#I will be back coco… just you wait… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dilf-docs · 2 months ago

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Light Up My Life (So Blind I Can't See)

pedro pascal x younger fem!reader

summary: pedro pascal in cannes breaks the internet, only rivaled by the mystery figure next to him at the airport. oh, that's you. oh. well, that wasn't part of the plan. oops.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, begging kink, lwk praise kink, choking, fingering, creampie, hurt/comfort, fluff, cannes!pedro (yes that's a warning)

word count: 5,984 words

side note: not to be that bitch but i think pedro in cannes 2025 will be my roman empire. shot out to secret dating, love that shit!!!! based on this request by my lovely fren :)

A few days ago, you had been watching a movie marathon in the comfort of your home.

"I can't believe it, you said you liked it!"

"I never said that. I said it looked interesting" he yawns. You narrow your eyes. "Sleep deprivation" he clarifies, as if reading your mind. "But, you chose it"

"Yes, because you let me" you're quick to counter.

"Yes, because we always do what you want"

Even in the distance, he finds ways to tease you.

"Not true. If it was, I would be there, with you. You know I love Marvel"

He laughs. "It's rare to hear that nowadays, less sounding so sure. You're an endangered species, baby"

You gasp. "I'm not that much of a fan"

"Not a lot of people watch a six hour livestream of chairs"

"Five" you correct, "and I did just to see if you'd show up!"

As if, gut feeling aside, he hadn't told you before.

"Alright, my bad. Five. Still, my point stands"

"So does mine. If Coco is there, why can't I be?"

"Do you happen to know hairstyling? I thought your thing was marketing"

"Oh, shut up"

Stanley Tucci briefly shows up on screen. Not that you already know, given the amount of times you've watched it.

"Are you sure it doesn't bother you?" he asks. Could refer to a lot of things.

It's the crack of dawn.

"It's the only time you can give me" you answer instead.

He makes a little pout, making you giggle. The movie keeps playing in your laptop.

"I'm sorry you have to meet me like this"

"Please, stop" at his bad joke. "The lack of sleep is showing"

He just laughs. "I can't wait for you to come"

(Texted you places of London you wouldn't be able to visit. It's just a stopover, you said, yet he insisted on sending links of London's best attractions for tourists)

"I know" you admit, softer. "Me either"

You yawn. So much for a movie you aren't watching.

"Won't it be too tiring?"

Your amazing boyfriend, ever so caring.

"Pedrito" he sighs at his name on your lips, little and a warning. "I'll be fine. Besides, I already dowloaded the movie's soundtrack to keep me company"

Pedro rolls his eyes. "You really enjoy this movie, don't you?"

You take a brief glimpse at the forgotten movie, playing on your shared screen, then back at his face.

A bit tired, eye bags more pronounced. The sleep thing was true. Still, he was the same in many other ways. His broad frame, sharp jawline, grey hair now dyed yet stubborn enough to show in some edges and over his face, in a beard that would scratch against your face when he kissed you, because he liked being close. Too close. You can still smell him, even if he hasn't been in your apartment for over a month now. As if his smell, him being intoxicantingly close, had impregnated on your skin. Another part of his to be yours.

"It's Madonna" like that's enough of a reason.

It shouldn't be this distracting. Singing Who's That Girl after arriving in France isn't a special thing, but to you, lyrics blasting through your airbuds that Pedro hates except when you offer a song and he listens, because he always listens, holds something sacred the moment your feet stretch and you're back on land again, yet people speak French instead of English and time has warped your sense of reality again.

Pedro had checked on you all the time. That was distracting. Some texts during the flight, insisting on buying Wi-Fi on the plane as if he was a millennial who couldn't survive without internet, saying what he couldn't live without was writing to you. That's a lie. You caught him on TikTok sometimes. Over his shoulder, because you couldn't sit together. Liar, you sent. You know he saw it by the way his shoulders wiggled and he covered his mouth to stiffle a giggle over the silence in the cabin. Nevertheless, he continued his little check-ups on you, as if you were a kid.

(Him: in a way, you are. You: Pedro, I'm almost thirty. Him: That's as ambiguous as me coming to Cannes. You: Your fans already suspect. Him: They're smart. You: They are. Him: Listening to the soundtrack? You: Tenth round. Him: You're insane. Insufferable too. You: It's only about forty minutes. This is a seven hour flight. Besides, you love me. Him: I do. Now stop peeking over my shoulder. You: Stop watching TikToks then, you addict!)

Somehow, lost in the music and happy feet struting towards movies, bright sun and the close yet faraway sea, you take too many of those. That wasn't the plan. Don't sit together, don't look in his direction. Over and over again. Precautions. To you, rules. Memorized them. It's not every day you board a plane, but the others are similar, in a way. It was a small price to pay for dating him.

Sometimes you mind.

(You: I miss my personal pillow. Him: I ain't got a belly anymore. You: I'm aware. I was talking about other huge things. Your biceps. HUGE. The one's Julie will show to the world in a day. Those HUGE biceps. I want to bite them. Him: You're a freak. You: Blame Kevin Feige. Him: Not the guy who lost 25 pounds?)

Sometimes you don't.

(You: Come to think of it, you do snore a bit. Him: But I thought you missed me? You break my heart, y/n)

Bump.

The defeaning sound. Coco and his bodyguard glance. But Pedro? he looks. At you.

The internet has rules too. They're both, funnily, f-rules: never forgive, never forget.

His expression is of surprise. They don't forget. His wide eyes. No, that's beyond a surprised face. That's a knowing face. They don't forgive. The subtle difference. He knows you.

Seconds, probably. He goes back to stoic mode. You hear his voice as he chats with Coco. His voice is tight, barely noticeable to anyone but you; know him better than you know yourself. But not today, when he's a supposed stranger and you're another passenger of this plane. An insignificant dot in a crowd. You walk further and avoid his gaze, pretending to search for imaginary stains in your passport, as if you hadn't make the worst mistake of your life.

Days ago, sitting in your bed, you were just another light in the vast Californian sea of houses and salt air. Now, everyone knows he's your something.

Makes sense.

The slip-ups on interviews, his comments about Materialists, his behavior on that interview with Dakota, the mysterious silhoutte that ressembled a woman but was always too blurry and far yet close to identify.

Unrecognizable.

Because you were a nobody. Made a line to get coffee, nothing about you guaranteeing any special treatment. Worked in a publicity agency from Mondays to Fridays, Saturdays if someone called in sick. Took your dog, who complained when the LA sun hit his tiny paws too much, out on walks: Toto, the little cairn terrier who was now under the care of your brother and his girlfriend because of your trip. Was photographed because you wanted and not because they had to, the hidden cameras capturing every move of yours.

That was the privilege of anonymity.

But that luck, like everything else in the world, seemed to have run out.

Now you sit on the hotel room, phone blowing up with messages, mentions, and emails. Funny thing is, despite already having your Instagram account leaked, you were still a ghost. A who?. Just a face Pedro had looked too much for it to be a simple passerby.

You sniffle as Coco brushes your hair, more to calm you than to fix it for the event.

You look through the mirror, not at you, but at the bag dangling from it, and sniffle again. The dress hangs on the closet as Coco gives you a sympathetic look and Lux squeezes your shoulder gently.

"Maybe we can still work it out" you manage to choke up, hoarse from useless crying. So hopeful, as Pedro would say.

The original plan, before the little "bump" on the road, was to attend Cannes while disguised, which meant sneaking as a guest, skipping the whole red carpet.

But now people knew who you were. Or how you looked, at least.

"Not to be a killjoy, but even if the French press is oblivious, I'm sure the internet will catch up as soon as the live stream for Eddington's red carpet starts broadcasting" Lux comments.

"They don't know your name, yet I'm sure they've already memorized your face. You're all over my Instagram" Coco adds, smiling sadly. "Your face is not to be forgotten"

You smile weakly, still feeling bad.

"I don't know what to do" you sniffle, looking back at the dress, one your budget could've bought but leave you on a tightrope for the rest of the month. To your boyfriend, it was barely a tickle on his finances. He insisted on buying it after your bright, unable to hide, smile. Wear it on a special day, and that is today.

Was.

"I'm sure we can come up with something" Lux offers.

"Come with me"

The three of your turn around. You'd recognize that voice even if you were deaf.

"¿Te volviste loco?" Lux asks, perplexed. (have you gone crazy?)

"Un poco" he replies in a Spanish that needs to be practiced a tad bit more, "por ella, sí" (a bit, yes. for her)

"What's going on?" you ask, wiping your tears.

Pedro kneels down in front of you, already dressed in an all black suit. If you weren't on the verge of sobbing for the umpteenth time, you'd tear that suit in two.

"You look good" you sniffle.

He smiles, softly. "I know"

"I love those glasses. They're my favorites"

He smiles again, adjusting them. "I know"

"Se acabó el tiempo, tortolitos" Lux jokes. (time's up, lovebirds)

"Yeah. Are we going to ignore the elephant in the room?" Coco asks, eyes widened in exasperation.

"I'm taking her with me"

"To the red carpet?" his sister asks, surprised.

"No, to fucking Wendy's. Of course, Lux. I'm taking her to the red carpet" he then gives his sister a glance. "You look gorgeous, by the way"

"I know" she flips her hair.

"Yeah, she's beautiful and so are you" Coco interrupts, then points to you. "Is that how you plan on solving this?"

Pedro nods, solemly.

"Listen, it's just a matter of hours before people connect the dots. They already have your Instagram and name. What's next? Your job, your dog?"

You gasp. "I have a whole dump of Toto on my feed!"

"Your account is private though" Lux drops.

"Still!" you panic. "What do I do?"

"Come with me" Pedro insists. "Harm's already done. What would change if we walked down a piece of red clothing?"

"Not even Rooney Mara will walk along Joaquin"

"So? We're not them" he kneels in front of your face again. Wipes a stray tear and grabs your hand. Squeezes it, like fresh oranges for a juice, because he knows you like the gesture. Need it. "And Emma is taking her husband, so"

You only sigh, unconvinced.

"Come with me" he repeats again, like a mantra. Or a prayer. Maybe hoping you'd accept.

"And let the whole world know?"

"Precisely" he smiles, cheeky. "They know some things already. We're just advancing the process for them"

Coco sighs. "At the speed of a bullet train"

"Whatever" Pedro drops. Then, looks at you. "We like it fast, don't we, baby?"

You can only blush in response.

"She'll come with me, then. We'll ride in the car behind" Ullrich sentences.

"No" his grip on your arm is strong but not brusing. Firm, as his position. He gives you a little tug, as to pull you in. Needless to say, you felt like a ragdoll. "She'll come with me"

Fighting Pedro was like trying to tame a tide.

In the end, somehow, he'd managed to rope you into the chaos of the red carpet, black limusines and flashing cameras and inside his car.

You weren't sure. Back in school, you weren't disliked or bullied, but it's not like you were popular either. You had friends, but would rather be alone at times, be it at the library or just sketching at a lonely bench in the park. There was something precious in the silence most people didn't appreciate; you did.

So, to say you where overwhelmed at the bright lights and constant yelling for Pedro was an understatement.

But, if your boyfriend dressed in an all black suit didn't scream Look at me! energy enough, there was you.

It was quick. Everything seemed to be so as of late. The cameras and press, waiting fans, yelled for Pedro, only to then find out he wasn't only here with his sister, but another woman. The airport woman. A loud point of a finger and the whole world knows you're back.

That he isn't your something. No, Pedro is more.

He's your fucking partner.

And it's so obvious, by the way he looks at you fondly. It different from his sister. This isn't that type of unconditional supporting love, but a stronger one. Consuming. One that speaks of devotion. He looks at you. Admires you. Like a painting. As if you had all the answers in the world.

You say hi to his co-stars, maybe a bit too excited to greet Austin Butler. Pedro isn't happy but he's not putting a jealous fit for the cameras. Not when he's busy throwing charming smiles and flexing that body he's worked so hard for under the summer sun.

The world talks. It's all over the news. Your smile, growing only wider when Pedro is near you, hand on the small of your back, right where the dress leaves inviting skin for the rest to see. He introduces you to anyone who wants to listen, always talking, because he's such a yapper. A loud laugher too, and even if it's not with you, you laugh with him, too contagious for you to question it. Posing with the rest of the cast as you wait by the sidelines, taking some pictures for yourself. You see the bee, trying to meddle, imposing and nosy, and feel a little sorry for it, despite Emma's face and the guys' laugh. In a way, you see yourself in the poor insect: taking space where it shouldn't, captured under the lights.

Comments are deceiving, yet there's a movie playing and then an awkward, way too long, standing ovation for you to care. You do. But you try not to, rather focusing on the event and feeling proud of Pedro. You clap and do a little too loud sound that vagely resembles a cheer. Flustered, you find out later on that the video made it out to Twitter. Strangely, even if your sudden appearance in Pedro's life, or rather public life, is well received under that post. Maybe life wasn't so cruel.

"You're not wearing that"

Life is cruel.

"Why not? You knew it beforehand. Said it was your favorite"

"I changed my mind. It's too revealing"

"What are you? Seventy?"

"The age gap is the other way around, grandpa"

And then the fucker flexes his arms. Worst, not even on purpose. Putting on glasses and a pink soft sweater shouldn't be this hot.

"Don't worry, baby. Don't break a sweat. I'll take the grandma sweater off when we get there"

Your cheeks heat up. "That was on purpose"

He offers a cheeky grin.

"Maybe"

Today is the photocall, and if yesterday's outfit put you in your knees, this one sends you straight to the ground. Full force. In a tank top and black pants paired with spiky shoes, his purpose was to serve and to kill you.

He goes again for the round of photos and such, you trailing behind like a lost puppy. Everyone assumes, yet no one asks.

She, the airport woman, now y/n.

(Can't say it out loud either. Not even you, yet, as if the knowing smiles and stolen not so subtle glances hadn't given you away)

You enjoyed this limbo. Of belonging not more inside closed doors and ambiguous coincidences, but on tabloids and loud shutters of camera. You liked the attention but not the label. It was good to see them scrambling, begging for details. Your social media had filled with requests, and even at times, your phone crashed.

You sat in a corner, watching the press. A few clicks here and there, Pedro drinking water and making it sexy (the size difference of his hand and the tiny bottle? You need to be locked up), questions, some about the movie, others about working with Ari Aster and then, awkward ones Pedro handled with grace. He spoke with such reverence, care and thoughtfulness, you can't help but feel your legs weak. You knew he was smart, well read and opinionated, but hearing him was another thing. So lost in this, you don't hear the next question.

"I know no one else is brave enough to ask" the reporter laughs nervously, "but I need to know"

Pedro senses immediately. When he glances briefly at you, hidden on a corner, you know this is about you.

"I don't think you do" he laughs, but there's a certain edge on his tone.

"It's fine if you don't want to answer, but me and everyone else on this room, hell, world!, wants to know who the woman at the airport is"

Before he adds about your quiet but strong presence on both days, Pedro cuts in:

"Is that how you call my girlfriend?"

The uproar is so loud, even Joaquin, who seemed to be on a separate train of thought, jumps on his seat. More questions follow, ones he doesn't answer. Out of boredom or to keep. Some things are meant to be like this.

Tabloids go crazy with the news. You haven't even left the place and phone blows up even more. It will explode at this point. Worse, it's only been minutes. An hour later, it's still as bad. Well, bad is a way of saying it: what you mean is nosy press and the promise of a quiet vacation ruined.

"I don't think it'll ever be quiet again"

You sigh softly, leaning on the door of the car taking you to the hotel.

"It's an opportunity" you reply just to feel the silence.

"Ever the marketer, you bussiness woman"

Even then, he manages to rob from you a faint smile.

At least they don't know where you're staying. That would be awful. You can't imagine having troubles to get out of a car.

"Something's in your mind" as your heels click against cold marble floors.

A shit ton.

You. The fast changes. Impending. Privacy gone. Scrapes of your life out in the open for the world to see. Your relationship and this new stage you're in.

Him. His warm eyes. Firm hand to secure you. Those circles on your back that calmed you down. It's a quiet I love you. Reassurance you don't say but need. I'm here. Pedro won't let you take the fall alone.

But, also, him.

With his body that had been driving you wild. Intoxicating cologne. A small cut abov his beard, still fresh. Thick glasses. Long legs. Strong arms. His charisma. Confidence. A killer smile. Warm eyes. Kind. He laughed too much and filled the gap of your stolen breaths, waiting.

"Want me to tell you?"

Smug grin you could wipe off his face.

"I'm all ears"

He too has noticed you. Short glances. Parted lips. So plump he can still taste them. The lipstick inside his cheek, over his white pristine smile if he hadn't licked it off. A part of you in him. Another. Your body, always so perfect, but in that dress he bought? He steals a look now. He definitely pictured you in it, yet this is better. How you own it. The cameras aren't flashing your way, but their eyes trail your every move. You had that in you: a beauty that wasn't loud, but made sure to be noticed. Like the air: not seen, just felt. Sometimes light, others heavy. He feels light-headed. Today you chose another set he bought you. In away, Pedro feels as if he owns you. But a tender belonging, of soul to soul, possessive, yet not as an object; he was raised right. Although, after your giggles with Austin...

"Pedro..." all sweet voice. He likes his name a lot. More if it's from you.

Your silence is both punishing and teasing.

"Tell me what you want" he insists.

"You know me" you play coy.

"I wanna hear it" desperate.

You cave in. Then, lean. His hairs raise in a prickly trepidation.

"They know too much" he feels your pressure, fears. But also, he feels your hot breath and short gasps, as if you can't hold this any longer.

"I'm sorry"

You shake your head with parted lips and hooded eyes, blood rushing to your cheeks.

"Show me something only I'll know"

Pedro's control shatteres at your words, a low, animalistic growl rumbling up from his chest.

"You're gonna make me fuck you in here" he spills the lewd confession.

"You're going to get us kicked out of this hotel"

"Can I at least kiss you on the elevator?" he pleads. Puppy sad brown eyes and all.

"Maybe"

In an instant, he takes your wrist in his grip, pulling you stumbling to the dinging door.

"Be patient" you mumble as his lips ghost over your neck. You glance at the numbers.

"We're on the thirty-two floor"

"Patience is a virtue"

"I don't care"

As soon as the door opens, he strides out with desperate, urgent steps.

"This isn't our floor"

"Fuck!"

The short time from the twenty-four to your actual floor felt interminable, every second stretching into an eternity as the weight of your shared desire hung heavy in the air.

"Jesus" you mutter.

"That good or bad?" he asks, mouth busy and voice sort of muffled against the flush skin of your neck.

"Good" you manage to mumble, hands on his hair.

Alright, you miss the messy curls but you can see them insist on the top of his hair, now starting to get sweaty, Coco's work going to waste.

"Then let's give them more to talk"

As soon as you crossed the hallway, Pedro kicks the door shut behind both of you. He's got your back pressed against it, roughly, as if he couldn't wait a bit longer, mouth taking yours in a hungry kiss.

His hands roam your body, gripping, squeezing, tugging at any little space of honeyed skin he can, taking off the buttons with a feverish desperation. You swear one of them pops, if your ears don't deceive you.

"You bought that dress. I liked it"

He rolls his eyes. "I can buy you a new one. A whole closet"

"But I liked this one" you pout.

He kisses your pouty lips. "Then I shall move the earth to get the same one again for you. Now... where were we?"

He's back to kissing you roughly, and soon, your brain is too fuzzy and lost in the force of his lips on yours, that the cameras and late interview are soon forgotten in the back of your mind.

"I'm going to ruin you" he says against your mouth, voice ragged with lust. You let out a little moan as you squirm under his insistent touch. "So hard, so deep, you won't forget who you belong to. Never"

You should feel threatened. Scared, even. But no, down there? You're a wet mess.

The dress falls to the floor with a soft thud. At least he didn't rip it.

"No bra, baby?" he asks, voice thick. You swallow harshly and nod. "Bad girl. Such'a tease"

His mouth drops then to your chest, lips kissing and teeth grazing the soft swell of your breasts. His tongue runs cold through a shiver, moving to your nipples, taking the hardened bud into his mouth and sucking hard. You feel his hands then over the rosy flesh, grabbing what he can, which, given the size of his hands, it's a lot.

"All this for me?"

You nod, lost in the grunts, sweat, his mouth and touch.

"That's right. Mine. You're mine, baby. Just mine. Say it. Tell me you are"

"Yes!" you gasp. "I'm yours, Pedro. All yours. Only yours"

He groans into your mouth as your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. There's too a low sound coming from his throat, probably an approval sound of some sorts. His hands now slide down to your hips, gripping the free skin until he lifts you up. It's always like this. Now, you wrap your legs around his waist, tiny ankles locking at the small of his broad back.

Finally, he takes you to the bed in the middle of the room, all while never breaking the kiss or stopping his greedy hands from touching you. You whine and squirm, weak under his spell.

"So antsy" he softly says.

"I think you meant your hands"

With a little laugh, he lays you down on the bed, body hovering over you, pinning you to the mattress. Before, he'd take his time to let go of the shirt, undressing slowly and almost reluctantly. Now, he takes no time in stripping off his shirt, revealing the toned body under an already revealing shirt. You love Pedro, in all of his forms and shapes, but weren't you incredibly turned on like a horny teenager for this new body? Maybe it was his new energy, how it oozed off of him in the form of flexing biceps, slim figure, toned chest and stomach and disarming smile. He was a menace and knew it, by the smirk visible even through the soft moonlight filtering through the window.

"We should've turned the lights"

"I like you like this" needy fingers now turn tender as he traces soft hearts on your face, the rough skin brushing your soft flushed own.

"At least the nightstand one. It's yellow"

"No"

He leans down to claim your mouth again, or just shut you up. It's helpful, anyway, as he kisses you until you're breathless, lips swollen and tingling.

"Someone's insatiable today" you croak out.

"For you? Always" he replies, fingers finding the damp patch in your panties, rubbing over it, thick fingers pressing against your clothed pussy. "It's never enough, baby"

He lets out a little grunt.

"Fuck, you're so wet" voice rough with lust and surprise. "Julie's outfit turned you on that much?"

"Even the hideous ones did" you whimper. "Imagine this one"

"I chose some of those, you know" he sounds a bit offended.

"Whatever. I'm happy with this Cannes run. I'll send some flowers or take her to lunch"

"So caring" he mocks.

"For dressing my man like a complete eye candy? Hell, yes"

"No one uses that term nowadays" Pedro interjects.

"Here you go again. You're my biggest hater. Shut up and just-"

You turn desperate at the pressure his fingers apply on your clothed slit. He smirks at that, eyes dark.

"You want this, don't you? You want me inside, filling you, stretching you around my cock?"

"Yes" you whimper again.

"Say it" he demands.

Never would you beg for something, but goddamn, didn't this man reduce you to a puddle of moans and pleasure? Your common sense, no, normal functioning, basic even, flew out of the window with just a kiss.

"I need you"

His fingers press even deeper, and the pulsing light pain sensation drives you wild, making you whimper again.

"Pedro-" you whine, hips rocking up against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction.

He clicks his tongue. "Manners, baby"

You squirm, violently and desperate. He really was going to make you beg for it.

"Please, Pedro"

"That better" fingers slightly more insistent. "One last time?"

Fuck dignity, man.

"Please, Pedro. I need you. I need you so badly" you choke out.

He grins like a schoolboy, eyes dark. "Good girl"

He rewards you by making a quick work of your panties, practically tearing them off and tossing them aside. His fingers then were on your bare skin, drumming on sensitive thighs.

"Don't tease" you plead through gritted teeth.

"So impatient" he tsks. "Want it now, baby?"

You nod, feverish.

"Because you asked"

"Because we always do what I want" you choke.

His eyes shine dark. "Easy, brat"

He strokes through the slick folds of your, pussy, pushing two long, thick fingers deep inside you, curling them just right, hitting that well known spot that made you see stars.

"So tight" his voice comes out strained. "So fucking tight and hot and perfect"

Pedro pumps his fingers in and out, thumb rubbing tight circles over your clit. His mouth drops to your breast again, suckling hard, biting just on the edge and then licking to soothe the sting. You feel heat building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in your core. Your hands scrabble at his back, nails digging into his skin, as to urge him.

And then he pulls away, leaving you empty and aching. You whimper at the loss, making him chuckle a bit.

"Calm down, baby. I ain't going anywhere"

He starts undressing what's left of his clothes, and if you liked the outfit, him naked takes the win. His cock springs free, long and hard, the thick head already glistening.

"See?"

He settles himself between your thighs, the thick length of his cock nudging against your slick folds. He looks down at you, eyes intense under the moonlight. His large, calloused hands slid under your hips, gripping them hard enough to leave bruises.

If spilling it in the interview wasn't enough, he was going to mark you, claim you, make you his.

"I'm going to fuck you now" Pedro announces, voice low with lust. "I'm going to fuck you hard and deep, just like you need. Like we both do"

With that, he thrust forward, pushing past your entrance. You gasp at the intrusion, feeling your pussy stretch around him, accommodating his size. It always happens; he's just big like that. He pauses, letting you adjust to the stretch, before pushing forward again, sinking deeper inside.

So thoughtful.

"Fuck, you're so tight " he said through gritted teeth. "So fucking tight and hot and perfect. You feel incredible, y/n"

He starts to move then, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in. Each push brings him deeper, until he was buried to the hilt inside. He sets a hard, fast pace, the bed creaking beneath with the force of his thrusts. The room filled with the sound of their mingled moans and gasps, sweat pooling like a second skin.

And if things couldn't get any better...

One hand came up to your throat, long fingers wrapping around it. He didn't squeeze, not yet, just rested them there, feeling the flutter of your pulse.

"Nervous?" his thumb brushes over your racing heartbeat, a teasing promise of what was to come. "C'mon. Don't get shy on me, baby. I know you like that"

(You did. He was new to this, mainly going off some spaking and dirty talk. Now, he seemed to be into it, if not more, as you. It was always exciting when he did it, never telling you before. If you didn't want to, he stopped. You know he would, at least, because so far, you've never told him to)

You nod, walls clench around him.

"As much as you like feeling my cock stretching you open? Filling you up? You like knowing I'm the only man to be inside this perfect little cunt?"

"Yes" you gasp. "God, yes. No one else, but you, Pedro. Only you."

A wicked grin spreads across his face and he tightens his grip on your throat, just a little. Enough to make you feel it.

"That's right, baby. This cunt belong to me now. Your body. You. You belong to me"

He starts to thrust harder, faster, headboard slamming against the wall with each snap.

Pedro feels you starting to tighten around him, breath coming in short, sharp, desperate gasps.

He knew you were close.

He leans down then, his rough stubble rasping against the smooth skin of your neck as he growled in your ear.

"Be a good girl and come for me" he urges. "Let me feel this pretty pussy spasm around my cock. Feel it come undone on my dick"

His hips never slow, pounding into you with deep, powerful thrusts. The grip on your throat tightened just a touch more, fingers pressing into the soft flesh. Not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make you light-headed.

"I'm going to fill this cunt with my cum. I'm going to pump you so full of it, you'll be dripping for days"

You let out a choked moan at his filthy promise, back arching off the bed. He could feel her starting to convulse around him, her slick walls fluttering and clenching. He was so close too, his balls drawing up tight against his body as the pressure built.

"Come now. Let me feel you scream my name as I fill you up. Let the whole damn city know who you belong to"

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you. At the same time, his fingers tightened around your throat, squeezing just as your orgasm crashes over. You let out a strangled cry, body shaking and shuddering beneath him as you come apart.

"Fuck, y/n. Fuck"

With a load groan, he comes too, cock pulsing and jerking inside you as he pumps you full of his hot seed. Spurt after spurt, until he sees your stomach bloat lightly and you feel it sloshing inside you like the distant waves on the beach.

He collapses on top of you with a loud sigh, weight pressing you into the mattress, his cock still buried deep inside your fluttering heat; it's still dripping.

You both lay there for a long moment, chests heaving, bodies slick with sweat, as you catch your breaths. Finally, he lifted his head to look at you, his eyes soft.

"You're incredible" voice raw. "I can't believe you're mine"

You giggle, feeling his arms wrap around you, pulling you close as you snuggle against his neck. He can feel your soft, warm breath tickling on his skin. A sense of peace and contentment settles over him, and he sighs happily.

"Yours" and a quick tired sloppy kiss. "You drained me, thought"

"If you weren't such a tease..."

You playfully swat him, weakly.

"Shh, just relax" he murmurs, one hand stroking slowly up and down your back. "You did so good, baby. So fucking perfect. As always"

You can't helo but say: "And now the whole world knows it"

He captures your lips in a slow, deep kiss. It was different from the hungry, desperate kisses before. This one was tender, almost sweet. Full of a quiet, growing affection.

"It's okay" so quiet you would miss it. "I've got you, baby. And I'm not going anywhere"

You make a soft, contented lazy sound as you snuggle even closer, fingers playing with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He feels your body starting to give up.

"Promise?"

He tightens his arms around you, holding you like he means it. You are the most precious thing in the world to him, but he doesn't want to tell you. He wants you to know. So he holds you tightly, like a vow. Something to keep. Something worth.

"Promise"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif: @a7estrellas / dts: @io12n

#dilfistwrites #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fluff #josé pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedropascal #cannes #cannes film festival #cannes 2025 #festival de cannes #cannes red carpet #eddington #emma stone

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on-the-clear-blue · 10 months ago

Text

Dead Man's Diner drabbles since I need to get back into writing it.

Robber, bursting through the door, gun already pulled out and shouting: EVERYBODY PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP AND OPEN UP YOUR WALLETS

The whole God damn Batfam just looking up from their respective places in the diner:..

Danny, behind the counter, tired as hell from basically taking over feeding them all: Take the fucking shot.

---

Nightwing, laying dramatically over the breakfast bar as Danny walks in, a rose between his teeth: Hi~ I need to place an order

Danny, woke up 15 minutes ago: It is to early for this (it's 7 pm)

Nightwing, watching as Dany just turns around and leaves the diner: Wait no.

---

Bart/Wally/Berry, finally done helping their respective Bat with Gotham Things ™️, stumbling upon the Diner:Sweet, no need to run back home on empty!

Danny, seeing the one that he has seen Clockwork scream about walk into his diner: shit I gotta make a call.

(15 Minutes later)

Bart/Wally/Berry crying into a massive plie of pancakes as Clockwork reads them yo filth.

---

Wes, grumbling as he is kicked out of the diner for the fifth time this week: God damn it Fenton! Stopping hiding your ghostly existence! The people demand the truth!

Bernard, there because Tim recommended it, trying and failing to hit taking him there for a date, head snapping over to Wes like a horror movie: I sense a conspiracy theory.

---

Cass, squating on a bar stool: *pouting face*

Danny, squinting at her: No.

Cass, looking up at him with the most hurt expression: *kicked puppy look*

Danny, feeling terrible:Okay! Okay I will get Cujo to come over! A-and I will throw in Ellie!

Cass, breaking unto a smile: and hot coco?

Danny, fully broken by her: Sure, why the hell not.

---

Tucker and Sam, finally coming into the diner: honestly? Not as bad as I thought it would be.

(A Bat getting chucked through the door, and Rouge following after)

Tucker:Holy...is he okay?

Sam: I take back what I said.

Danny, looking at the property damage:Nope...nope this is normal, Red Hood your tab just doubled.

Jason, fully concussed: Sure thing...babe...

---

Based on an idea I have for later on, Jason and Danny are in the middle stage between friends and Dating and Jason finally gets to meet the other two of the everlasting trio...

Sam, has a baseball bat in hand that is starting to sprout out branches: You hurt Danny and you'll end up dead again, and this time you won't have the hands to dig your way out.

Tucker, with sparks flashing in his eyes and a grin on his face, his PDA blinks with info that no civilian should have: Jason Peter Todd-Wayne, I know all about you, mess things up with Danny and your Pride and Prejudice Self insert fanfiction gets shared with your family, as well as your Wattpad and Tumblr accounts will be sent directly to the Justice Leauge.

Jason, crying a little bit:Danny your friends are terrifying.

Danny, walking out in a pink apron:Oh shit...ugh, Sam! Tucker! I told you dont do that!.

---

Vlad, being a creep to Danny: Oh little badger...truly looking forward to seeing you begging for your life once more

Jason, equidded with Fenton works guns: Anyway I started Blasting.

#batfam #dc x dp #dpxdc #danny phantom #tim drake #dead man's diner #ghost king danny #jason todd #dead on main #danny is a little shit #batman #danny is sick of this shit #i did this is stead of writing

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ari-ana-bel-la · 1 month ago

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hii! can you do one with Carlos or Charles 4 years old daughter that suffers from a asthma because she was born prematurely

she has an asthma attack and she doesn’t know what to do and she only wants her daddy to make her feel better, she is scared and doesn’t know how how to use the inhaler alone

you can finish however you like

thank you 🫶🏻

Asthma Attack

The warm summer breeze swept through the small coastal town in Spain where Carlos and his little girl, Yn, had retreated for the Formula 1 summer break. With Rebecca off for the weekend with some of the other drivers' wives on a well-deserved getaway, the house was unusually quiet—just the hum of cicadas outside, the occasional chirp of birds, and the comforting, rhythmic sound of Carlos moving around in the kitchen.

He was barefoot on the cool tiles, chopping up vegetables and humming a tune that had been stuck in his head since the last race. It was one of Yn’s favorites—the one she always made him sing before bedtime. He glanced out the window every few minutes to check on her. She was in the backyard, playing with her stuffed dog, Coco, under the shade of a big olive tree. She had a small picnic laid out on a colorful blanket, and she was humming to herself in that sweet, airy voice of hers.

Carlos smiled softly. It had taken so much time and energy to reach this peaceful moment. Yn had been born premature—so small, so fragile. They had spent weeks in the NICU, with alarms and wires and constant fear. And even now, four years later, the worry never quite left. Her asthma was a lingering reminder of those early days. It wasn’t always a problem, but when it struck, it hit hard.

Still, today looked like a good day. She’d been giggling when he brought her juice out earlier, her curls bouncing as she danced around her blanket. He’d warned her not to run too much in the heat and made sure her inhaler was within reach. She had nodded like a little soldier, hugging him tightly before getting back to her tea party with Coco.

“Papá!” she had shouted half an hour ago. “I made you a sandwich! But it’s made of grass and flower petals, so you can’t eat it!”

He’d laughed, leaning out the back door. “Gracias, mi amor. It sounds... delicious.”

Now, though, the silence outside tugged at him.

He glanced at the stove, turned down the heat under the simmering pot, and wiped his hands on a towel.

“Yn?” he called out, his voice casual but loud enough to carry through the open window. No answer. He frowned. Usually she’d yell back instantly, or run inside to show him a rock or a leaf she’d found.

“Yn?” he repeated, stepping out onto the patio.

Nothing. Not even the rustle of her little footsteps.

And then something deep inside him twisted.

Carlos didn’t wait. He sprinted across the patio, heart beginning to race. As he rounded the corner of the olive tree, he found her—curled up on her side on the grass, clutching her little chest, her tiny face red and scrunched up in fear.

“Oh, dios mío. Yn!”

Her eyes flicked up, glazed and wide with panic.

“Papá...” she rasped.

He was on his knees beside her in an instant, scooping her into his arms with one strong, careful motion.

“I’m here, I’m here, baby,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice calm even as terror clawed at his throat. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

She coughed—short, shallow, wheezing gasps that sounded like knives in his ears.

“I... I can’t breathe,” she whimpered, pressing her face against his chest.

“Shh, mi amor, I’ve got you,” he said, rocking her gently. “We’re going to use the inhaler, remember? Just like Mama showed us.”

“But... I don’t know how,” she sobbed. “I tried... but it’s hard.”

Carlos fumbled for the pocket of her little sundress. The inhaler was there, thank God. He pulled it out and cradled her closer, supporting her head with one hand.

“Look at me, Yn,” he said gently. “I’m going to help you, okay? I need you to trust me.”

Her lips were trembling, but she nodded weakly.

Carlos exhaled slowly, trying to steady his own nerves. He shook the inhaler, then gently placed it to her lips.

“Take a deep breath with me, mi corazon. Ready? One, two, three...”

He pressed the inhaler, watching her try to inhale. It was shallow, but something got through.

“Good girl,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Again.”

Another puff, another breath.

The wheezing began to ease, just a little. Enough that she could cry a little louder.

“Hurts,” she whispered.

“I know, baby. I know. But you’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”

He held her for a long moment, letting her body relax against his, the tension slowly melting as the medicine began to work. She clung to his shirt with her tiny fingers, her breathing evening out into shaky little hiccups.

“Coco... I dropped Coco,” she mumbled.

Carlos turned slightly and reached out, grabbing the stuffed dog from where it had fallen beside the blanket.

“Here’s Coco. He was very brave too, waiting for you.”

She hugged the toy close, still sniffling.

Carlos ran his hand through her curls, kissing the crown of her head. “Let’s go inside, okay? Let you rest a little. I’ll carry you.”

She nodded into his chest.

He stood carefully, one arm supporting her back, the other under her knees. She was light—too light sometimes—but warm and real and breathing.

Back in the house, he sat down on the couch, keeping her tucked against him.

“Do you want some water, cariño?”

She shook her head, face pressed against his collarbone.

“Just you.”

He smiled, a little tear slipping down his cheek. “Always.”

They stayed like that for a while. The lunch forgotten. The breeze still dancing through the open windows.

After a while, Yn stirred.

“Papá?”

“Sí, mi vida?”

“Did I do good?”

Carlos pulled back just enough to see her eyes, soft and sleepy.

“You did amazing. So, so amazing. I’m so proud of you, Yn.”

She smiled faintly. “Mama’s gonna be mad.”

He chuckled softly. “Maybe a little. But she’ll also be proud. And she’ll be home soon, and we’ll tell her all about how brave you were.”

Yn yawned, cuddling into him again.

“I love you, Papá.”

“I love you more, little sunshine.”

Outside, the sun continued to shine over the olive tree and the scattered petals of a grass-and-flower sandwich that never got eaten. Inside, Carlos held the most important thing in his life and thanked every star in the sky that he’d looked outside when he did.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d let her eat ice cream for dinner. After all, heroes deserved a reward.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-♡○♡

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yamst3rdamctrl · 3 months ago

Text

In the Blink of an Eye, Smoke x Annie

Stay tuned to the end for a good video😘😁

“When you’re longing for a man that has been gone for years and all you can do is think about him. His touch: the way he would grab your hands and arms. The way he would caress your curves and hips when you all made love. His taste: his sweet but salty lips that felt so soft from the coco butter that he would use. Everything about him made you want him more. No longer did you want any other man, you simply just want YOUR MAN, YOUR SMOKE.”

One hot midday while Annie was in the kitchen cleaning and preparing for her supper, she heard a car coming up. Now she knows no one would typically come by her little house unless they wanted a hot meal, or it was Smoke. Annie didn’t think twice, she just walked to the window, and she could not believe her eyes. Annie walked outside as his tall figure jumped out of the car. Annie looked at him in his eyes searching for a reason to hate him but all she felt was love. “Seven long years and now you here? What you want Smoke?” Annie said almost choking on her words. “I came back for my woman, what do you think?” Smoke said confidently. “You ain’t came back for me after all these years. I missed you Smoke, and you were gone.” Annie said holding back tears. “I’m here now ain’t I? I’m not going nowhere.

Annie and Smoke exchanged words about their never forgotten love. Annie knew as much as she hated him for leaving, she couldn’t stop her love from not wanting him. These two were made for each other and there was no way that they would ever stay apart. Annie walked up to smoke while he sat on the chair near her and grabbed him by his head and kissed him. Smoke didn’t want Annie to show how much she missed him; he wanted to show her how much he missed her. Smoke got out of the chair and told her to sit at the table. Annie listened and sat on the table and Smoke moved her dress up to her waist. Smoke pulled her panties down to her ankles and took them off her. Smoke then took his coat off and got on his knees. He pulled her legs open to see her treasure right before his eyes. Smoke blew air on Annie’s clit which made her whimper from the teasing that he was inflicting on her. Annie started to whimper harder when he thumbed her clit. “I can tell you missed me you are moaning. Just know I missed you too baby.” Smoke then covered his entire mouth on Annies’s pussy like he was making out with it. Smoke nibbled, licked, kissed, and sucked on every inch of her pussy. Annie squirmed and moaned while Smoke gave her his best. While smoke sucked on her pussy, he grew harder and harder against his pants. He couldn’t ignore the feeling that he wanted to and needed to fuck her.

Smoke sat up and pulled his pants down and rubbed the tip of his dick between her thick slit. Smoke then grabbed Annie hip with his left hand and held his dick with his right and pushed his dick inside of her pussy. Annie eyes and mouth widened while she felt Smoke stretch her pussy out. Smoke started a slow, deep pace making Annie see stars. Smoke said, “I missed you so much baby. I couldn’t wait to get inside of your sweet, warm pussy.” Annie moaned and said, “I missed you too baby. Fuck me Smoke.” Smoke then started to move faster, and he felt Annie starting to tighten around his dick. “I feel her coming baby, let it go. Give me them juices baby.” Smoke said and instantly Annie came. Smoke told Annie to turn around and that was just what she did. Annie then waited for Smoke to slide in, and he slid in quicker and harder. Smoke put one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip and started to dig her out. Annie moaned and moaned more and more, and she started to cum. Smoke didn’t care if she came, he decided to go harder. “Give me one more baby. I know you got it in you. Cum with me baby.” Smoke said. Within a few more pumps they both came and lost their breath. She held Smoke, and Smoke held her. The love that they shared flourished more and more.

Here ya go!

Thanks for the support!

Full scene of Annie & Smoke!

Ya Welcome!!💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦

#michael b #michael b jordan #michael b jordan smut #michael b jordan x reader #killmongerthispussy #smut #killmonger fanfiction #annie and smoke #smokeandannie #smoke and stack #sinners #sinners 2025

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theetherealbloom · 6 months ago

Text

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.5

Chapter Five: As If The Street Lights Pointed In An Arrowhead Leading Us Home

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck,

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: Sorry for the wait on this chapter! I was busy writing chapter one of my Richard Reeds fanfic, and my brain went into overdrive. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter, and my thoughts and writing process will be in the end notes below! Take care out there.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Cornelia Street by Taylor Swift

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist |Main Masterlist|

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — MORNING

It was the weekend.

A rare, golden thing in the middle of a chaotic schedule. Sometimes, productions pushed through weekends, forcing actors and crew alike to run on fumes and caffeine, but this week, you’d been given the luxury of a proper break.

So you did the only logical thing: you slept in.

No alarms. No early call times. No frantic scrambling to get out the door before the sun had even fully risen. Just the quiet hush of your hotel room, the soft cocoon of blankets, and the gentle hum of the city beyond your window.

Pedro, on the other hand, was not sleeping in.

He was downstairs earlier, enjoying breakfast with some of the crew, chatting between bites of eggs and toast. But when he realized he hadn’t seen you—not even a glimpse—something tugged at his chest.

He checked his phone. No messages from you.

Not that you had to text him, obviously. But still.

“Maybe she’s still asleep,” Vanessa mused when he brought it up, sipping her coffee.

Coco smirked. “Or avoiding you.”

Pedro shot her a look, unimpressed. “You’re hilarious.”

Joseph, ever the instigator, leaned in. “You do realize how weirdly invested you are in this, right?”

Pedro ignored them, pushing back his chair. “I’m gonna go check on her.”

“OoOoOo, someone’s worried,” Ebon teased, grinning.

Pedro just flipped them off over his shoulder as he walked away.

Your side of the room was quiet when he got there.

Pedro knocked.

Nothing.

He frowned and knocked again, a little louder this time. “Hey, you alive in there?”

Still nothing.

His concern deepened. He knew you’d been exhausted lately, emotionally drained from the whole Cecilia situation. And yeah, maybe you were just catching up on sleep, but what if you weren’t feeling well? What if—

He shook his head, pushing the thought away.

A quick check with the front desk confirmed they had given you a key for emergencies. That was all the justification he needed.

Carefully, Pedro let himself in.

The room was dim, curtains drawn just enough to let in a sliver of London’s muted morning light. And there you were, curled up under a mountain of blankets, dead to the world.

Snoring.

Pedro exhaled, the tension in his chest dissolving as a slow, amused smile tugged at his lips.

He took a step closer, just enough to take in the peaceful rise and fall of your shoulders, the way your hair was a little all over the place. A soft snore left your lips, making him chuckle under his breath.

God, you were adorable.

For a brief moment, he debated waking you. Teasing you for sleeping through breakfast, maybe even convincing you to come downstairs with him.

But then you shifted, letting out the softest sigh as you burrowed deeper into the pillows, and—yeah. No. He couldn’t wake you.

Instead, he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, just watching for a little longer.

He’d give you another hour.

Maybe two.

And then, well—if you didn’t wake up soon, he’d have to find a way to lure you out with the promise of coffee or something just as tempting.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — LATE MORNING

The late morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. Pedro had been patient—he really had—but after standing around for a while, listening to your soft snoring, he decided you needed to eat something.

So he had slipped downstairs, grabbed a plate of fresh fruit, some pastries, and a glass of juice, and set everything neatly on the kitchenette counter before making his way back to your bedside.

The problem?

You were not a morning person.

Pedro bit back a grin as you stirred, groaning into your pillow, clearly fighting consciousness with everything in you. He could already tell this wasn’t going to be an easy wake-up.

“Alright, Sleeping Beauty,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. “Time to get up.”

You groaned again, pulling the blanket over your head. “No.”

Pedro chuckled. “Not even gonna think about it?”

“No.”

He exhaled, amused, and sat on the edge of the bed, nudging your shoulder lightly. “C’mon, I brought you breakfast. Fresh fruit, pastries, coffee… I even got you juice. Thought I was being nice.”

That earned him a tiny peek of an eye from beneath the blanket. “What kind of juice?”

He smirked. There we go.

“Mango,” he answered, watching as you visibly debated with yourself. “And it’s still cold.”

You groaned but finally—finally—sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you blinked blearily at him. “Fine. But if you’re lying about the juice, I’m going back to bed.”

Pedro chuckled, standing up. “Noted.”

As you shuffled out of bed and towards the kitchenette, still wrapped in your blanket like a grumpy little burrito, Pedro bit back another laugh.

You were trying so hard not to snap at him, despite your obvious morning grumpiness, and he found it strangely endearing. You cared about him—he could see that. Not just in the way a fan might, but as someone who had gotten to know him, really know him, beyond the public persona.

And for some reason, that made his chest feel warm.

By the time you took your first sip of juice, you finally looked at him, still groggy but slightly more awake. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you grumbled.

Pedro grinned. “I know.”

Pedro stayed leaning against the kitchenette counter, watching you with quiet amusement as you nibbled on a croissant, still wrapped up in your blanket like you might retreat back into it at any moment.

"You know," he said, arms crossing over his chest, "I've worked with some pretty serious divas before, but you? You might be the worst morning person I've ever met."

You narrowed your eyes at him mid-chew, unimpressed. "Bold of you to assume I’m even a person in the morning."

Pedro laughed, rich and warm, like he hadn't expected you to say that. It sent a flutter through your stomach, but you buried it beneath another bite of food.

A comfortable silence settled between you as you worked through your breakfast, the weight of last night—the teasing from your friends, the way Pedro had looked at you over dinner, the way he’d listened, really listened, when you brushed off your problems—lingering just beneath the surface.

It should’ve been awkward. But it wasn’t.

"So," he finally said, drumming his fingers against the countertop, "what’s the plan for your day off? Big, exciting plans to stay in bed all day?"

You swallowed a sip of juice, tilting your head at him. "That was the dream, yeah."

Pedro let out a soft scoff, pushing off the counter. "Nah. Not happening."

You raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You’ve been working your ass off all week, and I don’t mean just putting up with the shoot," he said, giving you a knowing look. "I mean all of it. Everything. And since you clearly weren’t gonna tell me how much it was getting to you, I figure it’s my job to make sure you actually do something for yourself today."

Your stomach twisted at that.

He had noticed.

Of course, he had.

And now, instead of letting you bury it like you had all week, he was making it a thing.

"Pedro," you sighed, setting your glass down. "I really don’t—"

"Shh," he cut in, grinning as he pressed a finger to his lips. "No arguing."

You stared at him, deadpan. "Did you just shush me?"

"Yeah." He shrugged, completely unfazed. "It’s effective."

You narrowed your eyes, trying very hard not to laugh. "You’re an idiot."

"And yet," he said, nodding toward your now-empty plate, "an idiot who got you to wake up, eat breakfast, and seriously consider leaving this hotel room."

You bit your lip, fighting back a smile.

Damn it.

"Okay, fine." You rolled your eyes. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

Pedro grinned like he’d just won something. "Get dressed, cariño. I’ll tell you on the way."

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EARLY AFTERNOON

You didn’t know what you had expected Pedro to suggest—maybe a lazy stroll through the city, or coffee at some tucked-away café—but the moment you stepped outside, you realized you had severely underestimated him.

For one, he had somehow procured a car.

Not just any car. A sleek, inconspicuous black SUV, complete with a driver who nodded at Pedro like they had some unspoken understanding.

You frowned, pausing just before getting in. “Please tell me you didn’t hire security just to take me out for the day.”

Pedro smirked, holding the door open for you. “Relax. It’s just a favor. No secret service level drama.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “You swear?”

“Would I lie to you?”

You didn’t dignify that with a response.

With a dramatic sigh, you climbed into the passenger seat, and Pedro followed suit, settling in beside you with a satisfied grin.

“See?” he said as the car pulled away from the hotel. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You shot him a flat look. “I already regret this.”

Pedro just laughed, tapping his fingers idly against his knee.

The city stretched out beyond the tinted windows, a blur of old brick buildings, cafés with tiny outdoor tables, and the occasional group of tourists wrapped up in their own adventures.

For a moment, you let yourself relax, head resting back against the seat, the steady hum of the car filling the silence.

And then—

“Are you actually going to tell me where we’re going?” you asked, side-eyeing him.

Pedro hummed, pretending to think about it. “Nah. I like watching you squirm.”

You groaned, letting your head fall back dramatically. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You turned your head, finding him already watching you, something fond and unreadable flickering behind his glasses.

Your breath caught in your throat.

The car hit a stoplight, and he looked away, tapping something into his phone.

Okay. Fine.

You could pretend that didn’t just happen.

The drive continued, weaving through the city until you eventually started to recognize where you were heading.

Your brows furrowed.

“Wait a minute—"

“Surprise,” Pedro said, grinning as the car finally rolled to a stop in front of what was, unmistakably, a bookstore.

Not just any bookstore.

One you had mentioned in passing about a few days ago, while sitting with him and a few others on set, talking about places you’d love to visit while in London.

You turned to him, mouth slightly open. “You remembered?”

Pedro gave you a look, like the idea of him not remembering was ridiculous.

“Of course I did,” he said simply, pushing open his door. “Now, are you gonna sit there looking at me like I just grew a second head, or are we actually going in?”

You scrambled out of the car before he could make another joke, ignoring the warmth spreading through your chest.

Inside, the scent of old paper and freshly brewed coffee wrapped around you like a hug. The place was small but full—every wall lined with shelves, tables stacked with books, mismatched chairs tucked into cozy corners.

It was perfect.

Pedro hovered near the entrance, watching your expression, clearly pleased with himself.

You turned, crossing your arms. “Alright, Pascal. What’s the catch?”

He smirked. “No catch.”

You narrowed your eyes.

He sighed, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine. I might have selfish reasons for bringing you here.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Which are?”

Pedro stepped closer, tilting his head. “You’re a pain in the ass when you’re stressed.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Excuse me?”

He laughed, reaching out and flicking the end of your sleeve. “You needed a break. And I—” He paused, eyes softening. “I like seeing you happy.”

The words were simple.

Too simple.

And yet, they settled deep in your chest, curling around something you weren’t ready to name.

You swallowed, looking away, focusing on the nearest bookshelf like it held all the answers.

Pedro let the silence stretch for a beat, then nudged you gently.

“Go on,” he murmured. “Pick something.”

So you did.

LONDON BOOKSHOP — EARLY AFTERNOON

You took your time browsing.

Partly because you wanted to, and partly because Pedro made himself comfortable, dropping into one of the armchairs in the corner like he had all the time in the world.

He did this thing where he pretended not to be watching you. Flipping through a book, glasses sliding down his nose, but every so often—you caught him. The flicker of his gaze, the tiny smirk when you pulled a book off the shelf and examined the cover with interest.

It made your skin warm.

It was still so bizarre—this thing between you two.

You were still wrapping your head around it, still trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t some overactive, sleep-deprived hallucination.

Because this was Pedro Pascal.

And Pedro Pascal had somehow taken it upon himself to make sure you were okay, taking you out on bookstore adventures and—

Oh god, were you on a date?

Your heart jumped at the realization, nearly making you fumble the book in your hands.

No. Not a date.

Just… Pedro being Pedro.

Right?

You exhaled slowly, trying to refocus.

The book in your hands was a worn, well-loved copy of a classic romance novel. The pages were slightly yellowed, the cover soft with age.

“That one, huh?”

You startled slightly, looking up to see Pedro watching you from his chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest.

You shrugged, running your fingers along the spine. “I’ve been meaning to read it.”

Pedro hummed, tilting his head. “You always do that.”

You blinked. “Do what?”

He nodded toward the book in your hands. “That thing. Where you rub the cover before you decide.”

You froze, caught. “…I do not.”

Pedro’s grin was entirely too smug. “Oh, you do.”

You felt warmth creep up your neck. “You’ve been watching me pick books?”

He lifted a shoulder, like it wasn’t a big deal. “You’re cute when you’re indecisive.”

Your stomach flipped.

You opened your mouth—only to immediately close it again, because what the fuck were you supposed to say to that?

Pedro’s grin widened like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fingers curled around the book, gripping it like it could somehow ground you.

“I—” You cleared your throat, forcing a glare. “I hate you.”

Pedro just laughed, leaning back in his chair. “No, you don’t.”

You turned away, cheeks burning, pointedly walking toward the register before he could see how flustered you were.

The woman behind the counter smiled as she rang up your book, eyes flicking toward Pedro lounging in the corner.

“That your boyfriend?” she asked casually.

You nearly choked.

“What? No. No, no. He’s just—” You gestured vaguely. “Pedro.”

She just smiled knowingly. “Right.”

You hurriedly paid, ignoring the way Pedro was definitely smirking behind you, and grabbed the small paper bag with your book inside.

When you turned, he was already standing, adjusting his glasses. “Ready?”

You exhaled, nodding.

As the two of you stepped outside, the chilly afternoon air hit your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the bookshop.

Pedro slipped his hands into his pockets, glancing over. “Lunch?”

You hesitated. “I don’t know… what if people see us?”

Pedro just shrugged. “So what?”

You frowned, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I just— I don’t want people to think—”

“That you’re hanging out with me?” Pedro finished, raising an eyebrow.

You let out a breath, rubbing at your temple. “I just don’t want to be weird about it.”

Pedro was quiet for a beat, then nudged your arm gently. “Hey.”

You looked up.

“Let them think whatever they want,” he said, voice softer now. “You’re allowed to exist in public with me, y’know.”

Your chest ached in a way you weren’t expecting.

He made it sound so simple.

You swallowed, nodding. “Okay.”

Pedro grinned. “Good. Now let’s go find some obscenely overpriced pasta.”

You huffed a laugh, letting him lead the way.

LONDON — AFTERNOON

The restaurant Pedro picked was one of those effortlessly stylish little spots tucked away on a side street, the kind of place with warm lighting, fresh flowers on every table, and a menu written in looping script on a chalkboard.

It smelled like olive oil and fresh bread, like garlic sizzling in butter.

“Obscenely overpriced pasta,” you muttered under your breath, scanning the menu. “You weren’t kidding.”

Pedro chuckled, tilting his head toward you. “Hey, if we’re gonna be reckless, we might as well do it with carbs.”

Your lips twitched, but you didn’t argue.

The two of you had been seated near the window, the view outside hazy with the gray of the London afternoon. Pedro sat opposite you, cap low, glasses on, but even that didn’t do much to disguise him.

It was still him.

Still warm brown eyes and laughter lines, still easy charm and a quiet steadiness that made you feel safer than you probably should.

The restaurant hummed with soft conversation, the gentle clinking of glasses and silverware blending with the distant notes of some old jazz song playing overhead. The air smelled rich—garlic and butter, fresh herbs and warm bread—and for the first time in what felt like days, you felt… light.

You weren’t thinking about work. Or her.

Just Pedro. Just this.

He was leaning back in his chair now, one arm draped over the backrest, fingers idly tracing the rim of his water glass. His cap was still low over his forehead, glasses perched on his nose, but his expression was open, relaxed—like this was the most natural thing in the world. Like the two of you having lunch together was something that had always made sense.

And maybe it did.

"So," Pedro said, tearing off a piece of bread from the basket between you. "Tell me something about you that I don’t know yet."

You huffed a small laugh, stirring the ice in your drink with your straw. "That’s a pretty broad request."

He shrugged. "Alright, let’s narrow it down. What was little you like?"

You blinked at him. "Little me?"

"Yeah." He popped a piece of bread into his mouth. "Like, what were you like as a kid? Were you the quiet, shy one, or were you running around causing problems?"

You scoffed. "I am the quiet, shy one."

Pedro gave you a look. "I know you. You’ve got a little chaos in you somewhere."

You bit back a smile. "Fine. Maybe a little."

Pedro grinned, leaning in like he was settling in for a story. "Alright, spill."

You thought for a moment, fingers brushing absentmindedly over the rim of your glass. "I was kind of… scrappy, I guess? Like, I wasn’t looking for trouble, but I wouldn’t not fight a kid if they deserved it."

Pedro nearly choked on his water. "What?"

Your face heated. "Not like that! I just—I had a strong sense of justice, okay?"

Pedro wiped his mouth, eyes gleaming with amusement. "So what I’m hearing is that you’ve always been ready to throw hands."

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. "I shouldn’t have told you that."

Pedro was grinning so hard. "No, no, I love it. I love picturing little you, all tiny and righteous, just out there laying down the law."

You peeked at him through your fingers. "It wasn’t that dramatic."

"Mm-hmm," he said, clearly not convinced.

You shook your head, exhaling a laugh. "Okay, your turn, big shot. What was little Pedro like?"

His smirk softened into something more nostalgic. "Oh, I was a menace," he admitted.

You snorted. "Of course you were."

"I mean, not in a bad way," he amended, breaking off another piece of bread. "I was just… all over the place. Loud, always moving, always talking. My parents were exhausted."

You smiled. "Sounds like you were a handful."

"Oh, completely." He took a sip of his drink, glancing at you over the rim. "I grew up in a house that was always full, always noisy. Family coming in and out all the time, music playing, food cooking. I never really knew what quiet was until I got older."

There was something warm in his voice, something fond in the way he spoke about home.

"That sounds… nice," you murmured.

Pedro tilted his head slightly, studying you. "What about you? What was home like?"

You hesitated, glancing down at your plate. "Not like that."

His brows drew together, but he didn’t push.

You exhaled softly, running your finger over the condensation on your glass. "I mean, it wasn’t bad or anything. It was just… quieter. A little lonelier."

Pedro didn’t say anything, just waited.

You bit your lip, giving a small shrug. "I guess I always felt like I had to work a little harder to fit in. To matter."

Pedro’s gaze softened, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

You cleared your throat, suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry, that got depressing—"

"Hey." His voice was quiet but firm.

You glanced up.

Pedro was watching you with something steady, something real in his expression. "You don’t have to apologize for being honest."

Your stomach flipped.

You nodded, a little too quickly. "Right. Yeah."

Pedro gave you a small smile, then nudged your foot under the table. "For what it’s worth," he said lightly, "I think you’re pretty great."

Your throat felt tight. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." His smile widened. "Even if you did used to fight kids."

You groaned. "Oh my god."

Pedro laughed, and the sound was so warm, so easy, that you couldn’t help but laugh with him.

And just like that, whatever tension had settled between you melted away, leaving nothing but warmth in its place.

The street was buzzing softly with life when you stepped outside, the late afternoon sun spilling golden light over everything. You hadn’t even fully processed where Pedro was leading you when he suddenly tugged on your wrist and gestured toward a tiny, vintage photo booth tucked just outside the café. Its paint was chipped, its curtain a little worn, but it had the kind of charm that begged you to step inside.

“C’mon,” Pedro said with a mischievous grin, already pulling you toward it.

“What? No!” You laughed, glancing around like someone might catch you doing something scandalous. “Pedro, this is so cheesy!”

He raised a brow, clearly unimpressed by your protests. “Cheesy is good. Plus, you owe me for making me think you were a goner this morning.” He gave you a dramatic, pleading look. “One strip of photos. For my emotional recovery.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Fine. One. And only because I feel bad for you.”

The booth’s tiny space forced you closer together than you expected. Pedro leaned in to fiddle with the ancient machine, his arm brushing against yours. You tried not to think too hard about how warm he was, or how his cologne smelled faintly like cedar and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“Okay, ready?” Pedro asked, his finger hovering over the button.

“Wait! What do we—what pose are we doing?”

He grinned. “You’ll figure it out.”

The camera counted down—three, two, one.

The first flash caught you both off guard, faces blank with surprise. You burst into laughter, the kind that made your shoulders shake, and Pedro quickly leaned in for another shot.

“Okay, okay, serious face,” he instructed, eyes narrowing comically.

You tried, but the second the flash went off, you broke into giggles again, and Pedro lost it right along with you.

The third shot was a blur of laughter, your head tipped back, Pedro’s grin wide and unguarded.

Then, right as the camera beeped for the final shot, Pedro turned toward you.

You barely had time to register the movement before his lips brushed your cheek, soft and quick but undeniably there.

The flash went off.

You froze, eyes wide as you turned to look at him. Pedro’s face mirrored yours for a second—caught somewhere between Did I really just do that? and Yeah, I did. But then, the corners of his mouth curled into a sheepish grin.

The photo strip slid out of the machine, and you grabbed it, holding it up between you. There it was: the first three frames filled with laughter and goofy poses, and the last… the last one where his lips were pressed against your cheek, your eyes wide, his soft and warm, both of you caught mid-smile.

Your heart fluttered—nervous, exhilarated, but… not scared. Not even a little.

“You kissed me,” you said, voice soft but teasing.

Pedro rubbed the back of his neck, pretending to look thoughtful. “Hmm. Did I? Feels like that might’ve been you kissing me.”

You gasped, smacking his arm with the photo strip. “Liar!”

He chuckled, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, I’m just saying—it’s open to interpretation.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he said, tilting his head, “here you are. Stuck in a photo booth with me.”

The air between you shifted then—lighter, but also charged with something else. Something that felt like the beginning of a question neither of you was quite ready to ask.

For a beat, neither of you moved.

Then Pedro tapped the photo strip with his finger, breaking the moment. “Well, at least we’ve got proof of how good we look together.”

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t stop smiling. “Shut up.”

“Never,” he replied, already holding out his phone. “Now, do we post this on the internet, or do we keep it as blackmail material for later?”

You grabbed the photo strip, slipping it into your pocket. “Neither. This one’s ours.”

Pedro raised his hands in surrender, but the smile on his face told you he didn’t mind one bit.

The sky was painted in soft shades of pink and orange as the sun began its slow descent. Pedro slipped his phone back into his pocket after calling the driver, glancing at you with a small smile. “We’ve got about ten minutes. Wanna walk a little?”

You nodded, grateful for the chance to stretch your legs. The streets were alive with a gentle hum—tourists taking photos, locals going about their day, the occasional street performer filling the air with music.

The city felt like a movie set, every streetlamp and cobblestone path perfectly placed. And in this fleeting moment, it felt like the world had paused just for the two of you, as if the streetlights themselves pointed in an arrowhead, leading you home.

Pedro noticed the slight chill in the air and shrugged off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders before you could protest. “Can’t have you catching a cold,” he said, his voice light but warm with care.

The jacket smelled like him—faint cologne mixed with something warm and earthy, something Pedro. You tugged it around yourself a little tighter, feeling its weight settle comfortably over your frame.

A surge of boldness swept over you, the kind you usually talked yourself out of but didn’t this time. You stepped closer, looping your arm around his. His body radiated warmth, steady and solid beneath your touch. Slowly, your fingers found his hand, intertwining with his.

Pedro didn’t hesitate. His hand squeezed yours gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soft, absentminded rhythm. It was such an easy, natural thing for him, this casual intimacy that felt so rare and comforting.

You’d learned over the past few days that touch was part of his love language. He was the kind of man who hugged with his whole body, the kind whose touch always felt intentional and grounding, never forced or fleeting.

Your heart thudded a little harder in your chest. You told yourself it was just from the walk.

You squeezed his arm lightly, smiling up at him. “Thanks for today, Pedro.”

He glanced down at you, his eyes warm and crinkling at the edges, those familiar laughter lines making an appearance. “For what?”

“For everything,” you said softly, almost shy. “For making me laugh. For breakfast. For not running away when I woke up looking like a crypt keeper.”

Pedro chuckled, his grip on your hand tightening for a brief second. “You looked adorable. Not a crypt keeper—more like… a sleepy little gremlin.”

You gasped, mock-offended, and smacked his arm with your free hand. “Gremlin? You’re lucky I don’t let go of your hand right now.”

He grinned, that mischievous spark in his eyes you were quickly becoming fond of. “You wouldn’t. You like me too much.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

The streetlamps flickered on as the daylight dimmed, casting a golden glow over the cobblestone streets. You both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. The city hummed around you, but all you could focus on was the steady warmth of Pedro’s hand in yours, the easy rhythm of your steps together, the way everything felt just a little softer, a little brighter with him by your side.

“You’re really something, you know that?” Pedro said suddenly, his voice quieter now, thoughtful.

You glanced at him, your breath hitching slightly. “Something good, I hope.”

Pedro stopped walking for a second, turning toward you. His eyes searched yours, serious now. “The best kind of something.”

Your chest tightened at the weight of his words, a mix of nerves and excitement swirling in your stomach. You tried to play it cool, but the heat rising to your cheeks gave you away.

“Well,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, “right back at you, Pedro.”

He smiled, that same soft, unguarded smile that always made you feel like you were the only person in the world he was looking at.

The driver pulled up a few moments later, headlights cutting through the soft twilight. Pedro opened the door for you, his hand resting lightly on your back as you slid into the car.

As the car pulled away, you leaned back into the seat, Pedro’s jacket still wrapped around your shoulders, his warmth lingering like a secret you weren’t quite ready to give up.

And maybe, just maybe, neither was he.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EVENING

The glow of golden hour had dimmed into soft dusk by the time you returned to Chiltern Firehouse. The lobby was warm and buzzing with quiet energy—guests sipping cocktails, a crackling fireplace, and staff moving seamlessly through the space. Pedro walked beside you, his hand resting gently at the small of your back like it had been there all along.

You didn’t want the day to end just yet. There was something about the way the air felt, a little lighter, like it had been charged with something electric and unspoken.

As you approached the front desk, one of the hotel managers, a polished woman in a tailored suit, stepped forward with a warm smile, followed closely by Franklin Latt—Pedro’s manager.

“Good evening,” the hotel manager greeted. “I hope you’ve been enjoying your stay. I wanted to let you know that your room is now ready, miss.”

Your breath hitched for a split second.

Right. The room.

It was easy to forget after the last few days, the way you’d fallen into such a natural rhythm with Pedro. Sharing his suite had felt so… effortless. You blinked, trying to process the sudden shift.

“Oh,” you said, your voice soft, almost reluctant. “Right. That was, uh… this week.”

You glanced at Pedro, and for a fleeting moment, something passed between you—a flicker of disappointment mirrored in his eyes.

You shifted on your feet, clearing your throat. “Okay, um… I guess I need to pack, then.”

The hotel manager smiled politely. “The room is ready for you whenever you’re ready to move, miss.”

Pedro opened his mouth before you could respond, a little too quickly. “Actually, do you think she could switch tomorrow? It’s been a long day, and she still needs to pack her things. We’re both pretty wiped out.”

His voice was casual, but there was an edge of determination that made you glance up at him, your heart fluttering at how easily he’d jumped in for you.

The hotel manager hesitated but nodded. “Of course. If you’d prefer to transfer tomorrow, that can be arranged.”

Franklin, however, raised an eyebrow, his sharp gaze flickering between you and Pedro. His eyes caught on Pedro’s jacket draped around your shoulders, the sleeves too long for you, the fabric worn in all the right places.

Your face heated up as you tugged the jacket a little tighter around yourself, hoping it would hide the rush of color in your cheeks.

Franklin crossed his arms, his expression somewhere between amused and suspicious. “Tired, huh?” he said, his tone light but pointed. “You sure that’s the only reason?”

Pedro shot him a look, his brow arching in silent warning. “Relax, Frank. We’ve been out all day, walking around the city. She’s exhausted.”

Franklin chuckled, clearly not buying it but deciding to let it go—for now. “Right. Well, don’t let me keep you.”

The hotel manager nodded again. “Just let us know when you’re ready to move rooms. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

She and Franklin walked off, leaving you and Pedro standing in the middle of the lobby, the hum of quiet conversations around you. For a second, neither of you spoke.

Pedro scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “So… I guess you’re stuck with me for one more night.”

You tried to laugh, but it came out softer than you intended. “Guess so.”

The elevator doors opened, and you stepped inside together. The air between you felt charged again, like earlier, but now tinged with something deeper—something fragile and new.

Pedro leaned against the wall of the elevator, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “If I’m being honest, I’m kinda glad you’re not leaving just yet.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to play it cool. “Oh yeah? Afraid of being lonely?”

He chuckled, his voice low and warm. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ve just gotten used to having you around.”

The words settled in your chest like a secret you weren’t sure you were ready to unpack. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything in return, so you just smiled, a little shy, a little flustered.

When the elevator dinged, Pedro followed you out, his hand resting lightly on your back again as you made your way to the suite. It was such a small thing, but it grounded you in ways you hadn’t expected.

Maybe you’d sort through those feelings tomorrow, when the lines between friendship and something more didn’t feel so blurred.

But tonight?

“One last movie night?” you asked softly as you swiped the keycard, pushing the door open. You glanced over your shoulder at Pedro, an almost shy smile playing on your lips.

Pedro’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned, stepping in behind you. “It doesn’t have to be the last one,” he said, his voice warm and steady. “We can have as many movie nights as you want.”

His words hung in the air, carrying a weight you weren’t sure he meant to put there. Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten in the best way possible.

You kicked off your shoes, trying to shake off the flutter in your stomach, and headed for the couch. Pedro shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a chair, moving to grab a couple of waters from the kitchenette.

“Okay,” you said, settling into the couch cushions, pulling a blanket over your lap. “But I’m picking the movie this time.”

Pedro handed you a bottle of water and plopped down beside you, close enough that his knee bumped yours. “Deal. What are we watching?”

You tapped your chin dramatically, pretending to be deep in thought. “Something light. No brooding detectives or tragic endings.”

He laughed, the sound low and easy. “Are you saying my movie choices are too intense?”

“Not too intense,” you teased, opening the streaming app. “But I’m in the mood for something that won’t make me question the meaning of life.”

Pedro leaned back, resting an arm on the back of the couch behind you. His fingers brushed your shoulder, barely there, but it sent a spark down your spine anyway. “Fair enough. Surprise me.”

You clicked on a romantic comedy and settled in, trying to focus on the movie and not the warmth of Pedro beside you. But it was hard to ignore—the way his thigh pressed gently against yours, the sound of his soft chuckle whenever something funny happened on screen, the way he stole glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

About halfway through the movie, you felt your head naturally tilt toward his shoulder. You hesitated for a second, nerves twisting in your chest. But then Pedro shifted ever so slightly, making it easier, like he was inviting you to stay.

“You comfortable?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” you said softly, your cheek resting against him. “You make a pretty good pillow.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating under your ear. “I try.”

Neither of you moved after that, the movie fading into the background. The world outside the suite felt far away, like it didn’t matter. Not right now. Not with him.

Maybe you’d unpack those feelings tomorrow.

But tonight?

Tonight, you let yourself fall a little further.

End Notes:

This was one of the chapters I was dreading to write. Not cause I didn’t want to write it—

Cause I knew, from a writer’s perspective, at some point, I had to subvert the expectation of, “They’ll be roommates the entire time and fall in love.”

And yes, I did the thing where I gave you something you wanted/something good and then took it away from you LMAO ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I mean… at least you get your own room now! So that counts for something— (please don’t show up at my house aHHHH)

Also, five chapters in, I had to give ya'll a little smooch... just a little... hehe

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy @widowsvail @senhoritamayblog @morganlolitta

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ghonorrhead · 7 months ago

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UNAPOLOGETIC GYJO DOODLE MASTERPOST with the last two being for coco’s incel au 🙈🙈🙈

#jjba #johnny joestar #gyjo #gyro zeppeli #jojos bizarre adventure #my art #CAT JOHNNY CAT JOHNNY #I DOODLED MORE CAT JOHNNY WITH DOGGY GYRO I JUST WANNA GET MORE DOODLES OF THEM OUT BEFORE I POST #I love my cute johnny #well #I love all johnnys equally #but him looking much more cuter than handsome will always be my weakness #please ignore gyro in the first pic he’s just naturally cringe like that #he’s stuck in the 2015s-ish era where mlg jokes and such were still a good meme #ngl they still kinda are #FT MY LOSER GAMER JOHNNY IN THE LAST TWO #coco and I agreed that they could meet… and be losers together…#IT WORKS OKAY IT JUST DOES #they can fix each other… (make each other worse)#I need more of them in my life #ive been doodling lots I just don’t post them that much because it’s all kinda dumb and irrelevant nonsense #IK THIS IS DUMB AND IRRELEVANT TOO BUT i just wanted to post something 😛#fuuuuuggggggg #I will be back… just you wait…

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angelluv16 · 5 months ago

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Rumor Has It

Charles Leclerc x Jenner!reader

✩: Kaia Jenner, the youngest Kardashian-Jenner, is an up-and-coming actress. When F1 driver Charles Leclerc casually calls her his favorite actress, the internet goes crazy. What starts as rumors turns into a whirlwind of drama, chemistry, and public scrutiny.

faceclaim: Cindy Kimberly, girls from Pinterest

Want to be added to my taglist?: Click here

pairing: Charles Leclerc x Jenner!reader

request: no!!

warnings: Hate, fluff, Angst, Language,

previous part | Main Masterlist | next part

-------------------------✩-------------------------

The red carpet was always a blur. The flashing lights, the endless stream of questions, the sea of cameras. But tonight felt different. The premiere of my latest film had drawn an even bigger crowd than I anticipated—probably thanks to the Jenner name, but I was doing my best to focus on what really mattered: the film.

I paused for a moment as I walked past a row of photographers, offering my best smile, keeping the nerves under control. It wasn’t easy, but it was the game I knew how to play.

"Kaia! Over here!" I heard someone call, a reporter waving me over to the side for an impromptu interview.

I stepped forward, adjusting my dress, ready to smile and answer the usual questions. “Kaia, how does it feel to be at another premiere?” the reporter asked, holding the microphone up.

"It feels amazing. I’m so proud of this project and excited to share it with everyone tonight," I said, rehearsed but still genuine.

As the interview continued, the reporter shifted topics, and I listened carefully. “We’ve been hearing a lot of buzz online, Kaia,” they said with a knowing smile. “Did you catch the interview with Formula 1 driver Charles Leclerc today?”

I raised an eyebrow, not expecting the question. "Um, no, I haven’t. What happened?"

“Well,” they continued, “during his press conference, he mentioned you. Said you were his favorite actress."

I blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

“Yep. He said you’re incredible, and he’s a big fan of your work. The fans are already going wild about it.”

I could feel my face flush as the words sank in. Charles Leclerc? The F1 driver? I had heard of him, of course, but we had never crossed paths. My mind raced as I processed it. Why would he mention me? What did it mean?

The reporter gave me a mischievous smile, sensing my reaction. “Looks like you’ve got a new fan, Kaia.”

I managed a laugh, trying to play it cool, though my heart was still racing. "Well, that’s... unexpected. But thank you."

As I walked away from the interview, my head was spinning. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. But one thing was for sure—this was just the beginning.

-------------------------✩-------------------------

liked by kyliejenner, charlesleclerc, jade_distinguinn, krisjenner and 3.6M others kaia.jenner: another premiere, another reason to wear something pretty.

view all 85,983 comments

username1: You ATEEEE this look. The moment, the queen, the icon! ♥︎ by kaia.jenner

username2: Preach

kyliejenner: Proud of you, babe! You killed it

kaia.jenner: Love you !

username3: Not me here after Charles Leclerc said he’s a fan

username4: Mother is MOTHERING.

username5: A Jenner with ACTUAL talent? We won.

username6: Not Charles lurking under this

nicksturniolo: Ate. Left no crumbs. ♥︎ by kaia.jenner

kaia.jenner: You do that every day

username7: She didn’t just walk the carpet, she OWNED it

username8: Another Jenner we don’t need

username9: Kaia Jenner to the paddock when??

carmenmmundt: A moment

username10: Did she buy this role or did mommy Kris negotiate it?

charlesleclerc: going to be streaming

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ kaia.jenner

{caption: Back In bed with coco}

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As Kaia sat back in her chair, her phone still glowing from the last message Charles had sent, a sudden wave of nerves hit her. She had been getting a lot of attention lately—especially since the premiere—but something about his words felt different. He was nervous? About watching her movie?

She had to admit, it was a little flattering. After all, Charles Leclerc wasn’t exactly known for being shy. And now here he was, nervously awaiting her movie—and possibly wanting to discuss it with her afterward?

Just then, her phone buzzed again, snapping her out of her thoughts. A new notification from Instagram.

Charles Leclerc liked your story.

Kaia blinked, frowning slightly. She didn’t think she had posted anything particularly noteworthy. In fact, her latest story was an incredibly casual photo: her curled up in bed with her cat, Coco, captioned “back In bed with Coco.” Hardly the kind of post anyone would expect a race car driver to notice, let alone interact with.

Her thumb hovered over the notification. It was just a like. Nothing else. No comment. No follow-up. Just that small action, but it felt... different. Her heart skipped a beat. Did it mean something? Or was it just another casual like from a public figure with a massive following?

Kaia couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of excitement and uncertainty. Was this how it was going to be from now on? Constantly wondering if something as simple as a like could mean more?

She quickly locked her phone and threw it onto the bed, trying to shake off the nervous excitement that had crept up on her.

-------------------------✩-------------------------

Soo Here is another Story But this time A Charles story. I've had this idea for the longest time, I always wanted to do something with The Kardashian-Jenner family and As far as I know no one has done it so here it is. Let me know what you think and if you want to be added to the taglist or my main taglist.

-------------------------✩-------------------------

#charles lecelerc #charles #Leclerc #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 x Kardashian-Jenner #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc fanfic #angelluv16 #f1 x oc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x oc

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holyblonded · 5 months ago

Text

the putellas test | birds of a feather

pairings: hopkins!paige bueckers x black!oc, alexia putellas x platonic!reader, alba putellas x platonic!reader

summary: alexia plans a series of test to see if paige is worthy enough to date her niece

warnings: none(?)

notes: i’m finding my grove back for this series 👻

Paige had barely stepped foot inside the Putellas household when she realized two things:

1. Alba was definitely the fun, carefree aunt.

2. Alexia Putellas was about to ruin her life.

It wasn’t that Paige had expected smooth sailing. She had heard plenty of stories about La Reina from Cecilia. The unwavering discipline. The intensity on and off the pitch. The death stares. Cecilia always said it with love, of course, but that didn’t make it less terrifying.

And now here Paige was, standing in the middle of the Putellas living room, completely at the mercy of one of the greatest footballers in history.

“Ah, so this is Paige Bueckers,” Alexia said, arms crossed, her voice void of any warmth. Paige blinked at the intensity in her gaze.

She had met Geno Auriemma, a man who practically yelled for a living, and he still didn’t intimidate her half as much as Alexia Putellas did in that moment.

“Uh, yeah. Hi?” Paige offered, throwing in a small wave for good measure.

Cecilia, her own girlfriend, stood off to the side, looking way too amused for someone who was supposed to love her.

“She’s real, Ale,” Alba teased from the couch, sipping her coffee like she was about to enjoy a show. “Not a hologram.”

“Yet to be determined,” Alexia muttered, her eyes narrowing slightly. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she straightened up and gave Paige a once-over, scanning her like a book.

Paige had never felt so judged in her life.

“Do you have a problem?” she blurted before she could stop herself.

Alba choked on her coffee.

Cecilia’s eyes widened. “Paige why—”

Alexia raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

Again, Paige had two options: backtrack immediately and pray for survival or commit to it.

She sighed. “You’re staring at me like I just walked into a courtroom without a lawyer.”

Alba burst into laughter breaking the silence, actually wheezing as she clutched her stomach.

“Oh, I like her,” Alba grinned, wiping a tear from her eye. “You picked a good one, neboda (niece).”

Alexia, however, remained stone-faced. Paige swallowed.

Cecilia, still looking a little worried, decided to step in. “Ale, don’t scare her off. I’ve had this one since kindergarten.”

Alexia exhaled loudly and finally uncrossed her arms. “Fine,” she said. “Let’s see if she survives the test first.”

Paige froze. “The what?”

Alba whistled. “Oh, this is gonna be fun. She did these with my partners too.”

“How well do you know Cecilia?” Alexia demanded, hands on her hips.

Paige blinked. “Uh… really well?”

“We’ll see about that.” Alexia pulled out a notebook and flipped to a page clearly labeled “Paige Test.”

Alba snorted. “Oh, she’s been planning this.”

Paige’s heart started racing. “Is this a joke?”

Alexia stared at her like she had just said she preferred orange juice over apple juice.

“First question,” Alexia said, ignoring Paige’s mild panic. “What’s Cecilia’s go-to comfort meal?”

“Easy,” Paige smirked. “Cocas.”

Cecilia grinned. “Correct.”

Alexia frowned, flipping the page. “Butchered the pronunciation, but, fine. What was Cecilia’s favorite toy as a kid?”

Paige didn’t even hesitate. “Her stuffed koala, Coco.”

Alba gasped. “Wait, Coco still exists?”

Cecilia groaned. “Yes, and now I regret telling Paige she’s still around.”

Paige beamed. Alexia narrowed her eyes.

“Alright, last one,” Alexia muttered. “What was the name of Cecilia’s first pet?”

Paige hesitated, then said, “She never had a pet.”

Cecilia gave her a proud nod. “Correct.”

Alba whistled. “Damn, I was hoping you’d get that one wrong. Just cause.”

Alexia huffed, clearly annoyed that Paige passed the first round. “Fine. But that was just the warm-up.”

Paige suddenly had a bad feeling.

“Why are we at a field?” Paige whispered, standing stiffly on the pristine turf pitch as if she’d accidentally wandered into a gladiator arena.

Alexia smirked, casually tossing a ball between her hands like a villain in a sports movie. “If you’re going to date my niece, you need to prove you’re worthy.”

Paige crossed her arms. “I feel like I should’ve signed a waiver for this.”

“Beat me in a 1v1.”

Paige blinked. “What.”

On the sidelines, Cecilia was already cackling, her phone out to document the unfolding disaster. “Amor, I love you, but you’re so screwed.”

Alba, who had settled comfortably into a lawn chair with an iced coffee, nearly choked on her drink. “Oh, this is going to be hilarious.”

Paige turned back to Alexia. “You’re playing like it’s a Champions League final, aren’t you?”

Alexia raised a brow. “Of course.”

Paige exhaled. “Cool. Just wanted to mentally prepare myself before I get sent into early retirement.”

The game started, and within ten seconds, Paige knew she was doomed. Alexia moved like she was playing an intense game, which, unfortunately for Paige, meant she had not a single ounce of mercy in her bones. The second Paige even thought about trying to defend, Alexia nutmegged her so smoothly that Alba screamed from the sidelines, falling out of her chair in laughter.

“Oh my god—SHE COOKED YOU,” Alba howled, kicking her feet on the ground.

Cecilia wasn’t much better, barely holding the camera steady as she gasped through laughter. “Amor, bend your knees, stay low—oh, never mind. She got you again.”

Paige was starting to sweat. She knew she wasn’t a football player, but this was getting embarrassing. She tried again, this time using her basketball instincts to anticipate Alexia’s movement. It almost worked until Alexia spun around her like she was an orange traffic cone and easily slotted the ball into the mini goal.

Paige groaned. “Did you have to add the spin move? That was excessive.”

Alexia smirked. “I was holding back.”

“Holding back?” Paige echoed, hands on her knees. “I think my soul left my body on that last turn.”

Alba clapped her hands like a delighted spectator. “Ale, you should’ve been a bullfighter. The way you let her charge and then just moved out of the way? Beautiful.”

Paige shot Alba a betrayed look. “You’re supposed to be the fun aunt.”

“I am,” Alba grinned. “That’s why I’m enjoying this so much.”

Fifteen minutes later, Paige lay face-down on the grass, sweaty, breathless, and questioning every decision in her life.

Alexia stood over her like a victorious warrior. “That was embarrassing.”

Paige groaned, her voice muffled against the grass. “You slide tackled me.”

“This is Spain,” Alexia shrugged. “We don’t take it easy.”

Cecilia jogged over, shaking her head. “Ale, you’re literally the most overprotective person in the world when it comes to family, but you just sent my girlfriend flying across the field.”

Alexia crossed her arms. “If she wants to date you, she needs to be strong enough to protect you.”

“From what? A rogue defender? A pigeon in Plaça Catalunya?” Cecilia shot back. “Besides, she’s a basketball player!”

“You never know,” Alexia muttered ominously.

Paige groaned louder, still sprawled on the ground. “Is this the last test?”

Alexia smirked. “One more.”

Paige dared to glance up. “Oh god.”

Alba grinned. “Good luck. This one’s psychological.”

Paige sat slumped on the couch, exhausted, while Alexia paced in front of her like an overzealous teacher preparing for a final.

Cecilia sat cross-legged next to her, munching on a snack with the carefree air of someone who had zero stress in life, unlike Paige, who had just been subjected to a day of physical and psychological warfare.

Alba was leaned up against the kitchen counter, watching the whole ordeal like it was a reality show.

Alexia finally stopped pacing, turning to face Paige with the gravity of a judge about to deliver a verdict.

“Final question.” Her voice was calm, but there was something undeniably intense about it.

Paige, despite being wiped from the impromptu 1v1 and whatever else Alexia had put her through, sat up a little straighter, her exhaustion fading under the weight of the moment.

Alexia took a step closer, studying her with sharp, discerning eyes. “Do you love Cari?”

Paige didn’t hesitate. “With everything in me.”

Cecilia, who had just been about to take another bite of her snack, paused, her expression softening.

Alba let out a quiet “Awww” from the kitchen.

For a moment, the room was silent. Alexia simply stared at Paige, as if searching for any cracks in her answer. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she gave a slow, approving nod. “Good.”

Paige exhaled, feeling relief flood her body. Maybe, finally, she had passed the test—

Then, with absolutely no warning, Alexia leaned in close, her voice dropping to an ominous whisper.

“Because if you ever hurt her,” she murmured, “I know people.”

Paige froze. Her brain went blank for a solid five seconds before she blinked rapidly.

“Did you just threaten me?”

From the kitchen, Alba howled with laughter, nearly knocking over her drink. “Ale, you can’t just say that to her!”

Alexia shrugged, completely unfazed. “I’m just saying.”

Paige turned to Cecilia, still slightly shaken. “Does she actually know people?”

Cecilia sighed like someone who had pondered this question too many times. “Honestly? I don’t even know.”

Alexia remained dead serious for a moment longer, letting the weight of her words linger. Then, finally, she cracked a smile, the first genuine one she’d shown all day.

“Welcome to the family, Paige.”

Paige exhaled deeply, her entire body sagging into the couch.

“Jesus Christ.”

Alba, still grinning, raised her glass in Paige’s direction. “You survived, Bueckers. I honestly wasn’t sure if you would.”

Paige groaned. “Neither was I.”

Cecilia leaned into Paige’s side, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You did good, amor.”

Paige huffed. “I better have. I think I aged five years.”

Alexia smirked, arms crossed. “That was nothing. You should’ve seen what I did to Alba’s first girlfriend.”

Paige paled and her throat grew dry.

Alba threw her head back and cackled. “Ale, stop terrifying her!”

Alexia just smiled. “No promises.”

#woso x platonic!reader #woso community #woso x reader #wbb x reader #paige bueckers x black!reader #paige bueckers x black reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alba putellas x reader

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aestheticanimegirl15 · 7 months ago

Text

TW: slight angst, slight mentions of pregnancy, fem reader

It happens every year without fail since you and Simon got together. Every December, it's almost like clock work. You've come to accept it now as sort of a tradition. You put up the tree, wrap it in colorful lights, candy canes, tinsel, and ornaments that's been in your family for years. You hang up the stockings, make hot coco, etc. All normal, right? Except for this.

It's happens a handful of times, a week or a couple of days before Christmas. You'd wake up at some ungodly hour in the middle of the night because the spot next to you is cold, the personal heater you call your husband no where to be seen. Except you know exactly where he is, and if you can manage to pull yourself out of the comfort of your warm bed and into the cold winter air you will find him exactly where you thought he was.

He'd be sitting on the floor, criss crossed, and just staring at the Christmas tree. His hulking form looks almost comical in such a position, almost looking like a school child waiting for story time. It's easy to tell he's tired and probably cold, too. So you grab a blanket and sit next to him, drapping the blanket around the both of you. He'd accept it, but he won't talk, not a peep, he won't even take his eyes off the colorful tree.

So you don't, either. You'll just sit there with him, looking at the tree and the presents you had managed to wrap before you had to stop because your legs were numb and ran out of tape. You'll notice the distant, almost sad look in his eyes as he stares at the tree, like he's remembering something. But you won't mention it, in the past you did but he'd always divert the question.

"Maybe in the future, love." He'd say.

And since there was no point in asking questions you'd get no awnsers to, you just came to accept this as a part of who he is. After all before he met you, he never celebrated the holiday unless one of his teammates forced him to. You remember being shocked when he told you he had never put up a tree before.

"Just never saw the point in it."

After a while, if you're able to, you'll manage to coax him back into bed. The bed now cold but just as comfy as when you left it, and you'll fall back asleep in his arms.

Simon swears to himself that one day he'll tell you once he's comfortable enough. He'll tell you about his mother, brother, sister in law, and his nephew. Maybe even tell you what happened to them if he can bring himself to talk about it without breaking down. One day, he'll tell you about his past, but not tonight. Tonight he'll just focus on the feeling of you in his arms, the sound of your gentle breathing, but most of all he'll focus on the feeling of your stomach and the five month baby bump that was hidden underneath your night shirt.

But in the quiet of the night, when he knows your asleep. A silent whisper floats up into the air

"Merry Christmas, mom... I hope Santa is able to get little Joseph his present. Say hi to Tommy and Beth for me...."

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cameronspecial · 1 year ago

Note

hii! I really love and enjoy all of your writings, you are so amazing and talented!

I checked just to be sure before I ask if you could write about rafe being/having casual dominance towards a clumsy!reader but she doesn’t really notice she’s clumsy or a bit reckless?

i’m so sorry if this doesn’t make sense my english isn’t that good but it’s okay if you don’t want to this, I love your work anyway! thank you so much!

Clumsy Princess

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.5K

A/N: You are so sweet, thank you!

Masterlist

Rafe knows how to control his body. He is aware of every movement he does and how it affects and is affected by his environment. He is practically Spider-Man. Y/N, on the other hand, is the completely opposite. She bumbles around the world like a baby doe on freshly born legs. Her depth perception is severely lacking and it has led to a variety of bruises all over her body. However, ever since she started dating Rafe, the number of her accidents has dwindled.

———

The couple walks hand-in-hand around the aquarium, taking their time to look at the different exhibits. Rafe booked out the whole place, so they didn’t worry about other people being in the way. The first place she has wanted to go is to look at the turtle and they have been making their way to the animals for five minutes now. They finally spot the hard-shelled sea creatures and her face lights as bright as a star. She rushes to the tank while dragging him behind her. As soon as they get to the tank, he places the back of his hand against the glass around her height. She can’t question what he is doing because before she can, the momentum of her hurry to get to the glass causes her forehead to hit his hand. Her left hand reaches up to rub where a bump would have been forming if not for Rafe and she turns to him with a thankful smile. “Thank you, Baby.” She rises on her tippy toes to place a kiss on his lips.

———

Her hand is looped into his as they walk down the street after leaving the aquarium. They are heading to Chinatown to get something to eat. “And I told her that she was being mean…” The words Y/N is saying fade away from Rafe’s ears as he sees the street lamp coming up and he has a fortune-teller moment. He nods with a smile, pretending to listen. As they pass the lamp, he is sure to tug her to his side. She narrowly misses walking into the pole, yet she doesn’t notice and she continues on with her story. “She said I was the one at fault.” Rafe can now focus on his girlfriend’s words because there are no dangers in sight.

———

They get back home and she can’t wait to get to their room to watch Coco like Rafe said they could. He holds her hand whilst she stumbles over her shoes as she takes them off, but she lets go of it as she runs to the stairs. Rafe is right behind her. She rushes up the stairs and feels his hands on her waist. As he predicted, she was going too fast and would’ve missed the first step, which would’ve caused her to face plant right into the steps. She straightens up and looks at him with a sheepish grin. He returns the smile and rests his hand against her lower back to help her upstairs.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #rafe #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron outer banks

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moonlit-imagines · 10 months ago

Text

Remember Me

Tony Stark x child!reader

warnings:

a/n: yo im literally writing these in order of my spotify shuffle im sitting in my car waiting for mt laundry to be done

prompt: anonymous: “hello! First I wanna start with a big congrats on 8k followers, that is quite the achievement!!! I have a request for a Tony stark x child!reader (Tony’s child) with the song Remember Me from the movie Coco. Maybe something like the reader seeing the message Tony left for them after the events of Endgame? Idk if this is any good or not, but I had an idea so I figured I’d put in a request! Thank you for reading and have a nice day :D”//Remember Me - Coco Soundtrack

You sat at the edge of your bed at about four in the morning, the video your dad left you playing on loop for the fortieth time in the dark room—volume low as not to wake the rest of the house.

“You can bet they’ll remember me, kid.” Tony’s hologram told you once more. “Question is—will you?” You wished you could reach out and touch him, but each time you tried your hand slipped through the image and your heart sank a little deeper.

A few tears were shed when you were alone. When all eyes were on you at the funeral you just couldn’t bare to let anyone see you cry. Especially not your sister, you wanted to be strong for her.

The genius asshole that he was, he knew exactly what would make you cry. He loaded that hologram message with about a dozen videos of him and you when you were younger. Trips, experiments, explosions, birthdays, fifth grade graduation, you name it.

“You crying yet, y/n?” The message cut back to him. “I am. You were a cute kid. You know it’s okay to cry, right? You always put on such a brave face. Maybe it was because you grew up around the Avengers, I wouldn’t want them to see me cry either. But you can, they don’t mind.” Tony’s eyes were looking at your wall—you turned the thing away from you a bit because it was weird—but from this angle you could see those little streaks of tears on his cheeks. “Don’t grow up to be like me. Be better. I know you can be. Love you, goof.”

The message began to play again and you shut it off. Then you sat in silence a little longer and went to sleep. After about twenty minutes of that, Morgan crawled into your bed and told you she loved you “three thousand.” She reminded you of Dad.

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @mymelodymia // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

#tony stark imagine #tony stark x reader #tony stark #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x son!reader #iron dad #stark!reader #stark!daughter #stark!son #iron man x reader #iron man #iron man imagine #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #avengers #avengers x reader #avengers imagine

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therealcocoshady · 1 year ago

Note

Hi coco!

Can you do a one shot about a younger actress reader?

There is a tiktok going viral about her saying that she likes older men and another where she is looking at marshall at an event with "fuck me eyes"?

Reader freaks out when marshall just slides into her dms but later they are spotted together at the paparazzi?

I just find it cute and awkward 💀

DADDY’S SPAGHETTI 🍝

Eminem x Young Actress Reader

Synopsis : You are a young actress whose crush on Eminem becomes public. You are mortified about it… until he slides in your DMs.

Author’s Note : I absolutely LOVED this request, I had to give it a go ❤️. I was inspired and I swear I never wrote anything that quickly. It is short and sweet and I hope you enjoy it. ☺️

You thought you were done being publicly embarrassed. Yet, life was proving you wrong. As an actress who had her start in her teenage years, you weren’t a stranger to embarrassment. From awkward casting calls to stupid deaths on TV, it was practically part of the job. However, as your career evolved, you thought it would go away. After all, you were now in a better position, able to choose the projects you were involved in and you had garnered the respect from your peers and the industry. Even the media had become more kind towards you. In a matter of years, you had gone from the awkward teen movie star to well-respected actress, and you were able to look back fondly to your early years. You even joked about how awkward you were, back then. The last thing you expected was for it to start all over again.

You were walking the red carpet for the premiere of your latest movie, your biggest project to date. It was truly the highlight of your career : a role created specifically for you, a movie directed by someone you admired, a beautiful story told on the big screen… You had gotten your fair share of praise in the past, but you knew this was going to be your « big break ». Behind the scenes, everyone had praised your performance and told you it was « Oscars material ». You didn’t know if that was true or not, but you were on cloud nine nonetheless. When you walked the red carpet at the premiere, in a custom Elie Saab gown, everything felt right and you weren’t even stressed out when you answered the questions of a few journalists present.

You look truly amazing, tonight, one commented. Who are you wearing ?

Thank you ! This is a custom Elie Saab, I feel like a princess. I sort of had to dress up for this beautiful event, you replied as you tried to shift the focus on the movie.

This is your biggest role to date, another said. How do you feel about the movie ? Have you seen it ?

I’ve seen bits and pieces. But I’m going to discover the whole thing tonight, you said with excitement. I’m very confident. Filming with such a director was an honor and I know that the result will be great. I can’t wait for everyone to see it !

One thing that everybody is really excited about is the soundtrack, too, a third journalist chimed in. Eminem was involved. Have you heard the theme song yet ?

I haven’t, you said. But it’s Eminem so I know it’s going to be absolutely fantastic ! I can’t wait to hear it !

You sound like you like his work. Have the two of you met ? They asked.

Oh, I’m his biggest fan, you said with a huge smile. His music’s the soundtrack to my life ! But no, I haven’t met him…

Tonight’s your chance, they joked. He is over there.

They pointed to him and Eminem was, indeed, a few feet away from you. He had been a celebrity crush of yours for years and you were absolutely starstruck. He was even more attractive than in pictures ! You couldn’t help but stare. This man was oozing charisma and commanding attention. You didn’t even notice that you were looking at him with « fuck me » eyes and licking your lips. For a brief instant, you completely forgot where you were, until you heard your name being called, signaling that you had to keep walking and enter the screening room. That night, you didn’t get a chance to meet your idol, though. As the lead of the movie, people kept on coming over to you and talking to you. It was probably for the best, too. You had been starstruck enough on the red carpet ad you did not trust yourself to have a pleasant exchange with him.

Of course, the video of you thirsting over Eminem went viral. It would have been kind of cute if other clips hadn’t surfaced. There were videos from years ago, of you talking about having a crush on him - God, you really didn’t have a filter, back then - and especially one interview where you were candid about being attracted by older men.

What’s your type when it comes to men and dating ? The journalist asked.

I like mature, older men, you said candidly. I’m not really attracted to people my age.

Any physical features you’re attracted to ?

Oh, it’s typical, you know, you giggled. Dark hair, blue eyes… I like a nice beard, too.

So basically… Eminem ? The interviewer playfully asked.

Oooof… You have no idea, you replied with a grin.

Isn’t he… Old enough to be your Dad, though ?

Let’s just say I wouldn’t mind calling Marshall Mathers Daddy, you giggled.

At the time, this interview didn’t make much noise. It was for an indie podcast and, seeing as you weren’t too famous at the time, it sort of flew under the radar. It was kind of a harmless joke and a nod to your thirst for him, which all your friends were very much aware of. However, the video resurfaced after the viral red carpet clip, and people were quick to make edits, soberly titled « Y/N thirsting over Eminem over the years ». Your friends jokingly forwarded them to you and you know they were being playful, but to you, it was everything but fun. You were absolutely mortified. Having a crush on him was one thing, but there was a literal video of you staring at him like you were in heat. So much for being a classy movie star…

The nail in the coffin came when Marshall was interviewed and asked to react to the video of you thirsting over him. He seemed genuinely surprised, leading to think that he wasn’t aware of the clip before the interview. All in all, he didn’t say much, he just described the whole thing as « flattering » and quickly went on to praise your performance in the movie : « We didn’t actually meet, but I saw the movie, which I worked on the soundtrack for, and she is really amazing in it. Really talented. ». Thank God, he didn’t add to your embarrassment. Your friends were going crazy over this « Come on, Y/N, he said he was flattered and that you’re talented ! That’s cute ! You should DM him or something », they encouraged you. However, you didn’t. He was clearly just being classy and not publicly embarrassing you - you did that on your own anyway.

A few days later, however, you had the biggest surprise of your life : a DM from him on Instagram. At first, you thought it was a fake account and didn’t pay it much attention but it was clearly him, verified account, blue tick and everything. You were nervous to open it and you almost didn’t want to. What would he say to you ? Most likely something along the lines of « Please don’t mention me ever again, that’s awkward, you’re awkward and your filmography is trash anyway». It actually took you a couple of days to muster the courage of opening it. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything horrible. Quite the contrary, actually. He was in LA for the week and wanted to know if you’d have dinner with him. You were terrified and freaking out, but also excited. At first, you were reluctant - what if you embarrassed yourself ? But ultimately, curiosity got the best of you and you accepted. Surely, if he asked you to have dinner with him, it couldn’t be that bad, right ?

A couple of days later, the two of you went for dinner and joined at SoHo House in West Hollywood. Due to both of your fame, a members-only social club was a safe pace that allowed for privacy. You were nervous, at first, and some paranoid part of your brain was scared that it would be a complete disaster, but it was the contrary. He introduced himself as Marshall and was an absolute gentleman and a sweetheart. He mentioned he had seen a lot of your movies and described himself as an admirer of your work. The whole evening, conversation flowed easily between the two of you. He put you at ease and was one of the most interesting persons you had ever met, knowledgeable on a lot of subjects and funny as hell, too. You weren’t too sure, but it also seemed like he was subtly flirting with you, though you didn’t want to get in your own head and make assumptions. He was so chill that you weren’t star struck anymore, but you were still reasonably impressed and too scared to flirt, so you simply enjoyed conversation with him. You were usually scared to meet people you admired, afraid that you’d have a terrible interaction with them that would taint your perception of their work, but the whole dinner was heavenly and you were so glad he DMed you. In his company, time seemed like a foreign concept, so much so that you had to be kicked out of the club’s restaurant, since you were the only customers left and it was 2 in the morning.

I can’t believe we’ve been here for six hours already, you giggled. Time really flew by.

It did, he said with a smile. I’m really glad we did this, Y/N.

Me too, you said shyly.

You were in the lobby, about to part ways, and your heart was beating fast. The way he spoke your name had you feeling all the feels and you didn’t really want the moment to end. He was staring at you intently while you were nervously biting your lip, trying not to say something awkward that could ruin the night. « Don’t be that person, Y/N », you thought to yourself.

Thank you for coming, he said. When you didn’t reply to my DM, I thought you didn’t really want to meet. But I had a really great time tonight.

Yeah, sorry I… I actually took a few days to open your message because I was scared, you confessed. I mean, we haven’t addressed the elephant in the room tonight, but I did kind of make a fool of myself on the red carpet. And when you wrote, I was kind of nervous.

You didn’t make a fool of yourself, he said reassuringly. Nothing to be embarrassed about. It was kind of adorable.

No need to sugarcoat it, you said nervously. You’ve seen that video of me thirsting over you…

I have, he said as he got closer to you. I’m pretty lucky…

A-Are you ? You asked nervously.

Yeah… Thank God they didn’t catch me staring at you the whole night of the premiere, he continued. Because I literally couldn’t take my eyes off you. You’re gorgeous.

Oh ? Uhm… I mean… The glam team really did a good job, you babbled. And the stylists, too.

They really did, he said with a smile as he got even closer. You were stunning.

I mean, it was a lot of work for me to look good, you know ? I mean I normally look like tra-… I mean, not trash but you know it’s…

There you were. Embarrassing yourself. There was only so much time you could spend in his intoxicating presence without making a fool of yourself and, apparently, it was six hours. He was smiling and you nerves were getting the best of you. You didn’t drink too much at dinner and you couldn’t even blame it on the cocktails. Just your dumb brain making interactions awkward. Thank God the lobby was dimly lit, otherwise, he would have seen your face turn bright red. You cheeks were burning from embarrassment.

I-I’m sorry, you said. I’m not good at talking to hot people. I mean you’re… Oh my God, why can’t I shut up ? I’m sorry, it’s late and -

I’ll help you, he chuckled as he cupped your face and kissed you.

The kiss was soft and romantic and you could feel him smile into it. He had one hand stroking your cheek while the other one was on your waist, pulling you close to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and fully leaned into the kiss as your lips parted ways, allowing his tongue to caress yours. Thank God it was late and you were the only people there, having some sense of privacy while the kiss got more and more passionate. When he broke the embrace, Marshall grabbed your hand and pressed his forehead to yours.

Would you like to come to my room ? He asked with a smile.

Ok, you nodded - still a bit dizzy from the kiss.

In the elevator, you kissed hungrily and there was absolutely no doubt as to where this was headed. You usually weren’t the kind of girl to sleep on the first date, but your five-date policy was thrown to the fire. Marshall was way too hot, way too charismatic. Also, you’d fantasized about him long enough to make an exception. If every wet dream of yours he had inhabited over the years counted as a date, this was actually overdue. You made it to the room and quickly ended up on the bed with him on top of you, nipping at the sweet spot in your neck.

Marshall, you moaned.

You meant « Daddy », right ? He asked with a smirk.

You stared at him with your mouth open, almost embarrassed as you remembered your comment about how you wouldn’t mind calling him Daddy. Your shocked expression made him laugh and he didn’t give you time to reply. Instead, he captured your lips and ran his hands under your blouse. That night, you did end up calling him « Daddy », as well as screaming his name while he ravished you in every way possible until the both of you passed out from exhaustion.

The next morning, as you woke up in his arms, you weren’t too sure what to do or say, wondering if that was a one time thing or not. However, you weren’t confused for too long as Marshall asked you on another dinner date. You saw each other as much as possible for the remainder of his stay in California. It was meant to be casual, at first, but it quickly became more and, even though the two of you were busy, you tried to make it work. Whenever he came to LA to work with Dre, he would stay at your place and, as soon as you had free time, you flew to Michigan to spend time with him. It was only a matter of time until rumors started to emerge about the two of you, though you were careful not to be spotted together.

DADDY’S SPAGHETTI : Y/N SPOTTED IN DETROIT.

Oscar-nominated actress Y/N was spotted in Detroit last week. She was seen grabbing a takeout order from Mom’s Spaghetti on Woodward Avenue. Through the years, Y/N has been quite vocal about her love of Eminem, but it seems like she’s doing more than supporting the Rap God’s business venture. The hoodie she was wearing does look a lot like the one Eminem was wearing a few days earlier when he was spotted attending the Lions game. Last time she walked the red carpet, Y/N was seen thirsting over the Detroit rapper. Is there a chance they could appear at the Oscars together ?

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #eminem imagine

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arc-misadventures · 17 days ago

Text

A Snipers Choice in Fashion

May: C-Coco... do you have a moment?

Coco: Hmm...? Oh, hey May-May! No that doesn't work... What do you need May?

May: Uhh... I need your help with something... fashion related.

Coco: Oh-hohoho~! Trying to come up with something spicy to entrap our loveable white knight~?

May: W-What?! How did you know?!

Coco: Jaune may not notice when you're giving him doe eyes, but I do~!

May: That's probably because I'm looking at Jaune not the rest of you... Wait... does that mean everyone knows I like Jaune?

Velvet: Yes.

Yang: Everyone does.

Blake: It's cute, but seriously just date already!

May: But...

Pyrrha: Just fuck already!

May: Eep!

Coco: And, as you can see... everyone knows you have a crush on Jaune. So please do something, we're all tired of you dancing around each other.

May: Well... how would you all feel if Jaune did l-l-like me...?

Coco: ...

Coco: Excuse me...?

May: And, I need your help to... seduce him?

CVYBP: ...

Coco: May. Sit.

May: W-What?

Pyrrha: Sit.

May: O-Okay

Blake: Now May, we need details... a lot of details to know what we're working with.

Velvet: Especially the juicy bits~!

May: Uhh...?!

Yang: Well... start talking~!

May: O-Okay... Well... Jaune, and I have been childhood friends for years...

Pyrrha: Childhood friends?!

Yang: And, they're still not dating?!

May: And, well... we chat a lot online, and we even hang out at each others places a lot, mostly in each others rooms...

Blake: Have you done the deed there?!

Velvet: You idiot. If they did the deed they would already be dating! Jaune's not that kind of man.

Blake: Sorry...

May: W-Well... We sometimes send photos to each other... Hobbies, interests, cute pet pictures...

Blake: Are you the pet~?

(Smack!)

Yang: Behave!

May: And, well... I sent him a photo of when I went to an airsoft tournament. Just a little photo of me being cutesy...

Pyrrha: She's cute as is, how does she define being cutesy?

Velvet: I need photos of May's 'cutesy...'

May: And, well... I went to his house, and went to his room to chat, and hang out, and well... he left for a moment I bumped the mouse on his computer, and I saw his screensaver. And, well... his screensaver was the photo of me at the airsoft tournament...

CVYBP: AHHH~!

Velvet: He does like you~!

Pyrrha: He totally has a crush on you!

Yang: I thought he was just dense, but apparently he's just shy.

Blake: Gods I wish I had my notebook with me... This has the making of a great story!

Coco: So... May...

May: Y-Yes!

Coco: So, you need fashion advice from me... Something cutesy that you can entice Jaune with from your next air soft tournament?

May: Yeah... I thought I could take another photo, or showoff the cute outfit to him one of the days he's at my place...

Coco: Smart girl. Okay, show me the photo that caused this all, I need to know what I'm working with.

May: O-Okay... Here's the photo...

Coco: Okay... let's see...

May:

CVYBP: ...

May: W-What do you think?

Coco: What do I think...? You ask me what do I think? I think you look...

May: Eep!

Coco: Adorable!

May: W-What...?

Yang: That's such a cute pose!

Pyrrha: You mostly see her eyes, but they're so pretty~!

Velvet: I need to do a photo shoot with her!

Coco: Okay, I now know what I'm working with... and honestly I can't believe I'm asking this... But, Yang, I'm going to need you to call for your sister.

Yang: Ruby? Why?

Coco: Ruby knows more about military apparel than I do. So, I'll need her advice on what works functionally, rather than just stylistically.

Yang: Whoa... Coco asking Ruby of all people for fashion advice... The world is full of wonders...

Coco: Well girls, let's get going... it's time to get our girl her man! But, before we begin, can I ask you one thing May?

May: S-Sure... what is it.

Coco: What are your thoughts on wearing just a helmet, and a camo bikini?

May: W-W-W-WHAT?!

Coco: That's a maybe, we'll put it on the back burner okay. Alright girls, let's begin~!

~~~

Jaune: Hmm...

Ren: Something wrong Jaune?

Jaune: I have felt a wave of foreboding, and unease wash over me...

Neptune: The girls are probably planning on something involving you, and May.

Sun: I'd bet money on that.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Whelp... I'm screwed...

RNS: Yep.

#rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #ruby rose #blake belladonna #pyrrha nikos #velvet scarlatina #coco adel #may zedong #jaune x may #may x jaune #rwby arcshot #lie ren #sun wukong #neptune vasilias

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andy-15-07 · 3 months ago

Note

Hii<3 could you please write a pedro pascal x reader where he brought his gf to Japan with him for the Star Wars event and while the interview asked him about his gf she shouts from behind the scenes "te amo pedrito" and Coco is there too filming the whole thing 😂🫶🏻

“Te amo, Pedrito!”

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT:1347 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

You step off the private jet into the balmy Tokyo night, heart fluttering like the neon lights all around you. Pedro stands a half-beat ahead, hand curled around yours, hair tousled perfectly,as if he’d just stepped off a set rather than a twelve-hour flight. You squeeze his fingers, the glittering cityscape reflecting in his chocolate-brown eyes.

“Welcome to Japan,” he murmurs, voice low enough only you can hear. His accent warms you like a cozy blanket as he draws you toward the waiting SUVs. “I figured we could do sushi first, then I’ll show you around Shibuya.”

You grin, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Lead the way, señor Pascal.”

The next morning dawns bright and clear, and you find yourself sipping matcha latte across from Pedro’s long-time hairstylist and friend, Coco, at a minimalist café in Roppongi. Coco’s phone is already propped up, camera rolling as she chats in Japanese and English about the best ramen spots.

“Y/N, do you like your matcha sweet?” Coco asks, eyes twinkling behind her bold frames.

“It’s perfect,” you reply, lifting the silky green foam to your lips. The café’s gentle hum wraps around you like a lullaby,far different from the roar of adoring fans gathering at the convention center across town.

“And you,” Coco pivots to Pedro, curling a strand of his hair around her finger like a benevolent sorceress, “are you excited for the Star Wars event tonight?”

Pedro laughs, his shoulders shaking in that infuriatingly adorable way. “More than a little. But honestly, I’m more excited that my fabulous girlfriend is here with me.”

Coco winks at you. “See? I told him he needed to bring you along for moral support. And for me to get new TikTok material.”

You laugh, but your cheeks warm. Pedro’s eyes flick to you, shining. “She’s right,you’re my lucky charm, y’know.”

Backstage at the Tokyo International Forum, the buzz is electric. You trail just behind Pedro, Coco following with her phone held high, capturing every behind-the-scenes moment. Actors, directors, and cosplayers weave through the corridors, and you glimpse familiar faces from the Star Wars saga,Daisy Ridley, Oscar Isaac,each greeting Pedro with enthusiasm.

“It’s like a family reunion,” you whisper to him, adjusting the hem of your sleek black jumpsuit.

Pedro grins, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “That’s exactly what it is. But it wouldn’t be complete without you here.”

Coco catches the two of you in the frame and giggles. “You two are too cute. Should I live-stream this?”

“Not everything,” you tease, nudging Pedro’s ribs.

Suddenly, a voice calls your name in clipped English: “Mr. Pascal? Are you ready for your interview?”

Pedro straightens his blazer, slipping his hand into yours one last time. “Always.” He winks at you before stepping into the bright studio lights.

The interviewer, a poised Japanese-American host named Akiko, smiles warmly. You watch from the side, arms crossed over your chest, as cameras roll. Coco crouches behind you, angling her phone to catch your reactions and the “bloopers” she’s sure will happen.

“Pedro, welcome back to Tokyo,” Akiko begins in Japanese, switching seamlessly to English. “You’ve just wrapped filming on the new Star Wars series, and tonight you’re here for the world premiere. But more importantly,” she eyes your seat at the side of the set, “you brought someone special with you.”

Pedro’s grin deepens. “I did. This is Y/N,my partner in crime, life, and now, Star Wars promotions.”

You stand, heart thundering, and wave. The cameras briefly cut to you; in that moment, your cheeks flush under the studio lights.

“Welcome, Y/N,” Akiko says, gesturing to an empty chair beside her. “How does it feel to be here in Tokyo?”

You swallow, remembering your practiced line, but the kitschy atmosphere and press of expectations dissolve the moment you speak. “It’s incredible. The city is gorgeous, the food is beyond my wildest dreams, and,” you pause to glance at Pedro, who’s leaning forward, rapt, “,having Pedro by my side makes it all the more magical.”

Pedro reaches out, covering your hand with his. His thumb strokes your knuckles and time slows. Coco’s phone light winks at you from behind the host’s desk.

Akiko smiles. “Pedro, I heard a rumor that someone,who may or may not be off camera,is a big Star Wars fan. Care to confirm?”

Pedro raises an eyebrow. “I have no idea what you mean.”

The camera widens to include the backstage area. You’re standing with Coco, who mouths “I love you” obnoxiously loud, framing you both in her shot.

Then, from just out of view, your voice rings clear as a bell: “Te amo, Pedrito!”

The soft hush of the studio is replaced by a ripple of laughter. Pedro’s jaw drops, eyes darting to you, then to the cameras.

You, equally surprised by your own boldness, flush a brilliant shade of crimson and give him an exaggerated pout. “Didn’t you want to know if your girlfriend is a Star Wars fan?”

Pedro bursts into laughter, the kind that makes his chest shake and his eyes sparkle. “I love you,” he calls back, gesturing to the host. “That’s my girlfriend,has been since 2019, by the way, on and off set, through bad lighting and good.”

Akiko’s laughter mingles with everyone else’s. “Well, that’s about the sweetest off-camera moment we’ve ever had on this show. Thank you, Y/N!”

You sink into the chair beside Akiko, cheeks still burning, as Coco quietly cheers behind the camera. Pedro leans in, low enough that only you can hear: “That was perfect.”

You grin, sliding your hand into his. “Anything for you, mi amor.”

After the interview, you and Pedro are whisked away to the red carpet. Flashbulbs pop, reporters call out questions, and fans chant his name in Japanese and English. All the while, you lean into him, his warmth a shield against the frenzied excitement.

Coco dances around you both, phone still filming, muttering in Japanese about how she’s going to have to make a two-minute highlight reel of “Y/N’s love confession,” complete with slo-mo and dramatic music.

Later, when the event winds down and you’re back in your hotel suite overlooking the city lights, Pedro pours two glasses of sake. You clink glasses, the amber liquid catching the glow of Tokyo’s skyline.

“To you,” Pedro says, voice husky. “For making my life brighter than any star in a galaxy far, far away.”

You take a sip, then set your glass down, rising onto your toes to capture his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. “To us.”

He wraps his arms around you, backbone flexing as he pulls you flush against him. “I can’t wait for our next adventure,” he murmurs.

You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. “Me neither, Pedrito.”

Coco’s door-knock rings through the suite, and you both pull back just enough for Pedro to answer it. Coco stands there, phone in hand, eyes dancing.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says with mock seriousness, “but I’ve already edited that highlight reel. Shall I post?”

Pedro groans dramatically, burying his face in your hair. “Coco, you’re the devil, but I love you.”

You laugh, tugging Pedro’s hand. “Come on, devil hairstylist, let’s see it.”

Coco pushes past you, tapping play. The video starts with your shy wave on camera, cuts to Pedro’s stunned laugh, then to your shouted confession,“Te amo, Pedrito!”,in glorious slo-mo, overlaid with dreamy harp music. Comments pop up instantly: “Couple goals!” “Pedro Pascal, you’re so lucky!” “I need more Y/N content!”

You tuck your hair behind your ear, cheeks blazing again, but Pedro just scoops you into his arms and turns to Coco. “What would I do without you?”

She laughs, looping an arm around Pedro’s waist. “You’d be boring, that’s what. Now, come on,let’s party.”

And so you step into the glow of your shared spotlight, hearts in perfect sync, ready for whatever comes next,because no matter how many galaxies separate you from home, here, at Pedro’s side, you’ve already found the brightest star of all.

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