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mrsmandalorian · 5 days

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Nonsense

-- pedro x singer!f!reader

a/n: howdy everyone! was inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's Coachella performance to write this. let me know if you guys want a second story to Espresso lol. much love to everyone!! -maddie

Summary: A surprise visitor at your first-ever Coachella performance!

main masterlist

Word Count: 4.5k

Song: Nonsense by Sabrina Carpenter!!!!!!

Warnings: 18+ mdni, reader is able-bodied, smut!!!, and fluff!, drinking, drug use (edibles and smoking), switch sex, p in v, fingering, sexual teasing, pet names (mi amor, princesa, daddy, baby, baby girl, puppy, angel)

Coachella was one of the most famous music festivals a musician could play at. It was such an honor to be on the setlist. It is incredible to perform a night each weekend in a row. This might be the most significant break in your career. Something felt missing.

The crowd started to get excited as the set time grew nearer. The nerves shot through you as you took deep breaths. You were trying to get over the feelings going through your mind.

“Are you alright?” one of the backup dancers asks as they help you with the earpiece. As you look yourself over in the mirror, you see the beautiful outfit that was personalized to fit you wonderfully, with your hair done beautifully.

You were ready.

“Yes, I am ready!” You smiled at your team as you took hold of your microphone. The band starts playing one of your most famous songs. The lights went dark as the band played the first cords of the song. The crowd roared in anticipation. You slowly stepped out into the darkness and started the melody.

The lights pour onto the stage, and the crowd goes wild. They get the first glance at you with your sexy and luxurious outfit. You smirk to yourself at the attention as you scan through the crowd. All the exciting and loyal fans in the crowd as they sing every verse with you. You follow the dance choreography you have practiced and performed many times. Once the music was going, it was hard not to get stuck into it and forget about the hundreds of people in front of you. The crowd was going wild as they sang along to your new song.

You continued the song as you had images of the reason for it, smirking to yourself. Pedro makes you feel like you're on cloud nine, from how he treats you publicly to the bedroom activities. A few songs highlighted the bedroom activities. You had never written such “edgy, sexy” songs before you met him. The secret love affair had made all of you so happy. He still made you content and secured in your relationship even miles and hours away from him.

As you go through the song and move around more, you look into the VIP areas and see many familiar faces. You don’t pay much attention as you have to end the song. You were so busy entertaining your fans that you did not notice who had slipped into the VIP section alongside both of your mutual friends. You were so focused on the choreography and in your element. The show was a big deal and a performance with dances and graphics for all the songs on the giant screens. You were singing your last song of the night, which was Nonsense. It was one of your favorite songs to perform, as it gave the audience the mood for the evening. The song represented something personal to you: your secret relationship with your new lover, Pedro Pascal, the whole internet’s boyfriend. It was interesting to see social media go crazy over who the song might be for. Some had the correct answers, but it was still a new and private relationship.

The lights fall as the melody starts. “I think that you guys will enjoy this next song! I have seen all the tiktoks, by the way.” You joke into the darkness and receive a wild response from the crowd. You take a few breaths and get into position in a very sexy pose, along with the dancers, waving at the sweet fans who can see you.

“No (La-la, la-la) da-ah-ah, ah (Ah-ah, uh, uh, uh, yeah)”

As the song begins, the spotlight shines only on you. You scan over the crowd with a smirk. It was one of the sexy, edgy songs you wrote because of your lover. There are butterflies in your stomach from nerves to play something as personal as this song, especially for such a big and reactive crowd.

“Think I only want one number on my phone I might change your contact to "Don't leave me alone." You said you like my eyes, and you like to make them roll Treat me like a queen; now you got me feelin' thrown, oh.”

The stage lights illuminate the whole stage as you walk around and sway your hips to the music. During the lyrics, you stop and try to sing with your fans as you make your way to the side of your VIP area to see those familiar faces.

“But I can't help myself When you get close to me Baby, my tongue goes numb Sounds like blah, blah, blee”

As you sing towards the area, your eyes linger over your friend group of non-famous friends to Sarah Paulson, which causes you to smile at them. You continue to scan the section until they land on HIM. The person that this song was written about. He was being his goofy and adorable self as he sang along with you. This causes you to mess up with a blush but quickly recover as the next verse comes.

“I don't want no one else (don't want) Baby, I'm in too deep Here's a lil' song I wrote (a song I wrote) It's about you and me (me)”

The eye contact that he held with you as you sang your filthy thoughts of him directly to him with a huge smirk. You continued to perform as you moved your hips a little more to the choreography because of him. In the following verses, you look away as you sing to your fans.

“I'll be honest Lookin' at you got me thinkin' nonsense Cartwheels in my stomach when you walk in And when you got your arms around me Ooh, it feels so good. I had to jump the octave I think I got an ex but I forgot him And I can't find my chill, I must have lost it I don't even know I'm talkin' nonsense I'm talkin', I'm talkin' (ah)”

You twirl your hair and sway your hips back to his side of the stage as your dancers follow close behind you. Make eye contact with him to ensure he is focused on you now.

“I'm talkin' all around clock I'm talkin' hope nobody knocks I'm talkin' opposite of soft I'm talkin' wild, wild thoughts You gotta keep up with me I got some young energy I caught the L-O-V-E How do you do this to me?”

You follow the choreography correctly as you hold flirty eye contact with him. Once you go over the chorus again and start to finish the song, you stand in your final position in the middle of the stage. You send him a wink and blow a kiss, then turn your attention to your fans.

“You guys have been absolutely the best! I hope you all enjoyed it and hope to see you again next weekend! I love you, and please stay safe!” You say after you show appreciation to your band and dancers. You wave and bow as the crowd goes wild and chant your name as the lights go down.

As you run backstage with your crew, laughing and smiling, you give all of them well-deserved love and appreciation. Your manager is there with water and a hug.” You did amazing! They loved you!” they say as you drink your water and wipe the sweat. Now celebrate! Not too hard!”

You follow their instructions as you see your friends run up as you exit the backstage towards your tent. They all sang praises and love and hugged you. After a while, you finally met the handsome brown eyes again, but closer this time. You jog up to him in your tight-fitting outfit with a big smile as the two collide in a hug, throwing your arms around his neck. He was wearing a button-up shirt with the first set of buttons undone, dark jeans, and his oversized glasses and baseball cap.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You say with a smile as you look up to him. He smirked as he got ready to say something witty back to you. You interrupt it with a short but passionate kiss on his lips. “I’m happy you’re here! How long have you been here?” Your hands land on his exposed chest, which makes him pull you closer.

He chuckles at you as he sees the adrenaline still pumping through you as you chatter to him. “I just decided to come to see my favorite person perform at Coachella. My schedule can wait two days. I’ve been here the whole time. You were great, beautiful.” He keeps his voice so no one else can hear your conversation. You feel his hands slide down your hips a little bit. “Also, where did you get this little number, and why haven’t I ever seen it?” Letting his thick fingers run over the design against your lower sides.

The compliments give you a confidence boost on top of your adrenaline rush. You bite your lip as his hands wander slightly until they settle on your lower back. “I planned on changing before we celebrate, but if you like it, I can keep it on.” You whisper into his ear, then look back at his expression.

His eyes darkened from your comment, causing him to pull you a little closer. “I like that idea,” He whispers in your ear as his lips graze your neck with a few pecks. Before you both could continue, your friends gathered you into other event areas. The group stayed together as they went to different stages to watch other artists, including Doja Cat and Lana Del Rey.

Pedro and you both socialized and drank with all your friends as you celebrated your incredible performance. There were edibles taken sometime in all the fun. He would occasionally hold onto you as you both danced closely. You both let loose, and as you can see, everyone was far from wasted. You were letting your bodies get as close as possible, hips grinding onto his. His hands would run down your sides and tease you. Stealing kisses from each other, and the sexual tension was through the roof.

The feeling of being watched makes you look around every once in a while. The camera flashes and excited screams from people around you made you realize that your relationship might not be that much of a secret now. Pedro and you interacted with lovely, chill fans who casually recognized you. You had some groups that would call over to Pedro as “daddy” as he played it off like a champ.

“Vamos, mi amor,” Pedro whispers in your ear as he grips his gentle hands around your waist. You meet his erotic brown eyes that make your cheeks burn hard as you squeeze your thighs together. Pedro was very facially expressive because you could read his thoughts whenever you looked into him. His thoughts were highly naughty, and it was time to go home. “I wondered how you felt about calling it for a night and heading back to your room for a nice bath.”

You look around at everyone in the crew and see your friends slowing their nights down, which doesn’t make you worried about causing another upset. Meeting the brown eyes again, you give him an arguing grin as you throw back your head with a laugh.

“I thought you might like that idea, Hermosa. Let’s tell them all good night and get going,” he whispers again in your ear as he gently pulls you towards your group of friends. Both of you take the time to say goodbye to your friends and thank them for supporting you. Pedro’s loud laugh pulls you away from your friends as you meet his warm eyes. He hugs everyone and draws you into his hip with an arm around your waist. “Goodnight, everyone. Safe travels!”

There were plenty of farewells, naughty things, and cat calls as you leaned against Pedro, who turned around with a silly face and middle finger gesture. He helps guide you to the Uber you take to your hotel room for the night. As you lay your head in his lap, the car ride was full of stolen kisses and laughter.

“You were an absolute star tonight, mi amor,” Pedro says as he traces his fingers along the straps of his outfit, letting his fingers run down to his cleavage. That last song was very cheeky. I wonder who that could be about.”

“Thank you. It was about one of my lovers. You might know him,” You joke with him, trying not to moan. His wandering fingers turn into wandering palms as they slowly paw at your breast.

“Oh, you are playing hard to get whenever I already have you smitten,” he mumbles, only where you could hear him. The car comes to a stop as you arrive at your hotel. You quickly get out of the vehicle as Pedro follows closely behind you. You couldn’t keep your hands off one another as you walked through the empty hotel halls. Acting as strangers whenever you encounter a person, you giggle with each other once you come back together.

Once you find your room, Pedro checks to see if the hallway is clear. He uses a little force with his grip as he leans you against your shut door. Letting his hands explore before they landed on your bottom, kneading your ass. One of his hands comes up to cup your jaw as he lines his lips up with yours, passionately kissing yours. His body closes into yours as you let him control the situation as you follow his lead. After grinding bodies and long, passionate kisses, you pull away, trying to catch your breath as you stare up at him with your cheeks burning. “We should get inside,” you say as you turn around the door, fumbling with the door. Pedro stepped back a little and watched as you struggled a bit.

“Why are you so frizzled, mi amor?” He whispers against your neck and presses the front of his body to your back. Feeling his stiff member against your backside along with his hot breath, almost making you moan out at contact. “Let me help you.” He helps you inside as you giggle and follow him.

Pedro and you have been messing around for a while now. You have not discussed a relationship status or anything, but neither of you hooked up with others. He treats you like a significant other the way he respects your boundaries and doesn’t hide his affection towards you.

“Let’s go put that beautiful bathtub you sent me a picture of yesterday to good use,” he teases you as he takes off his baseball cap, which makes his hair go all over the place. He starts unbuttoning more of his shirt as his chest becomes bare. You can’t resist running your hands down his chest as he looks at you with a smirk.

He spanks your ass hard with a groan because of your hands on him. “Let’s go, sweetheart,” he says as he pats your ass to get you to start moving. Once in the bathroom, turn on the large white tub to create a perfect mix of hot and cold. He grips your hips as he runs his hands to the back of your outfit. “Whoever designed this little piece is a fucking genius. It is beautiful and flatters you greatly.”

“Well, thank you, Pedro. I might have had you in mind when I got it designed. I was going to send you some pictures tonight whenever I came back here,” you smirked and winked at him in the mirror as he helped you undo the outfit. He kissed down your body as the fabric went off, making chills run across your body. The time apart doesn’t affect you emotionally, but how your body reacts tells the absolute truth. The way your heart rate skyrockets as his lips make their way to your mound.

You leaned against the counter for support as your outfit fell onto the floor, leaving you only in underwear. You make eye contact with Pedro as he continues to kiss and lick down your lower half. He hooks his large fingers under the top band of your panties as he meets your eyes for approval. You give him a slight nod and grin as his feather-like kisses follow the material as he pulls them down your legs. Throwing your head back as you try not to make a noise as he runs his tongue just above your clit. You make a frustrated groan as his tongue suddenly leaves your skin, leaving goosebumps.

Pedro chuckles softly as he sees how your body reacts to him, pulling away with a smirk on his lips. He stands up as he pushes his body against yours, pulling your hips into his. “You are such a good girl for me. Your body is always ready for me,” he whispers as he ducks his head to kiss your neck. “Let’s go in, mi amor.” He gets in first so you can sit in between his thick thighs. He helps you as you slide in between his legs, back against his chest. His rigid member pressed against your lower back, his hands tease your nipples after you get settled. He couldn’t help but let his hands wander as he settled comfortably behind you. He rubs out your sore body but lets his hands focus on your most sensitive spots.

His gentle but firm hands run on either side of your hips as his kisses lay on your shoulders. He inhaled deeply against your skin, causing you to tense up your back as it chills down your spine. He moves his hands from your hips towards your mound. You used one hand to spread your left leg apart, holding it still with just one large hand. His right hand found its way down to tease your slit, playing with your sweet lips. You felt the member on your back begin to throb as he slightly rubbed himself against you. You let out your needy moans and sounds continuous as he worked his fingers against you.

He kept teasing you and kissing your shoulder and neck with his scruffy face. You had enough of his teasing and rigid member. It was rare that you switched roles, but you were both switches. (You can’t tell me that Pedro is not a switch.) You slide out of his grip as you meet his eyes once you are turned around to face him.

You grasp onto his rigid member, holding yourself up on the sides of the tub. He squirms and lets out a moan as you hold yourself over him. “I’m tired of the teasing, Pascal. It’s my turn,” you say as you ease your entrance slowly onto his throbbing tip. You find a comfortable position for your legs as you keep going up and down on his tip. He lets out a loud ‘fuck’ and moans as he squeezes his eyes close. His hands move to your hips, letting you take control. You start to ride him as you push your breast into his face.

One of his hands moved from your hips to grip your tit, “who gave you permission to touch me?” You whisper almost into his ear as he looks up at you with big brown eyes.

“Sorry, miss,” he whimpers back as your speed of volatile movements onto his cock increases. He leans back and rests his arms on the back of the tub as he lets you ride the hell out of him. He bites his lip and squeezes his eyes as he groans out in pleasure. “Fuck, mi amor.”

“You like this, don’t you?” You firmly ask him as you force his face into the middle of your tits. He starts to motorboat your breast as you suffocate him gently. The scruff from his face makes you more sensitive than you thought, riding his member harder. “You start fucking me hard, baby. Thrust your big cock into me.”

He meets your eyes with pleasing brown eyes to satisfy your needs. His pleas make you smirk as you nod. Pedro begins to slam his hips into you, moaning as he does. “Thank you, thank you for letting me fuck you.” He pants as he thrusts deep inside of you, feeling his throbbing member hitting every spot.

He grips your body, and his thrust begins to become more rapid as you continue to ride his giant member. Every thrust has the purpose of pleasing you; his hand works its way back up to your breast. He plays aggressively with your nipple, pinching and sucking on it. His other hand gripped onto your ass as his rhythm stayed deep and hard. The overstimulation of his hands and the member inside of you causes you to scream out in pleasure, “Good puppy.” You whimper as you feel your orgasm coming sooner as he leans up and thrusts into you. Pedro chose the pet name on one of the first nights you had taken control of the action.

Eventually, with his rapid thrust and wandering hands, your body starts to shake as you are overcome with pleasure. “Keep going, puppy,” you whimper as he continues to work out your orgasm. “Such a good puppy.” You whisper as you run your hands over his chest. Your body falls into his as you overcome your orgasm, gripping onto his as he continues to pleasure you. He pulls out and fingers your wet pussy, licking his fingers after you finish.

You both lay in the tub for a while as you overcome your orgasm. He held you as you came down from your high, kissing your head. “Was that good for you, mi amor?” He asks gently as he pulls you into his chest. He moved the hair from your face, rubbing his hands down your waist.

You gently nod against him as the day catches up with you. After a few minutes, you get tired of the cramped space of the tub. “Let’s get out, baby,” you mumble to him as you lean up, earning a grunt in return. The guilt of not pleasuring Pedro silently overcame you as you exited the bathtub.

The sound of a low grunt makes you return to the tub as the broad man emerges. You smile mischievously at him as he glances up to meet your grin. His member is still very much erect as he steps in front of you. The fun part of being switch partners was that it could change in a flash. You give Pedro a knowing look as he meets your eyes and stands before you. His eyes and grin light up on his face as he gently guides you onto the counter behind you. “My turn, princesa,” he mumbles and spreads your legs apart as he pushes himself in between them. He pulls your body towards the edge of the counter so your legs wrap around him.

You lean your back against the counter as he holds your lower half, rubbing his throbbing cock against your slick entrance. He leans over your body, sucking on one of your nipples to get a reaction out of you, which it did as you let out a loud moan. Your body reacted as well as it pushed farther onto his member. You both let out a pleasurable sound as his tongue runs down your chest to your stomach. Your hips start to tease him as they grind against him, which causes him to spank the side of your ass. “No, ma’am, it’s daddy’s turn,” he smirks up at you as he moves one of his hands to your nipple. His fingers quickly fondle your right nipple as you moan loudly. “You let daddy fuck your sweet, sweet pussy?”

You let out a satisfied groan as his hand moved down your entrance, gently rubbing you as his thumb ran over your sensitive clit. After gently teasing your pussy with his fingers, he lubed himself up with his fingers from your wetness. His large member enters you again as he holds onto your hips. He pushes inside slowly as you both let out moans.

“You’re so fucking wet, angel. Did ya miss daddy?” He asks as he grips your hips harder, thrusting inside of you. You give a desperate nod as your hands grip onto the edge of the counter. Pedro takes his time as he edges himself in and out of you, giving you all the praises. He pulls up your upper body so your bodies grind against one another, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other holding your back. “Good girl.”

The friction from the position on your mound makes it hard not to moan and squirm in pleasure. His thrust becomes more rigid and repetitive as his grip holds you gently but firmly. You could feel your orgasm approaching as well from the position. “I’m about to cum, Daddy,” you whimpered as you gripped his firm broad shoulders.

His mouth meets your ear as he groans into your ear. His heavy breathing makes your back arch and push into his thrust more. “Wait for me, baby girl,” he mumbles into your ear as his thrust becomes more sloppy. “Come for me, angel.” He sets you down on the counter as his hands grip your breast, twiddling your nipples with his thick fingers.

Before long, both of you came together with your bodies grinding against one another, along with satisfied noises.

Pedro’s warm brown eyes meet yours before he kisses you. The two of you might not have a title, but the sparks were there every touch. “Such a good girl, angel,” he says as he gently pulls out of you. “Let’s take a quick shower.” He helps you into the shower, where the two of you help wash one another and joke around with stolen kisses in between. After getting ready, Pedro carries you into bed as the two of you order dessert from room service. The rest of the night was full of laughter and heavy makeout. The two of you cuddle up to some cheesy movie and fall asleep midway through it.

These were the perfect nights for you to write a whole album about your feelings for this cheeky, handsome man.

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #din dijarin fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu #pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro x you

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bonkhrnyjail · 1 month

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sweet plum | chapter five

series masterlist | pinterest board | spotify playlist

pairing: pedro pascal x fem!reader (plus size)

rating: mature (will become explicit in the future)

warnings: n/a in this chapter

summary: pedro needs your help in a pinch

a/n: thank u all again for the support on this story <3 AND ONCE AGAIN FUCK STARBUCKS i wrote this last year and it's ended up being a thread throughout the story but i'm planning on keeping it out of future chapters. i also made a cutie little pinterest board that follows the plot of the story and shows outfit visuals and stuff and a spotify playlist for vibes!!! they are linked if you wanna check them out. xoxoxo<3

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It’s been almost two months since you’ve seen Pedro.

Not without phone calls, of course. You talk, probably once a week minimum, ever since you met up for burgers that one time. He calls you for advice a lot, and it’s often for things that he probably doesn’t really need advice for. One time he called you to ask if he should get chicken or steak tacos. It was three in the morning.

You started working on a new show that films in town. Your clients are nice, friendly enough, but too self-centered and addicted to social media to pay you any mind. So you just work, chat with the crew, read, and try to fill the time. Most days you’re home by 6pm. Some days your roommate convinces you to go out dancing with her, some days you meet up with friends for dinner or drinks, but most nights you spend at home alone.

Pedro always seems to call at the most inopportune times. Half the time you’re sleeping, which has allowed you to perfect the skill of sounding very alert on the phone, even through your drowsiness. Work has you up at seven, so you aren’t exactly the night owl that you used to be, but Pedro sure as shit still is. And though you’ve shown up to work mid-yawn after many interrupted nights of sleep, you don’t mind. You’re just glad he thinks of you.

Because you think of him. A lot.

You’re curled up now, in the corner of your bed, a white fluffy robe draping across your curves. A mound of pillows and stuffed animals cradles you as you lazily scroll through an endless feed of Instagram stories. You eventually encounter Pedro's story, a repost of an old picture from his Javier Peña days.

Once you start thinking about Pedro it’s hard to stop. Your mind will wander and wind until you've fully immersed yourself in a daydream, completely out of touch with the reality attempting to claw its way back into your conscience.

Your eyelids flutter shut as you let a fantasy drown you. Pedro, in your chair, reaching his hand up to cradle your waist as you work to perfect the few strands of hair that are disobeying you. You gasp at his touch, your body erupting with chills as he snakes his strong, thick hands underneath your shirt and up your back. Your knees begin to buckle as you lean into him, a soft and needy whimper escaping your lips. He guides you with his palms to sit on his lap, facing away from him and towards the mirror showcasing your illuminated figure.

Neither of you speak as Pedro caresses you beneath your shirt, his callused hands setting fire to the soft skin there. He runs a thumb over your nipple, sending a searing sensation through you, and you bite down hard on your lower lip, your legs instinctively spreading to welcome his touch there. Your heavy breaths gain pitch as he gently twists and pinches at your nipples, your head falling back and your chest hitching with shallow, needy moans. He raises your shirt and removes it with ease, tossing it to the floor and returning his touch to your desperate skin. You feel him slowly start to unbutton your jeans as his other hand gathers your hair and drapes it over one shoulder, exposing the right side of your neck. He tips your head to the side and lowers his mouth to the spot beneath your ear, as his fingers slip past the hem of your panties and works their way toward your—

bzzz bzzz…. bzzz bzzz…..

You yank your hand out of your pants as your eyes shoot open.

Incoming call: P

“Shit,” you mutter, trying to regain some composure before you answer the phone. Of course he calls you right fucking now. A dry lump of shame forms in your throat as you slide the little green icon to the right.

“H-Hey P,” you manage, still halfway out of breath from how startled you were.

“Plum! Hey! I’m so glad you picked up!” He exclaims, slightly winded on his delivery. “How are you?”

“I'm, uh, good! Yeah, good. How are you?” you say hesitantly, your mind reeling with nonstop guilt.

“Well, I need your help.”

He goes on to explain the situation. A photoshoot and interview, in Anaheim, tomorrow. His regular groomer, stuck at home with a sick kid. He’d pay double, he’d drive you to and from, etcetera.

"Hey, of course, I'd be happy to. I don’t have to be back to work ‘til Monday anyways. Don’t even worry about paying double,” you insist.

Aside from the obvious benefit of seeing him again, you could use the extra cash. Plus, you know his hair like the back of your hand. It’s easy money.

“Are you sure? I know it’s the weekend and all, I don’t want to steal you away from the LA nightlife,” he chuckles.

“P, my plans this weekend involved a bottle of red and a chick flick binge. I promise LA won’t even notice I’m gone,” you giggle.

“You. Are. A. Lifesaver. Seriously, I thought I was going to have to do my own hair,” he jokes, the phone line crackling as his laughter booms through the tiny speaker.

“Oh, we absolutely can’t have that now, can we?” you tease.

“Fuck offfff,” he jests. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 8.”

. . . . .

Criss-cross on the stoop outside your apartment building, you wait sleepily for Pedro to arrive, two sweet plums in hand. You have your kit, stocked up with Pedro’s favorite scented hair products, and a few different pairs of shears. You’re giving the man a haircut if it’s the last thing you do today. You're absolutely certain he needs it.

Various items rustle about in your tote as you dig to find your book. You've decided to reread Pride and Prejudice, one of your favorites. You can’t even count how many times you’ve read it now, let alone watched the various movie renditions.

The 2005 version with Kiera Knightley reigns supreme as your favorite. It’s the definition of a comfort story for you, getting you through many a sleepless night and emotional breakdown. Your only qualm with the book is that it does not include your favorite moment from the movie, a fact you know is utterly ridiculous since the book is quite literally the source material.

The scene where Mr. Darcy appears, his flowing linen shirt halfway unbuttoned as he strides towards a pensive Elizabeth, who has finally realized that her feelings for Darcy have turned to those of love. Darcy speaks, overcome with adoration as he says: “You have bewitched me, body and soul and I love, I love, I love you.”

Just replaying the scene in your mind makes your toes curl.

Your train of thought is abruptly interrupted as a black sedan pulls in front of you. You lift your gaze to find a beaming Pedro, his head halfway out of the window, shaking and taunting you with a venti Starbucks cup.

“Look what I haaave,” he sings, his eyebrows wiggling up and down.

“Ah, the perfect bait,” you joke as you gather your things and load them into the back of his car. You skip around to the passenger’s side of the car and open the door to find a chocolate muffin and a bouquet of flowers placed on the seat.

You shoot him a puzzled expression.

“A thank you. The least that I can do on such short notice,” he flashes his smile as you pick up the flowers to examine them. The bouquet consisted primarily of daisies, your favorite flower.

“How... how did you know I like daisies?” you question.

“I saw you one day, out by the lot, picking some daisies that were growing along the road. You had tied them into a little bouquet and brought them back into the trailer,” he chuckled softly. “Anyways, I bought a vase too so we can put them in water later.”

You remember. Honestly, you didn’t think he noticed them, which didn’t bother you by any means. You'd put them in there for your own benefit, a little splash of something in his agonizingly plain trailer. You’d put the flowers in a mug, the only thing you could find in the little kitchenette he had. They sat on the counter where you’d place your things every morning, and, in a way, sort of “claimed” your territory in the space. Pedro never said anything about them, which you just chalked up to him and his limited attention span.

“That’s… so sweet,” you smile, a pink heat creeping across your cheeks as you take a seat beside him. His thoughtfulness never fails to surprise you. “Thank you, gosh, you really didn’t have to do all this.”

“I really did,” he leans over and gives you a cramped hug from the side, squeezing your shoulder and leaning his head of unkempt curls into your cheek. “Now, can you pick the music? You have better playlists than I do.”

“Oh ho ho, so you finally admit it!” you shout, snatching the aux cord from his hands with a devilish grin.

“You just need to put more Prince on them. They’re seriously lacking in the Prince department,” he rebuts as he takes a massive gulp of his iced espresso.

“Listen, I love Prince as much as the next guy, but not every playlist has Prince energy. I gotta keep the vibes consistent,” you explain as you take a bite of muffin, your hands cupped awkwardly to catch any crumbs that fall from the wrapper.

Pedro quickly reaches into the compartment between you and pulls out a napkin, holding it right underneath your chin as you chew on your first bite.

“You have a little…” his eyes dip to the left corner of your lips. “May I?”

You nod slightly as you watch his gaze, sparkling with a chestnut hue in the glow of the daylight. He gently uses his thumb to brush your lip with the napkin, catching whatever missed your mouth. He proceeds slowly, his stare focused and his touch intentional. You feel that familiar flush prickle your face as your eyes meet and he softly bites down on his lower lip.

“I got it,” he hands you the napkin as he starts on the road. “Don’t worry if you get crumbs on the floor. I snack in here all the time.”

You settle back into the chair, hopeful that your makeup is doing some heavy lifting to hide the heat you're certain is speckling your cheeks. In your haze you choose a playlist, one you made specifically for road trips, and scatter some Prince songs amongst the queue. You relax your shoulders and gaze beyond the dashboard as Pedro hums and drives you out of the city.

. . . . .

Pedro supplied you with a solid earful of his subpar vocals on the drive over. You sang along too, not really with your real voice, but more of a comical, singing at the top of your lungs with your friends kind of voice. The traffic wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it would be, but it still took about an hour and a half to get to the location of the shoot.

Pedro walked with you to the sign-in desk and waited for you to get your badge, even with the dozens of employees trying to show him the way to his dressing room. He smiled as you draped the lanyard with your name around your neck and linked your arm with his as he led the way.

Your hands are raking through his hair, covered in a light pomade to bring out his natural wavy-curl texture. He always hums a bit when you work products in, so you take a little extra time to give his scalp a massage. His shoulders relax at the sudden pressure and his head falls back into you, resting gently on your stomach.

“You know that’s my favorite... mmmh,” he closes his eyes as your hands travel down to the base of his skull and you start kneading with your thumbs. “I've missed that.”

“I could so easily… just…” you snake your hands down and gently wrap them around his throat.

“Hey!” his spine shoots up straight as he yanks your hands from his neck. “Taking advantage of me at my most vulnerable… not very nice.”

“You've gotta to be more alert!” you joke as you go back to finger-curling his more defined ringlets. “Some crazed fan could seduce you with scalp massages and then try to crush your skull.

“Well I don’t let anyone else give me scalp massages, you know,” he looks up at you, tilting his head back, his gentle curls falling from his forehead.

“Oh, so you’ve been deprived these past few months, huh?” you tease, returning your hands to his scalp and deepening your pressure.

“Mmmmmhmmmmmm…” he hums.

“Well, just so you know, I don’t give scalp massages to any of my other clients,” you speak, slightly under your breath. “So, whenever you want one, all you have to do is ask.”

His eyes soften slightly at the statement and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. You can’t help but let a stifled grin spread across your face as well.

An easy and comfortable silence falls over you as you finish up styling his hair. The brief asked for bouncy, voluminous curls with a windswept look, and you’re curious to see what the wardrobe looks like to match. You cross your fingers, hopeful they'll let you go back with him.

Much of the time you've spent with Pedro has caused you to often completely forget that he’s famous. You’ve never really been out with him during the day, nor have you gone to any super crowded places together. The only time you've been reminded of his fame was when you went to that little diner on the outskirts of LA. But even then, it didn’t feel like he was famous exactly. It felt more like he was a regular, a familiar face, a friend.

Now this is the first time you’ve been in an environment like this with him. There’s a swarming hoard of interns popping in and out of the already cramped room every few minutes, offering various snacks and drinks and bringing handfuls of clothing to drape over the empty hangers. One of them even showed Pedro his Mandalorian tattoo.

Of course, Pedro is a fucking sweetheart to anyone who crosses his path. Flurries of his “yes please!” and “thank you so much!” flood the room as more and more people bob in and out, ready to wait on him hand and foot. You feel a bit goofy, standing awkwardly off to the side as people dart around, like you should be helping. It’s what you’re used to, after all.

After a few minutes, Pedro walks toward the door as he's called out of the room. You start to make yourself cozy on the loveseat until you hear the low bark of a clearing throat.

“Are you not coming?” Pedro turns to you with a quizzical brow.

“I… I can?” you stumble on your words as you shove your book back into your bag and get back on your feet.

“Come. What if my curls drop?”

“Not on my watch," you wink, gathering your things and following close behind him.

. . . . .

You manage to locate a fold out chair —wide enough to accommodate your hips and ass— and find a spot, somewhat tucked away but still in Pedro’s sightline. You pull your phone out and immediately send a picture of him to Bella, catching him just as he makes eye contact with your camera. You burst out laughing, garnering a few head turns and a middle finger from Pedro.

Bella’s name pops up on your screen. Incoming FaceTime. You answer.

“Hi! Hold on, lemme sneak out of here,” you whisper as you speed-walk out of the room, ducking your head slightly so as not to garner any attention.

Once you escape into a hallway, you exchange equally joyous greetings, gushing with excitement to see each other.

“I miss you!” Bella exclaims. “You're with P today?”

You find a corner to sit, tucked away from the hustling bodies in the hallways surrounding the studio.

“He needed a last minute hairdresser for a shoot and I just happened to be around,” you explain, your voice slightly above a hush. “I miss you sooo much! How are things?”

Bella updates you on the important bits. Work, family, dramas, a new possible romantic prospect, they wiz through it all. You listen intently, wildly entertained and extraordinarily grateful to get to witness the musings of a British teenager.

“Anyways, I don’t know what’s gonna happen with her. I don’t think I can be with a girl who isn’t out to her own mum,” they conclude after an animated recounting. “Too… messy.”

“Agreed,” you nod. “You’ve got too much goin’ on for messy.”

“Sooo… what about you?” they question in that sing-songy, teasing tone that they frequent in your presence.

“What about me?”

“Any… romantic developments?”

Your eyes do near 360 into the back of your skull.

“Bellie, you know I don’t really date.”

“When was the last time you saw Pedro? Other than today.”

“Uh… maybe two months ago? Why?”

You hear them mumble something unintelligible under their breath, only catching the last word, “Idiot.”

You crank the volume on your phone, trying to make out what they’re saying.

“What? Who’s an idiot?”

“He doesn’t... listen… nevermind,” they cut themself off.

“Who? Pedro?” you blurt, somewhat fervently.

“You’ve really perked up,” they tease.

“Can we use more words, instead of being purposefully elusive and mumbling?” you quip, half-teasing but with an air of genuine frustration.

Bella starts giggling as they attempt to get their words out.

“I… I know. I. know you like him."

Your jaw goes slack, your mouth falling open in surprise.

"Your face!" they cackled.

You don’t have to see yourself to know that you’re certainly a sight to behold. Your cheeks are burning up. The air is grazing past your widened eyeballs, drying them out as your lips curl inwards. Bella’s laugh is bellowing and crackling through your headphones.

“Bella! Does he know?” you whisper, the fire in your cheeks beginning to become unbearable.

“I… I don’t know! I think so? Man, I wanted to just let this run its course, but I’ve known that you guys have feelings for each other for sooo long now. It’s been seriously painful to watch.”

Your stomach somersaults as the heat spreads to your ears.

“Did… did he tell you that?”

“I can’t believe you guys are the adults in this situation,” they mutter through their stifled chuckles. “I mean, he didn’t outright tell me, but he didn’t have to.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Listen, no grown man asks for advice on how to ask his hairdresser to hang out.” they say quite matter-of-factly. "Even my gay ass knows that."

You chuckle briefly in response, until a moment of understanding silence hangs between you. You realize you have no rebuttal to the statement. They really aren't wrong.

“Well I can’t… do anything about this, right? He’s… Bella, he’s Pedro fucking Pascal for christ’s sake.”

“And? He’s still just P. And you’re still you. Fame might make things complicated, but then again, romance is always complicated. Life is complicated. But the journey is where you find the joy.”

Wise ass kid.

You go silent for a moment, the belligerent swarm of contradictory thoughts and feelings buzzing around in your head getting louder and stronger by the second.

You almost don’t want to believe it. Once you allow yourself to step into that territory, you know you won't be able to reel it back. It would change things, permanently, whether you want it to or not.

“You’re right,” you admit, your expression softening into something more akin to defeat. “I just... I need to think about it for a little longer."

You say your goodbyes and end the call, feeling slightly breathless and a tiny bit dizzy from the gravity of it all. It’s stupid, yes, because no matter what lies you've told yourself, you know there is something more between you and Pedro. There’s been far too many moments, too many palpable signs to ignore. Actually admitting that to yourself and allowing your brain process it as a fact is something else entirely; something that simultaneously thrills and terrifies you.

It takes you a few minutes to settle yourself and muster the strength to stand up and walk back to the studio. Nothing has to change, you tell yourself.

Nothing has to change.

You re-enter and spot Pedro, mid-smoulder, working the hell out of the color block sweater they chose for him. It’s enough to garner a small chuckle from you as you make your way back to your seat.

You make yourself cozy in your folding chair and pull out your book, attempting to lose yourself in the pages to distract from the butterflies ravaging your stomach. It doesn't take long for the power of Jane Austen to transfix your attention once again.

“Is there something over there? You keep looking to your right,” you overhear the photographer saying to Pedro. You look up and immediately lock eyes with Pedro. He lets a gentle smile paint his face as he turns his attention back to the camera.

This is going to be harder than you thought.

The group breaks for lunch about 30 minutes later, but you’re too immersed in your book to actually notice. You only snap fully back into reality when you feel a wide hand gently graze your shoulder.

“Pride and Prejudice, eh?” Pedro peers over your head. “Is this your first time reading it?”

“Oh god no. I’ve lost count at this point,” you admit. "It's probably my favorite book."

“Good girl,” he gives you a gentle pat. “I knew you had good taste.”

… Much harder than you thought.

. . . . .

The remainder of the day flew by. You ended up taking a little snooze on the loveseat in the dressing room while Pedro went to interview (not entirely on purpose, but it did help the time pass nonetheless). You and Pedro said your goodbyes to the team, and the creative director liked you so much that he even asked for your card for future projects. Score.

The traffic you’re currently sitting in is horrendous. You’ve been in stop and go for nearly 30 minutes now and the GPS estimates another 30 until you make it out of the majority of the congested zone. Fleetwood Mac lilts from the speakers on the dash as you and Pedro jabber on about whatever comes to your minds. You just pray he isn’t picking up on the incessant nervousness you’re swallowing between each sentence.

“So what’s your favorite flower then?” you blurt, changing the subject almost entirely. “You know mine, only fair I know yours.”

“I don’t know if I have a favorite, per se, but I like purple flowers,”

“Oh, come on, that’s cheating,” you nudge his forearm that rests on the console between you. “There’s gotta be one you really like. This is, like, vital information. How else am I gonna know what to get you when you win your first Emmy?”

“Ha!" he bellows. "Well, in that case, I’d love a bouquet of daisies. They’ll remind me of you.”

He places his hand softly over yours, his fingers falling effortlessly into the gaps between your knuckles. You inhale with surprise, your chest noticeably hitching as you draw the breath in. A tightness surges in your chest, hot and asphyxiating as his thumb traces a little circle on the back of your hand.

You can’t bring yourself to remove your gaze from your lap, but you return his touch with a gentle squeeze, a reciprocation to the best of your ability. You wait anxiously, fully expecting him to unweave his fingers from yours, but he doesn’t. The muscles in his sturdy, flexing hands soften into a state of rest and settle atop yours.

This is the kind of thing Bella was talking about.

You’ve worked so hard to convince yourself that the little moments like this mean nothing, that Pedro is just a highly affectionate person or that he speaks to his other friends this very same way. Of course you’ve held hands with friends, but never with such tenderness and intention as the way he’s touching you. Your skin never felt like it had been lit ablaze, not in the way that it does at this very moment, with any friend you’ve ever known. With anyone you’ve ever known, if you're being honest with yourself.

Curiosity and apprehension rage like a wildfire in your mind, though ultimately your desire to know what he’s thinking breaks through the clouds of smoke. You turn your head to face him and are met with his profile, the sunset kissing the outline of his skin and illuminating him divinely. Your most favorite parts of his visage are displayed like a wonder of the universe, as his dimple slowly appears and his eyes wander to meet yours.

And then he smiles, teeth and all, and you want nothing more than to lunge out of your seat and kiss him.

But you don't.

You sit there, lips parted and breaths heavy as you turn your gaze back to the road. Frozen, as he unwraps his fingers from yours. Silent, as he turns up the volume of the music. You curl your hand into a fist at the loss of his touch.

Unable to withstand another moment of tension, you offer to show Pedro a podcast you think he'll enjoy. He obliges, and you listen the rest of the way home. You laugh, add little comments here and there, argue for a brief moment about the pronunciation of an artist’s name, amiably of course. You inch your way back to normal once again.

Once you finally arrive at your apartment complex, it’s almost 7 o’clock. The sun has long since vanished, your street only lit by two warm-yellow street lamps on either side of the main doors to your building.

“Well, this is me,” you turn to him and say, your voice mimicking that of a cringey romance film.

He laughs, the sound certainly escaping the confines of his car and down the street, as a couple jerk their heads in surprise towards your direction.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” he offers, unbuckling his seatbelt as you do the same.

“Oh, you really don’t have to do that,” you mutter as you gather your bag and water bottle from the floor.

“I waaant to do that,” he quips, his tone jovial and his head bobbing slightly as he teasingly mocks you.

You roll your eyes with a grin and exit the car as he meets you on the other side. You point to your entrance and start towards it, and suddenly feel his hand softly rest on the small of your back as he follows by your side.

His touch ignites something inside you, awakening a train of thought that you're incapable of slowing down. You can’t deny it anymore, he is everything you could ever ask for, everything you've ever wanted. And here he is, walking you to your door, making sure you get home safe.

You arrive at the doorstep and Pedro swiftly pulls you into a tight hug, his hands softly squeezing at your hips as he gently presses his face into your hair. You wrap your arms clumsily around his shoulders and embrace him on your tiptoes, your chin resting perfectly in the crook of his neck as you drown in his intoxicating scent. He presses his body into you and breathes deeply, letting out a little hum with the exhale.

His hands snake across your back and land uncrossed, resting softly on each side of your waist. He pulls away to look at you, and a tender smile crinkles his eyes and tinges his words as he speaks.

“Thank you so much fo—”

His sentence stops short as your hands grasp his face, your body possessed by something buried within you.

And you kiss him.

Hard. With desperation, like you're moments from death and his lips are your saving grace. He lets out a little grunt of confusion as your mouths collide and he grasps at your skin, bunching up the fabric of your skirt with his grip. And right as you feel him start to soften into your touch, his hands pulling you in, his lips melting into yours, you pull away.

“I... I...” you stutter, your eyes blown wide and mouth agape as you scour your brain for a string of coherent words amongst the rubble inside your head. “‘I’m so sorry.”

He inhales, and before he can respond, you interject.

“I-I’m so, so s-sorry,” you fumble as you yank your keys from your purse, frantically trying to scan your key FOB to unlock the door. “God I- I’m so sorry.”

The light on the detector turns green and you scramble to get your hand on the door handle.

“Shit... cmon...”

“Wait, I—” Pedro grabs your free hand.

You swing the door open as you slip through his grip, lunging yourself into the opening and slamming it behind you. You bolt to the elevator, jamming your finger on the button repeatedly until the doors part. You can hear Pedro’s voice, calling your name from down the hallway behind the glass keeping him away from you. You turn as you enter the elevator and see him, his hand flat on the window, a desperate expression as he shouts to you. The doors close and he disappears from your sightline.

Your knees fail you as your back slides down the wall, until you thump gracelessly onto the floor.

“Shit.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

chapter six

#pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #plus size reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #the last of us #pedro pascal x reader #chubby reader #fem reader #slow burn

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creedslove · 1 year

Text

BETRAYED - PART NINE

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: Pedro invites you to be his plus one for the night but his attention is caught by another woman and leaves you with a broken heart

Warnings: fluff, like, a lot of fluff, implied age gap, mentions of death, and descriptions of a catholic wedding (I just wrote down how they go in my country, but no, it's not *the* wedding you're thinking about) and mentions of smut

A/N: Just one more chapter and we wrap up this story!!! I hope you guys enjoy this one because I know my heart melted while I wrote it!!!

A/N part 2: still can't manually tag people on the works because I use the app and it won't let me do it, that's why I don't have a tag list at all!

3.4k words

One year later

You stood at the altar feeling excitedly but also a little anxious. A bunch of familiar faces stared at you taking in all the details of the ceremony that was about to begin.

You could even spot Pedro among the guests, he looked handsome, as he always did, his hair was a little longer now, making it wilder in a way it made him sexier than before. He noticed your eyes on him and winked, as if he encouraged you in that situation

And that's why being a bridesmaid was so fun. While the focus wasn't necessarily you and your group of bridesmaids, you were all in the spotlight while the bride took long to arrive.

You could practically hear all the thoughts crossing people's minds, how they judged the dresses, the makeups and the hairstyles. It always happened and you wouldn't be any exception, but not that you cared very much about it, as you were so happy for your best friend Nat tying the knot with her dream guy, nothing would bother you at all.

As you felt Pedro's gaze on you, burning your skin, you thought of everything that happened this past year. It didn't even feel real, after you left his home that morning, you never returned. And he kept his word of not coming after you, which was all you needed in order to get your life back on track.

The first thing you did when you got home was to change all the locks to prevent anyone from breaking into your house. It didn't matter if it was Liev, a burglar or Pedro himself. You never wanted to walk into your home, a place you assumed safe and find someone uninvited there. Then, your second part of your action plan was to look for another gym, so you could train without having to change your schedule every single time you didn't want to run into someone in there. You wanted to exercise, to see people, to feel the endorphins flood your body and not step on eggshells all the time. Needless to say, it was a good decision.

Then, you just focused on yourself.

You finally finished your studies, you found a job that made you happier and paid well too. You took short trips here and there, getting to know new places and you also looked at yourself in the mirror and realized you were more beautiful than ever, and that was why you were loving yourself, you took care of yourself and you put yourself in the first place, just like it should've been from the beginning.

You still had feelings for Pedro, of course, but the distance helped manage it, some days you were able to go by without even thinking of him, and others you missed him deeply. You didn't know if his feelings for you changed, but you weren't as close as you once were. However, you weren't estranged either. It was just that your lifestyles got simply too different and your lives took different paths, making it so hard to be around each other.

After Pedro's career took off he became almost impossible to reach - physically at least.

He was already well-known when you two had all that story going on, of course, but now it had reached stratospherical levels. He was a big deal, he was a big celebrity, all your social media was flooded by videos, his interviews and his pictures. You began following his career, from afar, admiring him, how far he'd come, feeling your chest burst with pride every time he was nominated for an award or you saw him walking down a red carpet. It was still disturbing to you to see how much he was harassed by the media, how he couldn't walk down the street without being photographed and how they picked on the whole daddy thing. Sometimes it was a little funny though, seeing him blush and her visibly embarrassed at that. You often chuckled to yourself when you eventually saw his fans writing the sweetest things about him, how they called him their boyfriend or future husband, if only they knew your story, they'd call you crazy for turning him down. Because to them, Pedro was perfect, a prince charming. And to you, he was just a human being, with flaws and qualities, like everyone else.

You two didn't go the whole year without speaking, quite the opposite, your phone would buzz eventually, receiving a text or two from him. And you would often text him as well. Just simple things: birthday messages, wishing each other happy holidays or checking up on each other. Nothing too intimate, but enough to show you still cared and worried about each other.

He watched your stories and liked your pictures, and you did the same. Being there, even if you weren't there anymore. It was confusing, but it worked for a while.

When you realized you were able to see his pictures with fans, co-stars and women you had no idea who they were and your whole body didn't heat up in anxiety and jealousy and your heart didn't drop at your toes, at the mere thought crossing your mind of them being his lay for the night, you knew you were ready to let him in.

Not exactly let him in, you didn't know if he still cared about you like that, or if you would still have anything in common, or if he would even bother becoming your friend again now that he had met some many different people. But you still decided to text him, best case scenario he would reply and you would have a conversation, worst case scenario he would leave you on 'seen' and you would move on with your life, because you lived for yourself now, and not for Pedro.

Of course he replied to your message right away. He smiled big when he read it and couldn't even believe after all that time you were the one engaging in a conversation with him. God knows how many times it took all of his willpower to erase the gigantic texts he wrote you and just drop a 'Merry Christmas' or 'Happy Birthday, mariposa' he'd promised you he would let you live your life, and just like a butterfly, he let you be free but now you were flying to him again - maybe, that was what he hoped at least, so he allowed himself to daydream.

You'd sent a simple text telling him how much you enjoyed his new series, and if he had time next time he was in town, maybe you could go for drinks. He replied almost immediately, saying he couldn't wait.

And your conversation began.

Slowly, you would text through the day about many things, while he was away and lonely, he told you all about his shooting routine and what he did for fun so far away from home.

You updated him on everything knew in your life, seeing how proud of you and happy he really got. You briefly mentioned you were thinking of learning a second language, to which he quickly suggested Spanish.

But when your uncle died you didn't get a text from him. Instead, Pedro managed to get a short break from filming and hopped on a plane. He wanted to be there for you, it didn't matter to him if he was going to be there as a friend or as a possible boyfriend, he just wanted to hold you while you cried because he knew how important family was to you. He wanted to attend the funeral by your side, to dry your tears and tell you comforting words. And that was exactly what he did.

You couldn't believe your eyes when he showed up there, in black and pulling you into his embrace, which reminded you it used to be your favorite place in the world and at that moment, it became your favorite again.

You had no strength to discuss feelings with him, and he wasn't after that either. He just wanted to try and make that moment a little less miserable for you.

But the moment the funeral service was over, Pedro would have to come back to his work again. He apologized a hundred times for not being able to stay longer with you, but you assured him it was alright, not forgetting to thank him for coming all the way just to be with you.

He said goodbye with one of his warm hugs and a peck on the cheek, that landed way too close to your lips, it didn't matter if it was on purpose or not. The damage had already been done.

From the moment you realized he had left his job - the thing you assumed he loved the most in life - for you without expecting anything in return. That familiar warmth in your chest appeared after months and months of it being dormant. It was hard to deny how much you loved Pedro.

•••

You had always heard horrible stories about women who agreed to becoming bridesmaids and had to deal with the infamous bridezilla. You were sure it wouldn't be Nat's case, but those women were not exaggerating when they said you would have to put a lot of effort, energy and even money to a moment that wasn't even yours.

While all the guests were comfortably sitting down, you along with the other girls and the bestmen had to stand up the whole ceremony. You knew the priest was probably saying beautiful words about love and stuff, as you could see the emotion in some people's eyes and how some of them even sniffed and shed one or two tears, but you were just not paying attention. Church services weren't really your thing, you tried really hard not to get bored, but it was too late, you were already bored.

That's why your eyes scanned the whole place, not really focusing on anything in particular, you just hoped time would go by faster and you wished you would all skip to the reception, because there were other things you wanted to do and mostly other people you wanted to talk to. You looked all over the church decoration and though it looked very beautiful and elegant you thought about how you would never have a wedding in a place like that. Then you watched Nat's wedding dress closely. Of course you'd seen it a couple of times already since the early stages of planning and preparing the wedding, but at that moment it looked different and you couldn't stop yourself from wondering if you'd ever get married at all and wear a pretty dress like that. You shook those thoughts away from your mine and looked at the guests absent-mindedly, not watching anything in particular until your eyes locked with Pedro's.

He didn't even blink and sustained your look, he was completely oblivious to a wedding happening just a few feet away from you, as you were really the only thing that mattered to him.

After flying to you for your uncle's funeral, you weren't able to meet again, as he was more and more caught up at work and you also had your own life. So when he got the invitation to the wedding, he didn't think twice before confirming his attendance, though he didn't really care that much about the bride and groom, he was still thankful to them.

You blushed softly and smiled big at him, he wasn't too distant, just a few rows away from the altar, close enough for you to see when he mouthed 'hermosa' making you look down in shyness. You knew Nat and Pedro had seen each other maybe five or six times and the only times she talked to him was to tell him how much her boyfriend - and now husband - loved Mandalorian. So you knew she had only invited him because of you and Pedro had only showed up to the wedding because of you as well. It felt quite good, you had to admit and for that, you even forced yourself to pay attention to the ceremony again.

Once the reception started you thought the fun would start as well, but you were wrong. Now, the bridesmaids duty kept you busy each passing second. First you had to follow the bride and groom to the photo session, then you had to assist the bride to make her big entrance, and after it you had to help her go to the restroom, which was the most chaotic part: four girls helping another lift up layers and layers of cloth in order to be able to pee.

And when you realized, it was already dinner time. As the food was served people stayed at their tables, usually guests were starving after the whole marathon of sitting through a long and tedious ceremony, then endless waiting until the bride and groom showed up.

The whole time you and Pedro exchanged looks and smiles, he even texted you in hopes to talk to you, but you were way too busy to check your phone, at the same time as soon as some guests recognized Pedro, he was bombarded with requests for selfies, autographs and girls throwing themselves at him. And he was way too nice to decline those requests even if it bothered him - though he declined the girls right away.

You thanked the heavens when dinner was finished, you knew the dance floor would be finally open to the guests until you remembered a very tacky wedding custom.

The bride was going to throw the bouquet. You pinched the bridge of your nose in embarrassment, you've always hated that moment, ever since you were a kid and your parents dragged you to relative's weddings.

Just a bunch of women going all savage over a couple of flowers made you cringe to the core, so you stepped aside and waited for the small crowd to gather. You tried to brush it off at the insistence of some people, but when Nat cleared her throat and gave you accusatory eyes, you even tried to argue. But she motioned her head towards Pedro and you saw him waiting for you to get in the small commotion. He had his hands inside his pocket and a dirty smirk, he couldn't wait to see you pick the bouquet, he was sure you'd look gorgeous.

You on the other hand felt embarrassed and awkward to stand there, Nat got in position and showed all the single ladies the bouquet, making them all shout in excitement. She looked at you and winked softly, and you gulped. Oh no, there was only one thing worse than fighting over a bouquet of flowers in front of a crowd of people, and that was definitely receiving the bouquet out of pity.

So when she threw it towards you, you stood still, making absolutely no move and watched it as it flew right past you.

You turned around and saw when two women were almost on the floor, struggling to get the bouquet. Nat frowned at you, confused as to why you didn't get it, you just shrugged at her. You didn't want to get married, there was only one thing you wanted to do, and when you thought you were finally able to do it, the DJ announced it was time for the waltz.

You rolled your eyes, as annoyance spread through your body. It had been hours all you were trying to do was to exchange a couple of words with Pedro, but that seemed impossible.

The guests all gathered around the bride and groom as they showed their rehearsed steps, some people swooning over them but you just looked around, trying to find Pedro, needing to see him and talk to him. But he wasn't there anymore.

Had he gone home? You knew he enjoyed parties, but you weren't sure about wedding parties, especially the ones where he was harassed every five minutes by people who insistently wanted pictures or just goof around a movie star.

But he wouldn't just leave you without saying goodbye, would he? Over the months your relationship became stronger even if you weren't physically close.

You were deep in thought as you felt someone touching your wrist, making you jump a little at the sudden touch and turned around, seeing Pedro standing there.

And he looked good. Very good.

He was wearing a dark suit, all in black. It hung tight to the right places as he looked absolutely like sin. His hair was messy like always and you caught a few gray streaks on his beard and that made you weak at the knees.

You smiled big and held his hand "Pedro! I thought you'd left!"

He raised his eyebrow and chuckled "do you really think I'd sit through a whole wedding and then leave before talking to the only reason why I'm here in the first place?" He held your hand and eyed you up and down, not even hiding how much he appreciated your looks "I don't mean to be one of those bitchy people who come to the party and trash talk it, but when we get married we'll have a lot less church and a lot more party"

Pedro's words stirred something inside of you, even if it was a joke, you felt yourself blushing.

"Too bad it won't happen, I mean, I didn't catch the bouquet so…" you replied in a shy way and made him laugh as well

"Yeah, well, we can figure this out later, right now I'd like to have a dance with the most beautiful girl at the party?" He offered his hand to you, and you hesitated at first

"It depends, Pedro" you saw his confusion, finding it quite amusing

"It depends on what, hermosa?" He questioned curiously

"Where's your plus one?" You saw how he frowned not really getting where you were going

"What plus one, Y/N? I came alone…"

You laughed softly and nodded, taking a step closer and accepting his invitation.

"I was just making sure, you know, I was friends with a guy once and he pulled such a jerk move, where he invited a plus one to a party and ditched her to dance with another girl and ended up taking this other girl home and left his plus one really heartbroken"

A deep shade of crimson spread through his face as he was at a loss of words for a while. He cleared his throat and swallowed hard.

"H-he sounds like a real dick" he replied a little self conscious, not sure if you were joking or playing games

"He really was, but I heard he managed to change into a better person and his plus one even forgave him after all"

His smile was wide and the relief in his eyes was visible as he wrapped his arms around your waist and glued your body to his. It was a slow ballad and you wrapped your arms around his neck at the same time you swayed your hips together.

"Thank you for forgiving me, I really missed you" he whispered against your ear, your faces were inches apart and you closed your eyes, his cologne lingering on your skin. You took your hand to the back of his neck, stroking his hair and feeling it softly between your fingers.

"We needed this, Pedro… I guess now we could start things over" you said and welcomed his lips against yours, as they crashed in a needy contact. You moaned lowly at the feel of his tongue against yours. His hands squeezed your waist and if you could get any closer to him, you would have, because you could swear that was not enough.

His kiss was intense and unlike the other times, he wasn't trying to overpower you and make you accept him playing dirty with your hormones, he was kissing you, feeling you and taking you as his. And you wanted it as much as he did.

When you broke the kiss, he nibbled your bottom lip, caressing your cheek and not giving a care in the world if someone filmed or photographed you.

You danced as if there was no tomorrow, as the ballad was over, you danced with Pedro to any kind of songs that came in the playlist, you had fun and when sexier songs came up, you dance even more, loving how you rubbed your body against his and Pedro never spared any neck kiss or groping your body.

By the time you could feel a tent against your ass, you turned to him, kissing his lips again.

"I guess it's time to get out of here, princesa" he whispered into your ear and squeezed your ass. You moaned against his lips as you couldn't agree more.

_____

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did, it was just so easy to write I was really into it. I loved it so much and I can't believe this series is almost over 😞 also, if y'all don't go soft on Pedro now I don't know what to do, LMAO

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal headcanons #javier pena #javier peña #joel miller

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pascaloverx · 6 days

Text

Rewrite The Stars

Chapter Eleven

Summary: One photo changes your whole life, when you accidentally bump into a celebrity and the world starts to believe that you are a couple.

chapter ten chapter twelve

The ride home was peaceful. I mean, your mom was shocked that you and Pedro slept together. But after a breakfast together, she was already enchanted by him. The two of you left as soon as you finished your coffee. Instead of everyone returning in their respective car, you two went in his.

"Now we're both alone, can you answer a question honestly?" You ask seeing that you are getting close to your apartment. You and Pedro are taking advantage of the long car ride to get to know each other better. No phones, media, mothers or internet to get in the way.

"I'll try to be as honest as possible. But depending on the question, I may have a contract that prevents me from answering." Pedro responds while driving concentrated. You look at him, feeling a desire to kiss him. You don't even understand the reason.

"Answer me, Mr. Pascal, why a false relationship instead of a real one?" You ask awkwardly and as soon as the words leave your mouth, it will seem like you are asking the reason you guys don't really date.

"You want a real relationship with me, is that it?" He laughs, and you lightly hit his arm. It's great to see this silly side of Pedro.

"I want to. But seriously. Why don't you actually date instead of investing your time in a fake relationship?" You ask, getting back to the topic. Pedro seems to think deeply about what to answer until he responds.

"Real relationships have real problems. They involve real feelings. When I started to become successful, I thought all my attention should go to acting. Taking care of my family and loving my fans, that was my purpose. When you appeared and this fake relationship story came up, I thought it would be a good strategy. A relationship all planned out. No bad feelings and things like that." Pedro opens his heart to you and you understand what he might mean.

'"I also avoided relationships after breaking up with Enzo. I think I felt guilty about abandoning my relationship with him. He was a very good man, too good. I think you're going to be the last boyfriend I'll have for a while." You say casually and then take a sip of the coffee you and Pedro bought on the way.

"Since we'll be each other's last relationship for a while, we should enjoy our relationship more. How about a date tonight?" He speaks so naturally that you are surprised and end up spilling some coffee on your clothes. Pedro laughs amused but you look at him disapproving of his reaction. The good thing is that the coffee is iced.

"You mean a real date, no cameras or pretense? Just you and me?" You ask, hardly believing what he's proposing.

"Yes, you and me. No pretenses. Just two people wanting to start a relationship... or something like that. I don't want to rush what could be a good thing. The thing is, I like you. You're spontaneous, realistic, and kind. And pretending to date you has been my personal amusement. So I want to know, if you want to go out with me; to date me and all the romantic stuff that two people can want." Pedro basically declares himself. You feel flattered and even a little enchanted by the idea of dating him. Like really dating.

"I would love to go out with Pedro Pascal. In fact, I would love to go out with you." You reply, caressing Pedro's face as he turns to look at you for a moment and gives your hand a gentle kiss. And as your phone rings, seeing that it's your best friend calling, you answer the call immediately while watching Pascal drive.

"Y/F/N, I just found out on social media. I'm really sorry you're going through this, but you know, I'm sure you'll bounce back. I mean, it's going to be hard to get over dating Pedro Pascal, but you've been through tough breakups before." Your friend tries to console you, but you don't understand.

"What do you mean breakup? Who said Pedro and I broke up?" You ask, confused, watching Pedro, who seems as surprised by the news as you are.

"It's all over the internet. About two hours ago. It seems the press confirmed that you two ended things amicably. There's a story about conflicting schedules and you both deciding to end the relationship. They even said this trip was about you trying to reconnect but it didn't work out." Your friend speaks, and you feel strange. How could your relationship end without anyone talking to you about it? Especially when Pedro just invited you on a real date?

"Y/F/N, I'm still a bit confused about the breakup and everything. Can I get back to you later?" You speak, trying to compose yourself. On the other end of the line, your friend says she understands and promises to call later to check on you.

"I can explain..." Pedro begins to speak. You then realize he already has an explanation. Which means he already knew about this crap somehow.

"You know, I almost believed that you and I would have some chance. Too much naivety, I know. But I don't want an explanation. In fact, I want you to park the car, take my suitcase out of your trunk, and don't try to talk to me for the next few moments." You say, trying not to cry because your pride would be too hurt if, on top of having a breakup without your consent, you cried in front of your fake ex.

"I can take you home. I swear I had no idea they were actually going to end our relationship. It was just an idea, a stupid idea. I can deny everything." Pedro says, and you feel like you could hit him. But you just look at him angrily and unbuckle your seatbelt.

"Don't bother. This fake relationship will end exactly as it started, with internet gossip. I just thought we'd have more time... but whatever. Stop this car and leave me here. I'll call a ride-share to take me back to my old place. And if you insist on bothering me further, I'll make a scene, so..." You try to hold back the tears, but they're already streaming down your face. Maybe Pedro is a little afraid of you, or perhaps he just wants to respect your wish not to talk about it. But minutes later, he pulls over the car and takes your suitcase out of his car.

"You don't have to do this. I can take you." Pedro says, holding your suitcase as you call for a ride-sharing service. You look at him sternly and take the suitcase from his hands.

"It was a pleasure, Mr. Pascal. But I don't want anything more from you, including a ride home. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going home. I suggest you get out of my way." You say, irritated, hoping he'll leave soon. The car that will take you home arrives shortly after, and you basically try to forget the fact that your fake relationship just ended and what could have been a real relationship with Pedro Pascal turned into a complete disaster. And the worst part is, your mother will definitely brag about having said that this relationship with Pascal wouldn't work out.

tag: @wanniiieeee , @hungrhay and @leilanixx

#pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #reader insert #female reader #fake dating au #angst #pedro pascal series #spotify #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fluff #Spotify

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ghoststyles · 10 months

Text

Fairway to Heaven - Part 5

WC: 6.3K

______________________________________________________________

“No, you’ve gotta keep this arm completely straight when you go into your backswing.”

Briar pouts and rolls her eyes at her boyfriend. This is the second time she’s joined him for 9 holes; the first session ending in a spat, since Harry is so anal and Briar never listens to anyone’s advice.

While their relationship is stronger than ever, the pair quickly learn each other’s quirks now that they spend most of their time together.

Briar finds that Harry is ALWAYS on his phone. Though he doesn’t have social media, he spends a majority of his day responding to emails and taking client calls. There have been numerous nights where Harry creeps out of bed to make a call, or is nodding along as Briar tells a story, only half listening.

Weeks before, Briar planned a small weekend getaway for the two of them; nothing big, just some quality time away from the toxicity of the club. The two of them are sat at Harry’s kitchen island, Briar on her laptop and Harry on his phone.

“I have us booked for 3 nights at the Ocean Suites,” Briar says. “Do you want to do any excursions while we’re there?”

Harry is typing furiously on his phone, “Whatever you want, baby.”

“Ok, I’ll sign us up for jet skis. And then I’m gonna go on a date with Pedro Pascal. I hope he bends me over the kitchen counter,” Briar smirks, knowing Harry isn’t listening to her.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” Harry hums. A beat passes, “Can I ride on the back of Pedro’s jet ski?”

“You are such a dick,” she laughs.

Briar returns to the cart, opting to be the passenger princess for the rest of their outing.

“You gotta keep you arm straight in the backswing. Meh meh meh meh meh,” Briar mocks him as she sits down.

“What was that, Birdie?”

“Nothing, let’s keep going,” she flashes him a sweet smile.

“That’s what I thought,” his tone is clipping. “We can go home whenever you’re ready, my love.”

“No, you can finish,” Briar insists. Harry stares at her, opting to take a deep breath instead of making a smart remark. He wonders if she’s getting her period soon. He wouldn’t dare ask, knowing the consequences having asked his sister once when they were growing up.

Harry joins her on the cart, stretching one arm behind her back and using his other hand to steer. As they start moving, he lightly pets at her shoulder, to which she leans away from.

Harry slams on the brake, whipping around to face her, his jaw locking.

“Is something bothering you?”

“No, Harry. C’mon, finish your last hole.”

He takes another deep breath, his knuckles now white on the steering wheel. They continue on. On the other side of the path, the course’s beverage cart girl is approaching them.

Harry politely flags her down, pulling off to the side. Briar scowls, unsure why they’re stopping. Harry gets out of the cart, walking over to her cart. He leans on it, placing his hands on the top, just like he does to Briar’s. A fire lights inside of her as she watches the encounter unfold.

“Hi, love, could I grab two bottles of water from you?”

“Of course! Do you have an account here?” she smiles up at him sweetly as she hands him the bottles. He transfers them both into the same hand as he grabs his wallet.

“No, just visitors for the day. Been busy for you?”

The girl, probably the same age as Briar, takes the $20 Harry hands her, nodding to answer his question. She attempts to give him his change, to which he waves her off.

“Thanks, love. Cheers.”

He saunters over to Briar in their cart, uncapping the bottle before handing it to her. She gives him a tight lipped smile. Harry pulls the cart back on the path silently.

“Ready to trade me in already?” she cocks her head at him. He blows a puff of air out of his nostrils.

“Drink your water, Briar, I think you’re having a heat stroke,” Harry responds, not giving into her jab. She’s poking a bear and doesn’t realize.

“I bet she’d call you Daddy. Or maybe she likes sir,” she smirks to herself.

“That’s it. We’re leaving,” Harry presses the gas, blowing past the last hole. When they get to the cart return, Harry hastily grabs his golf bag and her hand, dragging her back to the parking lot. Harry is seething, trying not to rip her skirt off and spank the shit out of her in front of the whole course.

He throws his bag in the back, leaving Briar to fend for herself and open her own door. She scoffs.

Harry doesn’t even wait for her to put on her seatbelt before he’s reversing out of the parking lot, his arm stretched out behind her head rest. She loves when he does that, but she has to uphold her stance. She’s already committed to getting a punishment when they’re home.

He doesn’t say a word to her the whole ride, not even linking their pinkies like he normally would. She stares out the window, wondering what he’ll do with her.

He pulls into the garage, again, not even attempting to open Briar’s door. He heads inside, ignoring Gus who greets them at the door. Briar silently slips off her shoes, preparing to make a run for it upstairs. She needs a shower, anyway.

Harry watches her bolt up the stairs, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Briar takes her time in the shower, deep conditioning her hair and shaving her legs and cunt. She hums to herself as she towels off. Opening the door to Harry’s room, she’s met with Harry sitting calmly on the edge of the bed, his golf outfit still on, surrounded by an assortment of… items.

He beckons her over to stand between his legs. She slowly approaches, fiddling with the hem of the towel. He grabs her hands, kissing above her thumbs.

“I’m going to give you a chance to apologize to me,” Harry says gently, staring up at her. “How you spoke to me today made me very upset.”

Briar looks past him to take note of the various gags, plugs, paddles and ropes. Her spine shivers, bringing her attention back to him.

She says nothing.

Silence.

Harry is stunned.

He shrugs, rising to tower over her. He rips her towel from her body, holding back a groan. She made her choice.

“On your knees, head down. I don’t want to see your face or hear that fucking mouth again. Not a word.”

He grabs a ball gag from his supplies, and wordlessly places it in her mouth, tying it off behind her head. She hates gags; they make her feel claustrophobic.

He unbuckles his pants and removes his briefs, kneeing on the bed to settle behind her. He spits, watching the liquid drip onto her cunt. She squirms at the sensation.

Briar whines; clenching around nothing. Harry still hasn’t touched her. He spits on his hand, grabbing his prick and pumping it a few times. He lines himself up, pushing in slow and steady. He exhales, almost purring.

“Gonna fuck this little cunt. Don’t really care if you come or not,” Harry says blankly. He snaps his hips forward, a guttural moan coming from Briar.

He thrusts harder, knowing he’s completely filling her up. He reaches beside her head to grab the tiny paddle. He winds his arm up, delivering a sharp smack to the side of her ass. The skin reddens deliciously, and Harry is already holding on by a thread.

He gives her two more smacks back to back, tears now leaking from her eyes. He spits on her once more, this time, over her asshole. He massages his middle finger around the tiny hole, making Briar squeak and writhe away. Harry grabs her arms, holding them behind her back. He presses his middle finger in slowly, feeling her clench around his digit. He times the thrusts of his cock to be opposite of his finger, making sure one hole is filled at a time. He feels her cum, but she remains quiet.

“Such a fucking brat today,” he says, in between grunts. “Running your mouth so much, it’s like you want to be punished.”

She keens, arching her back even more. Harry wishes he had his phone within reach to take a picture of the site in front of him.

On his final thrust, he buries his finger and cock in her at the same time, releasing into her, his thighs quaking. He pulls out, watching his come drip out of her. He scoops some up with his finger, smearing it around her abused pussy.

“Fucking wrecked. You’re a proper mess for Daddy, Birdie.”

Harry moves from the bed to his ensuite, washing his hands and grabbing a towel. Briar collapsed onto the bed like a rag doll, her eyes closed. He unties the gag, making her tongue fall out of her mouth after it. She opens her mouth, unlocking her sore jaw.

Harry tends to her, cleaning her up with the damp towel. She whines from sensitivity. He jumps back on the bed, lying behind her with his arms wrapped around her.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Briar says faintly.

“I know y’are, Birdie. Don’t you know you’re my best girl? Couldn’t ever dream of losing you,” he whispers in her ear, breath tickling her neck.

Briar rotates, burying her face in Harry’s chest. She feels embarrassed. Harry’s never given her any reason to doubt their relationship.

“I was cranky before we even left this morning,” she murmurs, her lips on his shoulder. “And I think I’m getting my period soon.”

Harry smiles into her hair, knowing he was right.

“That’s okay, Birdie, just let me know next time when you wake up guns a-blazing, mkay?”

They’re quiet, and Harry starts to doze off a bit.

“Your finger felt so good in my butt.”

Harry cackles at her bluntness, “Thanks for the feedback.”

Briar’s first day back at Wynnewood came too fast. She got used to being doted on by Harry and coddled by her uncle.

She’s preparing her cart for the day when she hears Cam come up behind her.

“Hey, B, how you holding up?”

“Hey, Cam, I’m doing better! Just lucky something worse-off didn’t happen.”

Cam hugs her, rubbing her back gently, “All the members have been asking how you’re doing.”

Briar’s heart swells at that. She truly loves most of the people she serves.

“A few of us are going out tonight if you want to join! Might be nice to get out. You’re more than welcome to bring Harry. I don’t think anyone will pay it any mind.”

Briar is silent, not sure how to answer.

“I gotta go back inside, but text me if you want to come.”

“I will, thanks,” she smiles earnestly.

She returns to tending to her cart, wincing as she squats down to clean off the wheels. Harry spent the morning inserting an anal plug in her for the first time.

There were some tears, but she took it like a champ. Harry took his time preparing her for it, mentally and physically. Her phone chimes as she stands back up.

🦊: How’s your 🍑?

She laughs at his emoji. At least he’s learning.

🐥: It wants your 🍆

🦊: Be good.

She sticks her phone back in her skort pocket. She’d love to bring Harry out for a staff outing, but what if someone snitches on them? She doesn’t know many of the other staff members well since she’s out on the course by herself most days.

She’ll bring it up to him, but she’s not sure how he’ll react.

“Hey, Birdie, how was your day?” Harry asks as Briar walks through his mudroom with Gus.

“It was good. Went by quickly,” she yawns. “Hey, so, Cam told me a bunch of them are going out tonight. She said you’re more than welcome to join.”

Harry moves his lips to one side, processing what she said.

“What do you think? I’m happy to do whatever you’re comfortable with. Do you know everyone that’s going?”

“That’s the thing. I’d only know Cam and Isaiah, maybe a few bar backs. Not sure if people that’ll be there are likely to snitch on us.”

“Do you…want to invite them over here, instead? It’s supposed to be a nice night. I can go to the store for some alcohol. We can order in for some food, too. Might incentivize the people who don’t know about us to keep it to themselves.”

“Hm, I like that idea,” she smiles, moving to stand in between his legs. “That’s really thoughtful, Daddy. Thank you.”

Briar texts Cam, and the plan is on. It’ll be about 15 of Briar’s co-workers. Many of them she’s seen around, but just hasn’t gotten to know. When Harry gets the OK, he sets off in search of seltzers, beer and some liquor. Briar spends the afternoon making sure everything is tidy.

Harry is extremely clean, so she mostly cleans up her own mess. She also turns one of Harry’s guest bedrooms into Gus’s oasis, complete with a sound machine to drown out any noise that could upset him. Harry arrives back home around 7, and immediately sets up his outdoor kitchen, stocking the cooler with ice and drinks.

Briar plates the food they ordered from the local sports bar down the street, being sure to write out little signs for each item. Harry lights a fire and turns on the string lights that surround the patio. They stand back and admire their work.

“Our first time hosting a party, Birdie!” he high-fives her.

Her co-workers start rolling in, Cam being the first, luckily. She stands post at the door, greeting them as they walk-in, being sure to introduce them to Briar.

It’s not as awkward as Briar thought; many of them seem super cool. Harry bonds with a few of the bar backs and bartenders around the practice putting green, while Briar hangs with the girls inside.

“Briar, your boyfriend is so nice!” a server, Lydia, beams. “Thanks so much for inviting us. Let us know if we can pitch in for food or drinks.”

“Yeah, he’s great,” she smiles shyly. The other girls disperse amongst Harry’s living room and patio. “And don’t worry about it, we’re happy to host.”

Lydia leans in, “Don't stress about Harry. I’m dating someone from the club, too. No one really cares.”

Briar is relieved, but now she’s curious who she’s dating.

When they all get outside is when the drinking games and shenanigans start. Harry can hang for the most part, but he definitely doesn’t miss being a 22 year old shithead like these guys.

They’re quickly running through the beer and seltzers, turning to taking shots of straight liquor. Briar’s head is cloudy, her eyes a bit droopy. Harry smiles, not ever really seeing her drunk before.

She’s loudly telling stories, yelling over the music bumping from the speaker. Harry nudges Briar discreetly, hoping she’ll talk quieter. The last thing he needs is Maureen popping over to see him hanging with people half his age.

She’s in the middle of her story when she spots Caroline walking through the door. “Caroline!” she shrieks, almost tackling her. Harry smiles, rising to his feet to give her a hug.

“Hi, Harry, thanks for inviting me,” Caroline says, surveying the rest of the group. Some are dancing, and a few are just standing by the fire.

“Feel free to spend the night if you don’t want to drive home. Briar told me you don’t really live close by anymore,” Harry says.

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” she smiles, waving him off as she grabs a drink.

The night goes on and everyone is having a blast. A few have gone home, leaving an even mix of girls and guys. Harry makes sure to survey everyone and assess if they’re okay to drive.

Briar pulls Harry inside to his living room, only to find Caroline making out with Max, one of the bartenders.

“Caro! What the fuck are you doing?”

Her eyes widen, darting back and forth between the guy and Briar. She stands up slowly with her hands up. “Briar, it’s okay. Asher and I broke up about two weeks ago.”

She looks down, unable to process this. She rushes over to Caroline, effectively pushing the bartender away. He looks at Harry, and Harry gives him a shrug in return.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve been right over there…”

Harry backs out of the kitchen, heading upstairs to check on Gus.

“You’re so happy, Bri, I couldn’t bog you down with my shit. You were right all along. That relationship was out of comfort, not love. I think he was even relieved.”

Briar hugs her, “You’re never a bother. You’re my sister, and I should’ve been there.”

“It’s alright. I promise, I’m okay.”

“Okay,” Briar says, shaking her shoulders. “As you were.”

Max reenters the living room, so Briar shouts, “She’s all yours!”

Briar heads upstairs, assuming that’s where Harry went. She finds him laying on the guest bed next to Gus, watching My Strange Addiction.

“Gus likes TLC shows,” Briar laughs. Her phone flashes that it’s 12:47 AM.

“Say the word and I’ll send everyone home,” she says, leaning down to run her face through Gus’s fur.

“I’m good if you’re good, baby.”

She stands there for a minute, before grabbing Harry’s hand to show him she still has her plug in. At this point, it’s become part of her.

“Dirty Birdie,” he chuckles softly as he fiddles with it. She leans in to give him a kiss.

“Okay, come down soon, alright?”

“Mmhm,” he says, closing his eyes lightly.

Briar smiles, closing the door gently, knowing he’ll probably fall asleep up there.

Back downstairs, Caroline is still cozied up with Max, and the rest of them are out by the fire. Cam yawns, stretching her arms over head.

“I think we’ll all get going, Briar.”

“Aw, thanks so much for doing this, guys. Harry and I just aren’t ready to put ourselves out in the open.”

Isaiah hugs Briar from the side, “No worries. Your secret is safe with us.”

Briar walks them all out, making sure they get into their Ubers and cars for the sober ones. She’s starts to clean up, Caroline still lingering in the living room.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s okay. As long as you’re okay,” she smiles, picking up empty cans and cups.

“I think Harry is gonna shack up in the guest room with Gus, if you want to sleep in his bed with me,” Briar laughs.

“Sleepover!”

Briar peaks her head in the guest room, summoning Gus to go out to the bathroom one more time before bed. Harry is half on the bed, half off, his party outfit still on. She tries to lift his long legs, but they’re basically deadweight.

She gives up, taking Gus downstairs, finishing the ‘closing duties’, as she and Harry call them. She locks all the doors and shuts off the lights, opting to leave the cleaning for tomorrow.

She’s still tipsy, so she grabs two slices of pizza for herself and Caroline. Caroline found Briar’s drawer, snagging a pair of pajamas. She squeals when she sees the pizza in Briar’s hand.

“Oooo! And this bed is so fucking comfortable. I won’t wanna wake up tomorrow.”

“I know. Sometimes he has to drag me out of here,” she hiccups, taking a bite of the pizza with her eyes basically closed. They throw their half-eaten slices on the side table and slide under the covers.

Gus lays comfortably at their feet. Caroline speaks up, “These are clean sheets, right?”

“Ugh! Of course they are! We’re kinky, not unhygienic.”

“Just wanted to check!”

Around 5:10 AM, Harry jolts awake, confused why he’s in his guest room. Gus is nowhere to be found, so he stands, internally screaming at the pain his back is in.

He tip toes to his room, only to find Briar, Caroline and Gus cuddled up together. He smiles, not minding at all. He grabs the half-eaten pizza slices next to them and heads for the stairs. He hates being up this early, but he’s not sure he’ll be able to fall back asleep.

Hobbling down the steps, he groans at the mess left behind. He loves entertaining, but hates the aftermath. He empties the trash and recycling, grabbing a fresh bag to go around collecting the scattered cans and bottles outside. He spots a few cars still parked out front, relieved most of them got Ubers.

He hears the slider door open gently, and looks over to see Gus running out. Briar shuffles after him, her hair every which way and yawning hard.

“Morning, Birdie,” he says, kissing her gently. “Sorry I was a bad host at the end.”

“It’s okay. When I came to check on you and Gus, I knew you were a goner. I thought you were about to start snoring with your eyes open,” she laughs, wrapping her arms around him. “Caroline and I had a sleepover in your bed.”

“Did you now?” He smiles, knowing already.

“Yeah, she’s a better cuddler,” she teases.

He squints at her, swiftly lifting her up and throwing her over his shoulder.

She squeals, “No, no I’m gonna yak!”

Harry chuckles, lowering her to the ground. They head inside to finish cleaning the kitchen, listening to some slow classic rock songs.

Harry can get used to Sunday mornings like this.

Caroline leaves, letting them know she’ll be seeing Max again. Then, it’s just the two of them.

Harry reached around, pressing on Briar’s plug. She mewls, lowering her head to his chest.

“Just gonna leave this in all the time now, Birdie? So I can see that pretty little hole all the time and use it how I like?”

“Yes, Daddy. All yours,” she starts to scratch down his chest over his shirt. “I want you to fuck my holes.”

Harry groans, throwing his head back. His cock begins to chub up, pressed against her thigh. He hoists her above his shoulder and carries her to his room. Caroline kindly made the bed they’re about to wreck.

Briar gets on the bed, quickly ridding herself of her clothes.

“How do you want me, Daddy?”

Harry is unbuckling his pants from the other side of the room.

“Mm, I think I want Hole #1 first.”

She cocks her head. Her mouth, she guesses?

She kneels, waiting for him to approach her. He stands at the foot of the bed, so she readjusts so she’s laying down, giving him a perfect view of her plug from his vantage point. She waits for his approval to start. The vein on the ridge of his cock looks enticing.

With her palms flat on the bed, Briar extends her neck to gently swirl her tongue at the tip of his cock. Closing her eyes at the taste, she welcomes him in half way, giving her mouth a delicious stretch. Harry places his hand on the back of her neck and snaps his hips forward, sending his cock straight down her throat.

Muffled, she screams, contracting her throat around him. He completes three more thrusts before pulling out of her, a string of her saliva connecting her lip and his tip. She peers up at him, her eyes landing on his dimpled smirk.

“Being such a good girl f’me.”

He pushes her head down his cock once more, gathering her hair into one hand. He uses his other hand to hold her head against him, brushing her nose against his pubic bone. He feels that familiar rumbling in his lower abdomen, so he pulls her off by her hair.

She sputters, looking up at him again. She doesn’t wipe her mouth of spit, because she knows he likes too see her fucked out at the end.

Harry joins her on the bed, laying his head right at the headboard.

“Come have a seat, lovie.”

Briar’s pussy twitches in excitement. She climbs on him, lowering herself on his mouth gently. He wastes no time diving in, making Briar clamp her legs around him in her crouched position. Harry opens her legs wide, and bends his knees, so she puts her hands behind her to rest on them like she’s in a crab position.

She’s already sopping wet. All Harry has to do is touch her for 30 more seconds and she’ll be begging to come. Paired with his intense licks and intrusions to her quivering hole, Harry reaches underneath to play with her plug. He slowly pulls it in and out of her. Her eyes roll back in her head.

He sticks his middle and ring finger into her cunt, feverishly thrusting them in and out. Paired with the plug going in and out, she’s a goner. But it isn’t a regular orgasm she’s feeling; it feels far more intense. She and Harry make eye contact, and he smiles, leaning his head back slightly with his mouth open.

Briar starts howling, and before she knows it, a rush of liquid shoots out of her, directly onto Harry’s whole face.

“Oh my god, Daddy!”

Harry returns to her cunt, lapping up the liquid, determined to make her do it again. He starts up the same process, this time quickening his pace. She reaches that feeling again, this time somehow more intense than the last.

“Again, baby. I want it.”

With a pathetic whimper, she releases again, this time mostly on Harry’s chest. He hasn’t shaved his chest hair in a bit, so the liquid pools deliciously in between his pecs.

(adding pic for science ....)

“Daddy,” Briar whines. “I can’t hold myself up anymore.”

“Okay, Birdie. Turn around for me. You’re gonna ride me facing the other way so I can see that little plug.”

Briar musters up the strength to turn around. She lines herself up over his cock, sinking down slowly. The plug slightly wiggles out of her as she moves, so Harry grabs it and pushes it back in.

She starts bouncing and swinging her hips around, trying to find that spot. She has a feeling Harry isn’t going to help her.

Though he loves looking at her ass, he wishes he could see her tits bouncing in front of his face.

“Baby, grab y’tits for Daddy. Want you to touch yourself how I do.”

Briar grips her tits; she’s not the most well-endowed in that department, but she has a solid handful. She lowers her neck to try and lick at her own nipple. She hums, swirling her tongue around the sensitive bud.

She ceases bouncing, sinking all the way down onto his cock. Harry reaches around to press on her lower belly, feeling himself inside her.

“So good, baby. Your cunt was made for me. Who’s cunt is that?”

“Yours, Daddy! Don’t want anyone but you,” she cries.

Harry groans, finally thrusting into her. He feels her clench before releasing again. A little liquid seeps out, but not nearly as much as the last two. His girl is proper worn out.

Briar is drooling; her mouth hanging wide open from pleasure.

“Stick your thumb in your mouth, baby. Know you feel empty.”

She does it, suckling immediately. She doesn’t know how he reads her so well. She’d prefer his thumb, but this will do.

“Daddy, pleathe,” she whimpers.

“F-fuck yesssss,” Harry hisses, finally feeling like he’s about to come. “He we go, baby. Take my cock. Take my load.”

“I want it, I want, I want it!”

With that, Harry releases, draining everything he’s got in him. He feels like a hollow shell of a man. Briar drops down, her sweaty forehead resting on Harry’s shins. She clumsily turns around, his cock still lodged in her. She lays with her head on his chest, a little grossed out by the dampness.

“Daddy?” She says softly.

“Hm?” He asks, eyes closed.

“I thought you were gonna fuck my… my ass,” she trails off.

He scratches her back, “still think you need time, baby. How’s Daddy gonna fit in that tiny little hole?”

She laughs, clearly still feeling floaty. He zeros in on the stickiness surrounding them, so he encourages Briar to pull off of him, despite her protest.

“I know, baby. Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

To get away from prying eyes, Harry invites Briar to one of his other country clubs, Ashmont. She’s not familiar with this club, or any of the members or employees. For once, they can be themselves in public.

For dinner, they’re in their nicest clothes. For Briar, a fitted, black dress and strapped heels; for Harry, an all black suit with yellow tinted sunglasses. He looks delicious, and Briar is struggling to sit still.

They talk about her MBA program, and some of the things she’s learning. Harry listens intently, asking follow up questions. Harry tells her about new investments and how Niall made a fool of himself in their last meeting by calling the CEO the wrong name several times.

The couple are sat at a lounge-style table, away from view of the rest of the patio. They’re pressed together, enjoying their wine and appetizers. Briar is feeling bold; clearly having learned nothing from her punishment earlier in the week.

She starts to move her hand up Harry’s thigh, moving dangerously close to his crotch. Harry clears his throat, grabbing his wine glass and taking a large sip.

“Birdie,” he begins. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing, Daddy,” she says softly.

“If you don’t stop moving that little hand, it’s gonna be tied up for a long, long time.”

“Is that a threat?” She looks at him, gingerly sipping her wine. “Will you excuse me? I think I have to run to the ladies room. These panties feel too tight.”

Harry has an iron grip on his wine glass as he watches his girl go to the bathroom to taunt him. He counts to 25 before standing up and following her to the loo.

The bathroom area is ritzy; a large chandelier hanging over the waiting area. He cautiously opens the ladies’ room door, finding the hand washing area empty. He looks behind him before stepping inside and locking the door behind him. These country club biddies can wait.

He looks under the stalls, spotting Briar’s strappy black heels. He walks over slowly, dress shoes clicking on the floor. He lightly knocks on the stall door.

“Occupied!”

“This door will be off it’s hinges in a moment if you don’t open it.”

“Daddy? Is that you?” Briar says with fake surprise as she slowly opens the stall.

He stares at her, his jaw locked, “Whatcha doing in here, Birdie?”

Briar bites her lip. “Nothing?”

“Mhm. What do you have on under your dress?”

“Nothing?”

Harry reaches for the hem of her dress, pulling it back before letting out a groan. Her perfect bare pussy absolutely dripping.

“Daddy, can you touch me? Then I’ll be good throughout dinner?”

He nods, rolling his eyes. Upon making contact with her clit, Briar’s eyes close, her head rolling to her shoulder. Harry kisses down her exposed neck, holding back from marking her. He rubs around her clit, paying more attention to the left side than the right. She keens at the sensitivity.

Briar begins panting, and puts her hands on his shoulder, “I’m close, Daddy,” she chokes out.

He circles the nerve endings a bit more, before they hear a knock on the door. The sudden attention to the door and Harry’s sloppy rubbing of her clit make her cum instantly.

Harry smirks, kissing her neck. “I think someone wants to be caught one of these days.”

She rolls her eyes, smoothing out her dress. She opens the stall while Harry stands on the toilet seat so no one can see his shoes.

She hustles to the door, unlocking to find an older woman, her frown lines prominent.

“Sorry about that, not sure how that got locked.”

The woman continues past her, entering the stall next to Harry’s.

Briar sticks her hand under the hand dryer, eliciting a loud noise throughout the bathroom, giving Harry the opportunity to jump off the toilet seat and make a run for it.

They leave the restroom hand in hand, giggling the whole way back to their table.

They’re about halfway through their second bottle of 1982 Gaja Barbaresco, when another couple stops at their table. The man reaches out to shake Harry’s hand, and Harry rises to meet him.

“Harry! How are you? It’s been ages since we’ve seen you here,” he bellows.

“Jonathan, so good to see you,” he shakes his hand before turning his attention to the woman. “Annalise, I hope you’re well,” he gives her a kiss on her cheek.

Harry turns to introduce Briar. “This is my girlfriend, Briar,” he smiles. Briar smiles at the couple, extending her hand to both of them. Her stomach starts to swirl at the word ‘girlfriend’, still not used to the term to the people outside their bubble.

The men begin to chat, Briar tuning them out until her ears perk up at the next words out of Jonathan’s mouth.

“I thought you swore off Wynnewood after Camille called off the wedding? What brought you back there?” Jonathan asks.

Harry’s eyes widen, not daring to look in Briar’s direction. He hadn’t yet divulged that part of his life to her. He presses his fingernails into his palms to self regulate.

She’s not naïve; Harry is 41. He’s bound to have had serious relationships in the past, but an engagement? She feels he should have shared that with her by now. She’s successfully tuned out the rest of the conversation, opting to look at the floor.

Jonathan rambles on for 10 more minutes, Harry anxiously nodding to everything he's saying. He lets up when the hostess interrupts to let them know their table is ready.

Harry sends the couple off, before aggressively dragging his chair to be directly next to hers, their knees touching. He places a gentle touch on her thigh.

“Baby, this is not at all the place I ever wanted to have this discussion,” he says quietly, a subtle shake in his voice.

Briar is silent, unsure what to even say. They’d spent hours talking about any subject; sharing each other’s deepest secrets, or so she thought. They spent hours in his hammock planning her future animal sanctuary and retiring together in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. No where in that time was a fiancée mentioned.

To have the best evening and months spent together come crashing down in a matter of seconds; Briar can’t stomach it.

He is unsettled by her silence. His spunky, firecracker of a girl who always has something to say, is silent. He takes out his wallet, hands shaking and leaves $600 to cover the bottles of wine and the appetizers that have gone uneaten. He firmly guides her out of the restaurant to his car by her elbow, scared that if he lets go, she'll bolt.

He’s taking huge strides in the parking lot, before Briar drops his hand and begins falling behind. He feels a twinge in his heart.

“I don’t know if I can go with you right now,” she says quietly.

“Baby, I— I need to get this out in the open. Tell you everything. Absolutely everything,” he pleads, his voice cracking. He places his hands on his head to ground himself. “Please, come with me. Let’s go home.”

Tears are threatening to fall from his eyes, his breathing getting more labored. There is more to the story than Jonathan revealed.

She silently agrees, slowly walking to the passenger side door. She opens it and slowly sits down, leaning her head on the window sadly after she shuts the door.

Harry’s knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel, feeling like he can throw up at any time. He gets them to the house in record time, jumping out of the car to help her out. She welcomes his assistance to step out, but doesn’t take his hand when he offers.

They go inside to his big comfy couch, the scene of their first connection. They sit adjacent to one another, a full foot of space between them. They haven’t been this far apart in ages.

After a few excruciating minutes of silence, Harry speaks up, “Do—do you want me to tell you everything, or would you like to ask me questions?”

She ponders, staring at her finger nails. “Questions,” she whispers.

He nods, staring at her intently. She can take as long as she’d like.

She swallows thickly, “Tell me about her.”

“S-sure. Camille was the first woman I dated after college. We were introduced by mutual friends from when I studied abroad in France,” he begins, his voice wavering. Briar’s expression is blank, waiting for him to continue. “She’s a model and an editorial writer for a magazine there.”

“How long were you together?”

“We were together about nine years. Things got very serious, very fast. After a year of long distance, she moved to the US, since I finally got my green card through work,” Harry clears his throat.

“We lived in several cities around the country, but spent most of our time in New York. We moved back to this area to be able to have a home and be close to friends,” he inhales.

“I proposed to her when we closed on our house. This was about 8 years ago, around the time I joined the club. We planned the entire wedding at Wynnewood, and three days before, I found a letter on our bed with the ring sitting beside it,” Harry sniffles, not wanting to cry.

“It said she was pregnant, but just couldn’t see herself raising the baby with me — or in the US. She moved back to France, and I’ve barely heard from her since.”

Briar's eyes close at the word pregnant. She reopens them, willing herself not to cry.

“I just know I have a son and that he’s 7 years old,” Harry exhales, staring sadly into Briar’s eyes. Her heart sinks below her feet. “I wanted to tell you so many times. I promise, I did.”

Briar’s heart breaks into a million pieces as the man she thought she knew falls apart in front of her.

—————————

IM SORRY IM SOSORRY SORRY OK.. TALK TO ME AFTER U READ OK

Tags:

@daphnesutton @pandeebearstyles @anxiouswaterss @gem1712 @stylesfever @awesomenavy @crazygirlinthisworld @butdaddyilovehim-hs @luxiorchive @alchemxx @narry-heart

#harry styles fanfic #fairway to heaven #harry styles smut #dom!harry #harry styles fanfiction #daddy!harry #oh my god #older!harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles #daddy!h

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musicalcastingideas · 1 month

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The Princess Bride Musical Dreamcast

The fact that with all the new broadway musicals are adaptations and NO ONE has done the Princess Bride yet is absolutely criminal, so if that were to hypothetically happen, here's my dream cast list.

Framing Device:

Grandchild: I can't really put anyone for grandchild, since I don't know many child actors, but I do think there should be a rotating cast, like they had with Mathilda on Broadway.

Grandfather: Mandy Patinkin, aka the original Inigo Montoya.

Mother: Robin Wright, aka the original Princess Buttercup.

I think it would be really sweet and fun to have two of the original movie's cast play parts in the framing device, almost like they're passing the baton of telling the story to the next cast.

Main Story:

Westly: Joshua Henry

I don't know if this is a controversial statement, but Westly is a baritone, and I think Joshua Henry would be absolutely perfect. He's charming as fuck, he's a phenomenal actor and vocalist, and he's absolutely gorgeous. Perfect leading man for a story that is about telling the best story ever.

Buttercup: Maria Bilbao

I think Buttercup would be a legit soprano, and as a big fan of Sweeney Todd and the recent revival, Maria Bilbao, who played Johanna, would be absolutely perfect for it. Just go listen to her Green Finch and Linnet Bird and you'll get it.

Inigo Montoya: Colman Domingo

Does Colman Domingo sing? I don't know. Could he act the absolute SHIT out of the confrontation between Inigo and the Six-Fingered Man? ABSOLUTELY. I have this vision of how to adapt the scene, which would also kinda translate Inigo's arc to a musical version. So in the original, the Six-Fingered Man trying anything to manipulate him, mocking him, that great "you have an overdeveloped sense of vengeance line, and Inigo is just not having it. He just keeps repeating the iconic line over and over again. In the musical, I would have the six-fingered man sing, like he's trying to get Inigo to sing with him, to give in to the performance, but Inigo won't sing, he just keeps repeating his line over and over. He refuses to conform to the typical "rising above" narrative and leave the Six-Fingered Man alive, he will be true to himself and his mission and won't let himself be distracted. Anyway, I don't know if this is a good idea, but Colman Domingo would be amazing either way.

Prince Humperdink: Aaron Tveit

I think Prince Humperdink should be the archetypal tenor boy and who is a better representation of current archetypal tenor boys on broadway than Aaron Tveit? Also he's really talented and I think he would act the shit out of this smarmy bastard role.

Count Rugen aka The Six Fingered Man: Josh Groban

I need Josh Groban on Broadway more, and I think he would do great at a quieter villain role, especially coming off a more angry and bloodthirsty role like Sweeney Todd. Also he looks a bit like the original Count Rugen, so that's a bonus.

Vizzini: Alex Brightman

I don't really have much behind this one, other than Vizzini is a weird little guy and Alex Brightman plays weird little guys really well.

Fezzik: Jason Segal

So ideally, I'd actually be able to cast an actor with gigantism to play the part, but I don't know of any, and couldn't find any while googling, so this is my backup essentially. During the lockdowns, a bunch of celebrities did The Princess Bride over zoom, and the scene with Rainn Wilson as Vizzini, Pedro Pascal as Inigo and Jason Segal as Fezzik is genuinely really great, but Jason Segal's Fezzik impression is spot-on and actually amazing. Also, we know from the Muppet Movie, How I Met Your Mother and Forgetting Sarah Marshall that he can sing so, I think he would do great.

Miracle Max and Valerie: Joey Richter and Lauren Lopez

I assume posting this to Tumblr, more people would know who Joey Richter and Lauren Lopez are than the average social media platform, but they are part of Team Starkid and Tin Can Bros and do some fantastic original musicals (please look up the Hatchetfield Trilogy and Spies Are Forever if you haven't seen them yet). They're both extremely talented performers, and also married in real life, so they would absolutely kill this.

Clergyman(Mawage guy): Brian d'Arcy James

I don't really have much of a reasoning behind this, I just think he'd do a good job.

Backups/Close Calls:

Denee Benton as Princess Buttercup

She's one of the best parts of Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812, and that's saying something because that musical is (in my opinion) one of the best of all time

Pedro Pascal as Inigo Montoya

I don't know if he sings, and he would be amazing for this, but I wanted to challenge myself to think outside the most obvious choice. However, sometimes the obvious choice is a good one.

Bernadette Peters as Valerie

If the Witch from Into the Woods found love and inner peace

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latoyalestrange · 8 months

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THE FOOL

p. pascal x f!oc

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: Naela realizes she can’t trust everyone in the acting business. Somehow the only person who makes her feel safe is a man she met yesterday.

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: Not edited, maybe I will eventually. Some angst, deception, and crying. Once again, this man makes up for it dw.

Taglist: @marvel-sw-lover , @lokislittle , @red-red-rogue

comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

CHAPTER TWO -- TRAPPED

Naela had never been a morning person. Her mother often told stories about how grumpy she was even on Christmas morning. Needless to say, she would have to get used to waking up before the sun.

Looking at the time as she turned off her alarms, she realized she knew only one other person who was awake at this time every morning. She was thinking about her mother a lot last night after talking with Pedro.

In hopes to seek some comfort, Naela called her mom, who answered after the first ring.

“Buenos días, Mija!” Naela clearly didn’t take after her mom in that regard.

“Buenos días, mamá,” she muttered weakly, still basking in the warmth of her bed.

“How is Columbia? Is it everything Abluela said it was?” She chuckled lightly.

“All I’ve seen so far are the walls of my trailer,” she yawned, making her mother laugh harder.

“Pobrecita. Send me some pictures, okay? I have to open this morning.” Naela’s brow furrowed at her statement.

“Where is Sebastian?” She counted on her older brother to be there for her mom since she couldn’t.

“Oh, he’s closing for me now. I can’t see well at night anymore, especially when I’m driving.” Her mothers tone told her not to worry, so she didn’t.

“Okay, mama. Te amo.”

“Te amo mucho, mija.” Naela sighed as she let her phone fall against the pillow. Making her get out of bed at this hour had to be a crime. To her surprise, the silence was short lived as her phone began to ring. oAfter a few moments of hyping herself up, she finally pulled herself out of bed, taking the comforter with her. She groggily clambered into the living space and stopped at the coffee machine. After rubbing her eyes, she could finally read the labels on the coffee pods they had on display. It almost seemed wrong not to choose Columbian Roast, so she plucked the pod out of the chamber and put it directly in the top of the coffee machine. She quickly picked a mug and started brewing her first cup of many coffees she would need during this shoot.

Once it was finished, she withdrew to the pull out couch and sipped her coffee while she watched the sun rise for a bit. She tried to check her social media, but the spotty service was not having it. After she felt conscious enough, she threw on a t-shirt and shorts, since it was just a table reading for the day.

Once she was ready, she started making her way to the studio. It was much cooler with the sun still creeping over the horizon. At first, she thought she was the first one up, since it was so quiet, but once she got halfway to the door, she heard her name.

“Naela!” This time is didn’t annoy her, it actually brought a smile to her face. She stopped in her tracks and turned to face the man jogging toward her. “Did you sleep well last night?” he continued, starting to walk with her at a slow pace.

“I crashed as soon as my head hit the pillow,” she admitted, giggling.

He beamed back at her, “Yes, me too. I don’t remember going to sleep— one minute I’m watching latenight telenovelas and the next it’s six am,” he adds jokingly.

“You’re gonna have to tell me what channel that is because I can only call my mom with my phone right now." They laugh together.

"I'm sure she loves that." She sighed, it was true. They were silent for a moment as they approached the glass doors, composing themselves. Pedro quickly grabbed the door first, holding it open for her.

She smiled, "Gracias."

"Es un placer, hermosa" My pleasure, beautiful. Naela looked up at him as she passed through the door, shaking her head at his cheeky smirk. She could hear him chuckle, unable to take himself seriously.

After walking down a long hallway, Naela could smell the coffee. The one open door had to be where it was coming from, so she led them inside. Once she rounded the corner, she was met with a generous spread of breakfast pastries, fresh fruit, and doughnuts.

"Wow, I didn't think I was that hungry until this moment," Pedro pipes up, making the small group laugh. As they picked their breakfast and poured their coffee, more actors started trickling in and doing the same. They eventually took their assigned seats across from Joanna and Boyd, just like last night's seating.

The reading went really well, Naela thought. Some scenes were more awkward than others, like when Javi was meant to be on his knees begging Lucia for a kiss in a drunken stupor. Pedro made up for it by making her laugh with kissy faces.

Once it was over and everyone was filing out to leave, they were about to follow when Naela finally noticed her Manager, Mike, waving them over. Pedro's manger came out of the connecting office Mike was standing in front of and did the same. Naela looked to Pedro, who didn't seem nervous in the slightest. She still had her guard up, but his calmness helped her feel safe.

"We just need to go over some terms with you, okay?" Mike said cheerily. Again with the act, why is he so chipper? She didn't give him a response, she just followed Pedro into the office. She took note of the director behind the desk and the main writer next to him.

"I meant to say this earlier in the reading, but you two and your characters are so important in making this show a success. You are the respite we give our audience after the tragedies depicted in the show." Paul, the main writer started. Naela smiled, but she wasn't sure if that was the correct response yet.

"Yes, exactly. Javi and Lucia, in my opinion, will be the tie between making this a show for everyone and actually getting everyone to watch it." Tom, the director added.

Mike stepped up next to Naela, saying quietly to her, "With that being said, you should know that sometimes actors have to do these kinds of things--" It wasn't quiet enough.

Pedro immediately took a step back, his entire demeanor changing. It was honestly a little scary, on top of the confusion she felt from Mike's words.

"You mean she doesn't know? You didn't ask her?" Mike looked positively terrified as well. His posture shrunk as he withdrew to the wall.

"Am I in trouble?" Naela asked weakly. She begged the tears she felt pricking her eyes not to fall.

"No, no, not at all, sweetheart. Just take a seat," the director answered, gesturing to the leather seats in front of his desk. Her confusion quickly turned to anger. Ugh. Sweetheart.

As she followed his directions, she heard Pedro scoff. She turned to see him storm out of the office before looking back at Tom. Pedro's manager started after him, but stopped when the director held up his hand.

"No, just let him go. He'll come around." Tom sighed and leaned over the desk, making eye contact with Naela.

"So...whether or not you knew what you were signing is not really important. The fact is, you signed one contract for filming with us for six months here. The second contract you signed was for another six months of publicity." Naela was still confused. How would that be a problem? Interviews and internet posts was something she looked forward to doing.

"I didn't want to tell you because I knew you would say no. I wanted you to at least meet Pedro first--" Wait. What does this have to do with Pedro?

"Enough from you. Seriously." Tom interjected. "Naela, I'm sorry this is how your manager let you find out, but what's done is done."

"Can someone please tell me what's going on here?" By this point, Naela's chest was heaving and she was staring to sweat in her seat.

"You and Pedro are going to help us keep the audience engaged in between seasons by being in a PR relationship. Have you ever done something like that before?" She shook her head. Did it really matter at this point?

“I have a boyfriend—“

"Naela, listen. We aren't going to force you and Pedro to do anything crazy. We just need you to be spotted together on a few dates, maybe take each other to a few red carpets and appear on each others social media. Sounds pretty doable, right?" He held out his hand like a peace offering. What else was she supposed to do or say?

"Yeah, sure..." She reluctantly took his hand.

"Perfect. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning." Tom smiled, but it almost felt evil. She didn't understand how she could be tricked and no one felt an ounce of remorse for her except for Pedro, who had no power in the situation either. She slowly gathered herself and turned to leave, glaring through Mike as she passed. The fresh air hitting her as she left couldn't even make her feel better.

"Naela!" God, what now? She saw Pedro jogging towards her once more. "Naela, I'm so sorry, I had no idea--" He looked so concerned and apologetic.

"It's okay, Pedro--"

"No, it's not okay! I can't believe he did that to you." He placed a hand on her shoulder, rubbing his thumb in a comforting cadence. "I never would have said yes if you didn't want to--"

"Pedro, it's okay. It's not the worst surprise ever." She smiled unenthusiastically.

"Are you gonna be okay?" It was the only thing that truly mattered to him in that moment, and she could feel that.

She nodded, "Yeah. I'll be okay." He looks at her with sympathy. He feels terrible, and she can tell. He pulls her into a tight hug, wrapping his strong arms around her. She took a deep breath, feeling safe for the first time in a while. She wanted to let go, to cry and tell him everything she felt but she didn't know him like that. Nor was that the right place to do so.

Instead, she whispered, "Thank you," into his chest as he rubbed her back. He finally let go, but it still wasn't long enough. They smiled painfully at each other before going their separate ways.

Once Naela go to her trailer, she couldn't hold it in anymore. She instantly dissolved into tears as she fell onto the futon. It was the kind of cry where you forget to breathe and almost choke. She prayed for this every damn day since she knew she wanted to be an actor. Now that she had it, it wasn't at all the fantasy she thought it would be.

She didn't call her mom, even though she wanted to. She didn't want her to worry, or worse, tell her 'I told you so'. Realistically, she knew her mother would never have to heart to say such a thing, but she didn't want to take any chances.

Even though she really didn’t want to, she did have to call Josh. She also knew exactly what his reaction would be too.

“Are you serious? You told them no, right?”

Sobbing, she held her phone out in front of her, allowing her boyfriend to see her pixelated and grainy form through the screen. “Babe, you don’t understand, I already signed the contract. My manager lied to me, that’s why I’m so upset—“

“I do understand. Just quit.” His tone was condescending as he raised his voice.

“Right, because I have enough money to fly myself back to America right now.” She wiped her dampened cheeks as she sighed, exhausted from fighting with him already. She heard him start to respond, but he was cut off by her spotty connection. Her screen froze for a few seconds before the call failed entirely. She dropped her phone onto the couch next to her before pulling her knees into her chest as her sobs started back up again.

She just wanted someone who understood.

reblog if you made it to the end!

#pedropascaledit #pedro #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x oc #pedro pascal characters #pedrito #pedro pascal fandom #pedrohub #pascalispunk

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soulofapatrick · 1 year

Photo

You and Pedro are secretly dating and teasing the fans...

Part One // Part Two // Part Three

----------

Tag List Form

@clover723 @sexyvixen7 @iraot @gemimawrites @twopercentmilk @urnewghostfriend @sonhee-a @dizzyforyou-blog @grooveandshit @canpillowscry @jell0buss-37 @androgynousgaz @not-a-unique-snowflake @thesapphirequeen @certifiedhunter @randomhoex @secretsthathauntus @ems-alexandra @bubbles-for-all-of-us @lana @fariylixie0915

#Pedro Pascal x female reader #Pedro pascal #Pedro Pascal x reader #Pedro Pascal x you #Pedro Pascal x y/n #Pedro Pascal x oc #Pedro pascal x you #din djarin #Joel Miller #javier pena #the last of us #the mandalorian #Pedro Pascal characters #Pedro Pascal social media stories #Pedro Pascal fanfics #Pedro Pascal fanfiction #Pedro Pascal series #Pedro Pascal instagram

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straighttohellbuddy · 1 year

Text

die mad about it {Dream/Reader/Sapnap} // Part 2

2. 2021

Summary: A retrospective on the interconnected timeline of Dream, Sapnap, and TV and film star Y/N, via social media.

2021. The year starts with Y/N's recent film racking up nominations during awards season, while Y/N themselves tries to work their way into getting into the DreamSMP. Dream isn't exactly thrilled with this, and he and Y/N appear to start beefing on Twitter. Sapnap moves in with Dream and his still-unknown housemate, but appears to be having a great time there, and Dream, in an interview, reveals that he's not technically single. Ft. mentions of the PSMP

Need to Know: Explicitly Non-Binary!Reader, early-20s!reader, reader is an incredibly well known film & tv star and has been living with Dream for several months/just over a year. Polyamory.

{ masterpost : 2 / 3 }

A/N: 6997 words. OH MY GOD ITS LITERALLY DOUBLE THE LAST ONE WHAT. also pretend its several months ago and i had this done on time please and thank you xx PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK I LVOE THIS FIC AND THIS STYLE OF WRITING EVEN IF IT TAKES ME AGES!!

Taglist: @esylwen @ihatesunfl0wers @theghostpeach @rainyaheysoe @magicastle @tidelqnds @icarusthefoolish @randokku @todaynotseen @moyo5653 @kittyfragsmini123666 @lacunaanonymoused @parkerpeanuts @sadredflower0000 @jay-being-weird @ronsbadidea @lacunaanonymoused @dreamtogether2000 @summerknights @mishthemess @lovejoywill @randosposts @stormy-skies-falling @gaysludge @hatchetislostpog @cryinghotmess @boiled-onionrings @busyfangirling12

Taglist is always open! Feel free to message or comment if you’d like to be added! xx

· JANUARY ·

At the beginning of January 2021, Y/N's tweet 'so glad they pushed back the SAG awards to march this year at my request, my boyfriend just moved in so im unavailable for the rest of the month' quickly followed by 'dont worry its not because i carried furniture and hurt my back or anything, my boyfriend helped him with all the heavy lifting, i just want to know i have several weeks to be domestic without being interrupted' caused chaos and confusion on Twitter, and they trended for the following 8 hours. After relative radio silence for twelve hours, the only tweet you chose to interact with was one that asked 'which is the side piece tho', to which you responded 'both i sleep in the middle 💙❤️🖤'.

Y/N also retweets a video originally posted on TikTok by user @.woolfenhawke; the woman in the video has dark skin and is wearing pale yellow pyjamas. The label at the top of the video reads 'millennial celebrity Y/N every single time they open Twitter Dot Com'. She starts facing away from the camera, and turns around suddenly, and the camera zooms in very quickly on her face as she lip-syncs to the audio of Tyler Oakley saying 'Hello LGBT community'.

----

The most popular fandoms in the character tag of Y/N Y/L/N are Actor RPF, HELIX (2020) RPF, Star Wars RPF, X-Men RPF, and American Horror Story (TV) RPF. The most common pairing is tied between Y/N Y/L/N/Amandla Stenberg and Y/N Y/LN/Evan Peters, followed closely by Y/N/Reader. However, since the beginning of January, there has been a steady increase in fan works rated Mature or Explicit featuring polyamorous pairings.

Reposted from Tumblr and quickly growing in popularity is the fanfiction '(in the absence of everything) i promise to keep you warm'. The first chapter was posted on November 24, 2020, one week after HELIX's public premiere, and has updated consistently in the following months. It is ongoing, at 13 chapters and approximately 45,000 words. It has the following tags; Explicit, Actor RPF, Y/N Y/L/N/Chris Evans/Pedro Pascal, Y/N Y/L/N & Amandla Stenberg, Y/N Y/L/N & Oscar Isaac, AU, Assistant!Y/N, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Movie Sets, Secret Relationships, Power Dynamics, Protective Chris Evans, Protective Pedro Pascal, Daddy Kink, Fluff and Smut, D/S Undertones, Service Top, Domestic Fluff, Social Anxiety, press publicity and paparazzi, Red Carpets.

---

Sapnap posts a photo of himself and Patches in order to announce that he's moved in with Dream and Dream's housemate. Not long after the official post goes up, two posts are added to his Instagram story.

The first is an piece of fanart of Y/N's character Woolfe standing back to back with who appears to be Technoblade from the DreamSMP as he's often depicted in fanart. Technoblade is wearing what appears to be the top half of a boar's skull as a mask covering his eyes, while Woolfe is wearing the angular, aesthetically cyberpunk mask that covers their mouth and looks like a wolf's nose and snarling mouth. The background is black while both characters are lit in sharp relief from either side, with Woolfe being lit in neon green, and Technoblade being lit in neon pink. Stretching across the whole middle of the piece in bold, white lettering is the quote 'If you want to be a hero then die like one.' The art piece is in landscape, A3, and framed and hung against a dark wall. The artist of the piece has been tagged, and across the top Sapnap has added 'proof of housemate's 'not a shrine' to technoblade' in pink letters.

The second is of a polaroid stuck to a dark wall, and an unlit but partially used candle at the very bottom of the image. The polaroid is partially obscured as Sapnap appears to have purposefully edited the photo to scribble in black over one of the figures in the photo to hide their identity. What can be seen in the photo is Sapnap, a little blurry, clearly laughing, half turned from the camera and positioned like he's leaning into someone with his arm around them. There is am arm around his shoulder that is unobscured, but their hand is cut out of the image and they are wearing long sleeves, so there is no identifiable features visible. Over the black scribble, in white text; 'a little bit of a shrine ❤️'.

----

"They travel a lot, the housemate travels a lot for work usually," one of the earliest streams Sapnap does after he moves is a somewhat indulgent Q&A while playing Valorant, "in like, chunks of time, a few weeks I guess? But when they're home they're still working, but usually in a way that's, I guess more similar to me and Dream? Like it'd feel weird and, I don't know, like arrogant, I guess? To compare our work? Usually at least. But because of how everything is, you know, a lot of their work is online, and like we have a schedule for who needs the house quiet at what times. That's- that's all I can really say. I know it's vague," he laughs apologetically, "but it has to be." Then, after a few moments of reading through chat he frowns, "can you tell us where housemate is now? I don't know if I'm allowed, hang on," he pulls out his phone and types away, "I'll ask." It doesn't take more than a minute for him to receive a response; "they're on the West Coast, that's all I'm allowed to tell you."

He does not address any of the numerous questions asking him to clarify the Housemate's relationship with Dream or himself.

· FEBRUARY ·

@.dreams-housemate-updates changes their twitter handle to @.dreamnaps-housemate-updates. Their header also changes to the meme image of Bugs Bunny, pointing with both hands to the right, overlaid with the communist flag, with the words "Our Housemate" in the centre.

----

@.YourTwitter: me and the boys at 2am looking for BEANS [Image ID: Y/N, Amandla, and the director of HELIX all posing on the red carpet for the Golden Globes.] | @.YourTwitter: BEANS acquired [Image ID: Two stills from the live broadcast of the Golden Globes, the first one being of Y/N and Amandla in the audience, leaning against one another and clutching each other, beaming and on the verge of tears as they are looking up, presumably at the stage. Y/N has their free hand up and partially covering their mouth. The second is of HELIX's director Robert Eggers on stage having just received the Golden Globe for Best Director of a Motion Picture. He has a hand to his heart and is using the Golden Globe itself in his other hand to point out into the crowd, presumably to Y/N and Amandla.]

HELIX was nominated for 5 Golden Globes in total, and won two; Best Director - Motion Picture, and Best Original Score - Motion Picture.

----

On Valentine's Day, you post one picture to your Instagram story. It's of a nondescript hotel bed covered in red rose petals. The duvet is black and neat, and the only caption you've added is white text highlighted with red in the top right corner; no shitposts today im actually in love.

----

It had been somewhat disheartening to be on set on Valentine's Day knowing you were so far from the two people you loved the most. It's been weeks since you were home, which only made it all the harder. The shoot went well, and you were glad to be messaging Dream and Sapnap through the day, even if you couldn't be near them.

Around lunch they tell you that they're sending flowers to your hotel, that it was meant to be a surprise but they'll need your room number, and that the hotel might call to confirm with you. As much as you love the gesture, it makes you miss them both even more, and you start browsing flights back to Florida on your phone in between takes, fantasizing about having the time to take off and see them.

The hotel calls in the afternoon, and you confirm that anything from your boyfriends has full permission to be placed in your room while you were gone. Sun will be setting in a few hours, there's no time left for your fantasy to come true, not if you wanted to remain professional.

There'd always be next year, you tell yourself.

You message to say that you miss them, and they respond in kind, both quick to assure you that there's always going to be more time, that one day wouldn't matter. Perhaps not in the long run, but today it felt like it did.

So when you get back to your hotel and see the rose petals on your bed, it feels too good to be true.

And when you catch sight of both Dream and Sapnap waiting patiently in the larger living space of the room, you feel yourself begin to tear up. They're both with you immediately, wrapping you up in their arms, endeared as they try and soothe you, murmur for you not to cry.

It's been a long day of heartache, thinking that you'd be without them, so it's all you can do to hold them tightly, a mess of laughter and cathartic tears as you tell them how much you love them both. You hadn't realised just how much you'd missed them until this moment, until you're peppering them with kisses and babbling about how this has gone from the worst day to maybe one of the best of your life.

"So far," Sapnap grins teasingly, kissing your temple. Dream echoes his words, echoes his tone, and you feel yourself growing flustered as your initial wave of shock and awe had died down.

Best day of your life, so far.

· MARCH ·

In early March 2021, the nominations for the 93rd Academy Awards are announced, and HELIX receives 6 nominations; Best Picture, Best Director, Best Original Score, Best Visual Effects, and Chris Evans is nominated for Best Supporting Actor. Controversy arises, however, as Y/N is also announced as a nominee for Best Actor.

A statement is released by the Academy the day after the nominees were announced, stating the decision as to which category they were nominated in was due to the technical broadness of the category, and that Y/N's team had been contacted prior to the nomination being confirmed.

A day after The Academy releases their statement, Y/N posts two updates to their Instagram story;

1. A blurry selfie taken in bed, sheet pulled up to their neck, giving the camera peace sign. Across their forehead reads 'its an honour to be nominated, im looking forward to the day that there's a category specifically for nonbinary actors and actresses so people like me don't have to be torn to shreds online when people try to acknowledge and appreciate us'.

2. A photo of a mostly empty plate sitting on their bedside table, covered in crumbs, with a knife and fork sitting in the middle. Their hand can be seen giving a thumbs up closer to the camera, and is captioned '"why didn't you respond before now its been two days????" sorry buddy i was getting my shit rocked and eating pancakes in bed. i knew it'd be a hot button issue online so i decided to celebrate the nom first. im allowed to celebrate my achievements ✌️'.

----

@gnflmnop: you remember that one time @.YourTwitter tweeted about the dsmp right before their movie premiered and then Never Again? Did I hallucinate that? | @YourTwitter: my boyfriends bully me whenever I go to tweet about it :( | @YourTwitter: they're mad about who my favourite is (it goes back and forth but they're never happy with who I say 😔) | @.YourTwitter: if y'all knew my boys this would be so much funnier, I promise this is all v lighthearted. | @.gnflmnop: Who's your current fav?? | @.YourTwitter: @.Quackity 🥰 | @.Quackity: HOLY SHIT

· APRIL ·

HELIX ends up winning four of the six Oscars it's nominated for; Best Director, Best Visual Effects, Best Original Score, and Y/N wins Best Actor.

Transcript of Y/N's winning speech from the 93rd Academy Awards for their performance in HELIX:

Before I start, I need to say something to the people like me - non-binary and trans people like me - beyond this room, watching this live or in the future; hi! Look! We can see it now, you can see me; the world is changing and our future is bright! [Brief pause.] Now, on January 4th this year, my ex-manager told me I was an unhireable PR nightmare, and tonight he decides to text me; congrats on the nom, for your own sake don't start a twitter tirade when you lose, Anthony Hopkins is eighty seven, he can't fight back. [They are becoming audibly choked up.] To that I say; don't you wish you put your energy into something useful? [Pause as they compose themselves.] Which is why I'm up here, thanking my amazing manager who actually believes in me, our whole incredible team behind HELIX, especially Rob and Amandla - you should both be up here with me, because I wouldn't be here without either of you. [They take a moment to clutch the Oscar to their chest, looking overwhelmingly grateful.] And the only thing better than this is knowing I get to see my wonderful, supportive, damn amazing partners after. My favourite place in the world is at home with you both, I love you. [Sniffling, they give a watery laugh.] This is a moment, isn't it? This is our moment. Thank you.

Given the immense exposure of The Oscars, Y/N's speech quickly goes viral. The backlash from the conservative side of the internet is immense, however the outpouring of support still manages to dwarf it. It's seen as a cultural reset, with 'the world is changing and our future is bright' being painted across every LGBT+ corner of the internet. Also, both the polyamorous and nonbinary communities specifically appear to adopt the phrase 'this is our moment'.

----

The following interaction occurred during a Just Chatting stream on Wilbur Soot's Twitch channel on the 30th of April, and can be found in the stream's VOD beginning at 53:46.

"Can I share something surreal with you all?" Wilbur asks, tone vaguely bemused as he was streaming with Tommy, Ranboo, and Philza, "lads, chat, can I share the most, I think unexpected reaction I've received after yesterday?"

"Unexpected how?" Ranboo snorts a laugh.

"Like, I think it was the emotion I was going for, but I never expected this person to contact me?"

"Oh interesting, who was it?" Tommy asked excitedly.

"Well, I mean, there's weird ways the SMP kind of breaches containment that makes me think 'ah, people lying for attention on the internet again'," Wilbur begins, and is met with stifled giggles from the others, who seem to know exactly what he means by that sentiment, "which I don't necessarily know why I think that, since most times it's kind of innocuous or makes a roundabout kind of sense, like a politicians kid getting them to tweet at us, but there was something a few months back that I heard about and I was like 'that's absolute bullshit'."

"You do especially seem to get a few weird ones," Phil agrees.

"And I don't usually get star struck; I'm not trying to brag here, but I've had - well, we've all had - some pretty high profile encounters here and there," Wilbur's voice was rising in intensity, as the others voiced their agreement, "but there was an interaction a few months ago, and I kind of shot my shot since I don't use Twitter and had my Discord passed on to this person, and nothing really came of it."

"Who was it, man?!" Tommy groaned, frustrated by Wilbur building up the encounter, much to everyone else's amusement. Wilbur pauses for a moment.

"Yesterday I received my first message from Y/N since we'd connected on Discord, after months mind you, and it's a selfie of them giving me the thumbs up, whilst clearly crying -"

"What?!" Several of the others in the chat exclaimed, Wilbur clearly matching their confused, startled energy.

"Right?! And you wanna know what the caption was? Here, I'll read it to you guys, it says; Wilbur, why am I crying about minecraft ghost."

Silence.

Then;

"Three days ago they won an actual fucking Oscar; what reality am I in right now?" He crows, still clearly baffled.

"That can't be real," Ranboo announced, sounding a little dazed.

"Why is Y/N Y/L/N crying about minecraft ghost, Wilbur?" Tommy practically yelled, "we saw HELIX together with Tubbo the last time I was in Brighton, I refuse to believe fucking Woolfe shed real tears over Ghostbur!" Then, after a beat, "oh God, and it was my fault too! I need to start writing an apology," he's clearly half joking, and the others play along.

"The character Woolfe?"

"No, to Y/N themselves," Tommy says, adding, "maybe if I ask Dream nice enough he'll take it back."

Not long after this conversation occurred live, the following was posted to Twitter;

@.YourTwitter: ooh lads, me and my parasocial relationship might not survive this one omg @.WilburSoot @.philza @.tommyinnit @.ranboo | @.ranboo: [GIF from Y/N's award speech at The Oscars; Y/N is holding their award to their chest, standing behind a podium. The caption at the bottom reads 'This is a moment, isn't it?'.]

And;

@.Dream: despite wishful thinking, no celebrity tears based twitter campaign will make me take back certain SMP based events. in fact if you tried i think id just double down and say certain minecraft ghosts got what was coming to them | @.YourTwitter: @.YourTwitter | @.YourTwitter: see its that easy to @ me. <3 | @.Dream: didn't you win an oscar? please get a hobby | @.YourTwitter: dont vague me just because ur mad ur not my favourite | @.Dream: @.YourTwitter You make me want to smack you sometimes. | @.YourTwitter: hot. dm me. | @.Dream: Why are you like this? | @.YourTwitter: for the bit. <3

· MAY ·

@.enbyhawke: @.DreamWasTaken @.YourTwitter the people have spoken. Link to the Change.org petition 'Let Y/N Join The DreamSMP'] | @.YourTwitter: @.Dream the people have spoken 😌 | @.Dream: @.YourTwitter the people need to be quiet, I already told you no in our DMs. | @.YourTwitter: [GIF from Mean Girls of Regina George, phone to her ear, caption at the bottom reading 'Boo, you whore.']

----

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Other Fandom: HELX (2020), Dream SMP Relationships: Woolfe (HELIX)/Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF) Characters: Woolfe (HELIX), Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF) Additional Tags: PWP, what is this lol, crack, based on a twitter post, Eric Andre Voice LET ME IN but its woolfe and the dsmp, Power Imbalance, hate fucking, choking, spit, reluctant bottoming, degradation, so close to just writing RPF but im pretending to have dignity, ch 1 is afab!Y/N, ch 2 is amab!Y/N, otherwise the chapters are identical, just like every other smut oneshot with Y/N or their nb characters lol, the Y/N fandom etiquette is beautiful tbh we all know what we're doing here, WAIT c!Dream IS LITERALLY JUST A YOUNG VERSION OF CHRIS EVAN'S CHARACTER OH MY GOD, DOWN TO THE EXPERIMENTING ON PEOPLE AND KILLING THEM AND BRINGING THEM BACK Language: English Series: Part 1 of isn't bite also touch (HELIXsmp) · Next Work -> Stats: Published: 05-15-2021 Words: 4863 Chapters: 2/2

i'll tell you my sins (and you can sharpen your knife) FullContakt

Summary: There's a price to pay for clear intentions. Woolfe understands the roles and rules of this place and is happy to call themselves a villain, however the one who originally chose that title isn't exactly willing to give it up, so Dream decides to find out exactly how far Woolfe is willing to go for it.

Notes: Y/N and Dream's one online interaction makes me laugh so fucking hard, they're both so chaotic, I don't know who is the one with the audacity here. I think they both have far too much. But anyways, since im lowkey obsessed with the few HELIX/DSMP crossovers we already have here (literally never cried as hard as i did finishing starslikerhinestones's Woolfe/Wilbur MASTERPIECE 'a hero's job is to die'. seriously if nothing else please read it for Hawke being THE BEST OLDER SIBLING to tommy, as long as you don't mind tragedy and heartbreak) ANYWAYS seeing that interaction between Y/N and dream just made me think that Woolfe and c!Dream would HATE each other so here, they beat the shit out of each other... and yeh fuck a bit. Enemies-to-enemies-who-hatefuck.

----

Sapnap makes an offhand comment during a stream about how he's missing their housemate since they went to the UK. Dream seems to share this sentiment, joking 'and we didn't even get to swap them for George while they're gone, it's so unfair'. Both seem genuinely disheartened by the housemate's absence, but make a note of how proud they both are of everything the housemate has been doing.

----

From May 20th to May 23rd, the 'PenisSMP' or 'PSMP' trends on Tumblr as a shitpost directed at the Minecraft YouTube community, that flourished on the oft overlooked blogging platform, was quickly co-opted and expounded upon by said community.

In amongst its colourful cast and rapidly developing lore, several real figures were included and adopted into the kayfabe, including current members of the DreamSMP such as Tommyinnit (given the alias 'Wife_Haver' in the PSMP), and ConnorEatsPants, with no significant alterations to his already established character whatsoever, just that he existed in this SMP too. Alongside them, Y/N was quickly adopted into the lore and cast of characters with the in-game alias of '4rs0n_R1sk', as first mentioned in user @.localtubboenthusiast's post;

localtubboenthusiast literally why is anyone surprised that fvckass blew up half the server?? why is ANYONE surprised they keep setting fires??? they were literally hand raised by 4rs0n_R1sk!!! #who is literally being played by one of the most chaotic actors of our generation #this is why dream didn't let Y/N join the dream SMP #hes a coward #psmp #penissmp #penismp #y/n y/l/n #4rs0n_r1sk #fvckass the sheep #fuckass the sheep

And the follow-up question they received;

Anonymous asked: WAIT HOLD UP THATS WHERE I KNOW 4RS0N'S VOICE??? ITS Y/N????

localtubboenthusiast answered: yeah apparently they're friends with penis irl and asked if they could join out of spite after the whole dream refusing to let them into the dsmp thing 😂 can't believe they literally don't even stream they're just there lol

#also in case it wasn't clear i AM a PenisUnavailable And ShittyFartBaby69 Are Actually Y/N's Boyfriends truther #4rs0n_R1sk #Y/N Y/L/N #PSMP #penismp #penissmp

Fanart of '4rs0n_R1sk' usually depicts Y/N as either their character Woolfe from HELIX, or Contakt from The New Mutants with a warm colour pallet and fire powers. They are usually drawn with 'Fvckass the Sheep', 'PenisUnavailable', or 'TurboThruster'.

----

@.YourTwitter: went to dublin and all I got was spit on. they give you exactly what you ask for here, amazing customer service 🥰 | @.Ic3_Squared: Hey bestie some thoughts should stay in your head ❤️

· JUNE ·

I Spent A Day With DREAM was posted to YouTube by Anthony Padilla on the 9th of June, and the following exchange begins around minute 5;

Dream: God it's so weird, actually, because there's been these huge changes in my personal life that have happened, like, parallel to the whole YouTube thing, but are still significantly effected by it, if that makes sense? Anthony: What kind of changes to do you mean? Dream: Like, uh, I'm not fully sure if I'm able to talk about this, though I guess if this bit makes it into the video I've confirmed that I am allowed to actually talk about it, [Dream laughs] but I feel very lucky to currently be in the best relationship of my life, but like, I feel like that would have happened, like me- me and my- you know, [Dream stumbles over his words a little, as if to purposefully dance around the precise wording of the relationship] that would still be happened even if I never blew up.

----

📌 Pinned Tweet @.dreamnaps-housemate-updates: If Dream is dating his housemate that would be news to us too. We don't have any more information than anyone else on this matter. Please stop asking us, thank you.

----

On June 26th Twitter user @.goldenghostgirl asks you if you'd be watching Minecraft Championship (Pride), and who you'd be watching. You respond less than half an hour later with three consecutive tweets; 'me and my parasocial relationship will be watching pink parrots 😌🦜💓', then 'only because @.smajor didnt invite me to play which isn't his fault since he doesn't know I'm secretly very good at minecraft.... but just so you know... for next pride... 👀 👉👈' and finally 'im actually being legit here, minecraft as a game is far bigger in our house than I really let on, I'd love to prove my boyfriends' mentoring has paid off 💖'.

For MCC Pride, the team Pink Parrots is made up of SolidarityGaming, Grian, Wilbur Soot, and Technoblade. Highlights from their team during the event include;

Wilbur makes a point to say hello to Y/N at the beginning of the event as he figures they're probably watching. When providing clarification for the situation to the rest of his team in the VC he refers to it as 'mutually parasocial'. Wilbur also jokes about becoming an honourary member of Y/N's polycule. Y/N does not publically comment on any of this; it is not made clear if they saw it.

Technoblade mentions that Dream has been DMing him during the event, and that both he, and his housemate who isn't Sapnap, but is just happy to be here, are cheering them on.

Wilbur's fire alarm chirping aggressively, much to his growing frustration, until he has to disconnect as there is apparently an actual fire emergency in his building. He had to talk to the firefighters who arrived on scene in order to confirm that he was safe to re-enter the building. He is able to rejoin MCC.

In Wilbur's absence, there are several suggestions for a temporary replacement; Technoblade suggests Dream, Grian mentions that Y/N has put their hand up on Twitter, while Wilbur himself suggests Philza Minecraft. Philza ultimately becomes Wilbur's temporary replacement.

Philza breaking down with laughter when he reads your follow up tweet; "Don't look at me, I retract my statement. Coach, I was wrong I'm not ready for the big leagues, you shouldn't put me on. If you have the choice of Philza Minecraft of course you choose Philza Minecraft." He then adds, as his laughter dies down, that he understands now why Wilbur had called his interactions with you 'surreal'.

After the event concluded, you post one final tweet; "if any interviewer ever brings up today I WILL lie."

· JULY ·

On July 14, the final episode of Loki is released on Disney+. During one of the final scenes, after the timelines have all split and Loki is making his way to try and warn Mobius about what had happened, we see Y/N being dragged through the facility, clearly reprising their role as the mutant Contakt (Itta Marie) from 2020's New Mutants.

An hour after the premiere of the episode, Y/N tweeted twice;

1. 'oh yeah lol should update my IMDB about that'.

2. 'nd yeah dad acquired, for those keeping score at home' [Image ID: Y/N and Tom Hiddleston in costume as their respective characters Contakt and Loki on the set of the Loki series. They appear to be in an animated discussion between takes.

----

@.YourTwitter: there's no irl sdcc so no-one can stop me from cosplaying and doing some sort of Q&a.. need suggestions. And questions.

@.YourTwitter: imagine if I became a twitch streamer lol. anyways q&a here [Link to user PR Nightmare on Twitch.]

"Tommyinnit in my chat? Is this real?" You found yourself beaming with delight, "do you wanna join? DM me your Discord on Twitter, you're awesome, dude!"

"Are you cosplaying Ghostbur?" Is the first thing Tommy asks the minute you voice call him.

"I am!" You tell him with delight.

"Why?"

"I miss him," you admit freely. Tommy snorts a laugh, but the conversation trails off until, "it's so cool to talk to you finally, both my boyfriends speak so very highly of you."

"You're... a fan of mine?"

"I like your videos, yeah," you agree without hesitation, "and your arc is super compelling to watch on the SMP."

Tommy goes very quiet for several long moments before you hear faintly 'ow... ow... ow...'.

"Are you okay?" You ask, concerned, and Tommy hums for a moment.

"Sorry, just had to pinch myself a few times," then even as your laughing fondly, he continues, "still not convinced this is a real conversation I'm having."

----

@.dreamnaps-housemate-updates posted a clip from Sapnap's then-latest Minecraft stream on July 28th with the caption 'i love the way they love';

"What's been your favourite part of living with me so far?" Dream's voice is saccharine and teasing as he asks Sapnap live on stream.

"God, you're so needy," Sapnap laughs, though his tone is fond. While his focus remains primarily on his screen where he's playing Minecraft, occasionally his gaze will flick to something to his left, off camera.

"Thank you," Dream sounds quite smug, "but is that really your favourite?" In the silence that follows, Dream's tone takes on that saccharine tone as he prompts again.

"I mean if you twist it the right way, like with the right words," Sapnap sounds uncharacteristically soft, almost embarrassed, and seems to be intently focusing on his game with a faint flush to his cheeks.

"Twist what? Me being needy?" Dream half laughs, but Sapnap continues, sincere.

"I mean, I obviously wouldn't actually word it like that, but you're obviously the best part of living with you," he admits, a warm silence follows, and finally Sapnap looks directly at whatever is to his left, though he still appears to be addressing Dream when he speaks; "I'm not mentioning our housemate because they already look like they're a half second away from saying something emotional despite the fact that I'm live," he warns pointedly with a grin, as if to stave off the housemate in question. Then, after a moment, he softens his tone and expression considerably, practically radiating affection, "but you're the other best part about living here."

----

@.StardewwSoot: how long have @.YouTwitter and @.Callahan been mutuals? 👀👀

· AUGUST ·

@.YourTwitter: in Switzerland, finally able to add another Hot Hollywood Dad to my collection of father figures @.VancityReynolds

@.YourTwitter: ALSO PREMIERE OF FREE GUY AT THE LOCARNO FILM FESTIVAL!! DEFINITELY SHOULD HAVE LEAD WITH THAT!!

----

During an interview as part of Free Guy's press junket, an interviewer asks Joe Keery and Ryan Reynolds if either of them had met Y/N's partners.

"No, but I'm sure they're having a great time in Canada with my high school girlfriend," Ryan says without missing a beat as his younger costars break out in laughter. All three of them are grinning, a clearly easy comradery between them all, even as Y/N gives him a shove and insists their boyfriends are real. "Oh yeah, then what are their names?"

"I wish I could tell you, but I literally can't," you admit, a little sheepish, even as Ryan loudly proclaims that you're not making a strong case for yourself, "I wish- dude, I promise I wish I could tell you, but you wouldn't even begin to believe why I can't!" You insist once more.

----

@.yourtwitter: my toxic trait is every time I miss my boyfriends I read fanfiction about them and send them links to my favourites | @.yourtwitter: the reviews are in folks

[screenshot of a group chat titled '🎉 No Noise Complaints Since 8/23 🎉'. cat daddy: [screenshot of above tweet] cat daddy: your toxic trait is being funny when we're not able to publicly respond H0TB0I: your toxic trait is never specifying when you're missing us or being a menace Ryan Reynolds Lover: ????? cat daddy: @H0TB0I cranky because you skipped the tags and read mpreg aren't you Ryan Reynolds Lover: oh lol yeah no I was just being a menace when I sent that sorry 😅❤]

| @.asheeberree: WAIT PEOPLE WRITE FANFICTION ABOUT YOUR BOYFRIENDS??? WHO ARE YOU DATING??

Less than an hour later, Sapnap tweets out "our housemate just said 'pass me your phone I want to cause problems on purpose' so that's the only context I can give for whatever the next tweet is ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯" less than three minutes later, the following tweet is posted to Sapnap's alt account:

@.sapnapalt: dreamnap housemate here hello sap's twitter, I have a question. why are y'all sleeping on omega!dream and alpha!sap as concepts? I'm absconding with his phone so you have time to answer and I can see your responses before he deletes this 😘

· SEPTEMBER ·

A selection of articles and quizzes from Buzzfeed.com tagged Y/N Y/L/N in the month of September, 2021;

If Ever We Have To Elect A Representative For All Millennials, Here's My Pitch For It To Be Y/N

(Quiz) Plan Your Mission And I'll Tell You Who In The Mandolorian's Crew Would Be Your Bestie

10 Most Plausible Potential Secret Beaus For Y/N (And The Hottest Fanfiction For Each To Prove It)

(Quiz) Plan Your Ideal Date To Find Out Which Of Y/N's Hot Hollywood Father Figures Is Your Daddy

This Talented Artist Does Everything Right In Their Artwork Showcasing Their Fancast for The Breakfast Club In 2021

· OCTOBER ·

On October 3rd, you tweeted in rapid succession 'Callahan's my best friend now', 'hacker voice: im in', '@.Quackity heyyyy what are u doing rn? u free buddy?' and then a link to your Twitch account, where you were live on the Dream SMP.

The following is one of many short clips that you liked on Twitter after your Stream ended;

"Hey look at you go," Quackity laughs "you know your way around here better than I do; you weren't lying about watching us it seems."

"Yeah, well I play quite a bit with my boyfriends, since it's something they're really into, and they really got me into the SMP in the first place; they've been invested in this since day one," you said, smiling warmly before you leaned close to your camera and mic, "and now chat, you're gonna go ahead and clip that for me, and post it to twitter, so they can see it."

----

Dream and Sapnap both post photos to Instagram of several Halloween costumes they wear together. Most of the photos are just of the two of them, always with Dream entirely covered to continue obscuring his identity, but the final photo of both photosets is one of the housemate, for the first time in record.

They appear to be wearing a black hoodie, black gloves, black jeans, and appear to have borrowed the mask Dream has worn previously.

In Dream's Instagram post, the housemate is looking directly down into the digital camera they have around their neck, clearly having been taking the photos for Dream and Sapnap. The mask is lifted off of their face and sits on top of their head, however with the angle they are looking, the mask completely obscures their face and smiles directly at the camera.

In Sapnap's post, the setting is different to any of the other photos, as it appears to have been taken in a living room. Dream is still wearing the black hoodie and Squid Game mask, while the housemate appears to have fallen asleep with their head in his lap. Dream's mask is on the arm of the sofa, as is what appears to be a bright green hoodie. The housemate's hood is up while they're laying with their back to the camera so their face isn't visible. Dream is resting a hand on their hip and has his phone in the other, seemingly still using it despite his mask.

On Halloween itself, Y/N posts an image of themselves against a black wall dressed the same way as Dream appears in a few of the earlier photos he'd posted of himself, with a green hoodie, completed with a large, white, smiling mask. Both on Instagram and Twitter the photos is captioned 'this is my official apology to @.DreamWasTaken for breaking into his server'. Dream responds on Twitter telling you 'you're on thin ice....... lucky you're almost as cute as i am in that fit'.

· NOVEMBER ·

On November 11th, the trailer for the 15th season of sitcom 'It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia' is uploaded across the series' various social media platforms. The clip, that lasts just over one minute, appears to take place in Dublin, and includes indications that Y/N will play a reoccurring character throughout the season.

The two most notable clips are;

'Sweet Dee' seems gleeful as she informs Y/N that they are a great assistant, before immediately spitting upon them.

And;

"So we need you to clarify which of us is gay -" Dennis posed the question to Y/N standing close beside his sister.

"Mac, right? He's the gay, isn't he?"

"Yes," Dennis frowns, "but he likes men, and you are -" he gestures to their body, "not. However, if we," he gestures between himself and Dee, "both are trying to sleep with you, then one of us is gay," he paused, visibly deliberating, "or, well, not gay, but also not straight, since that would make this much easier for me, but for me to be straight you'd have to be a woman and you are -" again, he gestures to their body, "not..." Dennis clasped his hands together, tone growing almost furiously frustrated, as if at Y/N themselves, "so now, you beguiling little minx, have made us both potentially neither gay nor straight, you have turned us into Schrodinger's Fruits!" Waiting, breathing hard at the end of his outburst, it cuts to Y/N, visibly confused by the situation, brow furrowed.

Not long after the clips are posted, you retweet it with the caption 'show with the most BDE (big dad energy)' and a photo of yourself on set in Dublin in the middle of a cheesy group hug between the five lead actors of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Not long after, the show's official twitter responds with;

@.AlwaysSunny: Welcome to the family! [ID: Four stills from the upcoming season of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia; 1. Dennis clearly having taken Y/N by surprise, grabbing them by the shoulders and kissing them. Neither appears to be enjoying themselves; Dennis's entire expression is scrunched up like he's smelled something awful, while Y/N is so tense their arms are throw out to the side. 2. Dee and Y/N nose to nose, both staring intensely into each others eyes, the tips of their tongues awkwardly touching where they're poking out of their otherwise closed mouthes. 3. Charlie and Y/N both covered in mud, fully clothes in a bog up to their waists, passionately making out. 4. Mac leaning against a bar counter from behind it, beaming brightly at Y/N who is slouched at the back. Mac is gesturing proudly to four different coloured liquor bottles lined up in the order yellow, white, purple, black, thus making a side-on nonbinary flag. Y/N is giving the display a tired smile.]

----

@.YourTwitter: I honestly can't believe that on Halloween I celebrated a year with my dream boi, and like a week later I got to celebrate again with hot boi, just before the anniversary of HELIX. | @.YourTwitter: everything has happened so much this year, Im so proud of all the wonderful people in my life and all the projects we've worked so hard on!! | @.YourTwitter: omg this might have been the best year of my life..... | @.Dream: so far. | @.Sapnap: So far. | @.YourTwitter: @.Sapnap @.Dream ur both so right,, best year of my life So Far 😌

· DECEMBER ·

December 2021 is surprisingly quiet.

At the beginning of the month you announce that since you've actually got some time off, you're going to be stepping back from social media to focus on spending time on your partners and yourself. Many voice their support for you, including both Dream and Sapnap.

Sapnap streams far more frequently than Dream, and it's notable that he seems incredibly bright in all December streams, even moreso than usual.

Dream does two Twitter Spaces during the month, and in both he sounds practically giddy, explaining that both he and Sapnap are glad to have their housemate home for the holidays.

----

The Archive Of Our Own tag 'Clay | Dream/Sapnap/HousemateWasTaken' has 98 works by the end of 2021. The fanfiction with the highest kudos in this tag is 'Tommy's Guide to Imports and Exports', which is part 3 of user alliumc4t's series 'The Kids Aren't Alright'. This series revolves around the romantic relationship between Dream, Sapnap, and their housemate, whilst also becoming legal guardians of Tommyinnit, Tubbo_, and Ranboo. The series is still labelled as ongoing, and contains the following fics;

'Ohana' Isn't A Real Word

Blessed Be The Boys Time Can't Capture

Tommy's Guide to Import and Exports

Time's Arrow (The Achilles Heel)

The Only Normal Person In This Whole Damn Building

Flags and Other Decorations

----

And finally, to book end the year, Y/N posted the following Tweet just after midnight on New Year's Eve:

For all you asking, the boys were each other's New Year's kiss, I gave our cat a smooch on her little fuzzy noggin. Good start to the year all around. 💖

#dream x reader #sapnap x reader #dream imagine #sapnap imagine #dream x reader x sapnap #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #dsmp imagine #dsmp x reader #cc!dream x reader #cc!dream imagine #cc!sapnap x reader #cc!sapnap imagine #cyltlanp #Spotify

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maybege · 1 year

Text

may's candid and personal take on fandom

On a more candid note, I’d like to talk more about my experience as a writer in fandom. I spent a long time thinking about this (a better part of the last six months, on and off) as I am usually trying to keep my opinions to myself due to events that are long ago now.

I really need you all to be kinder to writers.

I have been here since sometime around May 2020 and I think it is telling that the fandom circles around the same problems again and again and nothing ever changes.

Interaction is really low and I am not the first writer to lament this, nor will I be the last one but maybe I have this naïve hope that if enough people read the same thing again and again, it will finally stick. I know I haven’t put out content on a regular basis for a long time now but while it is not directly related to the level of interactions these works get, that rhythm will for sure not improve if interaction stays as low as it is. It can be really disheartening to know you have over a thousand followers and the reblogs/comments on your works do not even exceed 50.

Obviously, the way tiktok and fast paced social media work have influenced how we interact with things on all kinds of platforms. But I really need you all to understand that a like on tumblr does not count the way it does on Instagram or maybe even tiktok. That is a bookmark at best. Do I mind if you serial like an entire series of mine? Of course not, I am happy to see that someone is actively reading something of mind and enjoying it. But please have the courtesy to maybe comment on the masterlist or the most recent part.

Fandom is taking and giving and I think it is unfair that it is somehow is expected of writers to pump out story after story without having to give them something (comments, asks, reblogs) for it. And when someone complains about it, suddenly we are deemed as ungrateful to the few that actually read our stuff.

Back in lockdown, there was more of a balance for obvious reasons. But now that I see that writers cannot post as much due to real life or maybe other reasons, it is like the number of notes has diminished across the board. Writers in fandom are people who are not (and cannot be) paid for their works. (Side note: If you accept fanfiction commissions or money for fanfiction, I will find you quicker than the mouse mafia because you will not ruin this for us.) On one hand, the expectation seems to be that writers should update ever single week without fail. On the other hand, it seems too big an ask of readers to actually comment/reblog the things that they read.

(Waiting for a new chapter for weeks, months, hell, even years, was never unusual in fandom spaces and I need this to be more common knowledge.)

Then again, the negativity in fandom has really fucking increased. It comes and goes in wavesand I will not pretend to be affected because I was so inactive this last year. (This is simply a side note but it is something that I think needs more attention: The way I see poc creators treated is despicable and while I do not write for PP characters anymore because of all the drama, people really need to reflect how they see Pedro Pascal as a human being instead of a sex object.)

For me, personally, I have noticed that if I get genuinely angry at something happening on tumblr, it is time for me to log off and really focus on real life and I think it is something that we all should take to heart. Sadly, the more time passes, the more I am convinced that this fandom might not even be worth it anymore and I genuinely understand many creators who decide to leave permanently. It often feels like people are just there to create drama or to vague or that important and serious posts about how we should treat each other and the actors we admire are simply ignored in favour of the “I don’t like drama.” line. Which, like, one is drama and one is not. (Spoiler alert: Discussions on fandom inclusion and racism within fandom are not drama.)

Anyway, Readers need to be more mindful of the power they have over writers and if you want to complain that so many creators have deactivated or become inactive, I would like to ask that you reflect on when was the last time that you commented on someone’s fic.

#fandom #idek if this makes sense #but i really need to vent this out #also yes you can send me your personal opinions but i ask that you be respectful because we are all adults here

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littlemisspascal · 1 year

Text

Part 1: Hello, My Name Is...

Summary:

“Hey.” A hand lightly grabs onto your elbow just as you turn to leave. You turn back, butterflies fluttering in your stomach at Javi’s proximity, that same soft look in his gaze. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you. I think we’ll make a great team.”

It takes a second for the words to register and when they finally do—

Oh.

You nod your head, smiling wide, a surge of excitement washing over you. “Me too, Javi. Me too.”

Pairing: eventual Javi/Fem!Reader "Oddball" (OFC)*

Word Count: 7000+

Rating: T

Warnings: Formula One AU ft. multiple Pedro Pascal Cinematic Universe characters, Human AU, Canon Divergence, Switching POVs, Worldbuilding, Social Media Fic, Headlines inspired by true events but edited for this plot, Slowest of Slow Burn, Language

Author Note: So excited to begin the next arc of this story & for Javi and Odds to finally meet 😊 Thank you everyone who's given this series a chance, I appreciate all of you!

Winter Banners credit here!

A03 Link | Series Masterlist

*see series masterlist for more info

[Collection of sticky notes pasted on bathroom mirror in your handwriting]

It’s a beautiful day

Remember to smile!

Breathe in, breathe out. Repeat.

[A new note with hastily scribbled words is added to the bunch]

I can handle this

There are many perks which come with being an F1 driver besides being paid to do what you love. Getting to travel across the world nine months out of the year; 5-star hotel accommodations; free clothes and accessories to represent your team from head to toe. But your brand-new Vulpecula GT is the gift that keeps on giving, especially when the cold winds of winter blow into Altair, dropping the temperature significantly. What would have been a miserable journey on your bike to HQ is a pleasantly warm and comfortable trip in your beautiful silver baby with padded leather seats.

You may or may not press a kiss against the steering wheel after parking, your heart growing just a little bit larger to accommodate this wonderful treasure.

The clock chimes nine as you step through the entrance doors, letting out a relieved breath when the heat of the building melts away the chill that nipped at your exposed face on your short walk up the pathway. You’d been a nervous wreck this morning, rifling through your closet for an outfit that was professional yet warm at the same time. Vivian had explicitly told you no when asked if hoodies or sweatshirts counted as business attire which meant your options were frustratingly few.

You tug on the collar of your turtleneck sweater, then spare a subtle glance down at the rest of your outfit, praying there aren’t any toothpaste stains anywhere. Once on your crotch area during your high school years was embarrassing enough to live through.

It’s been awhile since you’ve felt this level of nervousness before. The kind of nervousness where your fingers can’t stop fidgeting and your heartbeat resembles a dull roar of thunder and time has two speeds: a cheetah or a snail, no in-betweens. You wish you had someone to distract you from your spiraling thoughts. Your friends, your parents, even Diana would be welcome despite her usual method of making you do squats or jumping jacks or another equally annoying exercise.

You’ll have Vivian as one familiar face during the meeting at least. You’re on good terms with the older woman, admiring how she can switch aspects of her personality from friendly and wisecracking to fierce and competitive on the spur of the moment. She’s been patient with you during your journey to this point, and now that you’re here, an official driver for her team, you want to make her proud. You want to silence any possible doubts that all the time, energy, and funding spent on you weren’t gigantic wastes.

Photographs of past Vulpecula drivers line the white hallway walls as you head to the conference rooms, footsteps echoing off the concrete tiled floor. The images remind whoever sees them of the team’s long history and its accomplishments. For some viewers they stir feelings of nostalgia, but for you they fill you with the desire to become a part of the Vulpecula legacy. To one day see your picture hanging there and maybe, if you’re lucky enough, a championship trophy in your hands.

Inside the main meeting room you discover a small group already seated at the long wooden table taking up the majority of the space. Vivian’s at the front, some executives and engineers you vaguely recognize meeting once or twice sitting on either side of her; then there’s the pit crew chief, Melshi, and the number one mechanic, Cassian, sitting side by side, attached at the hip just like they are in the paddock garage during race weekends.

Vivian stands up and pulls you into a bear hug when you draw closer, her favorite greeting style, squeezing you so tight you swear you hear your ribs groaning like they’re on the verge of snapping. She’s in high spirits, smiling widely and looking mere seconds away from bouncing up and down with giddy excitement.

“I have such a good feeling about you two,” she says, never one to beat around the bush, hands squeezing your shoulders once, twice, and then bobbing her head affirmatively. “2023 is going to be a great year, I just know it.”

Her positive vibes are contagious, bringing a smile to your own face that lingers even as you take a seat and notice for the first time the last empty chair remaining is right across from you. Clearly it’s meant for Javi. The seating chart most likely designed to force you and him to talk to each other.

And there’s that nervousness again, back with a vengeance.

It’s just…meeting Javi, officially face to face, right here in the beating heart of your career, makes everything seem overwhelmingly real all of the sudden. You’re an F1 driver. You’ve made it. Everything you’ve done, all the blood, sweat, and tears have brought you to this moment. You’re half-tempted to pinch yourself, one last test to confirm this isn’t all an elaborate dream.

You can blame the chill that runs down your spine on the weather, but it’s not so easy to explain away the heavy weight settling in your stomach like a stone.

The door opens, thoughts falling silent as you look up to meet brown eyes.

“Javi!” Vivian calls out, standing and gesturing him over. “Come on in, don’t be shy. Everyone’s excited to finally meet you.”

The man steps further into the room, flashing a dimpled grin that leaves you a little stunned. You thought it before, a couple months back in the paddock, and you think it again now: Javi is even more attractive when seeing him in person. He could have easily been a model in another life—warm brown eyes resembling melted caramel when the light hits just right, a strong nose and chiseled jawline, disheveled curls giving the impression he just rolled out of bed and yet somehow he makes the look work. Plus, nobody should look as immaculate as he does in a black puffer jacket and matching trousers.

Your eyes follow him, watching Vivian introduce him to everybody, handshake after handshake, polite nice to meet you’s falling off his lips and do your ears deceive you or does he actually sound sincere? He wears an easy smile, if perhaps a little nervous looking around the edges (or maybe that’s wishful thinking), shoulders drawn back and brow pinched in concentration as he engages in conversation with the higher-ups. A professional, that’s what he looks like. And you? You’ve just realized your socks don’t match.

The age gap of five and half years suddenly seems massive between you and Javi. You have a lot of growing to do, a lot of learning, and not just when you’re behind the wheel of the car. It takes all your self-restraint not to slump down in your chair with the desire to disappear from view.

Finally, after his introductions to Cassian and Melshi have wrapped up, it’s your turn. Brown eyes momentarily pin you in place, body glued to the leather seat, and you think your heartbeat can be heard by the whole room, seconds away from bursting out of your chest and making a bloody mess on the tabletop.

He steps closer, grin widening, as warm and bright as fireworks during New Years, and says, “Oddball.”

The sound of your name jerks you out of your daze, standing up so fast you nearly send your chair toppling over. You wince at the loud noise, embarrassment flooding your system. Somewhere from the other end of the table, someone (probably Cassian, the jerk) barely conceals their snort of laughter behind a cough.

It’s just shy of mortifying.

Javi doesn’t stop smiling. Doesn’t laugh, either. The only change is his eyes—a subtle softening with an emotion you’d label as fondness if you actually, like, knew the man. Since you’re barely even acquaintances though, you’re uncertain what the look means. If it even means anything at all.

You run your hands over the front of your turtleneck, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles, and fumble for words that won’t make you sound like a complete idiot. “Yo.”

Wonderful. You’ve made it officially mortifying now.

He chuckles and holds out a hand. “It’s great to meet you.”

Growing up, one of your father’s life lessons was how to give a proper handshake. First impressions are important, he’d always say, and every night you’d practice until it became second nature: keep it firm, keep it dry, and keep it short. Also a smile goes a long ways.

“Yes it is.” Your eyes widen. “Oh, no, that’s not—I meant, it is great, like, in general!” you say hastily, dropping his hand and doing some sort of childish thumbs up gesture you immediately regret. “Great to meet you! Like you said. Face to face finally. It’s super…great.”

You’re honestly beginning to think you’ve been cursed to forever make a fool of yourself in front of Javi.

“Well said, Odds. Well said,” Vivian laughs. She gestures for Javi to take the empty chair you’d predicted was his. “We’ve just got a few things to discuss, some dates to go over. Then we’ll take a couple of photos and both of you will go on with your day, alright? Oddball, sim work as usual. Javi, a tour to get you familiar with the place.”

“Sounds great,” Javi agrees.

You just give a wordless nod, sitting down again and avoiding looking up from the very interesting grooves in the wood even when Javi tries to catch your eye across the table. Embarrassment clings to your skin, teeth worrying your bottom lip. Your anxiety has always been a fickle beast, refusing at the worst of times to be pushed to the back of your mind where you’d prefer it to be.

Vivian’s talking, saying something about data and statistics, but between your rampant insecurities and Javi’s nearness, it’s a hopeless cause paying her any attention. If there’s anything really important being said you’re sure someone else will repeat it later or pass the info on to your manager. So in the meantime, your gaze flicks between the table and your fiddling hands in your lap, leg bouncing a restless rhythm, riding out the anxious wave until it’s over and calmness returns. It’s fine. You’re fine. Everything’s fine.

When it’s time for photos, Vivian stands in-between you and Javi, arms thrown enthusiastically around your shoulders. You smile at the line of people with their phones out, looking like a room full of proud parents taking pictures of their kids’ first day at school, and you realize for Javi, that’s exactly what this is. Day one in a brand new town in a brand new place with brand new people. For all your teammate’s experience and skills on the track, he severely lacks your knowledge and familiarity of Vulpecula.

Which means you both have some learning to do. And that is a surprisingly gratifying thought.

It takes a second for the words to register and when they finally do—

Oh.

You nod your head, smiling wide, a surge of excitement washing over you. “Me too, Javi. Me too.”

Vulpecula HQ is massive, a labyrinth of hallways and offices and staircases Javi knows will take him weeks, possibly months to memorize. But it becomes abundantly clear during his tour with Vivian—a CEO who’s blunt, loud, and so totally unlike his previous team principals he can’t help but marvel at her—that should he ever find himself lost, there will always be someone nearby to point him in the right direction.

People here actually seem to care about each other. About him, even, and they’ve only literally just met him. They talk to him like he’s a person, not a driver or pawn to manipulate. Ask him how he’s settling in, what he likes to do in his free time, if he has any holiday plans. They seem genuinely interested in his answers too, not politely faking it out of professional courtesy like they did at Triple Frontier and Crane. At Black Gold the staff only cared about his hobbies if they negatively affected his results, telling him to quit them if they did. And back then, young and eager to please, he obeyed every command without question, no matter the personal sacrifice.

It’s…nice to be heard for a change. If he’s honest, he thought it would be a struggle to connect with Vulpecula. Oddball is the rookie on the grid, but around here Javi’s the newbie at the lunch table. A newbie who just last month was their competition. The warm welcome by a building full of strangers was an unexpected, but pleasant surprise. It has made the nervous knot of tension in his chest loosen for the first time since he signed his contract, replacing it with a budding sense of belonging he’s never felt during his years in F1.

And as for Oddball—she’s the biggest surprise of all, he thinks. She’s got more layers than an onion. He’s seen her own personal videos, how she acts around her friends and the press, never did he anticipate her to be shy. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, no. He actually found himself rather endeared by her awkward fumbling, like witnessing a baby horse learning to stand up on wobbly legs. It’s just…he’s a little unsure how their relationship will progress from here. Her determination to avoid eye contact with him wasn’t exactly inspiring.

She’d smiled at him at the end, at least. Bright and excited and so very, very young. Me too, Javi. Me too.

He doesn’t know much about Vulpecula yet, doesn’t know what the future will bring either, but what he does know from personal experience is that teammates who can get along with each other have better seasons than those who don’t. And if he can be a good teammate for Oddball and vice versa, then he thinks there’s no reason why they can’t maybe one day be good friends as well.

SPORTS: THE VROOM ZONE

Exclusive: Ahsoka Tano Discusses Formula 1’s Heavy Toll on Mental Health

By Poppy Adams | December 5, 2022

In a city of dome-roofed, adobe buildings all the same shade as the encompassing sandy desert, Ahsoka Tano is just as instantly recognized by her white-and-blue dyed hair here as she was in the F1 paddock six years ago. Remembered fondly by the racing community for her sharp moves on the track and even sharper tongue in the media pen, Tano has settled down in Mos Espa (a favorite spot for retired and current F1 drivers alike) and enjoys a peaceful life after successfully securing the world champion title back in 2016 she’d been chasing since she was a youngling.

I meet with her at the Mos Espa Grand Arena, the site of several world-famous races from pods to swoop bikes, but most importantly to the present company, it’s also where the Mos Espa Grand Prix has been held annually for almost a hundred years. There are no events this week, no 100,000 fans screaming their lungs out in the stands. It’s just Tano, me, and two delicious cups of Deychin tea.

Tano, dressed in a blue tank top and matching leggings, spares a moment to gaze at the starting grid below, no doubt remembering the days when she was down there looking up at where we sit now. “I’ll never forget it,” she says, tapping her temple with that famous crooked smirk of hers. “The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

The “ugly” side of F1 is why Tano and I are meeting this December afternoon. The Outer Rim native twice made history in the sport by being the second female driver to compete and also by being the second female driver to win a world championship title, but her rise to the top wasn’t an easy one. Looking back at old interview footage will show a young woman fearless of her competition and full of a passionate love for racing, but off-camera she was plagued by anxiety and insecurities. “It’s still a little hard to process at times. How some of my darkest moments are so deeply intertwined with some of the best years of my life,” she says.

She tells me about the way she was encouraged to never let herself appear weak when cameras were around, “to maintain this image that I was invincible, the definition of confident.” In the aftermath of making mistakes on track, where every 10th of a second can determine where a driver ranks against their competition, Tano would spend hours worrying about the potential consequences on her career, if they would set off a domino effect ultimately leading to her downfall. “I would just keep on spiraling and spiraling deeper into this horrible pit,” she explains. “And I couldn’t tell anyone about it.”

When Tano sought out therapy at the end of 2015, she did so feeling burnt out and at the end of her rope. “I considered quitting racing. I talked with my manager about buying my way out of my contract and everything, but he convinced me to give therapy a chance first.” She smiles then, a beaming grin brighter than the overhead sun. “Thank the Maker I listened to him.” Therapy gave Tano the outlet she desperately needed, a place where she could “open up about my darkness and find the light again.” She returned to the grid in 2016 as a proud advocate for mental health awareness, breaking protocol by candidly discussing anxiety and depression during press conferences and on social media to her millions of followers. “I refused to be silent anymore,” she tells me. “The more I spoke up, the more people I impacted, the more acceptable a topic it became to hear about in the paddock.” Since Tano’s retirement, drivers continue to be inspired by her transparency and speak about their own fears and vulnerabilities, a development Tano hopes will continue for decades to come.

Recently Tano has begun planning to start a charity called Fulcrum devoted to helping people, especially athletes, with depression, anxiety, and other mental health related conditions. “It’s a slow process, but if I can help even one single person then all this hard work will have been completely worth the effort,” she says. In spite of the challenges she faced and the dark pits she had to mentally crawl out of, she remains thankful of her accomplishments and for everyone who supported her every step of the way.

“Formula One is not for the faint-hearted. It’s constant pressure, constant eyes watching your every move, constant judgment and opinions,” Tano says.

“Why compete then? Why stay in such a hostile environment?” I ask.

Tano sips at her tea. Her eyes drift to the starting grid again, lips curling into a soft smile, an expression on her face I have a feeling not many can claim they have been fortunate to see.

“For every driver, there will come a moment when you’re driving down a straight at 200 miles per hour, preparing to brake for the corner up ahead, and all of the sudden, every thought fades from your mind. You’ll forget your training, your strategy. All that remains is pure instinct. And you’ll learn in that exact moment, in that fraction of a second, who you are and what you’re made of,” she says. “We compete for the fun of it. We stay to discover more about ourselves.”

The next time you see Javi is at simulator practice two days later. It’s still a bit of a jarring moment seeing him at HQ, even more so finding him dressed in cobalt blue racing gear while talking to one of the simulator operators. Maybe you’re a bit biased, but you can’t help admiring how much better he looks in Vulpecula’s colors than Triple Frontier’s.

You offer a timid smile when his gaze flicks your way, trying to keep your tone light rather than weak and shaky like the rest of you. “First time on the sim?”

He turns towards you, giving you his full attention in such an easygoing, yet intense way it does little to soothe your frazzled nerves. “That’s right. It’s really quite something. A lot bigger than I’m used to.”

“That’s what she said.”

There’s a beat of silence, just Javi staring at you wide-eyed like he can’t believe you quoted Michael Scott in front of him and you staring right back, unable to believe you quoted Michael Scott in front of him. And then, the moment dangling on that thin cusp between hilarity and mortification—a laugh bubbles up out of Javi’s throat, loud and infectious, and you’re both done for. Hysterically giggling like a pair of idiots, like it’s the funniest thing in the universe, like whatever remaining ice between you has officially and eternally been broken.

“Sorry,” you say finally, manic laughter fading into something lighter, friendlier than before. “I watch way too much TV.”

“Inconceivable.”

The familiar word elicits another laugh out of you. “You keep using that word, I do not think it means what you think it means.”

Javi smiles, a radiant and genuine thing, nothing like the stiff, polite ones PR managers insisted drivers learn. “We should watch the movie together sometime. Maybe on our next day off, when this,” he gestures towards the simulator, “isn’t requiring all our time.”

“Think you’re ready for it?” you ask, and you’re surprised by the note of cheekiness slipping into your tone, because this easiness, this playfulness, you’ve only known it with Eggsy and Ben before. And that came after months spent together, after years of building a solid friendship week by week from the ground up—not this fast, not after only one previous meeting.

“Am I ready for it?” he replies, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You’re the rookie around here, no? Shouldn’t you be asking me for tips?”

Your good mood dims a little, thinking about the high number of crashes you’ve experienced these last few months. He’s right, even if he said it jokingly, that you should be asking him for tips. You could most likely learn a lot from him.

But your stubborn pride dismisses the notion with a scoff, reminding you that you didn’t come this far in your career by asking men for advice.

“Nuh-uh,” you say instead, crossing your arms and jutting out your chin. “I’ve got skills that’ll blow your mind.”

He leans forward, mirroring your pose, confidently rising to the unspoken challenge. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Prove it.”

Your lips mouth silent words, mind struggling to keep up with the verbal tennis match, ultimately coming up with an intelligent, “Huh?”

“You heard me,” is the swift reply, one eyebrow arching up pointedly. “I wanna see the legendary rookie Oddball’s skills. Impress me, rarita.”

In an effort to pretend his unwavering stare isn’t turning your mind to mush, you make an exaggerated show of rolling your eyes and swatting at his shoulder. “Challenge accepted, curls. Step aside and watch the master.”

Snorting, Javi obeys and goes to stand with the rest of the staff half-hidden behind an array of computer screens, who blessedly keep up their professional personas and pretend they haven’t been listening to your exchange. The chief simulator operator gives you a thumb’s up to get in the sim and you grab your spare helmet from the nearby shelf, feeling a pinch of nervousness ache inside your sternum.

It’ll be fine, you think, positioning yourself in the simulator seat, hands grabbing the steering wheel. Just do your best.

Your best is your best until it’s not.

You start off well, braking and accelerating at precisely the right moments, the trees and bleacher stands mere blurs streaking by in your peripheral. You’re in the zone, that precious driver headspace where the only thing you know, the only thing you feel is the car, the car, the car.

And then you’re spinning off track.

For a long moment, all you can do is stare, dazed as if you really had just collided with the barrier. And then comes the sickening bite of disappointment and frustration because you can see the finish line. It’s right there. Right fucking there and you failed to reach it. Again.

Simulation over, silence floods the room. The air seems to turn frigid cold, felt even beneath the thick material of your suit. You want to scream, to curse, to hit something. But you’re a professional driver now, F1 career in its infancy. You can’t risk the bad reputation of throwing a tantrum.

After all, this is just a practice run. No harm, no foul. Except…if you were to crash like that for real, you would have just cost your team not only desperately needed points to stay ahead of other teams, but also hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of repairs, possibly millions. Your team is counting on you not to make dumb mistakes and lately that seems to be the only thing you’re capable of doing. And if you don’t get your shit together by pre-testing…

Your jaws clenches, unable to finish the thought.

The worst thing is, Javi’s staring. Unlike the rest of the room’s inhabitants who devote their focus to pouring over the data, muttering amongst themselves, he’s watching you like you’re a rare bug under a microscope, something peculiar and puzzling. It’s unbearable.

You climb your way out of the simulator, head ducked, jaw clenched. When you turn around, when the helmet comes off, you’ll paste a rueful grin on your face. You’ll accept the pats on your shoulder, the repetitive phrases of better luck next time and we’ll keep practicing, don’t worry. You’ll make fun of yourself, pick apart your mistakes until their sting is gone.

You’ll make everyone believe you're fine. That your anxiety isn’t a problem. That you’re more than capable of representing the team (and womankind) on the grid.

It’s a good plan. A solid plan. A plan that has worked over and over again ever since you signed on as Vulpecula’s reserve driver what feels like a hundred lifetimes ago.

What you don’t count on is Javi approaching you, blocking your view of the strategists and operators with his broad shoulders almost like he’s purposefully trying to spare you from their prying eyes. You slowly slide your helmet over your head, blinking at him, fighting to keep your carefully composed mask in place.

“You weren’t kidding,” he says, tone light yet your spine tenses all the same. “My mind is blown.”

“Right, very funny,” you reply sourly, rolling your eyes.

His hand reaches out and brushes against your elbow, a reassuring touch your anxiety-stricken mind doesn’t know how to process. “I’m serious. If not for that last corner curb, turning just a hair too early, you would have beaten the fastest lap record by three seconds. You’re quick, Oddball. Smart, too. You’ll learn from these mistakes, become a better racer.” A pause, another soft nudge against your arm. “Maybe even better than me if you’re really lucky.”

You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until a choked laugh escapes you. Sounds more like a wheeze, actually. High-pitched and painful and all wrong. But it cuts through the anxiety, takes you out of your head for a blissful moment.

Javi, the dear man you’re beginning to suspect doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, makes no comment on it.

“Okay, curls,” you say, and you’re not ready to smile yet, but you’re definitely closer to feeling like your usual and real self than you were before he came over. “Your turn. Let’s see what you got.”

He moves to grab his own spare helmet from the shelf. And there’s a moment, barely a glimpse, where your eyes lock with his, and somehow you know he hears the unspoken thank you lodged in the back of your throat.

With a great promotion comes a greater responsibility. Now that you're an official driver for the team, you’re not just expected to race for them, you’re expected to promote them too. Which means a whole new intense level of media and sponsoring obligations you never had to deal with when you were in F2.

Vivian assigns you a PR manager—a blonde named Barbara Minerva with a friendly smile and a penchant for wearing animal print—to help you prepare for the big adjustment, training you on what and what not to say as well as how to control your facial expressions when the press are shoving microphones at you. The last thing you want is your pineapple face witnessed by millions of people worldwide.

You like Barbara, you really do. She used to work for Black Gold so she’s an expert on handling pretty much every type of media scandal or drama outburst one can imagine. She instructs you on when to be serious and when to be coy with the reporters, how to neutrally navigate uncomfortable topics without pissing anyone off, and even comes up with a hand signal to use when you’re feeling overwhelmed and need her to intervene. Barbara’s great, but that doesn’t change the fact media training is fucking exhausting. Brain working overtime, critically analyzing every word that comes out of your mouth, every facial tic and flutter of your eyelids with a giant magnifying glass, alarms blaring with every perceived flaw. You start dreading the hour each day, counting down the minutes until you can escape and give your pounding head a break from the information overload.

And this is just the training. It pains you to think about how much worse the real thing will be, even with Barbara swearing she’ll be by your side through it all.

After media training, you fall into a routine of grabbing a snack from the mess hall on the third floor, usually an apple or a granola bar, something Diana wouldn’t give you the stink eye for discovering, and then finding a quiet corner to sit and decompress for a few minutes.

This isn’t a new thing—this desire for privacy, for solitude. You used to do it back on Sorgan, too, when the bullying from the other kids got under your skin, self-doubts bubbling to the surface. It became increasingly harder to find a quiet space once you switched from karting to formula racing, more eyes and more judgment seeking you out, and it's kind of funny how your world became so much larger and so much smaller simultaneously.

You’re musing over this thought, chewing on an apple while nestled in a lounge chair, minding your own business, when you’re interrupted by the soft clearing of a throat. You look up, nearly choking on your mouthful when you find Javi staring down at you, dressed in a flannel plaid shirt that’s tight around his broad shoulders and carrying an apple of his own.

One day you hope the sight of him will stop sending your heart into cardiac arrest. Preferably soon, because you’re really not sure how much more you can take.

“Mind if I join you?” Javi asks, gesturing to the other lounge chair. He’s looking at you with those doe brown eyes all round and full of hope you’d have to be a heartless monster to deny him, so you just nod your head.

For a long moment neither of you say anything. It’s not an awkward silence, but it’s not comfortable either. Just two people existing in the same time and space. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Javi leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the table, and it’s a little unfair how easily he can settle into new places, blending in like he was always meant to be there.

“So,” he starts, mouth curling into a grin when you look over, “you come here often?”

“It’s nice,” you say. “I like the quiet.”

“Oh.” Javi tenses, spine straightening. “I-I can go, if you want me—”

“No!” You throw out an arm as if to physically grab him. He freezes, one leg raised off the table, blinking at you. Oh, God. You’ve really made it weird now. Licking your lips, you lower your tone back to its usual pitch, reassuring him, “It’s fine, really. I don’t mind you being here.”

It startles you to realize you’re not lying.

The reason you seek out alone time is just that, to be alone. When you’re in these moods you don’t like anyone invading your space. Not your friends or your parents. Nobody. It’s an unspoken rule of yours.

But then there’s Javi, settling back into his seat with a warm, dimpled grin, looking so strangely content to be allowed to stay, and it doesn’t seem so bad making an exception for him.

“I like the quiet, too,” Javi admits. “Back home, there are these cliffs overlooking the ocean for miles and miles, endlessly blue. It's my favorite sight on the whole island. I could spend hours up there…”

He trails off, lost in a memory, and for the first time since arriving at Vulpecula he seems dejected, eyes dimming. You’re familiar enough with the look of homesickness after seeing it in the mirror a dozen times to recognize it on someone else’s face.

“There aren’t any cliffs or oceans in Altair, but there’s some pretty great restaurants and bakeries,” you say. There’s a French café down the street from your apartment which you can confidently claim makes the best croissants in the whole world, buttery and flaky and oh so delicious to enjoy on your cheat days. “Festivals and concerts, too, if you’re interested.”

Javi looks at you, a mix of interest and surprise. “Are you offering to be my tour guide, rarita?”

“Only for the sake of the team, of course,” you tell him with mock seriousness. “Can’t have you winding up lost in some back alleyway before a race weekend.”

“The press would have a field day,” he agrees, voice just as deadpan. His eyes widen with alarm. “Ay, Dios! Think of the fans! Their memes will be absolutely merciless. I’ll never leave my apartment again.”

You can’t keep up your straight face, laughing and shaking your head. “Exactly. Lucky for you, Altair is basically my second home. I know it like the back of my hand.”

“Lucky me.” He nods, running a hand over his curls, and, okay, maybe you really do have a serious heart condition because what is happening. Distracted by the frantic beating, you nearly miss him asking, “You grew up in the Outer Rim, right?”

“That’s right.” Pride slips into your voice, gesturing towards yourself with a thumb. “Straight outta Sorgan.”

Javi chuckles. “Do your parents still live there?”

“Yep. They’re krill farmers, just like everybody else in the village. They fly out to races when they can, and when they can’t, well,” you shrug, “there’s always phone calls, right?”

His lip twitches, an aborted frown. “Yeah,” he says after a moment’s hesitation.

Okay. There’s obvious tension there. Curiosity prickles at the back of your mind, but when you notice the way his gaze has fallen to the floor, resembling a kicked puppy, you decide you don’t want to ask about it if it makes him look this sad.

Your fingers drum against your forgotten apple for a few seconds, then go still as an idea occurs.

“Hey, um,” you say tentatively, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees. “I know you already got a tour of HQ from Vivian before, but how would you like a proper one? Oddball style?”

Javi blinks, eyebrows scrunching together, and the look really shouldn’t be as cute as it is. “Do I dare ask what ‘Oddball style’ means?”

“Nope. You’re either in or you're out, curls.”

“In that case,” Javi says, a smile spreading over his face. “Count me in.”

F1 Driver Javi Gutierrez Moves to Altair Ahead of Upcoming Season with Vulpecula

Written By: Raquel Wilde

"I'm looking forward to making memories here," says Javi Gutierrez, born and raised in Mallorca. "Altair's a nice place with nice people. It's starting to feel like a home away from home."

Gutierrez, who began racing in Formula 1 in 2018 when he was 21, has always felt drawn to the world of motorsports, claiming there's "no better feeling in the world than being behind the wheel". He will join Vulpecula in 2023 after finishing 11th in the driver standings this year with Triple Frontier.

He'll be paired with rookie driver known to Altair locals and the world as Oddball. Together they'll train at Vulpecula Headquarters these upcoming winter months to prepare for pre-season testing in February.

"I'm already planning on showing him all the best restaurants and sights," Oddball says, who has called Altair home for the past two years.

Oddball has become a familiar and much-loved presence to locals, often spotted buying groceries, biking around the park, and attending special events. In response to Gutierrez's arrival, signs of support have begun appearing in shop windows and on front lawns, welcoming him to the community and the massively adored F1 team.

Vulpecula CEO Vivian Etten has said Gutierrez is the leader the team needs to overcome their recent struggles. "He's made a lot of progress since his rookie year," Etten claims. "He's got the skills, the knowledge, and the right attitude."

If Gutierrez had not pursued racing, he would have tried to become a professional swimmer. It remains a favorite exercise and pastime of his. Perhaps when the weather turns warm, he might give the local rec center pool a visit when he’s not busy up at Vulpecula HQ.

Only time will tell what next season will bring for Gutierrez and Oddball. I imagine readers are hoping for podium finishes just as much as I am. In the upcoming weeks, Vulpecula's new drivers will be attending the Drive Awards and also enjoy some time off from their F1 duties to celebrate the holidays with their families.

“Gabriela!”

The brunette PR manager turns to find Barbara Minerva half-running, half-stumbling towards her in leopard print high heels. Memories of their shared seasons together at Black Gold come rushing to mind, leaning on each other when it felt like everything else was falling apart, and Gabriela can’t help opening her arms to embrace the other woman.

“Long time no see,” she says when she pulls back. Friendships are hard to maintain in the world of F1, especially when drivers are no longer on the same team. Gabriela can only recall seeing Barbara once during Javi’s time at Triple Frontier, and that had been just a passing glimpse across the paddock. “I love what you’ve done with your hair.”

“Aw, thanks. I like it better this way too.” Barbara smiles, eyes crinkling behind her glasses, and reaches up to touch the shoulder-length blonde waves. She then gestures towards Gabriela. “You look just as fabulous as I remember. How have you been?”

“Highs and lows. Mostly highs, thankfully,” Gabriela answers. A staff member walks by then, neatly sidestepping around them before carrying on down the hallway and the interruption reminds her exactly where they are. “Wait. Barb, what are you doing at Vulpecula?”

“Oh, you didn’t hear? Ballard isn’t the only one Black Gold gave the boot.”

“They what?” Gabriela’s jaw drops. She might be a kickass PR agent (in her opinion, at least), but that doesn’t always mean she has full control over her own reactions. Case in point.

“It’s all good though,” Barbara reassures her, pointing to a pin on her shirt Gabriela had failed to notice before. It’s the Vulpecula constellation logo. The same one Gabriela’s wearing beneath her coat. “Vulpecula reached out much more nicely than Black Gold ever spoke to me. Offered me more money too,” she adds with a conspiratorial wink.

The brunette starts to laugh, but then understanding fully sinks in. PR managers are brought onto F1 teams to handle the drivers, and since Javi already has one, then that can only mean—

“You’re Oddball’s manager?”

“That’s right.” The two women trade matching smiles. “She’s adorable. A giant work in progress, but adorable.”

Gabriela winces sympathetically. She remembers her early days with Javi when he made his rookie debut, how eager he’d been for people to like him, how hard she’d had to work to prevent the light in his eyes from disappearing completely after critics started dismissing him as an insignificant presence on the grid. He’s grown up since then. He’s put up walls too. And she wants to be proud of him for not letting the negativity drag him down, but the thing about walls is that they keep him safe, yes, however they also prevent people from getting close. She hates to think of Javi as lonely, not someone as sweet and considerate as him.

“Speaking of Oddball,” Barbara’s voice shakes her out of her head. She blinks back into focus, finding her friend holding out a torn piece of paper with numbers scribbled on it. “This is her cell number. Vivian told me to make sure Javi had it.”

She takes the paper from her and stares down at it for a second before neatly stuffing it in her pocket, unsure whether to feel confused or offended Vivian didn’t reach out to her directly. Maybe the team principal wanted the two PR managers to meet up, aware of their history with each other. What’s done is done now, Gabriela supposes, shoving the mixed emotions aside as quickly as they sprung up.

“Thanks. I’ll make sure he gets it,” she tells Barbara. “You know, it really is great to see you again. I’ve missed having someone to gossip with over a drink.”

“Wine nights!” Barbara cheers, then immediately slaps a hand over her mouth when her voice echoes loudly off the walls.

They both burst into laughter not even a second later, so loud a couple of heads poke out of nearby offices to see what’s going on only to then shake in amusement at the pair.

And for the first time since Javi signed his contract with Vulpecula, the nervous knot in Gabriela’s stomach doesn’t seem so big anymore.

From: Unknown Number (7:15pm)

Hey Oddball it’s Javi! Gabriela gave me your number, hope you don’t mind!

To: Javi (7:18pm)

Not at all! Text me if you ever want any restaurant recs

From: Javi (7:19pm)

Only if you come along too :)

To: Javi (7:19pm) (unsent)

Really? You sure?

To: Javi (7:20pm) (unsent)

Ya! Sounds like fun!

To: Javi (7:21pm)

You drive a hard bargain curls…

To: Javi (7:22pm)

But I guess I could be persuaded. Wanna get lunch tomorrow?

From: Javi (7:24pm)

Tell me when and where, I’ll be there!

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