't believe a word he said after you found out what he did.
Maybe that's why you were fine with ending things- because the trust was slowly disappearing.
"Not to mention he would always be with her and ditch plans with me," you form a tight smile, trying not to make things awkward but it was too late.
Who could possible hear this and not feel embarrassed for you? Classic move on his part to follow the 'being friends with my ex is okay' stereotype, but it only left you feeling unwanted and flawed.
Were you not good enough to be in his arms all those times he ditched you for her? And why couldn't he tell you what was really going on- unless he was truly hiding something unspeakable.
"Spill the beans."
Hearing a door slam, you jump up in a daze. You could feel sleep still linger on your body as you crank your neck to the side, capturing the bright '12:47 pm' located on top of your nightstand.
Slowly yanking your body up, you don't stretch as you hurry out of your room to the living room in search of the mysterious person who was either your missing boyfriend or an intruder.
Catching sight of his bright yellow t-shirt as he opens the refrigerator, you could feel your body boil up. "Where have you been? You snuck out last night without even telling me- do you even understand how worried I was?!"
Watching as he gradually turns his head to face yours, Pedro closes the fridge before leaning against the kitchen counter- completely relaxed despite your current state.
"I was out with friends," he declared, grinning to try and take pressure off from you- it didn't work. "I'm sorry, I will tell you next time. I didn't mean to worry you, my love."
Placing your hands on your hips, it pains you that you secretly don't believe a word he's saying. Normally, if this were the case, he would text you if you were sleeping or call you in the morning to inform you with what he'd done.
He did neither one.
Maybe you should test him? Ask him questions and see if he'll freeze up?
"And who were you with?"
He smiled, grabbing a cup from the pantry while easily answering, "Diego and Oscar- we had a couple of drinks and Oscar thought it would be best I stay the night."
Nodding swiftly, you examine him to see if there were any signs of him lying- there weren't. Fuck, you forgot he was an actor. It's literally his job to control his emotions! "And why didn't you call or at least send a simple text?"
After hearing your words, Pedro sends you a small smile before gently placing his cup down. Walking up to you, he opens his arms. "Baby, is that why you're so upset? Because I didn't call?"
Before you could answer, he engulfs you in his arms before swaying you both around. Feeling vibrations as he let out light giggles, you instantly dropped any suspicions you may have had because he had to tell the truth- he would never lie to you.
It's surreal how easily you could throw any convictions out the window when he touched you. It's like he jogged your memory.
"Well, why didn't you at least text?"
Removing his head from your neck, he squeezes you waist and sends you an amused smirk . "Because I was insanely drunk and if I would've used my phone it probably would have resulted in me leaving you hundreds of drunk voicemails confessing my love for you."
"And that's bad?"
He chuckled, shaking his head before pinching your side. "No, but it sure as hell is annoying."
Standing up straighter, you cautiously nod at his answer and watch as he lovingly smiled down at you. "Okay, I believe you."
"Did you really believe him?" Andrew asked.
"I call bullshit," Florence confidently declares, strong on her view that Pedro was not an honest person.
"Let me finish the story!"
Loud footsteps could be heard near your hallway as you stood behind the oven, trying your best to not burn these damn chocolate chip cookies.
Such a basic recipe yet so complex- it was truly aggravating.
"Y/n? Where are you?!" you heard you assistant squeal from a distance.
Trying to properly put your mitten on, you murmur a small "kitchen" before preparing yourself to open the oven. The amount of times you burned yourself thinking it was cool enough not to wear protection-
Point is- always wear protection.
Opening the oven door, you pull the tray of freshly baked cookies towards you as the footsteps became clearly audible. Right when the cookies were in your grip and being lifted, you heard your assistant yelp-
"Pedro was caught leaving his ex's house two days ago."
Throwing yourself up into a standing position, you forget about the tray of cookies until you feel the burning sensation upon your left arm. You accidentally pulled the tray too close to you. "Ow!"
Instantly panicking, your assistant rushes to your side in support and grabs a towel to fill with ice. Pressing downwards on the wound, you wince at the pressure that was building.
"What the hell are you talking about?" you still question, extremely curious to uncover what this situation was.
His ex? That's absurd, he hasn't dated anyone in years when you first met. It's definitely not like he was in contact with them when you made it official, he was always firm when it came with communicating with past relationships.
That was a big no-no, especially when one of your ex's tried reaching out after your last movie dropped. Pedro made it very clear how unhappy he was when he made an appearance at your premiere- your boyfriend not daring to leave your side and even blocking your view whenever your ex had the chance to gawk you up close.
At the time, people thought Pedro only attended because he was close with the director and has always been friendly with other actors. Little did they know he was being extra friendly with you behind the curtains.
"Someone snapped photos of him outside of her door! It looks like he just woke up, too." Grabbing the phone from her hands, you pull it closer to your face and watch what the screen uncovered.
There he was, your boyfriend of two-years smiling brightly as he steps outside her door in the clothes he wore the night before. The same ones he manipulated you with about being with Diego and Oscar that night.
Not just that, but peering on the side of the door was indeed his tall, beautiful ex who definitely aged like fine wine. Hell, she was gorgeous and everybody knew that.
And the fact that they broke up due to their long distance, at the time, did not help this situation. Now that they lived a few cities away, what now? Were you just a doormat he could walk all over and eventually throw away whenever he wanted something new?
Placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, you refuse to take your eyes off the screen as your assistant begins speaking. "Did you know he slept over?" Glancing up, she takes your downcast face as an answer and swiftly pulls you in a tight hug. "Oh no, I'm so sorry."
You were sorry for yourself, too. How could he lie right to your face so easily knowing he was doing it- intentionally. And the most fucked up part was he probably knew you would believe him- just like all the other times you did.
"I saw that picture!" Andrew exclaimed, bewildered at his recollection. "I thought the paparazzi caught him lacking after a hook-up- damn, I wish I would've known you were together sooner."
"Same, I would have unfollowed him," Florence added. "And nobody would've known it was because of you- since you two never been public."
Forcing a smile, you give her a tiny nudge on the arm. "Gee, thanks for being so considerate."
"Continue!"
"Open the god damn door, y/n. You are being overdramatic- it was one night! Nothing happened!" Pedro yelled, pulling the car handle harshly as you searched through your bag that sat on your passenger seat- looking to see if you had everything you needed before your flee.
Let's just say, things were pretty...eventful once you discovered his scheme.
For starters, after bawling your eyes out on your poor assistant's shoulder, she made her departure in order to clean up the spare bedroom she offered you to take if you weren't comfortable staying at your own place.
You accepted.
Once she was out the door, you fled to your bedroom and grabbed any suitcase close by and began stuffing it to the brim, not caring how disorganized it was professing as you reached for more clothes.
You were almost done packing your second bag full of makeup and bathroom necessities when you heard your front door open. Jumping up, you felt your eyes widen once you heard your name being chanted on by your boyfriend. "Y/n?!"
"Fuck," you whispered to yourself, drastically glancing around your now messy bathroom to make changes to your plan- only take things you really need.
Seconds pass and you find yourself zipping your bag and rushing out the door, that was until your body roughly collided with another- causing you to drop your belongings and land on the floor. Groaning, you hesitantly rise, immediately finding your boyfriend's body nearing yours as he pleads to help you off the ground.
"Baby, I'm sorry! I didn't see you coming out," he apologizes, using his fingertips to clasp your forearms to level you. "Look, I need to tell y-"
"Get off of me," you grit, forcibly slapping his palms off you, causing him to cease and stare stunned. He has never seen you once be this aggressive. Sure, you would reject his embrace whenever you two fought here and there, but slap? Not ever.
Brushing roughly past him, you gripped your larger suitcase by its handles and made a beam to the closest exit. You couldn't be around him, not when thoughts of him being unfaithful constantly drowned your head.
A strong tug of your makeup bag made you halt your movements, not by choice, as Pedro made sure to tighten his grip to prevent you from leaving. Glancing down at his now white, clenched hands, you glare. "Let go."
Shaking his head, he stared you down- irritated that you would just pack up and leave so quickly without even hearing his side of the story. Yes, he should have told you what really happened that night- but he knew how you'd react.
It was better to keep it sealed until he was ready to unveil- or so he thought.
"You let go," he hissed, raising one of his hands and smacking yours with it. You hate how much stronger he still was while only using one hand while you had two- fuck his strength and your poor muscles.
Groaning, you dig your feet onto the ground harder as you continue your tug-a-war charade with your selfish boyfriend who didn't seem to believe space was an understandable coping mechanism after he shattered your small heart.
"Fine," you yelp, shoulders falling slightly as he eases his grip- still holding on though. "We both let go on 3."
Tilting his head, he suddenly grew suspicious by your random middle ground. He knew you well enough to know you don't give up that easily, especially when he's fully sure, by your bolting efforts, you saw the picture. "How do I know you won't just run off after?"
"You're faster and stronger than me, you'll catch me eventually."
Internally agreeing, he knew you had a point. Even if you did escape, your little legs weren't going to get you far- he knows from all the times he tackled you down after you countlessly would steal his food.
"1," you begin, eyeing him to see if he would follow.
"2," he stared at you back, cautiously watching your every step.
Taking a deep breath, you count again. "3!" With that, you release your grip from your bag and watch as he still clutches on to the strap. "What the hell- we agreed on 3 we'd both let go!"
Nervously chuckling, he placed the bag on the ground and sheepishly smiled at you. He was glad to see you finally calming down. "Sorry, I didn't think you would actually do it."
Sending him an annoyed glance, he scratches the back of his neck for assuming you wouldn't follow your word. "Trust me, I always tell the truth."
Wincing at your cold tone, he frowns by your hard demeanor. "About that- I was going to tell you-"
Softly placing a hand over your head, you release a sound of discomfort and miss the way his eyes wander in curiosity.
"Can we talk about this after I take my supplements? I am not feeling too good," you cut him off, slowly touching your forehead as you watch his concern grow. "I forgot to take them this morning."
"You know you get bad migraines when you don't take them," he declared, sighing as he raised his hand and began softly rubbing your temple in ease.
He believed you were being serene because you weren't livid and allowed him to stop you from leaving- how wrong he was.
"I know but I had a crammed morning-"
"This is why we need to hire someone to walk Leia, we don't have enough time majority of the week!" he exhales, making you stare at the floor for the point taken. But there was no way you'd hire someone to walk your dog, that's ridiculous and a waste of money. "We'll talk after, let me grab them- stay here."
Sadly nodding, you allow him to flee towards your bathroom in search for your medicine. Peering you head a few inches to the side, you wait till the coast is clear before slowly, but firmly, grabbing your once lost bag and dashing out of your bedroom.
"I almost forgot about Leia," you muttered to yourself, instantly feeling bad at the thought of how quick you were to forget your baby. How terrible of a mother were you.
And what even was more mind blowing was how Pedro didn't catch your innocent acting. Truthfully, he must be trying to be extra helpful so you would believe him. Too late.
Finding your white corgi near the kitchen, you whistle lowly for her to follow as you peddled your way to your garage. "C'mon doggie, if daddy notices our escape plan he won't let us leave that easil-"
"Y/n?!"
Jaw dropping, you shoot a glance of panic to your dog, who only blankly stares back, before rushing to your parked car. "Just like Batman and Robin- now jump in," you hushed, opening the back seat so you could not only throw your bags back there- but also your tiny-legged corgi who struggles at first, but eventually makes it in.
Once you jumped into your seat and turned on the car, you catch a breathless Pedro rushing out through the door to your side. "Fuck."
"You tricked me!"
"You slept with another woman, asshole!" you yell back, glaring as he rolled his eyes- outraged by how unreasonable you were becoming. All he wanted to do was sit you down and have a normal conversation about this, but instead you kept running away.
Once again, he thinks you need to work on your communication skills.
"You used your failing health to your advantage- how sick are you?" he yelped, offended.
"They were gummy supplements!"
Touching your car door, he sternly peers at you as you quickly lock your doors in case he tried opening it. "I did not sleep with another woman," he started, inhaling strongly before releasing it. "Why would I do that when I am in a committed relationship? Huh? Do you think I am capable of cheating?"
Shrugging innocently, you pull a sarcastic face. "Not sure, I do know you're capable of lying- maybe infidelity is the cherry on top?"
Mouth gapping, he sends you a look of hurt and for a second you feel terrible by your choice of words. In your heart, you wanted to take it back- but your head thought otherwise.
"I would never be unfaithful to you- that's not who I am," he firmly states, feeling like absolute shit that you would even accuse him of being with another woman when you were all he thought about every single second of the day.
Dryly chuckling, you nod along to his words. He feels his heart ache, as if hundreds of knives jabbed through the delicate muscle by your painful mien. Did you really think that lowly of him?
"That's who you are to me now."
Once those words flew out of your mouth and he was able to process it clearly, he paused. Whole body turning stiff and cold, he scolded you profoundly before fiercefully charging towards your car door and pounding for entrance.
It was like a nerve was touched and he was not willing to be forgiving anymore. You struck him hard and he knew you meant it out of pure anger- not genuinely, but his awareness soon became replaced with treachery and he so badly wanted you to pay for your foul words.
"Open the god damn door, y/n. You are being overdramatic- it was one night! Nothing happened!" Pedro yelled, pulling the car handle harshly as you searched through your bag that sat on your passenger seat- looking to see if you had everything you needed before fleeing.
Mentally checking off your items before departure, you inhale sharply before lowering down your car's mirror and pressing your garage remote- allowing the door to gradually rise and Pedro to panic.
Cursing in his head, he couldn't let you drive away or else he might never see you for days and he couldn't bear the thought of you moping around in agony without at least hearing from him- the man in the picture- what actually happened that night.
Pressing on the lever and angling down to reverse, you nervously press on the gas and allow your car to drift back as your poor dog watched through the backseat his dad embarrassingly urging you to not go.
You prayed the neighbors couldn't hear a thing, if the cops came you're sure you would never go out in public for at least six months.
Realizing that it was now or never, you see from the corner of your eye a figure running towards the back of your car before a loud thump was heard.
Shakily, pressing on the brakes and putting your car on park, you jump out in horror by the sight of legs near your back tires.
You hit him.
"Shit!" you gasped, involuntarily sprinting- as if your body just knew how to react- and dropping down to your boyfriend's lifeless body-
"You ran him over?!" Andrew and Florence shrieked, interrupting your storytelling, causing you to glare and shush them.
"Shut the fuck up- it's getting to the interesting part!"
Hugging his body tightly, you could feel your face began to fall down and your body slowly begin to tremble. In a matter of seconds, you just knew your garage wasn't going to be a pretty sight to see.
Hitching your breath, you run your hands to your boyfriend's chest and shake him softly in hopes he would open his eyes- he didn't. With tears flushing down your face, you sniff as you grip onto him harder. "Please w-wake up," you begin, trying your best to keep your touch on him but you were a jittering mess. Not being able to stay still, you press your ear over his chest to see his he still had a pulse.
Sighing in relief, he did.
Squeezing his face, you frown as his expressionless face stills. Realizing he might have passed out over a concussion, your lips begin to tremble as you finally breakdown in tears and cradle him.
Leaning over from his side, you bend your body and embrace his head into your neck. "I am such a-a fucking idiot," you squeak, your eyes shutting as you don't have the power to keep them open. "I-I love you- I should've just stayed and t-talked-!"
Cutting yourself off, you ironically feel like the lifeless one despite your literal unconscious boyfriend being in your arms at the moment. Bitch, you really had the nerve. Swiftly kissing his cheek, you plunge yourself into his neck and cushion him with your body- being as fragile as ever when handling him.
Quivering in misery, you keep a strong grip onto him before you felt pressure along your side. "It's been minutes and you still haven't called 911? I could've been dead by now."
Screaming, you instantly drop the figure once on top of you and force your thighs to back up, causing you to sit perplexed on the concrete floor.
Glancing back up, you find your boyfriend brightly grinning your way, using his arms to hold his upper portion up as you looked back in confusion. Didn't you hit him?
"I was my own stunt double for some scenes," he speaks up, smiling to himself proud as you continued staying still, confused as to what had just happened. "As long as you have the right mentality- you can take a pounding."
Registering where he was going with this, you scoff and quickly allow your feet to hit the ground. Following after you, Pedro jumps at your unpleased sight and watches as you cooly open your back door to let your dog jump out before marching towards the door to your house.
"Wait? Are you mad at me for that, too?" He calls out, tilting his head in question and proceeds to get his answer by the slamming of the door behind you. "Never mind."
Angrily storming through your hallway, you accidentally run into the wooden desk placed against the wall. "Ugh!" you scream, turning around and giving it one hard kick before making your way towards your destination- the kitchen.
"What did the desk ever do to you?" Pedro mumbled to himself, stopping right by it once you were out of sight and fixing it back up against the wall, making sure the books settled on top were nested properly before going after you.
"So that's why one of the legs is chipped? I noticed that-"
"Shut up, Andrew."
"Sorry, go on."
Finding you near the blacked marbled kitchen bar, Pedro ceased his movements. To be honest, he was nervous to confront you. Not only did you find out he slept at his ex girlfriend's house, but he made you believe he was dead.
This was not going to end well.
"How could you do this to me?" He hears you ask, you back being in his peripheral view as you leaned your body over the counter, hands gripping the ends roughly.
"Do what?" he idiotically responds back, mentally slapping himself for having the audacity to question something he surely knows.
Slowly turning around, capturing his soft yet worried eyes, he catches onto your tear ones and breaks down on the inside. "Tell me the truth." you gulp, averting your eyes to your feet as you sense him bobble his head. "Did you sleep with her?"
Choking on air, he frantically shakes his head in dismay, not believing you would actually think that despite the past half an hour of him comprehending that you might so. Maybe he just couldn't believe it would ever come out of your mouth- but this whole situation made him nauseous.
Steadily finding his balance, he inched towards your frail body as you kept your contact with the floor strong, not daring to move it even when the sight of his shoes play in your mind. "Honey," he lowly calls out, lifting his fingers to your chin and hastily bringing your vision to his own. "No- I did not sleep or engage in any sexual nor romantic activity with her."
"Then why did you go to her house and not tell me?!" you cried, nudging his hand off your face, him immediately aiming towards your waist to still have you near. "Why would you do this to me? Why would you sleep over when you know how I would feel?"
"I can't tell you," he confesses, whispering softly. Feeling your face fall, you erupt into tears again as you lift up your palms to hide behind them.
Hiccuping, your hands twitch as they support your weight and force you to fall on top of the counter and continue watering your tears there. Everything was unfair and he couldn't seem to realize how bad your fights have progressed throughout the months.
"If you really care about me," you whimper, still behind your hands as he rubs circles on your waist. "You would consider my feelings and understand why I should know what you did with her."
Sighing, he releases you waist and rubs his forehead in frustration. Pedro wasn't the type to hide things in relationships. In fact, he was amazing when it came to expressing feelings and being honest while you were the same- but you typically took longer to reveal your troubles than he did.
But no matter how loyal he was to you, it wasn't his place to share someone else's business no matter who the association may be.
"I know, baby. I know- believe me," he whispers, pulling you in for a hug and lifting you off the counter as your sobs were felt among his chest. It broke his heart. "But I can't betray her, she needed me and trusted me to see her. I can't just deceive her."
"But you can do that to me?" you reply, catching him off guard as he shuts his eyes tightly by how accurate you were being. "It's okay, I understand."
"No," he shakes his head, groaning before staring you down. "You don't understand, hell- I don't understand this either. But what I need you to know is I did not kiss, flirt, wink, tease, or touch her in any sexual way. We did not have sex - there was no removing of any clothing-"
"Then why did you sleepover?!"
"She needed me," he simply replies, causing you to laugh ridiculy.
"I needed you and you left me," you spit out harshly, not believing how he could defend himself and think you would ever fine with it.
Grunting, he runs his hand over his hair before pouring all of his stress onto you. "What do you want me to do? I told you what happened- she needed me, I helped her, it took longer than expected so I fell asleep on the couch- do you want to touch my knotted back for proof? Because you can!"
"Why am I the one being yelled at?" you respond, watching his face fall in disappointment.
Staying in your position for a minute or two, you continued examining him as he did the same, not knowing where this was headed. That was until he motioned with his hand for you to move closer.
"Come here."
Furrowing your brows, you pause at his words. Did he think hugging was going to solve all of your problems- because it wasn't. "No-"
Feeling his arms glide up along your upper body and finally wrapping around your shoulders, he pressed you up against his chest into the warmest bear hug you might have engaged in.
It was...peaceful.
Sighing, he felt your body soften by the touch. Relaxing, you closed your eyes as he made it his mission to not ease up on his grip. "I didn't do anything with her," he whispers, laying his face comfortably on your shoulder. "I promise, I love you."
Sadly, his confession made you break down more as tears flooded your face and your body fell upon his grip. Easily wrapping his palms on the back of your head, he cradled you tightly and never left your sight once the rest of that day and week.
And that's how that fight ended- with you trusting his sweet nothings and letting him take over your body with his hugs and kisses because he somehow made you believe him.
Every single time.
You wish you could have moved on from that topic that night as you allowed him to show you how much he loved you, but unfortunately that wasn't an option.
Especially when paparazzi exploited more pictures with him and his ex the following weeks later.
"And what about your last fight? You know- the one that ended things," Andrew started, making you halt. "What happened then?"
Quickly standing up, you brushed your sweatpants down before sending him a tight smile. Now that you talked about sad memories you hadn't really thought of in months, you knew the mention of your last fight would only break you.
You weren't ready to undergoing the same pain you felt that night.
"I didn't know these talks about my past would take a toll on me, but they have. I don't want to talk about it, but I appreciate the two of you checking up on me- I really do, but I think its time for me to take a shower and maybe nap- it's been a tiring day."
Feeling your discomfort, Florence and Andrew exchanged a weary glance before looking back up to you, hesitantly nodding. Probably an intense memory, they were determined not to mention it again unless you came forward.
"Alright- but give us a call if you ever need a shoulder to cry on or just plain old company!" Florence smiled, wrapping her arms around you for a quick hug before pulling back. "We can even have a sleepover."
"Count me out on that one," Andrew joked, bending down to give you the same hug. "But for real, you can cry on my shoulder any time."
"Thanks," you giggle, soon following them towards your front door as they say goodbye to your dog before departing in their own cars.
What an emotional day it has been.
-
"Do I really have to go? It's no use- I already seen the film. I don't want to rewatch it," you whine as your manager hushes you.
Walking down the side of the theatre, you clutch onto the oversized, black leather jacket you were wearing as your manager and assistant walked on either side of you, directing to to the entrance of a random theatre in the city.
Since the Oscars, nothing has really changed. It's been about three weeks now and there wasn't chaos anymore- it seemed like news about that night had already faded.
Regularly, you did chat with Florence, Shailene, and Andrew on the phone- individually at times throughout your past weeks- but nothing too crazy.
You all had your busy schedules and your manager was still being as hardworking as ever trying to exploit more of you to the press and on the screen. Safe to say, every time she had news it would always be something impressive.
Except for today, when she proudly announced after barging into your house during breakfast that there was a new film premiere you had to attend.
It's not like you opposed the idea- but you watched the film when the production team invited you to their private screening. It would be useless watching it again.
But as persistent as ever, your manager claimed there would be great press and directors attending the public's premiere, following with "an Oscar-nominated actress like you must make themself remembered."
As dramatic as always- but at least she was highly active in your career.
She did everything to make you get noticed, especially when you were at your lowest point mentally after your breakup.
Now onto past relationships, you hadn't heard any news regarding Pedro since you last saw him. Not that you wanted to, but for some reason he was still on your mind. Due to the fact you did sit with your friends ranting about your shared troubles, that's likely the reason.
But all jokes aside, you seriously can't stop thinking about him.
However, you were too scared to admit this to anyone. You tried telling Florence, but every time you mentioned his name she would immediately disregard him, pissed by how he treated you.
Which you loved that she had your back, but you needed someone else to have his own- oddly.
Maybe it was your head deep in thoughts that revealed how you were feeling, but your assistant seemed to notice that you weren't okay- mentally.
After checking in and finding a small crowd, you accepted that maybe most of the audience were in their seats already despite the film starting in almost an hour. Nudging you once your manager left to find one of the producers, you glanced at her as she motioned you to move towards the wall.
"What's up?"
She made a face, practically laughing at your question before continuing on. "Why don't you tell me 'what's up?' The whole ride here you've been silent and I know it's not because you were tired- you slept all afternoon, what's really up?"
Chuckling, you roll her eyes at how nosy she was being- but you knew she only wanted to help you. After working together for years, it was a ritual both of you performed: don't let the other be sad.
Surprisingly, it worked every time. She would hide you from people who upset you while you let her have more vacation days whenever she felt the same.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're thinking about him, huh."
Eyes widening, you shake your head quickly as she laughs at your poor attempt of denying her idea. But she knew right from the moment you got lost in your head that he was the one to blame.
"Don't worry, I won't tell," she whispered loudly, causing you to shove her as she laughed louder.
"Shut up, someone might hear you," you hiss, watching as she tried holding her breath to stop herself from cackling again. She just looked like a fish in need of water.
"Don't think about him then," she teased. "If it's making you lost in your thoughts! Wait- why is he in your head? I thought you hated him?"
Coughing, you shake your head. "I don't hate him- I could never."
"Never?" she raises a brow in shock. "I think we're seeing some progress here. You're falling back in loveeeee with him."
"No way," you scoffed as she grinned heavily. "I'm just thinking about the Oscars since that was the last work-related event I've been to since today and you know- he was there so he ended up in my mind...for a little."
She slowly nods, teasing a smug as makes it pretty clear she did not believe one word you said. Your assistant has seen everything, so she is quite familiar with your thoughts regarding Pedro.
She knows when your happily, sadly, angrily, and crazily daydreaming about him. In this case, she's stuck between happily and crazily- not seeming to find any hints of fury and sorrow through your expressions.
But definitely warmth and frustration- all due to him not being able to leave your head.
"When are you just going to admit you still love him?" She blurts out, causing you to snap your heard towards her. "Everybody sees it, you obviously have a soft spot for him if you let him be near you."
"Near me? He's never near me," you laugh. "And I never show signs I want him back, I don't. I made it clear for months now after perfectly avoiding him at all costs."
"Yeah, but he's still on your mind- that must mean something," she declares, causing your small grin to fall into a tight line.
That must mean something.
Did it?
Shaking that thought away, you reject her idea. "It means he traumatized me."
"It means you're in denial and scared to be with him again," she replied, placing her hands on her hips. "Look, I just know you two are meant to be. Next time you see him, talk to him. Tell him how much you care for him- even if you don't want to admit it in a lovey-dovey way. It can be friendly!"
Giving her a strange look, she lowers her energy quickly before looking around the room, making sure no one saw how enthuastic she became.
"You get the point!" she rolls her eyes. "Just be nice, maybe the both of you can form a friendship or just drift apart knowing there's no hard feelings."
"But there is hard feelings," you declared, pointing out the obvious.
There is a reason why you two broke up, like there is also a reason why you despise him. It all comes down to history and actions, which you've both experienced- which is why, again, you broke up.
"Just..." she started, thinking about it for a second before sending you a sincere glance. "-give it a shot. If you don't hate him, like you said, it wouldn't be terrible to be civil."
Slowly nodding, you understand where she's coming from. This tension between Pedro and you was getting old, and the fact it was only you adding fuel to the non-existent fire since you've broken up is sad.
Especially when all he's been around you was sweet and considerate of your feelings, leaving you alone when he felt your energy- except for that one night, but you have to admit that was your fault for riling him up.
The roughness of heels came marching your way, forcing the both of you to instantly lift your head- finding your manager striking a fake breaming grin with two men beside her. She was trying too hard.
"Girls! This is Greg and Shawn- the writers of the film!" she exclaimed, fluttering her lashes rapidly as both men awkwardly raised a hand, waving it.
Releasing a tiny chuckle, you do the same as your assistant walks closer, sticking out her hand to fully gain their attention and introduce herself.
What can you say- she was a charmer.
Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, your manager slightly pulls you closer to the strangers and strangely bobbles her head- preparing whatever gibberish was about to spit out of her talkative mouth.
"Y/n- the boys thought it would be a great idea to sit in the vip selection among other A-listers- isn't that just lovely? We are very grateful for your offer-"
Boys? Oh god- now she was bonding for her hopeful chances of getting a call for an audition.
Compelling a sweet smile, you feel the only possible response you could give them was a meaningless 'thank you so much' after she literally put you on blast to communicate more. The funniest part about this situation was- you already watched the film!
Clearly you never met these writers- but instead the director himself! Your manager should be satisfied enough with that.
"Would you look at the time,-" Greg- you believe, softly gasps while raising his arm to examine the tiny apple watch planted. "Guests are probably filling up in their seats by now, terribly sorry- but we should probably go."
"I hadn't realized how close we were to showtime- we certainly must continue off our conversation after the film is over!" Shawn proclaims, making your manager nod far too quickly. "I look forward to meeting again."
With that, the two men inclined their motions of farewells before taking off down a dimmed hall, likely finding the exact destination set to premiere their comedic film.
Sighing, you send daggers to your managers who barely blinks before coughing out a swift, "What?"
"You really couldn't wait till after the film was over to sweet talk them?"
Dramatically rolling her eyes at your annoyance, she waves you off by your sudden introversion. It was her job to throw her best compliments about you too them, and she knew you were still too young to understand that everything she did was for a cost.
You.
"C'mon grumpy, let's locate the theatre before you start whining that your feet hurt, too."
Feeling your mouth slightly drop from her remark, you hear your assistant cackle right beside you, using her right palm to hold in her giggles while you mentally prepared for what comeback to throw her way.
You got nothing.
Huffing, your legs followed hers as she guided the two of you towards the same hall the men approached minutes before. The closer you've walked, the larger the capacity gathered around.
For such a low-budget film, it sure did gain quite the crowd.
As the rolling of the ending credits flooded the screen once you sat the last two and a half hours trying to act as if you didn't know what was coming next, you wish you had it in you to say the second time made up for the first- but it didn't.
There we have it, tonight was just not your night and endlessly enough- you couldn't blame it on some silly excuse of watching the same film over again.
Not even your assistant's sneaky offerings of her red licorice lifted your blues- and that speaks enough volume to say the least.
"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" the whole-heartedly voice of your manager's voice filled your ears as the three of you sat in the same lobby as before, still not finding a way to escape a cold room.
Oh how you abominated the sharp hits of the air conditioning- it frankly made coming to the theaters a horror unless layers of clothing and a blanket was tagged along.
"Why can't we leave? The film is done and people are walking out."
"We still have to talk to Shawn and Greg!" your manager declared, presenting a look of pure determination to get her way with their levels of skill.
Groaning, you throw your head in absolute exhaustion. Fairly, if your manager hadn't had made such an early visit during the morning hours you're sure you would've been in a better mood.
It was like the more you interacted, the less energy you had to give.
In order to survive the next few hours, you needed your phone or who knows how your fake laughters will sound.
And you call yourself an actress.
Sliding your hand to the back of your pockets, you wait for the feel of your large iphone to surface- but that moment never comes. Swiftly, you check your leather jacket ones just in case you slipped it there without realizing.
You didn't.
Anxiously glancing towards your assistant, your trembling hands find her arm. "Have you seen my phone? It's not on me."
Examining your hands before meeting your eyes, she shrugs it off. "Relax, no need to have a nervous breakdown- I'm sure you left it in the car with your bag-"
"No, I had it on me during the previews."
"We did go to the bathroom, too- why not just go check those two places?" she suggests. Concerned filled you, hoping nobody was capable of actually stealing your phone- it would be such a hassle getting another one. "I'll check the bathroom, you check our seats."
Agreeing, the two of you sneakily escape your manager when her back was turned, unpleasantly speed walking down the familiar hall before parting ways to your needed locations.
Opening the thick, black doors and striding up the long runway, your eyes are met with the same darkened seating area you were in less than twenty minutes ago.
Then and there, you use this desertion in power- running towards the middle rows consider 'vip' and begin your inspection. Fuck, you wish your had some form of light to help- you couldn't see shit.
Sliding your fingers among the seat, you lift up the cushions in hopes it mysteriously pops up, but all you find is pieces of popcorn and gum glued down.
Gross.
Feeling your eyes begin to water, you were sure you were seconds away from crying like a little kid over the loss of your beloved possession before you heard a deep voice call out for your attention.
"Is this yours? I heard it ringing when I came back in and- uh," the person froze, not having the ability to finish off their sentence as you gradually lifted your body off the floor into their view.
Hopelessly praying the stranger was regarding your phone, your eyes search for their hands first and there it was- your phone!
The corners of your mouth lift up, as well as the creases around your eyes as you internally cheer for your discovery. However, it faltered once you noticed a familiar tattoo laying on one of their palms. Moving your eyes up, you're sure your smile completely disappears once you recognize those brown eyes.
How did you not catch onto his voice from down there?
"Uh- yeah- that's mine," you nervously reply, choking on your words that probably made you sound like you were about to lose consciousness by how strung you were, and hesitantly reach out for the device.
Pedro quietly lets you grab it, not saying one word as your hands collide for a split second before the object was back in your own. You didn't miss the name that appeared on the lit up screen when touched- your assistant must have tried calling you to see if the phone would ring in the bathroom.
Smart.
Avoiding awkward farewells, Pedro swiftly turns around and makes his way down the theatre stairs, not daring to continue on with the barely existing conversation you shared. He's leaving, that fast?
Thinking about all your past interactions, he would always try to chat with you- even when you did give him the coldest shoulder of all time- because that's who he was: kind.
But now he's...walking away?
"Hey- uhm," you begin, following clumsily after him, almost tripping on one of the steps as he reaches his final steps and doubtfully turns your way. Once you stood another step ahead of him, you feel that swirling feeling in your stomach again.
You were nervous- you've never felt this way around him during your breakup- never.
Adjusting your arms inside your jacket, a small smile is extracted out of you as you watch his stay flat. He did not look interested one bit and it frightened you to death. "Thanks for finding my phone- I-I was really scared there for a minute."
Not reacting to your little laugh at the end, he replied- dull. "I didn't know it was yours, I would have given it to guest services if so."
Ouch, you're sure you're hurt expression was recognizable on the outside as much as it pained you on the inside. He really did not want to talk to you, even when you're showing your appreciation.
He really was over you.
"I know," you squeak out, not missing the way his eyes tiredly scanned your own as his body stood there stiff as ever. "I just wanted to thank you, that's all- you saved me a lot of trouble."
Coldly laughing from that, he nods. "I'm sure I have."
Your body tingled with rage as he carelessly ignored your warmth and threw jabs in return. "What's with the attitude? I'm doing nothing wrong here- I'm trying to be friendly."
Inching up, his face presents a sullen one and you immediately feel intimated by the height he owned and used as his advantage. Just the first few seconds before he spoke alone made you feel his displeasure. "And what about all those times I was friendly? I received shit so forgive me for allowing you to experience the same treatment you give others."
Loss for words, you were speechless and didn't know what to say back. For one, you were alarmed by his hard demeanor he gifted to you. Second, humiliation soared throughout as he called out your imperfections.
In other words, he wanted you to know you were a bitch.
"And I take that back but-"
Pedro was about to burst out laughing in front of your face, but he held himself together in sake of your feelings. Can you believe that, despite the misery he still cared for your state of mind. "Taking back isn't apologizing."
Sneering, you cross your arms as his eyebrows furrowed in irritation. "Apologize for what? You were the one who fucked my life over."
Scoffing, he shakes his head in vexation by your lack of empathy- as always. "Countless of times we would contemplate our faults and how we could move on and now you're discounting your wrongdoings- typical."
Pedro did not want to have another unpleasant argument with you, especially in a public setting again, and decided it was best to just walk away. If he kept his mouth shut, he wouldn't make this altercation worse.
Meeting his broad back, you lightly gasp as he ignores you altogether and makes his leave far too early for your liking. Charging towards him, you feel his back solidify once your fingers yank him to a halt.
You were not done with this conversation, but you did know once you got home you were definitely going to regret how toxic you were radiating in the room.
"Typical? What do you mean by that?"
"Knock it off and let me walk away, y/n," Pedro warns, still facing his back towards you after blocking your attempts of moving him. "We both know how badly this will end."
You know, but for some reason you don't want him to leave. Was that so bad?
"No, I wanna hear exactly what you have to say about me- maybe it'll make me recognize the ignorant ego I have."
"You're talking out in anger, you're trying to cause a fire that I won't let you ignite," he simply replies, his eyes still not found by his hidden appearance.
Very poetic.
Scowling profoundly, you don't realize what you're doing until you're finally met with his provoked display after. Stalking around his body, you stand in front of him and jab a finger towards his chest. "You're preventing me from bettering myself, isn't that what you always wanted?"
Leaning down until his face with inches away from yours, you make out his hard features clearly now. His face expressed discomfort as his eyes creased while lifting- even his lips stayed hard as a rock. "I'm going to tell you one more time, let me go."
Ignoring his cold shoulder, he inhaled a sharp breath before taking matters into his own hands. You don't want to listen? Fine. But he wasn't going to let you drag him into this any further.
Right as you push another finger up against him, your wrist was taken and roughly pushed down by your side as Pedro's body practically belted against yours. "Get off me!"
"Not until you stop fucking around," he grunted, immediately widening his eyes in realization. He knows you don't like when he casually curses directly to you- even when he doesn't harm. "Sorry- I-I meant when you stop playing around."
Praying that a smile doesn't escape you, it made you feel some type of way capturing his manners and how even though you two were on rocky terms- he still had some respect for you.
"Why are we even fighting right now?" you sigh, slowly softening your muscles in forfeit.
"You tell me- it sounds like you want my attention," he casually replied, releasing your hands and stepping back an inch. "Considering you won't let me leave."
"I'm just trying to have a normal, polite conversation! Is that so wrong?"
Softly laughing, he shakes his head in disappointment. "You don't get it."
Scrunching your face, you become lost by his words. "Get what?"
Scanning the wall before meeting your eyes again, Pedro motions his hands between the two of you. "What do you think will come out of us having a conversation? Acquaintances? Maybe a friendship?"
Thinking about it for a second, you feel your head eventually nod as he squeezes his eyes shut in return. Was that not what he's been trying to do- end in good terms? "It's what's healthy for us."
"Us?!" Pedro groans, sending you a tired gaze that had you weak to the knees. "There is no 'us' anymore. You made that perfectly clear after causing a scene last month in front of your friends."
"I didn't plan on that happening a-"
"I'm even letting go the bigger scene you caused inside the after party- isn't that enough to understand why I feel this way?" he adds on, frustrated that you would think otherwise.
You were the one who caused the attention and brought a bad look on his name. He should be shouting at you like you would have done to him if the roles were reversed.
"I'm not saying we should get back together, all I want-"
"-is a friendship? Some sort of relation that won't make us strangers?" he interjects, causing you to stay silent. That was all he needed to understand what you really wanted: not to let him go. "Look, we had our history, but I don't think it's good we keep in contact anymore."
You swear you felt all air leave your body as your face felt cold. Was he breaking up with you- in life itself?
"I-uhm don't- I don't understand," you cough, scared to make a bigger fool out of yourself. You're sure you probably look like a ghost by how much color you've lost since his recent reveal and again- you were grateful this room was dim. "Why can't we at least be friends? Not even that- why can't we at least know we have each other in our lives? Why end up as strangers?"
"What do you mean? We hadn't talked to each other in almost a year till last month! We basically are strangers," he exclaimed, causing you to look down at your feet as your heart ached.
He wasn't wrong- you just hadn't realized he's been right. And to blame was you, not him. You pushed him away in the first place, he was only kind enough to oblige.
And it was surely pathetic how now you wanted him back in your life, even if it meant not even talking just to assure yourself he still had your back.
He didn't.
"Y/n..." he sadly muttered, trying his best not to hurt your feelings as you were still continued to stay downwards- not wanting to disclose more hurt. "You didn't even say happy birthday to me, how can you be considered a friend? Friends don't do that, not to me at least."
This caused you to glance back up to him, disagreeing immediately as to what he was trying to get at. Of course you knew it was his birthday, you celebrated two with him in the past! "I didn't want to make things weird-"
"You never do but still avoid me like the plague and breakdown whenever I'm too close to your liking. I'm sorry for trying to do what's best and leave us in the past,-" he explains, closing his eyes in discomfort, "-but I can't keep letting this go on. I'm too old to be going back and forth as if this is some high school relationship- it's not."
High school relationship- you never knew simple three words could have you shrinking in guilt.
"And I know things will be easier for you when the time comes- I won't be around to nag you," Pedro tries to lighten up the mood but you can't break the line upon your lips. You were emotionless and it made Pedro upset.
Why would he be upset? You finally deserved learning your lesson after treating him as if he was nothing to you. But despite all your flaws, he still cared for you.
He cares so much that he's willing to let you go so you can do better things in life- without him.
Trying to find the right words to say, you give up. There isn't much to discuss now that he wants nothing to do with you.
You fucked up- for real this time.
In fact, you shouldn't even be hurt- you wanted this. Or at least that's what you thought before last month when he wasn't on your mind 24/7.
Maybe it was the way he begged for your forgiveness after not seeing each other for so long that made you realize how badly you adored him nearby.
Maybe it was the attention he was giving you after you continuously rejected his pleads, furthering the argument until he stormed off in the end.
And maybe you should've took his concluding estrangement announcement seriously before he left you last month.
But just like they say, you never know what you have until it's gone.
"I see," you quietly respond, slowly nodding as a faint grin forms among Pedro's lips, appreciating your cooperation over this mess. "Maybe it is best if we stray away from each other- you can even delete my number."
"I already have," he accidentally blurts out, not realizing how bad that sounds until he hears it himself and cringes. Your sufferable reaction didn't make things better.
"You know what," you fake a laugh, trying to calm your voice as you feel it about to crack any second. The tears were heading your way- you just knew it. "Fuck you."
Pedro's face falls, taken back by your inappropriate language. "Excuse me?"
Noticing your rushed attitude, he wanted to stop you and tell you everything was alright. That everything was going to be easy and how the two of you would get passed this.
But he knew he'd be lying.
"You heard me, fuck you," you casually slip out, scoffing as his eyes darken. "For someone who's so kind to others, I would have thought you would know what words were right to say."
"You're one to talk, sweetheart," he chuckled, staring at you in repulse. "Every time you talk you always have to neglect someone else, I'm fucking glad I don't have to witness that ever again."
"Me too, my family was right- you are a joke who wasted my time."
With that, you make your leave to have the chance of having the last word. Maybe if you left this room faster he would forget about your comment. You knew it was harsh but you didn't know what else to say.
You wanted him to hurt- but to what extent?
Your arm was instantly tugged as Pedro pulled you back, not letting his grip go as his face was still filled with resentment. "And your team was right, you are a bitch."
Freezing, you stare at him in shock as his face doesn't fall once. What the hell is he talking about? "Get away from me or else-"
"Or else what? Weren't you the one physically blocking me from leaving minutes ago? What has changed?" he tries to smirk, manipulating you into believing how ruthless he could be when really he was dying to tell you the act he was pulling. "Cat got your tongue?"
Your face felt hot with rage as you yanked your arm off his hand, catching him by surprise as you glared at him. "I'm so glad I never took you back, you're fucking pathetic."
"And I'm insanely glad you didn’t, saved thousands returning that fucking ring."
Those twelve words made you halt and even made Pedro speechless. By the staggered look planted on his face, you could tell he didn't mean to say that.
Ring? As in, an engagement ring?
Weakly failing to stand straight, you felt your voice crack. "You were going to propose?"
Shaking his head, he swiftly backed away. "I need to go." Before you could stop him, he was already out of the theatre and probably near larger gatherings of people that would only prevent you from talking about this more.
Holding your face with your hands, you couldn't even cry. You didn't know what to do, you were utterly lost for words.
If he was really going to propose like he hinted at, what meaning did your last fight have? Nothing made sense and you don't know how you could move on from this now that he wanted you out of his life completely.
Hearing doors open, you instantly averted your gaze in hopes he had come back in and planned to properly finish what he started.
Instead, you manager came barging in while gripping onto your assistant's wrist harshly.
"Where the hell have you been?! I've been looking for you everywhere and to find out your stupid assistant-"
"Don't you dare disrespect her," you sternly cut her off, watching as her face falters by your sudden tone. "If you're here to pester us some more, feel free to walk home."
Laughing in shock, your manager tilts her head at your rudeness. "Excuse me? It wasn't my fault your assistant wondered off. After everything I have done to protect you and your career you feel the need to throw me out-"
"Did she hurt you?" you cut her off, focusing on your assistant who has gone quiet. You notice the redness on her small wrists before she slowly nods, looking down in fear your manager would try something else.
"You're fired," you simply state, pushing past your frantic ex- manager as you lightly guide your assistant out the door.
You ignore the rage your ex- manager unveils as you make it back to the lobby. Ignoring the waves random people sent your way in hopes of finding your destined car sooner so you could help your assistant with her injuries and be home already.
And in bed to think about what the fuck just happened tonight.
+
tagslist: @d4rno @ddeonmixx @sloanexx @soilaluna @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @floralsightings @prettiestmark @queereddie @beltzboys2015-blog @valopz @thhriller @lovebynorth @tomorrowseverything @cheesemittens @jasminedragoon @prettyinpunk85 @marysucks-blog @iwillbiteabitch @daddy-din @blacklist07 @amberpanda99 @sciencebros1128 @jklkverr @nini123 @miss-goldenweek @pedropascalfan221 @sagggy @aphrcdites @spacelatinos4life @esstark @tongibatongi @maviee @gimalo135 @spicymochi15 @kittenlittle24
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tootiecakes234 · 4 months
Text
Part 2
Warnings: cheating Katsuki (not on you tho, but with you, eventual smut next part)
Bakugo’s POV
" I'm not going anywhere with you. You're an asshole. All I've done since meeting you was try to be your friend but you seem to hate my guts." she was trying to speak calmly but the more she spoke the more pissed off she sounded.
"I don't hate you. Its just..." I tried explaining but there was no way for me to explain without sounding like a lunatic.
"Just what?? You know what, it doesn't matter. Its cold as shit out here and I don't want to fight with you. Please leave." She spoke to me but she was looking right past me.
"You're right. It is fucking freezing. Let me in and we can have a conversation like adults."
Oh that did it. She went from nonchalant to pissed.
"OH!! So now you want to talk like adults. Ive known you for months now and the entire time you've treated me like shit for NO! FUCKING! REASON!"
Her hands were moving and her brows were furrowed. She looked like she might actually be able to kill me right now and I should probably be scared or at least on some type of high alert but all I can think about right now is hot she looks when she's mad.
Ive never even seen her really irritated let alone this irate. The way her lips were moving and her tits jiggling because she's talking with her hands.
I was moving. I could feel myself moving but I couldn't register why.
"And another thing, I haven't even do- mmmph"
My lips where on hers and the only thought in my head at that moment was that I couldn't believe her lips were even softer than they looked. They melted right up against mine. She was perfection.
She was shocked at first but before I knew it her lips were moving against mine. My arms slipped around her waist and hers around my neck. She reached one of her hands into my hair and deepened the kiss. She tore a deep groan from my throat that I was surprised came out of me.
We started moving together and stepped inside her doorway. I used my foot to kick the door shut. As soon as the door closed she pushed me up against it.
Fuck, I could feel my dick hardening. Ive never had a girl be forceful with me in the slightest but this feeling, like she wanted me bad enough to take it. My hands started roaming.. everywhere. Everythingabout her was soft and malleable. Fucking amazing.
She ripped her lips away from mine to catch her breath but I wasn't gonna let this moment slip away. I did what I’ve been wanting to since I first laid eyes on her and pressed a kiss to each of those plump cheeks of hers. After that I pulled back as well to breathe. When I looked at her face again she was grinning at me and I laughed because of course she was.
Everything was so perfect... until my phone started ringing.
I was going to ignore it, but the ringtone... I fucking knew that ringtone. I'd set it just for her. I have a habit of not answering which is why I set it up, so I'd never ignore her calls.
Fuck.
"Are you going to get that?? Also what kinda ringtone is that? sorta embarrassing dontcha think?" She was chuckling but I couldn't find the humor in it.
What the fuck had I just done??
Im tagging everyone who commented on Part: @ssplague @thedondiva45 @plutodestr0yedme @sweetblueworm @bakugou-katsukis-wife @hwanin https://www.tumblr.com/neverseenbeforee
Thank you guys for the support. Working on part 3🫡🥰
Part 1
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sturnwritess · 2 months
Text
Things always end.
[ my first angst 🤨 ] M.S
summary: reader goes to a party and shortly leaves after seeing matt all up on another girl.
warnings: Hard angst, toxic matt, slight mention of alcohol,mentions of drugs, not a happy ending,swearing and cheating.
LEMME KNOW IF U WANT A PT 2.
WC:
pink text: you, purple text: nick, orange text chris
(matt doesnt text in the group chat. since he's tuff)
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The flashing lights and blasting music and the smell of weed flowing through the house made me nauseous.
Chris and Nick texted me to come to the party in the first place.
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hey you coming to the party?
i might be, whos all gonna be there?
just a bunch of random influencers and also matt, me and chris are gonna be there too.
ok i will be there, cant wait to see you guys 😚
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You put on your slim black dress, knowing its matt's favorite dress. You put on your black heels and your red purse. You ordered a uber, and you scrolled through your phone and saw matt, nick and chris already at the party.
You arrive at the house and walk up the drive way, you enter the house and already the smell of weed and the sweaty bodies going straight to your head.
You run straight to the kitchen to find some alcohol, you took a shot of vodka, then another and then one more just for the fuck of it. You leave the kitchen and walk into the living room trying to scan familiar eyes, no luck.
You walk upstairs to see the other living room, you see all three familiar faces but one catches your eye. Seeing that tall,pretty,blonde and green eyed girl on his lap. His face drops when he see's your face drop, he gets the girl off his lap but he's to late. Your already down the damn stairs.
You run down stairs tears falling out of your eyes, fidgeting with your phone trying to call your friend to pick you up. Matt's right behind you trying to get your attention,"y/n! y/n!" no reply from you, your just trying to get out of that damn house.
You feel the alcohol starting to kick in,fuck.You think to yourself. Your hands finally grab the door handle and slam the door in matts face, everyone's attention lands on matt. He doesnt care about everyone else, he tries to get out the door. But that familiar blonde girl taps on his shoulder "matty, what was all that about?" she says. "Nothing, dont worry about it grace." he says in a harsh tone.
He runs back up the stairs telling Chris and Nick that they need to go.
As you walked out that door, your bestfriend nicole was there to pick you up. "hey babes, are you ok?" she asked in a gentle tone. You didnt answer and just nodded, your nose was red, your eyes were red with runny mascara running down. She could tell you were not okay, but she didnt want to bother you now.
2 weeks later..
19 missed calls from chris, 6 missed calls from nick and 2 texts from matt.
You didnt even bother checking your phone. You hadn't even ate in 5 days, hadn't took a shower in 2 weeks.
You just curled up into a ball in your bed in the hoodie that Matt gave you on your first date. Nicole had knocked on your door, asking to come in. You didn't answer so she took that as a no and left you alone.
While you were depressed Matt just partied and hid his feelings, Chris and Nick knew what was up but didn't dare to ask.
You finally had gotten the courage to check your phone and instantly went through Matt's instagram. Just to find,Her.Her.Her.Her.Her. She was in every photo she was even tagged. You clicked on her tag just to scroll to see her perfect body, thats all she posted.
After a hour you were done,you threw your phone and just cried into your pillow.
Matt had cried and sobbed, just never so anyone could see it. He always tried to text you and call you, he just never could hit the damn button.
You knew posting Gracie on your story would torment y/n and you always tried not to press that damn button. But you always did, Gracie wasn't the one you wanted. You wanted y/n and you fucked up that night. You were drunk and Gracie was there, you knew your brothers weren't gonna interfere but you damn well wish they would've.
You had issues and she had issues, you two loved each other to the point it hurt. You wished you could've prevented what happened that night, you had wished it never happened.
I always came to Nick always trying to get his opinion and screaming into his face for not stopping me from all of this. At the end of the night I would curl into his arms and bawling wishing he were y/n.
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SO WHAT DO YALL THINK?
@christinarowie332 @strawberrysturniolo @mattitties @nicksnosering @chrisenthusiast @mattsgirlie @mattsnymphette @chrissolosa @chriscumsworld @sturncrazy @sturniolopowers @sturnioloskies @sturnisposts @mattsturnioloarchive @chrissturniolosbitch @mattsturniolosworld @chrissturniolosbf
Lemme know if you guys want a happy ending in part 2
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bg-brainrot · 1 month
Text
Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 10: After a Love Test
Chapter 10: After a Love Test
Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.
Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)
Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon
Rating: Teen
Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 3, Canon-typical violence, insecurities, jealousy, clowns
WC: 1.8k words, 10/18 chapters
Summary: Set at the start of Act 3, time with a dyrad leads to some jealousy and some fluff.
Ao3 | [Hug9][Hug11] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist
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Somehow, despite the tumult, despite the horrors of the Shadowlands, your group has stumbled into what can only be described as a fresh, new hell. Or as Karlach eagerly exclaimed, “The Circus!” While your companions are all as Baldurian as you are, only Karlach seemed truly excited to stumble upon the brightly-colored, boisterous affair. 
That being said, you’re a sucker for her big, puppy dog eyes, so the entire group files in past the security. You lie and say something about being a knife thrower– not hard to believe considering how you’re equipped– but the chortle from Astarion almost gives you away. It tells you all you need to know, but he whispers to you anyway, “You? A knife-thrower? You’d sooner throw your boot at an enemy.” He’s not wrong, and you’re annoyed at how well he knows you.
“Oh, hush,” you whisper back. “Or if they put us to work, I’ll throw my knives at you.” It doesn’t wipe the grin from his face, but he does let it go.
After some odd adventures with a Djinni, speaking to a rather funny little kobold, and knicking a few items from every stall and unsuspecting spectator, you are starting to find yourself having actual fun. Perhaps it’s the petty theft– your favorite– or more likely, the company. Every time you have a wicked little thought on what to steal, Astarion is right behind you, ready to act on it. Even Shadowheart, who is usually thoroughly fed up with your antics, cracks a smile when Astarion nabs the cheating Djinni’s ring. 
You begin to see why Karlach was so very excited to find a circus, and you give yourself to the atmosphere of the place. That’s why, when your group stumbles upon a dryad proclaiming to give love readings, you don’t shy away. In fact, when she declares that you’re in love in front of the group, your lover included, you don’t even blush.
Astarion stands proud at your admission, his head tilting up every so slightly. You can tell that he’s feeling quite pleased, so much so that when you ask him if he’d like to do the love test with you, he doesn’t hesitate.
The group, the circus fades away, an idyllic scene taking its place. A series of three questions pass, and with each answer, you take a step closer to your elven lover. Something about the picturesque scene fills you with a deep wish to run away together, find yourselves a secluded moment like this, away from even this dryad’s prying eyes. Astarion closes the gap between you, the test complete and your love thrumming– or whatever Zethino proclaimed. 
“How close you are, two hearts beating a perfect rhythm,” the dryad says, her tone melodic and lulling. “But I know the truth. Only one face holds your dreams each night. Close your eyes, sweetness, and she will come to you.”
What? you think to yourself. You turn toward Astarion who is looking at you, eyes widening ever so slightly in shock. There’s a pain to them that begins to surface, and you shake your head, trying to reassure him.
“Close your eyes,” Zethino repeats. You hesitate, you know you don’t love anyone else, but you were the one who suggested you did this little love test, so it’s up to you to play along. You close your eyes.
There are a few moments of silence, only the sounds of the circus coming through and you begin to wonder if she means to show you anything at all. You open your eyes to ask as much, only to be face-to-face with a grotesque, unnervingly familiar face: the woman from the mindflayer colony.
You recoil at her pale, unnatural visage, and make eye contact with Astarion, who is already reaching for a blade. The woman, Orin, doesn’t seem to be here to fight though. After posturing, not even allowing you to get a single word in, she dissipates into the air. For some reason, your first thought is born of a childish disappointment, was there ever any kind of love test?
The group is phased at this, naturally– she’s confirmed that she’s stalking you all, that she could be watching from any corner, wearing any face. So when you get back to enjoying what’s left of the circus, Astarion’s stormy expression and agitated twitches seem entirely warranted. 
You try not to let it get to you, but after a few minutes of this, you say to Karlach and Shadowheart, “You go on ahead, I want to check out this bard with Astarion. Maybe try pickpocketing some distracted audience members.” 
Karlach is already mostly over the whole shapeshifter thing, back into full on circus mode. “Say no more, soldier. Shadowheart, let’s go look at the animals!”
Once they turn the corner, you face Astarion. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what,” he says, looking down at his nails nonchalantly, steadfastly ignoring your searching eyes.
“You’re brooding,” you say, reaching out a hand for his. You wait a moment for him to accept it, and when he neither avoids it, nor accepts it, you gently grab a few of his fingers. “Is it Orin?”
His hand relents easily, and, as if moving on its own, intertwines his fingers with your own. “No,” he starts. “Well, kind of.” You wait patiently for him to sort out his thoughts, rubbing a thumb over one of his knuckles to the jaunty beat of the bard next to you.
After a bit, he says, “We’ve been entirely too open and trusting. Even if she wasn’t Orin, wouldn’t you say we were left too vulnerable there, dear.”
You try your best to keep your expression neutral. His concerns are valid, his fears coming from a very real place. But your stomach drops at the idea that this could shatter whatever safety he’s started to feel. “You’re not wrong, love,” you start, measuring your words carefully. “But we know how to handle ourselves. Even as Orin, I know we could take her.”
“You might be right, but that doesn’t mean we should be putting our lives into anyone’s hands but our own,” he scoffs, fingers clasping tightly over yours, as if these two pairs of hands are the only ones that you can trust. “Baldur’s Gate is more dangerous than anything the Shadowlands could throw at us because the dangers look so… mundane.”
“I know,” you say. “All I can say is that I care for you, Astarion. And no matter what the city throws at us, we’ll be together to face it. Just like the love test today.”
The vampire rolls his eyes at your words, but a smile finally creeps onto his face. “Ugh, you’re so utterly saccharine,” he responds. But, despite his words, his arms pull you into a big hug, enveloping you in a blanket of cool leather and his familiar scent. “That being said, if you ever want to do another love test, I'm going to have to squeeze you to death.”
You laugh into his shoulder and say, “Fine, fine. We’ll have to trust that our bond is unbreakable without a magical Master of Love telling us so.”
“Exactly, I don’t need some stranger to tell me what we already know.” He sounds confident, assured to start. But a moment later, his voice comes out as sulky when he follows up with. “It’s not like you have another, more handsome lover like she suggested, right?”
An odd response from him, especially with the petulant face and tone. And you don’t recall the dryad using the word ‘handsome.’ Is he… “Were you… jealous?” you ask, lifting your head up. You’re not teasing, just genuinely wondering if that small statement from an evil woman could elicit such a reaction from your love.
“I was not jealous,” Astarion responds, aghast. “What is there to be jealous of, that ridiculous shapeshifter? A fictional person laying in wait? A particularly muscular tiefling whose company you enjoy? I think not.”
His body betrays his words, his arms around you squeezing almost painfully tight as he talks. You haven’t seen true jealousy on him before, only the occasional moments of self-deprecation or worry, and something about it makes you want to go right back to teasing. “Oh, I don’t know. A shapeshifter could look like anyone, imagine all of the possibilities of a shapeshifting lover,” you say, an exaggerated tone of wistfulness in your voice.
In a wry tone, he responds, “There are scrolls for that.”
“I’m just kidding!” You nudge him playfully in the side. “I don’t actually want a shapeshifter, alright? You’re perfect the way that you are.” He preens a little at that and loosens his grip on you– You take the opportunity to slip out of his arms and look at him head-on. “Now tell me, did she bother you that much?”
“What do you want me to say?” He raises his arms in exasperation. “That when she said you had another love it felt like a troll had taken a club to my chest?”
“I like the imagery,” you remark, helpfully.
“Thank you,” he says, sighs, and continues, calmer now. “Some– very small– part of me was worried. I meant it when I said you deserve something real. You deserve more than real, and what if… what if that just isn’t something a runaway vampire spawn can offer?”
“My love,” you melt under his words, under his pleading red gaze, begging you to love him for who he is– as if you don’t already feel the weight of that love with every single breath you take. “You are so much more than you know. May I hug you?”
He nods, his expression pulling at each and every one of your heart strings. His eyes stay trained on you as you pull him back towards you. You bury your face in his neck and say, “I promise you have no one to be jealous of, I can confidently say no one compares.”
Astarion gives a shaky sigh. “I know. I am phenomenal.” 
You stifle a chuckle. “That you are.”
As is typical with an adventuring party like yours, these secluded moments are few and far between. A familiar booming voice crashes into your hug. “Look what I found!” Karlach exclaims. “Face paint, just like the clowns! Fangs, please tell me I can put some face paint on you.”
The vampire stiffens in your arms at the sound of that, but the wheels of mischief are already spinning in your head. “Karlach,” you say. “I think that might be the best idea you’ve ever had.”
“Oh, I know,” she responds, a few kits in hand. “But don’t think you’re escaping either soldier.”
You look at Astarion, mirroring the same panic on his face. Releasing him from your arms, you access the situation. “If we split up, she can’t catch us both.”
“After you, my dear,” he responds.
You turn, only to find Shadowheart waiting, a wicked grin on her face. “Oh no, you don’t. You’ve both had your fun today. Time for us to have ours.”
It’s not long before you and your lover match, sporting the garish colors of a painted clown. Normally, you’d hate this and, on the surface, you certainly still do. But deep down, you feel a lighthearted joy– you told Astarion you’d face anything together, you suppose the circus is no different.
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nicohischierz · 2 months
Text
bump in the road: tyler duke
tagging: @ivy-34, @francesfarhadi, @hzstry8, @cixrosie, @itsnotgray, @estapa94, @trevs-swiftie, @heartz4hischif you want to join the taglist let me know!!
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your heart dropped at the sight of tyler's lips latched onto another girl.
your fingers made its way to the necklace he gave you for your birthday. the months of repairing your friendship and going on 'dates' down the drain.
sure the relationship had been fake but you were convinced that your feelings for each other now were true.
"y/n, are you okay?" will asked.
instead of jumping for joy that the boy you had been crushing on was talking to you. you shook your head and let out a sob.
will looked over your shoulder and grit his teeth. the blonde immediately pulled you in for a hug and directed you towards your group of friends.
sarah sobered up quickly and took you away from will as cutter and rutger asked the boy what happened.
"i don't even know why i'm so upset because it was all fake," you choked out.
sarah furrowed her eyebrows. "do you think maybe a part of you wanted it to be real?" she asked.
"i hated him sarah. for the past twelve years of my life, tyler duke made it his mission to bother me but this bothers me the most," you whispered.
tyler wasn't one for good timing, so when he reached his friend group it was just as will had explained what he saw. the duke boy was then met with a nice right hook from rutger.
"you're a fucking asshole." he spat.
tyler was stunned as he searched the crowd for you. one of the first things he noticed was the absence of the necklace he gave you. the next was your puffy eyes.
that party was the last time you saw tyler duke.
or so you thought.
it had been a year of successfully avoiding tyler, with the help of some of his friends.
“y/n/n, you haven’t looked at the hockey team have you?” franks new girlfriend asked.
the girlfriends on the team were well aware of what happened between you and tyler. rutger had accidentally slipped up one night and now the boys were protective of you.
the girlfriends had welcomed you with open arms.
“i have not. why what’s wrong?” you asked.
your question was answered almost immediately when you heard his voice.
“she hasn’t spoken to me since that night man. i don’t even know what i did wrong,” tyler spoke to his brother.
dylan had tried his best to get his brother far away from you but it was no use. tyler was determined to get back to the locker room, using the route you were stood in.
seamus tried blocking you from his view but it was useless as tyler had already called your name.
the florida native kept his hand around your waist, prompting tyler to think that the two were dating. tyler just bite his lips and nodded his head slowly.
“i should’ve known you’d go for one of my teammates.” tyler spat.
mark and ethan stepped in front of tyler, blocking you from his view. tyler just rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“you should go ty,” dylan advised his younger brother.
tyler scoffed at his older brother and pushed his way past you and seamus. dylan looked to you and apologised before following after his younger brother.
"you cheated on me!" you exclaimed before tyler went too far.
the boy stopped and turned to you. "you kissed that girl at the party and I saw it. damn it tyler the whole time we were together it benefited you way more than me," you ranted.
tyler was stunned, he realised that you hadn't seen him push the girl away and search for you instead. you also hadn't realised that the only person he wanted was you.
"and to think, i was really starting to like you," you whispered before walking away from the team.
the guys all glared at tyler. especially rutger and frank "you fucked up bad ty," they chastised him.
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pepper-mintzyy · 3 months
Text
WELCOME TO THE 3RD AND LAST [not really] SESSION FOR THE PISSA LAB AU! If you don't know what I'm talking about here's the link to the previous session and then some. Also notice there were some mistakes on grammar, words, and spellings-- sorry. Another thing if your interested in seeing more content on my AU's look up the 'qsmp au' tag on my blog and you will find all the brain-rotting I have put up here.
ANYWAY! ON WITH THE FINAL SESSION FOR THIS AU! [at least until I am able to share more]
Okay! Thinking this might be a bit short but we shall see. But lets move on to some drama. Specifically Missa and Forever drama. Yes he's in this AU. NOW-- gathering notes from my old rant over at the discord here- I mentioned before that Missa has somewhat of a special ability to create bonds with hybrids on a level that is almost like a fuckin disney movie. Give the man a hybrid to work with and do research on and you will see said hybrid cling and follow Missa around like a puppy within a minimum of 2 months. 3 months max. It's why he's placed in the hybrid research department when Cucurucho took notice of this talent, and it's the very reason why he was offered Phil in the first place. Now this event took place during a meeting in the grand meeting room just below Rucho' office, here he summoned all the diamond ranking workers from all the departments. Missa being one of them. 'How long did it take Phil-?' I ain't answering that question, moving on. UvU
To congratulate, and test, Missa, Rucho brought Phil to him as a gift for reaching diamond rank and to simply see how the man would react to see-- a familiar face. Now Missa has worked with other avians before, as mentioned in the previous session, so this should be fine. Its just another avian he has to look after... Right? But no, its not JUST another avian, this was someone Missa had seen before, someone similar. Someone he thinks he cherished as a friend, and someone Forever valued. You can probably take a guess at where I'm going with this but let's keep going for now =]
If you've stalked my blog and hunted down all the posts I made about my au's you will find particular asks about Brunim being part of this AU etc etc. YES he is here! And yes, Brunim was indeed under Forever's care. I can hear the gun in your hand- relax. SO, when Phil was showed to everyone, mainly Missa, inside the meeting room, did Forever jump to ask Rucho if he could take Phil under his care instead? Yes, yes he did. But was denied due to his- work history. Now before you go feral hear me out, Forever in this AU is known for gaining his status through money and cheating. Forever isn't all that successful with any of the projects given to him, specifically the ones what involve watching and taking care of another living being. To which Forever doesn't view as living beings at all. Forever in this AU is cruel and selfish, he sees hybrids as monsters, subjects, tools, stepping stools for his own success. Everything that goes against Missa's moral code. Everything that Missa fights against and despises.
Do you see the drama yet? No? Okay let's keep going. [This session aint short for shit-] Missa, albeit a bit hesitant, accepts Rucho's offer and took Phil under his care. But you know this part of the lore already, what you don't know is how Forever reacted, and the history between the two scientists and their war with each other. Buckle up. Now as I mentioned Missa was hesitant to take on this project, for reasons I won't disclose cause spoilers, but he took the risks and accepted, this made Forever MAD. Listen to me, he was FURIOUS, but not for the reasons you might think. Here's where the core of the drama/war between two reside. [Or at least SOME context of it]
Missa gained his status and power through hard work, perseverance, courage, and maybe a tiny bit of luck that he took advantage on and got to where he is now. Forever gained his status through money, cheating, and even going far as to use the work his assistants made and called his own. Before I go on, I'd like to add that Missa came in 2 years later after Forever had recently reached Gold ranks, and he was Forever PREVIOUS assistant...let that sink in. SO, how does this explain the war? The hate between the two? Why is there hate to begin with? I'll tell you. Jealousy. There is no other explanation than that. Forever is jealous of what Missa has, what he's achieved in the span of let's say 4 years. 4 years of working here in the company and Missa has achieved SO MUCH all on his own where as Forever has only barely done anything that was in his own name or anything that didn't involve money. Here he is staring at someone who used to work under him getting, not only promoted, but getting a gift that he wants. Something he's twisted mind thinks he can use to right past wrongs. Wrongs that CANNOT be fixed just because he's found a substitute.
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Sorry I'm checking the rants I made on discord that I could add here? But I can't? Cause all of it is SPOILERS for the fic- DAMMIT! HAHAHAHA-- I can't add more! Nooo haha! Well that's fine. This has gone on long enough anyway, hope you all enjoyed this final [again not really] session on Lab AU aka "The Safety of Your Arms"
I'm still in the process of making the fic so if you're wondering why you can't find it on AO3 it's because its in within the 5 different google docs I have stored away-- ANYWAY! Thanks for reading, if you made this far-- until the next session o/
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yuyu1024 · 3 months
Text
I think... I love you
Pairings: Yunho × y/n x Mingi
Genre/tags: arrange marriaged, love triangle,
Warning: 🔞🔞🔞📢 cheating (don't do this) smut/angst, cursing, pet names, a hint of family relationship issue but not much, smoking, fetish/kinks, jealousy
~~~ [lmk if i miss anything]
Words: 4.2k
Disclaimer:
- this story is just made up
- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊
Note: continutation of 'Won't you regret it?' I hope its a good part 2 for you guys
-- also question... if you are the FL... who would you chose?
Likes and reblogs are much appreciated 😊
****
"Are you alright?"
Yunho enters our bedroom bathroom where I am standing in front of the mirror, zoning out. He is busy undoing all the buttons of his white shirt.
"Since we came back from my parent's house... you've been quiet."
Usually when we are together, I nag. Just a tiny bit. Or maybe not nag but you know chat. I rarely talk to anybody since I got married so, I talk whenever he is arround.
I always tell him what I did during the times he was gone like updating him since he have no clue what the heck is going on with me coz he is not the type to chat with you when he is away. He just text. Though very seldom.
"Yunho..." my eyes darts at him, through the mirror
"Hmm?" He answers while he's facing away and undressing.
"Can we have sex tonight?"
(I know what you may think. That sex is just my main purpose in life but i swear its not. I just... idk... find it... my go to when i dont know what to do? Plus how can I not want it if I have Yunho as my guy?)
He pauses unbuckling his belt and turns around, "do you really want to?"
I sigh as I face him as well. "I want sex. I miss sex." Then I look down at my dirty skirt. "I missed.... you... I guess..." I trail off, a whisper.
This is very out of my character. I admit I do ask him for sex when I want and need it. But saying I miss him outloud... thats new from me.
And yes he always ask me if I really want to. He always wants me to confirm what I want and need. He always makes sure that I am completely 100% okay with it. Because Yunho, well I did mention that he is amazing at sex right? Or if I haven't. HE IS. and If i also forgot to say that boy have kinks and fetishes, He does have. Also even though He looks like an angel, he does rough sex as well especially when he's really in his momentum.
I was stunned when we had our first rough sex during our honeymoon. I almost didn't recognized him. But that was fun. It was an experienced I never had before. (Don't worry it's not too extreme. Just a little spank, choking and tying my hands sort of thing. And this man loves biting my neck and shoulder)
"What did you say?" He asks. His eyes are wide and looks lost
I roll my eyes and turn my back to him. "Nothing..." he didn't heard me.
I guess I am a bit relieved he didn't heard me say I miss him. Because how dare me utter those words after what I did today? I let his friend, his bestfriend, eat me out and even agreed to have sex the next time we meet.
I am evil. I always tag myself as the poor girl who got married to a guy who I don't love, the girl her parent's threw under the bus and the girl who have nothing besides be a wife to him. The fuck? I am the worst person ever. Between the two of us, I am the devil.
"Well... do you want to have sex or not?" I ask again
He's now behind me. He snakes his arms around my waist as he watches me through the mirror.
"Don't you miss having sex with me?" I spat
"What do you mean?"
I turn again to face him, looking up. "Whenever you're home. I always ask you for sex. While.... You never do."
He crunches his brows "I do."
He does but of course the emotional girl in me feels like I ask for sex more than him.
"Not as many as I do."
"Does that matter?" He smiles
"Yes!" Not really. Maybe I just want more of him wanting me and needing me.
"Hmm?" He takes a step back, confused but still smiling. He's not offended by my drama
"Well... It makes me think that when you're away you must ha--" I pause for a second. I was supposed to add more drama by asking if he fucks other chicks than me but I saw something. "What is that?" I panic a little. It's bandage on his lower abdomen. Almost hidding on the hem of his pants. It's not big but still. "What happened?"
"Oh. It's just a small cut."
"Just a small cut? From where? How?" I look closer. "It's new..." I glance up at him, worried. "Yuyu... what happened...?"
"It's nothing..."
"Are you sure?"
He nods. "Yes... don't worry..."
Fuck. He is smiling. I guess it's not a big deal?
I sigh heavily. But it's not a relieved exhale. I know this has something to do with his work. He can always lie but I know. I am not that stupid.
We have been having sex coz... duh we are married. So we see each other naked. I've seen a few scars from his back and arms already. He might think because they are not big so its not that noticable. However I do see it. How can I not see it? I drool just gazing at his figure. I see everything.
"Hey..." he moves closer again and this time, super close that I could feel his boner through my skirt. "Don't frown... I just got back. And I want to see you smiling... not like that..." he softly says.
He cups my face with his one hand and plants the most delicate kiss I have ever received from him on the corner of my lips.
"I missed you too..." he adds before a smile creeps back in over his lips. "And... Yuyu...?" He suddenly says.
Oh crap he heard? Both? And now He's fucking teasing me! Wait. Did I really called him Yuyu outloud? Shit! That nickname is supposed to be for me only. Crap!
"Where did that came from?" He leans lower, making me arch my body to give him access and starts to kiss me on my neck. "Can you... Say it again..." he says in between kisses on my skin
"No..." I whine as I close my eyes
"Please... say it again..." he is talking so delicately all of a sudden. Sounding like a whine but a seductive request. "Say it..." his hands then gropes my boobs. My weakness.
"If I say it again... will you fuck me?"
My mouth then drops as his one hand goes straight to my core. He is caressing it and rubbing his palm on it, making me feel his fingers through my panties.
"Still on birth control?" He asks
I nod as we both look at each others eyes.
"Good."
He lifted me up, positioned me where I could sit comfotably on the top of our marble sink and spread my legs apart.
"You have no plans tomorrow.. right?" He tears up my panties making me gasp. "Coz... It will be a long night..." he snarls while he puts his pants and underwear down in one go.
I shake my head, answering no. I can't speak. I am... I am losing my mind.
He holds onto his length, aligning it with my folds and. "Answer me." He growls before he eases himself in. Full and strong.
"No!" I squeal. "I.. I have... I have no..." I put my arms around his nape, grabbing for dear life. "I have no plans..." I am breathing heavily.
My toes curls as he thrusts. Holy shit!
"Yunho! Ah!"
He is aggressive. This is different but good. Did he really meant it when he said he missed me too? Miss me how? Just for sex or miss ME?
"FUCK!" I hug him as he pounces me.
We both ruined our masters bathroom. It got messy. I need to personally rearrange our sink as I every beauty product, perfumes, body lotions and etc  got thrown on the floor. Plus the towels  oh god our towels. Hmm. We need to buy new ones.
****
After spending time together last night, in my surprise he didn't leave the following day. He actually fucking stayed and I woke up afterwards, still embraced by him. He's sleeping so peacefuly beside me. I finally saw him again, looking like a baby and dreaming.
This is what I want. This is what I need. This is what will make me fall in love with him. The in between the sex. Him being there, present and us having morning talks and etc. Yes sex is part of anyone's life (as long as you want it of course) but the beauty of having someone beside you, always is different.
Maybe I am selfish to wish something from a man who married me for business but I hope I could atleast get this from him. I am not asking and wishing for him to love me (if ever I get to truly learn to love him through out this marriage) I just want him to be a partner to me. I want to have and experience what my parents didn't gave me growing up. Spending time with me, giving me the attention I need even without asking and care. That's all. I know not everyone can love me but atleast just those three. Just.... that. It's not an impossible wish right?
But then again, do I even have a right to wish these from him?
****
I have been zoning out a lot these past few days. I have been contemplating and thinking about me and Yunho. Mostly about me, about my random emotions, my needs and wants.
I am definitely at lost. I may be an adult but my brain can't handle this type of adulting called the "Feelings". Especially when it gets complicated like this because of my shit descisions. Meaning hooking up with Mingi.
Why did I even did it? Like what had gotten into me? I am not like this. I know I value people's feelings. Why did I break when Mingi had his hands on my boobs that day. Why did I spread my legs for him? Why? Why?!
Am I that hungry for sex from Yunho that core just said hello to the next guy that's had the same length as my husband even though its different type of dish?
Fuck. Now I am thinking about these men as food. I am CRAZY!
"Hello baby girl..."
I jump on my seat as Mingi shows up, kissing me on the cheek.
"What the fuck?" I hiss at him, glaring even. "Why did you kiss me?" I look around and could see Mrs. Jeong and Mrs. Song from afar busy looking at the set of jewelries on the table.
Fuck. I almost had a heart attack. Glad they are busy and focused on the sparkles.
"It's just a kiss on a cheek baby." He says in his low voice, a whisper.
"Still...." I exhale, exasperated
"You are not responding to my texts lately." He says as he sits down at the chair across me.
"I got busy."
"Busy?" He repeats, sounding a bit amused. "We had a deal..."
"I am doing it... the painting... I mean."
He chuckles, leaning forward resting his elbows on his knees. "Baby girl... that's not the only canvas we planned to paint... remember?" I see his eyes scanning me from my chest down to the thing between my legs. "I was promised a sex... you gave me little taste of what heaven feels like and you're suddenly backing out?"
"I'm...."
"Well...?"
I look away and try to focus on Yunho's mother picking jewelries she would like to wear for the ball.
"Can we talk about the painting later?" I say a bit louder so the others could hear.
He chuckles and lay his back, resting. "Fine."
"Is everything alright?" Mrs. Jeong asks
"Yes." I answer smiling.
"I see." She then goes to sit down beside me and shows me this amazing diamiond tear drop earrings. "This would really go well with the black heart neckline gown of yours.. for the ball."
I look at it and my jaw drop how pretty it is. "It will... but..."
"But?" Mrs. Song butts in. "What you mean but? That's one heck of an expensive earring darling... don't you like it?"
"Oh gosh... I do... I do, Mrs. Song.. " I hold her hands and thanked her for the jewelries she brought for us to check and chose from. However...
"Did Yunho said, you two will not go to the ball?" Mrs. Jeong asks
I press my lips together. Not responding to the question. But of course, Yunho's mom knows it already.
"That boy and socializing..." she sighs
"Your son is not going again? But he said he will. He said he will atleast try once he gets married. And now he is married with this wonderful woman.. why is he not coming again?" Mrs. Song says
"Yunho really can't keep promises. What's new?" Mingi stands up and goes to stand near the open window. He's going to smoke again.
"Even if he promised to his mother?" Mrs. Song is bothered and sad.
She was expecting to see me and Yunho to the ball she will be hosting for this halloween season. It's for charity and also her favorite time of the year so she's very excited. She wants everyone to be present and to have fun.
"Even to me... his godmother?" She pouts
"We all know he's like that... work is important to him than us..." he puffs a smoke out. "Sorry Mrs. Jeong..." he adds
"It's okay dear. I know it already so..." Mrs. Jeong puts the earrings back to its case and just smiles at me. "Anyways... we can still hope for next time."
"Yeah... we can." I mumble
So, it's not only me who have issues with Yunho keeping promises and being present.
"So," Mrs. Jeong stands up, hands together and smiling. "We will go now and do more meetings with the coordinators for the ball. Final run downs of the flow of the party, theme and set designs... how about you two?"
"I'll stay." Mingi answers immediately. "We have to talk about commission..."
"Commission?" Both of the ladies repeat
"He requested for me to paint a portrait of him..."
"Really?" Mrs. Song sound surprise
"Money will go to charity." I add
"That's good then!" Mrs. Song is happy to hear the word charity. "Looking forward for the painting... we can display it at the house when its done."
"Sure will." Mingi answers.
The moment everyone left the room and silence fills up the emptiness, Mingi chuckles as he sees how frozen I got onto my seat.
"I'm not going to hurt you." He says
"I know." I look down at my knotted fingers on my lap.
Yes. Mingi may look like he'd beat anyone up but he is gentle with me. Nice with me. I never once feel like he means any harm. Well except on our first meeting months ago. We argued yes but he is still sweet to me.
"Are you thinking about Yunho? On why he does not want to go to the ball?"
I look up at him and nod.
His snorts a laugh. "It's been awhile since you two got married. Don't you guys had any getting to know each other talks? Or its always sex when you two are together?"
My eyes twitching at his claims. (Though he is right)
"Anyways... don't care about your sex life with him." He walks back to the chair from earlier and puts off his cigarette on the ash tray.
"So?" I ask
"You should ask your husband about it...not me..."
"I did. He just said he's busy that day."
"That's lie. Every one's schedule of each families that are invited for that day, are all clear. It had been agreed on for years now. It has been a tradition for decades now. So... ask him again.
"Oh..." my back finally touches the foam of the chair I am sitting on.
Oh Yunho. Why is it so hard for him to talk to me? Be open with me? Did I not give him enough reason to trust me and to feel safe around me?
I had shared my life with him. The stories from my mother and the stories from me, He knows a lot about me more than anyone. My first crush, the first time I got my heart broken, the insight about my feelings about my parents and relatives. Even stories about my struggles with relationship with people. I showed him vulnerability. And yet, it is still one sided.
Yes he did tell stories about him too. His life when he was a kid, during his university days and his hobbies. But those are common knowledge (I think). All of that are also known by his family and friends. He never shared his own thoughts and feelings to me. He never let his guard down with me. It's always positive. Everything is okay and good.
Maybe for him, whatever we have, will remain a contract. Just a signed piece of paper for him no matter.
I think, I should just stop thinking about him. I should stop overthinking about us and whatever feelings I am slowling building for him. I will only get hurt at the end. I am just someone for him to have sex with when he's home.
I know, I know he did say he missed me too. Twice. But maybe he just says that because he miss sex. Not actually me.
"You're frowning..."
"Hmm?"
I glance up and see Mingi standing infront of me, leaning in as he lightly flicks me on the forehead.
"You're not listening to me..."
"What? Did you say something? Sorry... I was--" I stop. I could not tell him what I was thinking.
"Was what?"
"Nothing." I mumble before I get off my seat. "I'm just gonna go..."
"You're going? Just like that?" He says as I walk pass him. "You are in my house..."
"So...?"
"So?" He repeats, "Baby girl, didn't I made you feel good? Didn't you like my tongue in your pussy?" Here we go again. He is teasing me again. He always ask this whenever we meet.
I glare at him. "Stop." Hushing him as someone might hear him.
"Don't worry... everyone is gone. This is my house."
"What you mean gone?" I look around
"I don't have anyone here... I'm alone."
"That can't be."
"Oh yes... it can. My staff only comes here during the weekdays and they don't stay pass 6pm. I like my privacy."
"So you mean..."
"Yes." He slowly comes closer and closer. "It's a Saturday too... the staff you saw with my mother are hers. And they left with her already so..."
My back then hits a wall from whatever room we are in.
"We can do what was promised to me months ago and no one will know." He smirks as his body finally reaches mine.
"We can't..." I say quietly
"Why not?" He whispers, lowering his head and kissing me on the cheek. "I know you liked what we did last time..."
"I did." I can't lie about that.
"So what's holding you back?" His hand roams around my curves until it reaches the buttons of my blouse. "You like this right? You like it when I play around your nipples..."
He hasn't finished opening my blouse, he just slid in his fingers in so it could touch my laced covered tip. He's teasing me. He wants me to react.
"Stop..." I say
"You tell me to stop... but baby girl... if you could only see how aroused you look right now..." he grabs my face with both hands and tilt it up so I could look up at him. "I just touched you and your eyes are already dreaming for more..."
"We can't do this... It was a mistake..."
"It maybe a mistake for you baby girl. But for me..." he finally kisses me. His tongue invades my mouth until a moan carries my soul out of my body. "You are my heaven right now."
That's it. I am gone. I didn't even fight the urge. This officially makes me a whore.
Mingi carries me with while we kiss. He sits back down at the chair from earlier but now I am with him. No, actually, on top of him. I am riding him.
"Ugh!" He throws his head back, hands gripping on my hips. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"
This is so wrong. Why don't I have a backbone to say no to Mingi? What the hell is wrong with me?
"Ahh!" I cry as I bounce faster and made him go deeper in me. "It's so good..." my voice is shaky
"You take me so well." He say breathing heavily. His brows creases and mouth in an O. "Fuck!"
After a few more strokes, both of us came together. I collapse onto him. I drained all my energy squating on him.
"That was amazing..." he says
I could hear his heart beating so fast as my head rests on his chest.
"Y/n..." he calls my name
"Hmm...?"
"If ever..."
"If ever what...?" I ask closing my eyes.
"If ever you decided to end thing with Yunho... I want you to know... that I'll be here waiting for you."
My eyes flings open, "What did you say?" I got up so fast
"I am willing to marry you... if you and Yunho don't work out."
"M-marry? What the fuck are you saying? Your dick is still inside me and you go on saying if I get divorce one day.. you will... marry me?"
"Yes." He answers it like its nothing yet he looks so darn serious.
"You think... he will divorce me?"
"No... he will not... which sucks. Because who will divorce someone like you...?" He caresses my cheek and smile. "I am just laying it out to you... the other option you have if it does happen... I am not wishing any harm into your marriage baby girl... well besides more sex with you I guess..." he smiles and then winks
"You are crazy." I roll my eyes at him
"I am. I know that." Then he grunts as he slowly moves his hips again. "Crazy as I am offering and willing to be your lover even just behind closed doors."
I could feel him get harder again in me. He's aroused again. I haven't recovered from the high yet and here he goes again. I'm still hugging his length.
"You're blushing reacting to my dick moving in you." He teases
"S-shut up." I moan the words out as my inside tenses up again with him rocking me on him.
"Baby girl..." he hugs me and breathe in my scent. "Ahhh..." he is moaning along with me.
Fuck what is this. We just had sex just a few minutes ago and now we are doing it again. I am not complaining though coz holy shit it was good. A different good. However this one, this second one... feels different.
"Y/n..." he says my name again. His hands around my body and his face resting on my chest. "Y/n..."
All of a sudden, the bad boy, aggressive and blunt Mingi becomes tame and yearning.
"Let me be your lover." He mumbles. "I don't think I can't move on from you after this...." he then trails kisses on my chest up to my neck. "I want to be with you... even just like this... to pleasure you..."
My body then reacts to his words. I know it did. I felt him clench onto me when I felt something in me dwells up a strong emotion.
"Fuck..." he breathes burrying his face on my neck. "Please... y/n...ahhh... please... Say yes... say yes to me. I-I need you..."
I am crying. This is my first time hearing someone say they want to be with me. I know he might be just saying it out of his sex high but hearing the words... and him getting vulnerable because of me.
What did I do to him to make him want me? We only saw each a few times after the first meeting. Most of it was us talking about the painting and him doing poses for me for inspirations. Yes it were more than a handful of lunch dates, still related to the painting and all but... he got feelings for me?
Is it because my brain is so messed up thinking about me and Yunho, our complicated relationship that I missed the part that Mingi and I got a connection? That we got to know each other more than I realized?
But this is wrong. I am married. Fuck, I'm so confused.
"Oh, Mingi..." I moan his name as he sensually bites my earlobe.
"Say yes....I beg you." He lifts me up and move us both to the sofa. He's now on top of me and finally sees the tears coming out of my eyes. "Don't cry..." he kisses my damp cheek. "I promise, I'll make you happy and safe..."
"But..."
"As I said... I don't give a fuck about your sex life with Yunho. I don't give a damn fuck about your marriage. I want you. I need you." He leans in to kiss me again. "And I think... I love you."
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2af-afterdark · 1 year
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Let's Leave Names Out of This
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Rating: Explicit  Archive Warning: Rape/Non-con Category: GN/M Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Malleus Draconia, Yuu|Player Relationships: Malleus Draconia/Yuu|Player Additional Tags: Noncon, Hypnosis, Cheating (unknowing) Summary: You are sleeping soundly when a visitor comes to visit your bed. However, everything is not as it may seem, and somewhere deep inside you know that… Word Count: 1018
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You roused from sleep as the bedspace next to you dipped down. A small, tired groan escaped your throat as you turned over expecting to find Grim invading your bed with some excuse that pointed in any direction other than him being lonely or scared after a nightmare.
However, as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes just enough to focus, you began to see a figure through the darkness. At first it seemed large and overwhelming, but the shadows quickly shifted to reveal the shape of your precious lover.
You couldn't recall inviting him to the dorm, let alone your bed, but his presence wasn't unwelcome. 
You whispered his name softly, waiting for an answer to let you know you weren't hallucinating his visage.
He placed a hand against your cheek so gently that you worried he really was only a figment of your imagination. 
"Hello" he finally said in a voice that seemed to twist and turn around itself in your tired mind.
“What are you doing here? How did you get in?” you asked, but the question died as you felt his soft hand begin to wander under your long sleep shirt. 
The way he touched your skin was wrong. His hands lingered too long on your chest, his body pressed too closely against yours, his eyes unblinking as he looked you over, his kisses too hungry as he devoured you whole. He acted like this was the first and potentially last time he would ever hold you.
"Not there," your voice cracked as his teeth scraped against your neck. A chill of pure terror ran down your spine as your instincts swirled around in a panic.
"Do you not like it?" he asked in a tone that sounded like a simulacra of himself.
You shook your head. "It feels," good? bad? like you were waiting for him to sink in his fangs and tear out your throat? "strange."
"Then tell me how to make you feel good," he whispered as his thumbs brushed languidly over your nipples and brought them to life.
Your head throbbed at hearing him speak. It was like his words were scraping against your skull, digging into your brain and sinking its hooks in so you couldn't shake off what he said. It was as if the more he mentioned holding you, the more you wanted it too.
You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, noticing how much larger he felt than normal as you pulled him close. "Do what you always do."
"You must tell me what it is you want."
Again, your brain felt like it was being mixed up and turned into mush. Everything he said made your head ache and churn.
And why was he speaking so strangely? so formally?
"Touch me," you whined as your body began to throb with need for him. One arm fell from his shoulders and sunk between your legs. "I need you right here."
"It would be my pleasure," he said as he removed your underwear before crawling down your body to bury his head between your legs and lap at your sex.
As he used his tongue to pleasure you, everything continued to feel wrong. His tongue was long, wet, flat, and ridge like it was made of different segments. Your brain was screaming at you that this was wrong, but you couldn't quite put your finger on what was wrong. This was the man you loved – you could tell when you looked at his face – but… why did that feel wrong?
As his lips pressed kisses across your inner thighs, your mind continued to reel. The way he touched you – the way his fingers gripped you so tightly that it almost hurt – was longing, possessive beyond measure as if trying to keep you from escaping his dangerous yet fragile grip. Everything was a contradiction.
You looked down at him with hazy, suspicious eyes. "What are you-"
The thought was ripped from the edge of your mind as he returned to your sex with a renewed vigor and you cried out for him. Your hand gripped into his hair and your lower body bent upward to grind against his mouth as you begged with his name on your lips.
That's when your mind realized what was wrong. As your fingers brushed against something hard and rough where there should have been soft locks, all the pieces snapped into horrific place.
The name of your lover quickly faded, replaced by a questioning, "Malleus?" dripping with fear and betrayal. 
He looked up at you from between your legs, licking his lips to savor the taste of you still lingering there. A smile crept across his face as he positioned himself over you, crawling up your body until you were both face to face, and you finally noticed his fangs gleaming and vivid green eyes staring straight at you past the haze in your mind.
“Whatever you wish, Child of Man.” He lowered his face close to yours, barely brushing his lips against yours. “Whoever you wish.”
Magic swirled around your head, infecting your mind until the truth of the situation was rewritten again and all you could see was the face of the man you loved over you. You screamed to yourself not to fall for it, but your silent pleas died down as the man you loved smiled down at you and pressed hungry kisses all the way from your mouth, down your neck, and across every inch of skin he could find.
Slowly, everything started to feel right again. No matter how loudly you screamed at yourself not to forget that this wasn’t as it seemed, those thoughts were crushed behind his charming smile and loving eyes that looked only at you and no one else. If anything had ever been wrong, you couldn’t recall.
After all, what could possibly ever be wrong as long as you were with the person you loved most?
"Now," he said as he pressed his fingers against your hole and slowly pressed them against you, "how do I make you feel good?"
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simplegenius042 · 21 days
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OCS as Character Tropes
Tagged by @nightbloodbix
Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @shallow-gravy @strangefable @adelaidedrubman @strafethesesinners @voidika @direwombat @onehornedbeast @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @cassietrn @chazz-anova @wrathfulrook @g0dspeeed @corvosattano @carlosoliveiraa @titiagls @turbo-virgins @aceghosts @inafieldofdaisies @afarcryfrommymain @softtidesworld @snake-in-the-garden @megraen @starsandskies @derelictheretic @deputyash @purplehairsecretlair @minilev @la-grosse-patate @cloudofbutterflies92 @skoll-sun-eater @florbelles @shellibisshe @ladyoriza and @thewanderer-000
Will be doing OCs from The UnTitledverse, Life, Despair & Monsters and A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore. Quiz can be found here. Results below:
BENNY THE RÉVOLUTIONNAIRE (The UnTitledverse, The UnTitled Ventures & The Ender sagas)
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Here's some Eldritch lore! For Benny, this result is more literal than it is metaphorical. Pretty much, the Omniscience (the subconscious of creation itself/the multiverse) created Benny (the seventh-borne Eldritch) to either replace Zachariah (the second-borne Eldritch) as the "Hand at Fate's Table" or to help guide him onto a better path (like many things with the Omniscience, its' intentions are somewhat ambiguous). He is essentially designed with altruism (if a little mischievous in his methods), and unlike Zachariah's callousness, need for control and disdain towards humanity, Benny has a pre-set need to care for humans, give them some level of independence, and see the good of humanity like the rest of his siblings (except for Zachariah). However, Benny's disappearance/banishment (Zachariah's doing) into the Void, led Benny to develop a rebellious attitude, to free humanity from Zachariah's ruthlessness and tyranny. This attitude eventually leads Benny to build up a revolt that will activate when the time was right, and with Joaquin Lockwood's help, they manage to build up a great chance to depose Zachariah. However due to Benny's naivety in his responsibility, overconfidence and gross underestimation of Zachariah's awareness and ability to counter his plans, Benny loses his trump card (Joaquin Lockwood) and his plans for rebellion is set decades back instead of simply a few years. Benny's idealism is shaken, but broken, and in fact, he takes to heart this lesson, reflecting on himself and improving to the point he gets the confidence to try again... this time with a lot more organization and help.
EVERMOND SCOWLZKA (The UnTitledverse and Life, Despair & Monsters)
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Doctor Evermond Scowlzka has used the power of silence numerous times, and taken advantage of the opportunities it gave him to continue his twisted scientific pursuits. Scowlzka has a cheerful and friendly demeanor mixed with a calm and collected tone, though this hides his frustration and obsession with what controls humans; the mind or the body? His passion and determination to seek out an answer that fits the answer he wants pushes him to commit many human atrocities; irreversible dismemberment and mutilation of the human body, lead the hunt for Mario Emmet which caused the deaths of the Holmes' family who housed the shapeshifting alien, surgically transferring a young and dying Kiyotaka Ayanokoji's brain into a different body, not to save his life on behalf of Atsuomi, but to create a living experiment that could help him win the "mind vs body" debate, was willing to dissect a teenage Icarus Galatos to goad Hatter out (so he could also dissect the interdimensional plant/fungus creature) and had on numerous occasions attempted or succeeded in child murder (he really hates teenagers in particular). While I don't agree with 'The Tide' as his result in general, I can see where it fits him.
RYDER (A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore, Fallout New Vegas)
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Ryder is an interesting individual. She's cheated death many times, and traveled the Mojave and Wasteland long enough to feel numb towards the experiences she's faced. She hides her emotions behind various carefully crafted masks that help her get what she wants, and believes that playing all sides of New Vegas will eventually gift her a position of power that will resolve her crippling emptiness. She doesn't want to stay as a nobody courier who moves from one post to another with little to no impact, no lasting legacy. Always tired. Always full of regret. Always wanting more. And her near-death encounter with Benny was almost a wake-up call, and also the slight amnesia was enough to "renew" her into a blank slate, leading her to shape the future of the Mojave. And perhaps with a little help from a half-human, half-interdimensional creature figure wielding magic and a flame sword as well as his arrogant and almost psychotic half-sister who despises authority and harasses the elderly.
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Less Dire Situations | 1
Part 2
Peter liked you the moment he met you after moving in with his Aunt May. Unfortunately, he never got the guts to talk to you. The idea disappeared after grade school and high school graduation, so you can imagine how surprised he was when you answered his ad for Advanced Calculus tutoring. It felt like he could actually get a shot with you… and then you jumped off the Manhattan Bridge.
Peter Parker x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, DD:DNE, suicidal thoughts/ideation, suicide attempt, themes of depression, social withdrawing, emotional masking, canon divergence, angst, hurt, typos, etc.
A/N: i have an andrew garfield brainrot and i needed a fic to help me escape, thus this fic. btw its originally posted on ao3
Tagging: @sloanexx @azperja
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I groan and slam my head on the table.
"Brava," Peter laughs and claps his hand, a pencil between his grip, "she's done it, folks. All 22 questions." He shifts on his chair and checks his phone for the time, "and it only took 3 hours."
I begrudgingly lift my head and glare at him, "there would still be daylight had you let me cheat."
He chuckles and shakes his head, "you don't pay me enough for that."
I raise my brows, "I feel like your reasoning is skewed."
Peter puts his pencil down and crosses his arms. He watches me as I finally close my journal and maths book, gathering my things into my bag. He tidies up his things too, "hey. You genuinely did good though."
"Psh. Gee. Thanks," I throw my pencil case in my pack.
"No," he shakes his head, "I'm serious," he places a hand on my shoulder, "you did good. You understood the concept. I'm proud of you."
He looks genuine when he says this, solemn and earnest even. I can't help but smile back at him, the vexation in my system, shattering into a million pieces. I chuckle and nod, "thank you, Peter."
He smiles.
I make a face, "you're such a dad."
Peter laughs under his breath and gathers his things.
"You ever hear that before?"
"Wow," he says exaggeratedly, "it's almost like you don't call me that every chance you get," he stands as he brings his books in his arms. He points the eraser end of his pencil, "which is such a foul, considering I don't have one."
I cackle. Peter chuckles inwardly, shaking his head as he heads into his bedroom. He mutters breathily, "you're so messed up in the head."
I tidy the rest of my things and fix his two-seater dining table. I then stand and push the chairs under the table, putting my backpack on.
Peter comes out of his bedroom, hand in one pocket, the other adjusting his glasses, "I'll walk you home."
I shake my head, "nah. I'm gonna go get a hotdog."
"That's fine," he heads to his front door and grabs his coat, "my treat," he puts on his coat and looks over his shoulder, "using the money you paid me."
I roll my eyes and chuckle as he opens the door.
"Ladies first," he motions and bows.
"You're such a weirdo," I walk out his apartment.
"True," he closes the door.
We eat hotdogs, heaping with relish, mustard, and ketchup on a bench by the river. It was out of the way from my home, but it was always a welcome detour, in my opinion.
I lick my lips as I look at the massive monument across from us. The Manhattan Bridge; my final stop.
I point as I chew.
Peter looks as he takes a bite of his hotdog. He turns back to me, "Manhattan Bridge."
"My launch pad," I say. I swallow and hold the rest of my hotdog in both hands, "one day, I'll jump."
He stills in his spot. He refrains from eating his hotdog and wonders if he heard right as he watches me continue to eat mine. He shifts and turns to me.
I chomp, and chew, and look back at him.
"What?"
I was never one to repeat myself, so I don't.
"Don't joke like that."
I turn to my hotdog and mutter under my breath, "I'm not joking."
Peter hears this of course but he doesn't doesn't give it away.
I look back at him and stuff hotdog in my face. The worry and concern that radiates off his face eats at me. I regret saying it. Part of me wants to tell him, to seriously tell him I am messed up in the head. I want to tell him the idea of jump off such a pretty bridge that means so much to so many people sounds so... cathartic.
I want to tell him I don't want him to feel concerned or worried. I don't want anyone to feel that way for me, which is precisely why I want to do this.
I don't though, because I know he'll only be more concerned and worried.
I grin at him and nudge him with my elbow, "it'd be a great way to meet the Spoods, huh?"
I cackle to myself as Peter gets recoils.
He doesn't respond to my joke, not in anyway that counted. He straightens up and gives a sigh, "a Spiderman joke?"
I nod.
He shakes his head, "still not funny."
"Oh, come on, grampa. What? You can't take a dark joke?"
"Dark jokes are funny."
"Come on," I raise my arms, "it is. Spiderman has saved so many people from falling before! It's a great idea."
"Listen," he raises a hand, "if you want to meet Spiderman, I hear there's a spot he goes to a lot."
"Pshh," I wave him off, "where's your sense of adventure? Where's the serendipity?"
He shakes his head, looking at the last of his hotdog. He doesn't feel like eating it anymore.
I decide to lighten the mood by pointing at other things and commenting on them. I get a couple chuckles out of him by the time I finish the last of my hotdog. When I turn to him, I recognize how badly I've killed the mood.
He and I stare for a moment. I can only take so much until I decide to look at his hotdog.
I grab it and eat it myself. He watches as I stand and brush the crumbs off my hands. With a mouthful, I say, "you snooze, you lose."
Peter stands and places his hands in his pockets.
He walks me home like he always does, only this time the mood was not so chipper.
When I get to my building, I give him a smile and wave, "thanks for the hotdog, Parker."
We stand in front of the entrance.
"And for walking me," I add.
He nods and smiles, "you're welcome. You should still eat dinner though, particularly vegtables."
I snort and nod, "yes, dad." I head towards the door.
"And hey," he calls out, making me stop.
I look back at him and raise my brows.
Peter presses his lips together, "it was a joke, right? Just a silly, ha-ha joke."
My heart sinks. I smile and lie through my teeth, "of course, Peter."
Peter stares at me. He smiles. He nods, "good."
"Good," I nod back.
"There's still so much Algebra you have to learn."
"Good night, Peter."
He watches me as I go inside. He is deeply unsettled, "night."
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It's been 30 minutes since I woke up. Where once was only shadow, at this point, the sunshine was trickling through. The glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling were no longer glowing.
My alarm goes off. It's now 8 o' clock.
I sit down on my bed and wipe my face. Time to check the news.
I grab my phone and finally end my alarm. I open my news and look at the latest headlines. My eyes are heavy as I scroll through the depressing articles: the war of Israel, the genocide of Palestine, the war crimes in Sudan, the human rights crisis in Afghanistan, the exploitation of Congo, the US missile strikes in Yemen, topped off with local crime and, neighborhood disturbances-- fuck, someone killed a 90-year-old at the K-mart two blocks down?
I chew on my lip as I feel desperation creep up my spine. My fingers are ice cold and my eyes water as I search the tabloids for something-- anything.
But there was nothing.
There was no news on Spiderman.
I throw my phone on the sheets in front of me.
I turn to my calendar on the wall, looking at today's date, encircled with red, just like every day before it.
I stand and grab my red marker, crossing today out, just like every date before it. I look at date tomorrow, fingers tingling with agitation.
Why won't he just come?
I encircle tomorrow's date and decide, fuck it. I toss the marker on my desk. Tomorrow's D-day regardless if Spiderman shows.
I grab my towel and take a cold shower.
The next thing I know, I'm freezing in first period. I exhale on my hands and rub them together as Ms. Vasquez explains today's activity, a study on good vs evil, a sketch that concisely depicts each side, utilizing the combination of techniques we've been discussing for the week.
She says while were drawing, she'll also make rounds to check on our the status of our final output.
By the time she comes to my desk, I'm halfway through my sketch.
Ms. Vasquez looks at my drawing pad and smiles. I look to her, then my work. It was what it was.
She places her tender, veiny hand on my shoulder, "exceptional work, my dear. As always."
I turn to her. I don't know what about 'as always' rubbed me the wrong way. Was it the implicit excellence constantly required of me? Was it the feeling I had nowhere else to go and therefore had to keep outdoing myself? Was it the fact I didn't actually believe I was always exceptional? Was it the fact it felt like it negated all the times I did feel exceptional but people couldn't discern it?
I smile, "thanks, Ms. V."
The middle aged woman purses her lips. She scrutinizes my expression and I get nervous. She motions with her head, "I especially like the rendering you did."
I turn to my drawing.
"There's more visual weight on the good side than the evil, making it look darker."
I release a chuckle and turn back to her.
"There's that smile," Ms. Vasquez said.
"Can't get anything past you," I mutter lowly. I rub my neck uncomfortably.
"That remains to be seen," the woman responds, "do you finally have something to show me for your finals?"
I press my lips into a small smile and examine my current drawing, only to release my pencil and give her a bashful expression. I make nonsensical sounds. She raises her thin brows in concern.
"Come on," she urges, tightening her cardigan around her, "not 1 sketch? Not even a doodle?"
I let out an airy chuckle, "I haven't really been seeing inspiring heroes lately."
I watch as her freckled face contorts, her smile lines turn to frown lines and her forehead curls with worry, "a lot of your classmates are doing their parents, siblings, friends. I've seen a lot of Spiderman sketches too. And Iron Man... And that one trapeze act from Hell's Kitchen."
I snort at the mention.
"You mind me looking at your sketchbook?"
"Sure," I push my open book towards her.
"I mean your personal sketchbook."
I freeze at the mention. I look at her, trying to figure if she was serious or not.
She raises her hands, "artist to artist, I know it's like opening your ribcage, so I won't judge. But teacher to student," she sighs, "I'm honestly concerned about you. You were so excited when I announced A Study on Heroes. I wanna know what's going on with your drawings at least."
Fuck. I rub my thumbs across my fingers and chuckle, "ah. What can I say," I take my backpack and rummage through my things, "burnout."
I hand her my notebook. It was tattered and crusty. It had pages clinging on for dear life and ones that didn't belong there at all.
Ms. Vasquez accepts the object with reverence. I gulp as I watch her open it. If she catches the page where I drafted my suicide notes, she either doesn't notice or doesn't note it. I'm sure as hell she saw my distressed drawings, but she doesn't say a word about that either. She is completely stoic as he works her way back into my work.
My heart nearly leaves me when she turns my book to me, "who's this?"
I look at the primitive sketch. I look at the faceless figure eating a block of something undistinguishable. I don't know how she knew it was someone at all, "that's Peter."
"Peter Matthew? From the other section?"
"No," I shake my head, "just Peter. He's studying bio-chem."
"Ah," she nods, tucking her dark curly hair behind her ear.
I wait for her to explain how she knew the sketch was a person, but she doesn't. She only brings the book back to her chest and continues flicking the pages.
After a while, she shows me again, "what about these?"
I look at the plump man who had a handless raised arm. The paper where his wrist ends was ripped, having been been erased so many times. There are other doodles of him surround that one, scenes of taking orders and making angry faces. I had forgotten about those. My teacher turns the page and I see more of him.
"That's Eddie," I point toward the whiteboard, "he sells-" I swallow the lump on my throat "... doughnuts."
She nods, "why not him?"
I look at my sketchbook as she places it before me.
"I-" I shake my head, "haven't bought doughnuts there in so long. I doubt I should even do him." I close my notebook and shove it back into my bag.
Ms. Vasquez takes a moment before replying, "there's light and dark within all of us. Sometimes acknowledging the darkness is the first step to letting it go, to make room for light."
My nerves begin to tighten when she says this.
She releases a breath, "if he was relevant enough for you to commit more than 5 pages, I'd say he impacted you enough."
Thank goodness she let it go. "... his doughnuts were pretty good."
"Good then," she nods, "find an angle. Think of how he impacted you, say--" she shakes her head in thought, "you eat his doughnuts when you're stressed and after, you feel like life isn't so bad."
I pick up my pencil and nod. I absentmindedly continue shading my current drawing.
I perk when she calls my name. I turn back to her.
"I've been lax on you because I know you're a good student," Ms. Vasquez explains, making my throat constrict. She continues, "and because the finals were still pretty far. But not anymore," she raises a finger, "I need something soon. And I mean within this week soon."
"Yes, Ms. Vasquez."
She nods, "it can be about the doughnut guy, or someone else entirely. Okay?"
"Okay."
She smiles when she walks away and so do I.
The next thing I know, I'm being yanked back to keep my balance.
I whip to my left, barely hearing what Peter had to say against the loud bustle of the street.
When he lets go of me, we stop by the corner of the pavement. He tucks his hands back into his jacket pocket, "you are so out of it."
"Sorry," I make a face then smile, "Ms. Vasquez really chewed me out."
His brows quirk, "she did?"
"Yeah," I look at the passing cars, then the streetlight, "I've been procrastinating the final work for too long. She said even I couldn't shit out a whole final output overnight."
Peter doesn't respond until after we cross the street. He nudges me with the hand buried in his jacket, "what was your final output again?"
"Ah, we're supposed to make a fleshed out character design on a hero of our choosing. They have to have impacted us someway."
He nods. He takes a chance on a joke, "so no Spidey for you."
I chuckle and shake my head, "a lot of people are actually doing Spiderman."
"For real?" he asks, genuinely surprised.
I laugh, looking back to where I was walking, "yeah. It's all about justifying it, you know."
Peter feels fuzzy inside. He chuckles, "he walked my dog once."
I laugh and follow-up, "he beat up my 6th grade bully."
Peter snorts then adjusts his glasses.
At this point, we take a turn and the smell of warm vanilla becomes apparent. It doesn't take long for us to reach Eduardo and Son's Doughnuts.
I stop at the entrance for a moment. Peter looks at me and pulls me back, so not to disrupt the flow of people. Even through it all, the place was busy as ever.
"You okay?" Peter asks me.
I nod as I turn to my feet. I give him a smile and impulsively push the glass doors open, walking into the store even though my chest was tightening.
Peter follows after me, not saying a word. We stand in line. The line was as long as I remember, maybe even longer.
The warmth of the store, which used to be so welcoming and comforting, felt suffocating now. I stare at the checkered floor; the tiles were new. It seems even the walls were freshly painted. I rub my hands together as the line moves.
"Hey," Peter says from behind, patting my shoulder. I look back and turn where he was pointing.
My heart gets nipped at when I see a portrait of Eddie on the wall. It was candid shot, his face was stoic as he fried donuts.
I gulp and look forward.
As I got closer and closer to the front, I turn to Peter and grab his arm. He looks at me with reassurance. He takes the lead when it was our turn.
"Hey Eduardo," Peter says.
"Peter," the man exclaims, "the-" he stops himself when he sees me. I make eye contact with Eduardo and muster up all the guts to smile at him.
He speaks my name with such surprise and fondness, guilt nearly paralyzes me.
"How've you been, Da Vinci?!" the beefy man chuckles with excitement, "it's been so long! We missed you here!"
Peter turns to me with a smile. My chest tightens as I smile back.
"Peter says you're gonna be a big shot animator soon!'
My lip slightly trembles, "nah. I'm barely even graduating."
Eduardo waves his large hands, "oh-ho-ho. Dad was crazy about your drawings. And you know him. He's not crazy about anything but doughnuts."
My smile crumbles at the weight of the conversation.
Eduardo turns to the baked goods before him, his profile on full display, a carbon copy of his father's, then back to us, "whatever you want, Da Vinci, you got it. On the house."
"I- E-Eduardo- it's fine."
"Oh no. I gotta convince you to be a regular again," he smiles. I notice he's got a golden tooth now. Eduardo shakes his head, "what was it? Boston Creme and a Bear Claw?"
I don't nod but he gets the order anyway.
"The regular for me too, Eduardo."
"Yeah, yeah, pay up, Parker."
Peter and I head to the register. There, we are assisted by Lorenzo, who immediately says, "sorry about my older brother."
The soft smile on his angular face soothes me enough that I actually manage to smile back.
"It is so nice to see you again though," Lorenzo says as he rings up our order, "really."
Peter watches as I rub my arm. Lorenzo says the amount due.
Peter turns to Lorenzo, passing a bill as he says, "hey. Last time my ham and cheese was cold."
Lorenzo raises a bushy brow, "tough luck, kid." The lanky man gives Peter his change and Eduardo himself comes to give us our order packed food.
"Nice to see you again, sweetheart," the older of the two brothers says, "make sure to come back; Chico would want to see you."
Peter takes our order. The three men look at me.
My face contorts, "I..." I suck in a breath, "I'm really sorry about your dad."
Lorenzo presses his lips. Eduardo smiles, "thank you. I'm sorry too. We all miss him here. I'm happy you had the courage to come back."
"It was hard to open up again after we closed up," Lorenzo says with a half smile, "but it's what dad would have wanted."
Peter and I eat our warm treats on our way back to campus. The crunch of the dough and the sweetness of the cream made me feel like I wasn't where I was right now. It was enough to make me cry, so I don't think about it too much.
"Are you gonna do it?" Peter asks, "the hero thing?"
I turn to him and shake my head, "I shouldn't. It wouldn't be right."
A loud car honk from afar fills the air.
"Maybe you could do it, in memoriam."
I chuckle under my breath.
The thought of coming back to ask for photos from the bereaved family sounds horrifying. I want to argue on this point, but I dismiss the thought altogether. It doesn't matter anyway.
"You know what," I smile at Peter, "when you put it that way, it sounds like a good idea."
Peter perks as he takes a bite of his food. He chews and nods, "it is."
I turn back to my doughnut, and speak without a second though, "I hate that he died. I hate that it was him. No one deserves to go out like that."
He doesn't get to respond.
"The police don't even care. No one cares." I shake my head, "not even Spiderman cares anymore."
Peter feels winded. He turns to his ham and cheese. He feels tempted to say 'cut the Spiderman some slack' about as much as he wants to say he was too busy with homework, too busy with Calculus... too busy enjoying tutoring to have time to put on the suit.
"I hate that we have to depend on some masked bozo for justice," I say out of spite.
Peter and I halt at a bend.
He looks at me as I look at the street, littered, polluted, and filthy. Peter thinks there's so much to unpack here.
He zones onto my face, studying the wafting strands of hair, the visible turmoil, and the tormented beauty.
"You know what, Pete?"
"Hmm?"
"Nevermind what I said. Good for him," I take a bite of my warm food, "I'd bail too. Probably build a web swing for myself and rob the Trump tower."
I laugh when I say this. Peter doesn't.
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Peter decided Spiderman did care.
He got in his suit and spent the whole night waiting by the radio on his desk for a scene to help out on, not that he had to wait the whole night for something to happen.
There wasn't anything big, which was a good thing, just a few run away robbers and gang fights needing to be broken up.
It was, what, weeks, a month and a half since he put on the suit? It both felt so long and not long at all. What he knew for sure was that he missed this.
He missed it so much he swung around New York until he couldn't.
And then he missed his morning alarms.
When he finally woke up, he felt incredibly well-rested, a little too well-rested. When he realized he caught up with his sleep, he jolted into a panic and knew he fucked up.
He scrambles for his phone, slapping his hand on his bedside table. He checks his screen and jumps out of bed when he sees it's 2pm. He webs his backpack towards him and leaps out of the window, swinging through after lunch traffic.
He lands on campus, a little winded and sweaty, praying he could still catch what was left of his class that starts at 1:40. He sprints to his building, evading most of the people around. Just as he runs up to the entrance, he passes a woman who startles because of him.
It happens in slow-motion; Peter's spider senses cause him to turn and witness the aftermath just as it played out. She lady was carrying way too much for a person of her size; the heaps of paper in her arms comes crashing down.
His instincts get the best of him and he shoots a web at her water jug before it hits the ground. He makes an abrupt stop and grabs her arm before she loses her balance.
"Woah there," he huffs, keeping the woman upright.
She gasps as her things escape her.
Peter releases her arm and picks up the fallen objects.
She catches her breath and watches as he hands her the papers. He gives a guilty look, "sorry about that."
The middle aged woman knits her thin brows and huffs, "you running late or what?"
Peter chuckles with guilt, holding her water container by its handle, "I'm so late."
She grunts as she carries her papers. He makes a face when she leans back to carry the weight, clearly struggling.
Peter releases a breath and chuckles, "but uh-" he takes the papers back from her, "not too late."
"Oh, you don't-"
"No, ma'am, I insist," he says, "I'm guessing you're heading into the main building?"
"Actually," she slowly takes her water container from him, "I'm heading to my car. It's in the lot outside campus."
"Alright then," he smiles, "lead the way."
"Really? Are you sure? Because I really do need help..."
Peter chuckles, "yep. Yes. It's fine."
She smiles and nods, raising her arm forward.
They walk to her car and when they get there, he places the papers in the front seat.
"Thank you so much," she sighs, clutching her jug in her chest, "what's your college? Maybe I can put in good word to your teacher for getting you late."
Peter laughs, "no, it's fine really. I'm, uh, in bio-chem."
She raises a brow, "you wouldn't happen to be a Peter, would you?"
He's surprised, "woah, I am actually."
The woman chuckles, "what a coincidence."
Peter's heart leaps when she says your name and explains you're in her class, introducing herself as Ms. Vasquez. She says you mentioned him just yesterday, as he was the subject in one of your drawings. As quickly as his heart soars, it crashes when she tells him you had gifted her the water container in her hand.
Ms. Vasquez raises it, flaunting the familiar looking thing, "she's such a sweet girl."
That was your container.
"But you know," she adds, "I'm concerned about her. Has she been acting odd lately?"
Peter gulps, his entire body tenses. He can't speak.
"She hasn't been passing her requirements on time, and normally, I wouldn't think much of it, but she's been my student for 5 semesters, and she's never once been late, let alone missed a submission."
He uncomfortably smiles, "she's... I don't -she's going through some stuff."
Ms. Vasquez' brows furrow but she nods, "well I'm glad to know she has you in her life," she pats his shoulder, "thank you again, Peter."
Peter raises his hand in regard as the woman gets into her car. The moment she drives off, he pulls out his phone and calls you.
Except he doesn't call when he catches the 13 missed calls you've left him. His soul nearly slips out of his body as your 'this could have been a text, Parker,' line plays in his head; you hate calling.
He frantically presses his thumbs on your number. His pulse races as he hears the continuous ringing and did-not-pickup beep.
Fuck his 2pm class.
He looks for you all over campus. He checks almost every room in your building before realizing it was a waste of precious time. He revisits all the areas you've taken him, and visits places you've mentioned once before. He goes through the entire campus, then runs around the entire neighborhood.
He goes to your building but the guard to your dorm won't let him in without you there, even though he knew him well. He climbs up the fire exit but you had your curtains drawn and the windows locked. He tries knocking, then debates on breaking the window down. He decides against it.
He goes to the convenience store, the fast food chain, the café, the thrift shop, the bodega, the pharmacy, the record store, all of which you loved, but doesn't find you. He finds himself busting through the arcade you loathed because of how loud it was and the flower shop you scorned because they over-charged you once.
Nothing.
He finds himself busting into Eduardo and Son's Doughnuts, nearly breaking the glass door down with him.
The brothers turn to door and give a chorus of shocked exclamations.
"Jesucristo, hermano!" Eduardo shouts from the counter.
Lorenzo gasps and clutches his chest, leaning toward the register.
"You good, Pedrito?" Chico asks as he stops cleaning the tables.
Peter feels sweat on his neck and back begin to cling on his shirt. He surveys the unusually vacant establishment, finding only 3 customers present.
Chico wipes down the tables with his thick arms and large fingers, "you want an iced strawberry latte, kid? You looked stressed."
"He's in university," Lorenzo chuckles, going back on his phone, "what do you expect?"
Peter shakes his head and waves his hands, asking if they've, by any chance, seen you.
"Ah, yeah," Chico smiles, "she was just here."
"Wait, what?"
Eduardo grins and steps away from his station, pointing at the wall by Peter's side, "she set those up."
Chico and Peter turn to where Eduardo heads.
Peter surveys the wall that was bare just just yesterday. Where once only a small portrait of the brothers' father adorned the space, now had a framed illustration of Eddie and his kids beside a bulletin board where multiple pages were pinned. Most of them, he recognized, were your doodles of Eddie, ripped out of your sketchbook, the others were notes written with different handwriting.
"She asked if she could something to the wall," Eduardo said, "I thought she was gonna put one drawing of dad. I was shocked when she started ripping at her journal. She said... what did she say Chi-"
"Art keeps the memory of those we love alive," Chico raises a finger.
Lorenzo makes a face, "she literally only said art is meant to be shared."
"That's what she meant," Chico eyes his younger brother.
Lorenzo shakes his head and turns to Peter, "she was actually looking for you too."
His stomach drops, "she was?"
"Yeah," Lorenzo puts his phone down and rummages through the drawer behind him. He pulls out something and reaches out to Peter, "she said to give you this if you come."
Peter dashes forward and receives... a Tawagoshi.
"When she left, I realized she didn't think of why just giving it to you tomorrow," Lorenzo says, crossing his lean arms.
Peter looks at him in a panic, "did she say where she was headed?"
Lorenzo is taken aback by his expression, ".... uh... No? She- she didn't."
Just as Eduardo continues to muse about the new wall decorations and how so many people posted their letters to Eddie, Peter busts out of the place, just as roughly as he came in, causing Eduardo and Chico to yell at him in Spanish.
At this point, Peter is full on Spiderman. He puts on his suit and swings through the city. He's on high alert as he goes through each street.
Part of him wants to take thorough looks through every corner of the neighborhood, but his gut was urging him to speed through the avenue, dead set on a destination.
The sun begins to set on New York when he reaches the Manhattan Bridge. He looks down from the pillars of the structure. As the seconds pass, he feels more and more desperate.
He lies on his back and takes off his mask. He takes his phone out and calls you over and over and over.
He wonders if you already did it. He sits up and stares at the river, eyes watering as he imagines your lifeless body floating up the shoreline. He pulls his mask on, tugging it on his head way harder than need.
He realizes he started to cry when his lenses begins to fog. He tugs his mask on and snaps himself out of it. He battles with himself on what he should do next.
He's already off the other side of the bridge when he feels the urge to swing back. He wrestles with himself, unwilling to waste time, but ultimately he succumbs to that urge and perches himself back atop the pillar.
And then, the worst possible flavor of relief washes through him when he sees you. It's cruel how you don't even think twice when you reach the middle of the bridge.
"NO!" Peter yells as you climb onto the railing.
He swings towards you, using his body as a pendulum to reach you faster.
You're already free falling when Spiderman whips himself towards you.
He catches you.
You let out a grunt as your body cracks at the impact.
Peter has and arm and his legs around you, "what are you doing? What are you doing?!"
You look at him, eyes red and puffy. Your voice is hoarse, "S-pidey?"
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