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pluckyredhead · 1 day ago

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The Stephanie Brown Wars

It has come to my attention that not enough people know everything DC put Stephanie Brown and her fans through in the 2000s and 2010s, so here, as threatened, is the Saga. There have definitely been female characters who have been put through more horrific storylines, but what I think is really remarkable about Steph's story is how clearly it highlights the misogyny against real women, i.e. readers, that was completely mask-off in the comics industry at the time.

Please note that I am only going to be focusing on Steph's death in War Games, her erasure from continuity with the New 52, and the fallout from both of those events. If I dug into the sexist treatment she got from Batman and Tim prior to her tenure as Robin, we'd be here all day.

ANYWAY. It begins in 2004. In Robin #125, Tim's dad discovers that he is Robin, and threatens to out Batman unless his underage son quits this highly dangerous and illegal activity (fair).

In Robin #126, Steph sees Tim being kissed by his ex-girlfriend, Darla Aquista. Now in Tim's defense, Darla initiated the kiss and Tim tells her afterwards that he's seeing someone. On the other hand, the kiss lasts for four whole panels and five lines of dialogue from observers. Also, considering Tim originally ended his relationship with Darla by cheating on her with Steph, you can see why Steph might not be feeling super trusting here. [EDIT: Darla was not Tim's ex, I was thinking about Ariana Dzerchenko there. Tim being chronically unfaithful still holds but that's for another post.]

Upset, Steph makes herself a costume, breaks into the Batcave, and declares herself the new Robin:

Bruce is like "...You know what, yeah, okay." Alfred pulls him aside and immediately calls out what's going on here:

Bruce very pointedly does not answer Alfred's question, which is as good as a yes. And look: you can question Steph's decision to volunteer as Robin out of spite because she assumed her boyfriend was cheating on her without talking to him. And you can question her later actions that kick off War Games. But she's sixteen years old. Meanwhile Bruce, a grown-ass man who is also Batman, is playing mind games with a couple of high schoolers in order to...what? Destroy Tim's relationship with his only living parent and totally discard Steph when she's no longer useful, presumably.

Also please note Bruce accurately describing Steph's best qualities, which are also her fatal flaw. And remember that the quality he claims he's hiring for is also what he'll blame her firing on.

Time goes by. Bruce trains Steph, but he tells her she's on "probation" and that means 1) she doesn't learn any of the big secrets and 2) if she disobeys any order, no matter how small, she's fired, no second chances. For the record, none of the boys were ever on probation (Jason and Tim had long training periods but that's the opposite; they were protected until they were ready, not thrown into the field without full support), they all knew Bruce's identity, and they disobeyed his orders all the time. Tim did it on his very first mission.

Just...putting this here.

In Robin #128, Batman is fighting a villain while Steph waits in the Batplane. Fearing for Bruce's life, Steph disobeys his orders to stay in the plane and tries to rescue him, only to be taken hostage by the villain, who escapes. Bruce fires her, and tells her she's not allowed to be Spoiler anymore, either. In a particularly cruel move, he specifies that all the codes will be changed in the Batcave to keep her out, even though in the previous issue, Tim noted to Steph that Bruce didn't change anything to keep him out.

Just to make the point again: yes, Steph broke the rules. However, none of the boys before her, nor Damian after her, were ever penalized the way she was and for such a minor infraction. Disobeying orders and getting taken hostage are like the second and third most important Robin responsibilities, after puns.

Steph is devastated, and this is what leads to War Games, which was a crossover event across the entire Batman line that ran from October 2004 to January 2005. It began with Batman: The 12 Cent Adventure, in which a bunch of crime bosses all show up for a meeting that none of them called, get antsy, and start shooting. The ensuing deaths cause a gang war across Gotham. Eventually Steph confesses to Catwoman that she called the meeting. She was trying to play out a war game she'd found on the Batcomputer to show Batman he was wrong to fire her, but the meet went wrong. A guy named Matches Malone was to show up and become the new crime boss of Gotham, but he never turned up.

Of course, the reader and Selina know what Steph doesn't: Matches Malone is Batman. If Batman doesn't know about this meeting, he can't control the situation. But if Batman had treated Steph like a true Robin instead of putting her on "probation," Steph would have known he was Matches Malone, and none of this would have happened.

I'll say it a third time: Steph fucked up, yes. But Steph was sixteen. What was Bruce's excuse?

Anyway. While running around Gotham desperately trying to fix her mistake, Steph encounters Black Mask, who manages to knock her out. He then chains her up and tortures her with a power drill in order to get her to spill Batman's plans (which she does not do). Here's how this sixteen-year-old is drawn when she's being tortured (in Robin #131):

Thank god we can see her tits and her ass at the same time, that was really important to the narrative.

Here's how she's drawn the next time we see her, in Catwoman #35:

Gotta make this dying teenager look hot or what's the point, amirite?

Steph manages to fight her way free, but Black Mask gets the upper hand again after she refuses to kill him. He shoots her, then lets her go to send Batman a message. She makes it to Bruce, who takes her to Leslie Thompkins's clinic, where she dies:

THESE PANELS ARE IMPORTANT. (Batman #633.)

Side note: Bruce is with Tim when Leslie calls him to tell him Steph is actively dying, and consciously decides not to tell Tim and let him and Steph say goodbye.

Side note #2: Steph's death was always planned as part of War Games. Dylan Horrocks, who was writing Batgirl at the time, and Devin Grayson, who was writing Nightwing, both vocally opposed this but were overruled, which is why this aspect of the plot barely plays out in their books.

Anyway. What I want to talk about is the aftermath of Steph's death. Characters dying was commonplace back then (way more common than it is now, actually), and female characters was extremely commonplace - this was a time when the term "fridging" was becoming more commonplace but wasn't yet seen as something to avoid. But readers noted a couple of things about Steph's death in particular:

The art was really inappropriately sexual. Why was Steph's tortured body being drawn to titillate?

Steph didn't have a memorial case in the Batcave. Why was that? Jason Todd, the only other dead Robin, had a case. In fact, Jason retained his case even after he came back to life (his first appearance as Red Hood is in Batman #635, two months after Steph's death). Why didn't Steph get a case?

I used the word "readers" specifically up there because it wasn't just Steph fans. I remember hearing from a number of people at the time who were like "Yeah I didn't actually like Steph, I thought she was annoying. But what happened to her was fucked up."

And these readers started asking DC where Steph's case was. Social media wasn't really a thing yet, but they asked in fan letters, at conventions, on LiveJournal and blogs, on forums.

"She wasn't really Robin," DC said, over and over again (like when Dan DiDio said it at Wizard World LA in 2007).

"But Batman said she was Robin. Right there on the page."

"Well, she wasn't."

"Why not? What makes her different from the other Robins? What makes her different from Jason?"

"...no comment."

(Hint: IT WAS THE GIRL COOTIES.)

At another con, Bill Willingham, who was writing at the time, said he wanted to "take a gun to all those girls who kept asking about a memorial case for Spoiler." I'm paraphrasing because the source is some LiveJournal page buried deep in the bowels of the internet, but I'm confident in the "take a gun to those girls"* part of the phrase because it burned itself onto my brain at the time.

*It was of course not only girls and women, not that he cared.

To be very clear: this man thought it was appropriate to respond to a group of mostly female readers pushing back against the comic book industry's relentless depictions of violence against women by...describing his fantasies of enacting violence against women. Out loud. With his mouth. To an audience. While acting in a professional capacity.

I also want to note something that never occurred to me at the time, but we (yes, I was there, Gandalf; this is in fact my origin story) weren't even asking for them to bring Steph back. Like, the thought never crossed my mind. Compare to HEAT (Hal's Emerald Attack Team), a group of fans who waged a harassment campaign after Emerald Twilight demanding Hal's reinstatement to the Corps and the firing of the writer who wrote the comic. We were only asking for DC to acknowledge that Steph had been Robin, and it infuriated them.

As a last point on Steph's death: I mentioned this in another post, but when Steph died in 2004, she had zero official action figures despite having been a recurring character in comics for 12 years. She wouldn't get her first action figure until 2010. But in 2005, DC started selling this:

Yes, he is holding the power drill.

Anyway. Fans kept the pressure up for four years, and eventually DC got so fed up that they just...fucking brought Steph back. I don't know how much of the reason was so that they wouldn't have to give her a memorial case and thus "let the girls win," but I bet it was more than 50%.

This is so fucking funny to me. What a bitchy little line to give Bruce. (Robin #174.)

See, immediately after Steph's death, Leslie Thompkins told Bruce she could have saved Steph but deliberately let her die to teach Bruce a lesson about letting kids fight in his war, which was a shocking bit of character assassination for Leslie and also...lol. As if Bruce cares about Steph enough to change his behavior.

Now in 2008 the official retcon was that while Steph was out of it and barely clinging to life, Leslie snuck her out of the country to Africa (where in Africa? don't worry about it, it's all the same, right?) to recover, and just told Bruce she was dead for the same ineffective lesson-teaching from before.

So Steph was never really dead! And Bruce knew that despite being by her side when she flatlined! And then he lied to Tim and said she was dead for...enrichment? Tim needs a little unnecessary grief in his enclosure sometimes. (Lol j/k Tim was nothing but grief and several nervous breakdowns in a trenchcoat at the time.) And Tim's just...basically fine with it???

DC sort of didn't really know what to do with Steph for a couple of years, so they put her through some really bad writing, and then since they had conveniently also put Cassandra Cain through several years of really bad writing, they had Cass quit being Batgirl and vanish out of comics for a bit, and Steph took over. What was done to Cass could be a post in its own right and the way she vacated the Batgirl role is awful, but it did give us the beautiful, golden, shining joy that is Batgirl (2009):

STEPHBATS YOU WILL ALWAYS HAVE MY WHOLE HEART.

This comic was beloved. It wasn't a huge seller (though comfortably above the usual cancellation threshold), but everyone I know who has read it loved it, even people who had never liked Steph before. This is the book that changed her from "cautionary tale about comic book sexism" to "fan favorite funny Batgirl."

And then the New 52 happened. And the second battle of the Steph Wars began.

If you weren't reading comics in 2011, you may not know that aside from all the controversy any major reboot engenders, the New 52 was very specifically controversial because of how women were treated by the reboot. Prior to the reboot, 12% of the creators working on DC's comics were women, which is just...an incredibly embarrassing number to begin with.

After the reboot, 1% of their creators were women. There were two (2) women in the initial New 52 lineup: Gail Simone and Amy Reeder. They were both fired the following year.

I am really struggling to communicate how badly women were treated around the New 52: creators, fans, characters. It was so bad that the Wikipedia page for the New 52 has multiple subsections about it. But I want to call out one part in particular:

This led to a tense interaction between fans and DC Comics co-publisher Dan DiDio at the 2011 San Diego Comic Con, where DiDio was asked by a fan about the drop in female creators from 12% to 1%. DiDio responded by saying, "What do those numbers mean to you? What do they mean to you? Who should we be hiring? Tell me right now. Who should we be hiring right now? Tell me."

What Wikipedia doesn't mention, but was widely reported all over the internet in 2011, was that the fan who held DC's feet to the fire at multiple panels over their obvious misogyny was dressed as Stephanie Brown.

Just like she had in 2004/2005, Steph became a symbol of the comic book industry's mistreatment of women - and a symbol that "all those girls" Bill Willingham had fantasized about shooting would not go away.

But what about Steph herself? Well, the New 52 reboot was meant to be starting over from scratch. Batman had only been around for five years, so obviously he couldn't have gone through five Robins in all that time!

...No, he'd gone through four. Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian were all still around. But Cass and Steph were gone and Babs was still Batgirl, erasing both her status as DC's most iconic disabled character and her legacy as the first of and mentor to all the other Batgirls. Legacy only matters when it's boys, you see. And following the rules only matters when it's for the purposes of keeping girls out.

And the erasure of Steph in particular was very clearly targeted. In 2012, Bryan Q. Miller (who had written Steph's Batgirl series) tried to include Steph as a future Nightwing in his Smallville Season 11 comic, set in the Smallville universe and not the main DCU. He was told to replace her. Not with anyone in particular, just get her out of there.

Later that year, DC launched the adorable digital first Li'l Gotham series by Dustin Nguyen (who had also worked on Steph's Batgirl series) and Derek Fridolfs. The Halloween issue included a little blonde girl trick or treating while wearing what was clearly Steph's Batgirl costume, a cute little Easter egg for fans. That is, until later editions, when the girl's hair was recolored to black. Again, this is a comic that was not set in the main DC universe, and the little girl wasn't even Steph, just a random kid. (Dustin managed to sneak a reference into a later issue in 2013, and by 2014 things had chilled out enough that Steph got a proper cameo.)

Scott Snyder asked to use Steph and Cass and was told no. Same with Gail Simone. Word on the street was that DC had declared them both "toxic."

Was it DiDio who hated Steph? I have no idea. But it was certainly DiDio who publicly berated a cosplayer in a Steph costume when she asked why there were so few women in the reboot that would become his ultimate legacy. (Well, his other ultimate legacy besides shielding and repeatedly promoting noted sexual harasser Eddie Berganza for 15 years.)

Steph finally, finally returned in 2014, not just to Li'l Gotham but to the main DCU with Batman #28. It makes me very happy that Dustin Nguyen got to be the one to draw her:

(Cass would have to wait nearly two more years, until Batman & Robin Eternal in late 2015 - further proof, as if any was needed, that however bad white women have it, women of color get treated even worse.)

As the comic above would indicate, Steph was reintroduced as being Spoiler and only Spoiler - still no girl Robins allowed. The 2016 Rebirth reboot introduced the idea that she had been both Robin and Batgirl...but in a different timeline. Finally, 2021's Infinite Frontier (after DiDio's departure from DC) restored both Steph and Cass's full history with all of their previous roles to continuity, further reinforced in 2022 by both the Robins miniseries and the Batgirls ongoing, both of which co-starred Steph.

Is the comic book industry still sexist? Yes, obviously. Do I wish DC had a better idea for what to do with Steph these days than occasionally pop up in the background of a Bat comic to make a joke? Yes, obviously. But when I look back at how openly misogynistic the industry was in the 2000s and early 2010s, how naked the vitriol against female characters and readers was, I'm always shocked anew by how much has changed, and how much we used to put up with.

We've come a long way, and some of that is thanks to Stephanie Brown becoming a symbol for women who would not lay down and die, would not be erased, would not shut the fuck up. As Bruce himself put it waaaay up at the top of this post:

"I did everything I could to make her quit. She wouldn't. She stood up to me, right down the line--defied me."

So in honor of Steph, the get-back-up-again-est girl in comics, please take two things away from this post:

Remember what they did.

Never, ever shut up.

#stephanie brown #spoiler #robin #batgirl #meta #comics

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jollyhunter · 2 days ago

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New Life, Old Herbs & Same Bullet

Main Masterlist ❀ Mark Meachum Masterlist

⋆ ˚｡⋆ PAIRING Mark Meachum x fem!Reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆ SERIES SUMMARY After years of undercover work as an LAPD Detective, you're ready to leave your past behind, make a fresh start in the countryside and move on from the demons that still haunt you at night. However, your old life soon catches up with you, and the annoyingly charming LAPD Detective assigned to protect you isn't making things any easier.

WARNING / TAGS Kinda tainted Fluff? with heavy underlying Angst Rural farmhouse vibe | Cozy, Angsty, Cozy, ANGSTY | Reader is in the WitSec program* | Reader is scarred by her last undercover case (no graphic descriptions) | Reader is dealing with PTSD / trauma | Detailed descriptions of panic attack and blacking out | mention of a dead fish? | Language | Mark likes to call Reader "Sunshine" | Kind of a dash of enemies to lovers vibe? | Mark and reader have a rough start lol | Mark might be a bit OOC (consider this my personal take on him from what I’ve seen so far!) | No use of Y/N. English isn't my native language. *It is by no means meant to be fully realistic, so please be lenient! 😉

⋆ ˚｡⋆ WORDS ~7k

⋆ ˚｡⋆ J / NOTES This first chapter is for @zepskies Summer Writing Challenge and her wonderful color prompt! Thank you so much for the beautiful colors! 🧡 I feel like after my first Enemies with Benefits Mark smut, Gunpoint, I had to repent lol, so here’s some bittersweet fluff with lots of angst mixed into it! 😘

Series Masterlist ❀ Taglist

You've always been one to smile even when it's wet and broken. Or when it was busted, and the rest of your face looked like Pollock's hand had slipped across it.

Other than that, you won't take much with you from your time undercover.

Knowing the ingredients of different drugs down to the ounce or being able to spot a mule in a crowd or learning the routines of human traffickers like you're one of them is not going to help you in the countryside.

There is one unspoken rule you've learned the hard way, though, and that one you definitely won't forget:

Always make sure you play well with the mob.

So that's what you do.

Different place, different mob, different murder. Same job.

This time, though, the sweet sound of windchimes sings across your weathered porch and a gentle breeze brushes the hair from your face. The jingling dances with the tall grass and flowers that pool around your bare ankles as you step through them.

You crouch beside the old maple tree, reach into the basket at your side and swat away a couple of flies. Unroll the newspaper across your lap. The stench of something putrid and rancid curls into your nose. Luckily, there's not much you haven't learned to stomach.

It's just one of the many things that going undercover teaches you – how to bury your gag reflex and smile like it's all just another Tuesday.

Dead, hollow eyes stare back at you once you continue to place the body down on a small slab of rock, its surface covered by a tablecloth of moss – today's offering.

Let's see how they like this...

You wipe your fingers on the crumpled paper, adjust your flowy dress, and pick up your basket before you step back some feet. Then wait.

Sure enough, the mob comes.

Crows announce their feast with excited caws before they come swooping down beside the lonely tree at the edge of the wheat field, where you've laid out the leftovers of a fish. You watch how the family merrily chatters away, the adults keeping lookout, while a pair of younglings peck at your offering.

"You like that, huh?" you call over to them, chuckling to yourself as one of them tilts its head and ruffles its feathers in response.

Mob happy. Mission complete.

Over the course of the last summer month, you've grown quite close with your new mob. They've learned your routine and you've learned to read their calls. They make great alarms, actually. They will caw loudly and cuss out any intruder with a foreign face from a mile away. Especially useful when you're living all alone Pippi Longstocking-style at the end of a dusty road somewhere off the brim of Oregon.

There are no neighbours.

Except for Miss Jenkins, whose husband either died long before you moved here or is being held hostage in her basement. And who should live far enough away that she shouldn't be able to appear on your porch spontaneously, like she's just been spawned there, yet she manages to do so at least once a week.

To "check in on you" as she likes to put it. Nosy old woman...

Otherwise, you're positive that there are no neighbours for miles who'd hear you scream.

Not the happy screams either – God, you haven't had those in a while. Heard enough of the others.

Some still ring in your ears whenever you lay in your bed at night and count the cracks in the timber that's supporting your ceiling or when you hear a fox screech somewhere in the woods behind your house, its cry blood-curdlingly similar to the agonising cries of a woman who's being brutally tortured for hours on end.

But all in all, you love it here.

You tiptoe back through the field that leads up to the gates of your garden. The gate creaks shut behind you, just like the four steps up to your back porch groan when you climb them – everything in this house seems to have its own voice, and isn't afraid to use it.

You're sure you'll get used to it, eventually. You say, and remember the many times the howling wind has startled you awake when the shutters clatter and the old wood creaks in the middle of the damn night.

Your gaze sweeps across your porch. The small wooden table, worn down by generations but spruced up by an olive green tablecloth with floral print, is readied nicely for your guests. The floor on the other hand is – once again – littered with leaves of the nearby maple tree.

Not that you'd mind, but you had a different use for them, than leaving them to rot on the porch.

You grab the broom from the corner and get to work.

Unlike others, you don't swipe the dead leaves off your porch, but into a nice heap for you to collect them once you are done. Their beautiful auburn-harvest colours will make a great addition to the décor and the candles in your living room. With every rhythmic swipe across the floorboards, your mind begins to wander to the months ahead and how you're going to spend them in your new home.

Soon, autumn will beckon you to huddle up inside with fresh pumpkin spice tea warming your palms, its hot steam cupping your cheeks like a pair of hands and a fuzzy blanket hugging you from behind while you watch the flames twirl and flicker inside your fireplace from the corner of your favourite couch.

Some may think of autumn as a dark and depressing time of the year. And sure, things die and sink back into the mud while thick fog gobbles up any leftovers. But to you, there's something oddly tranquillising about the way life is slowly forced to move inside.

It reminds you of your childhood, the family gatherings you'd groaned at back then, the warm laughter and the gossiping of aunts and grannies while your mother was cooking in the kitchen and decorated the house with the smell of roasted turkey and mashed sweet potatoes. Just like the sound of crackling fire and the scents of pumpkin and cinnamon spices which you hope will soon fill your own home with life.

There's just something about the warmth and safety of this season's forced proximity that harbours a certain coziness and sense of belonging, reminding you of the good old days, before you'd willingly rolled yourself in the mud and done whatever it took to make an undercover mission a success.

Autumn may call many things to an end, but it in your mind, also allows you to finally focus on the things which are important, the ones which stay. Which make a house, a home.

My home. You smile proudly.

Then give the neatly cleaned floor a once over, hands on your hips, satisfied with your work.

Once in your kitchen, you set the basket with the pile of leaves down in the corner next to the stove.

I'll take care of those later…

For now, you'll be occupied with the chopping of dried herbs you've got hanging from the ceiling. You carefully pick them down one by one and begin to spread the bunches out on your counter. The smell of thyme, rosemary and peppermint fill the warm kitchen once you begin to chop them into small pieces – for your own tea mixes.

Some of their mossy green colours remind you of that guy who'd busted you free from your last undercover gone wrong.

His charming smirk and confident attitude had left an impression on you which you still can't quite make sense of. It's been almost a whole year, and you can still feel his intense eyes searching you for any major injuries, how they'd flickered between bourbon whiskey and emerald green when the artificial light of the warehouse bounced off his sun freckled cheeks and his lips twitched into a befuddled chuckle once he'd noticed that despite looking like you'd been thrown into a blender, you'd smiled.

He probably thought you'd either been coked up or you were just generally off your rocker.

"You still with me, sunshine?" Something tingles in your chest at the memory of the deep timbre of his voice and the warm feeling of his hand patting your cheek. Head tilted up. Eyes searching yours. Deep and intense.

I didn't even get to ask him for his name.

You push the thought aside. He's part of a life that's in your past. It's probably for the best this way. And yet…

Gratefully, you're snapped out of your thoughts when you hear the familiar sputter of a car draw up to your house and kill its engines once it's parked in front of your entrance.

You've been expecting them, the guys of WitSec, but they're a little early as always. You can't help but groan to yourself with a roll of your eyes.

Not for much longer… two more days and I'm done. Just gotta make my statement and that's it. You remind yourself.

You open your kitchen window to gesture to the backside of your house. "Go to the back! I'll be with you in a minute!" One of them responds with a grunt and the other with a lazy wave of his hand.

Charming as always.

You go back to finish chop up the last bit for the tea you'd prepared, while you feel your fingers curl tighter around the knife's handle.

Whenever you have to face them, it takes all of your energy to keep smiling.

Their presence is like a constant reminder of all those months you spent in fear, of the countless times you were relocated across half of the US, and of them watching you the entire time.

The clack-clack-clack on the carving board comes to a halt. Hands slightly shaking. You take a couple of deep breaths, steady yourself and wait for the tremors in your hands to fade.

But your mind keeps going.

Every step of yours had been meticulously planned, monitored and executed. No friends. No family. No freedom. You wanted to talk to your mum? The Marshal would overview any form of communication. Invite your old best friend for a coffee? Ask the Marshal (he said no). Flirt with the cute guy who was visiting his mother next door every Wednesday? The Marshal had his résumé at hand before you could even ask him for his name. Step outside? Ask the Marshal.

You couldn't even get a damn muffin in the local bakery without his permission.

Undercover work destroyed your sense of self. But witness protection had successfully finished the job.

It was the price for your safety, as you'd been told countless times. One you'd agreed on. And effectively made you to their pawn.

Even now it manages to make your jaw clench.

I didn't choose this. Not really. They called it a choice. But it wasn't.

Because worst was, that you had let them rule your life – or what was left of it – and still the fear of someone sneaking up to you and throw a bag over your head, would follow you around like a constant shadow. Each and every night was spent all alone in bed, in complete isolation, drenched in sweat, eyes glued to the shadows moving under the door, expecting one of Chavez' men to kick it down any moment and drag you out by your hair.

For over eight goddamn months.

It was hell.

The nightmares and panic attacks ruled your life until last month, when they finally caught Rick Chavez and his right-hand man, Jackson Walker, and you were finally given back your own life.

Now they're just waiting for your statement to finish the case. Once and for all.

Two more days.

When you step out onto the porch, U.S. Marshal William Bailey and agent Thomas Rhodes are already waiting at your table like two vultures. You set down the pot of tea between the two, but don't take a seat.

Play nice now. You force that perfect lovely smile like you'd learned to.

"I made pie," you say, thumbing towards your kitchen, "I'll go get some."

From the corner of your kitchen window, you keep an eye on them while you cut three slices of your freshly baked apple pie. Not too big. Just enough to keep their mouths occupied.

You watch from behind the curtain how Rhodes' knee bobs up and down. He looks like he's a good 10 years younger than Bailey. Perhaps in his early 30s, as fidgety as a Border Collie surrounded by sheep (and you have no doubt that he's just as agile as one). His left hand rakes back his ash-blond slicked hair, making his British suit crease around his chest and expose the shoulder holster slung over his pinstriped vest, matching his suit and clad trousers.

He glances your way, checking what takes you this long – you quickly look back down and continue to prepare everything... in slow motion.

Rhodes then shifts his focus back to his partner.

His hand drops down with a frustrated huff, just to continue with his fingers tapping the tablecloth while he fishes a cigarette package from his chest pocket with his other hand.

"Did ya know, that a hawk can pick a dove right outta the sky?" he asks out of nowhere, words drawled across his tongue with an undeniable thick British accent he must've adopted from his mother. His blue eyes flicker to Bailey just to check on his attention before they return to the cigarette he's twirling in his hands.

Bailey tilts his head to the sky. Pauses.

The marine blue suit hugging his broader frame, rides up on his forearms as he folds his hands behind his short inky locks that curl around his palms. His dark brown skin shimmers with a cool, silver undertone in the patches of mid-day light. The sun has made it past the leaves of the trees by this time of the day, its shadows playfully dancing on the white porch.

Bailey smacks his lips. Then replies slowly.

"Sounds like a load of bullshit to me."

"Yeah, you bet your bollocks, I'm tellin' ya-" Rhodes runs a hand down his neatly trimmed brown chevron moustache before he tucks the blunt between his lips and continues halfway muffled "- just swoops down and grabs it mid-air. The poor dove don't stand a bloody chance. Smashes its bones to bits, like a bloody shotgun blast." He flicks his lighter on, smoulders the end of the stick and takes a drag. "Nature's right brutal."

Bailey rolls his eyes lazily and mumbles with a huff through his nose. "You watch too many movies, man. Makes you all antsy."

"Oi, if you spent less time watching them kiddie shows and more time feedin' that brain of yours some good ol' David Attenborough, you wouldn't be nappin' every bleedin' evenin' in a food coma now, would ya?"

"You leave Rick 'n Morty out of this. You're just miffed 'cause I usually get the bigger slice of pie."

"Now that is bollocks," Rhodes snaps at Bailey in defence.

An amused snort escapes you, luckily out of ear shut.

They continue their bickering, when all of a sudden the ringing of a phone cuts through their conversation. Moments later, Bailey's and Rhodes' voices take on a serious note when the younger of the two calls out for you.

You can feel how the air has shifted the moment you step back outside and onto the porch. Rhodes' heel is nervously tapping against a loose floorboard, even faster than before, cigarette stubbed out on the plate. Even the Marshal, who's usually got the air of a Buddha, seems tense, his expression gone uncharacteristically stern.

"We just got a call from WitSec," The Marshal starts and your own muscles begin to coil up more with every second that passes as he goes to explain how Molly – the one handling your case at WitSec – had just been talking to them about the latest developments in the Chavez-case.

You nod but you don't listen.

The voices of your tormentors are getting louder, more intrusive. They still sit in the back of your mind, like a relentless ugly weed which just keeps pestering you whenever you think you've finally gotten rid of it.

"Oh you think you're so clever you little bitch, hm?" "Once I get my hands on y-"

Okay – stop. Breathe. I am save. I am doing fine. I am in the here and now.

You shake off the uninvited memory of their threats. Instead shift your focus to the presence. Feel the cotton under your fingers as you wrap them in the fabric of your dress. Breath the fresh late summer air.

Now, life is goo-

"Jackson Walker's free."

Your thoughts come to a screeching halt.

The world stops. Your heart stumbles, then slams hard against your ribs.

Not him. Not again.

You feel the scars flare up, even though you shouldn't be able to feel them anymore – the bruises he and his men left, the sound of boots on concrete, the smell of gasoline in the dark.

You taste blood.

"W-what?" is all you manage.

You feel the twist of a knife between your ribs when Rhodes goes on with an explanation that has your guts curl inwards.

"That bloody bastard's greased the right palms, and now we've got two of our key witnesses pulling out their testimony, and the court's on hold for another three weeks," he grumbles, "We're back to square fuckin' one, for Christ's sake."

Someone must've pulled the ground open underneath your feet, because you feel like you're in a free-fall, hurtling down into the open jaws of a wolf.

Your world, peaceful and perfect one moment, comes crashing down like a deer shot through the flank.

"But- but… what about-?"

"Chavez's still in custody. But with his guard dog off the leash it's only a matter of time 'till he rounds up the rest of the witnesses and soon that bastard's back on the street."

Your breath gets stuck in your throat. Mind still struggling to process the information that Jackson Walker is free. Unrestrained. Out there. As they speak.

You startle when both of the men are suddenly on their feet and Bailey pulls out his phone, apparently readying it to make some calls.

"We'll have to relocate you, stat."

His annoucement slams down like a guillotine.

Your chest tightens. Lungs cave in. You remember what it felt like to be shoved in the trunk, bleeding out and praying they'd just shoot you already. And now they're telling you to vanish again? To start over? To lose this home too?

No. Not again.

You’d rather die here, in a place that feels like an actual life.

"No."

Their heads both snap up to stare at you.

"What did she just say?" Rhodes asks in disbelief. Bailey shakes his head like you'd told them a stupid joke, "We're just trying to protect you. Or would you rather have Chavez' men have another go at you?"

You swallow. Hard. Eyes narrowed. Determination flaring up inside you.

Not your pawn anymore.

"You're not protecting me," you hiss, "You're burying me alive." Bailey and Rhodes share a look, clearly taken aback at your sudden sharp tone. "If he finds me, he finds me. But I’m not running anymore."

Rhodes' upper lip twitches his moustache. Dangerously.

The next moment he backs you up against the railing with two quick steps that send tremors through the floorboards under your feet and rattle the mismatched floral dishware on the table next to you. You stumble a step backwards until you knock into the railing with your hips.

Air thick. Breath caught in your throat. Lips tight.

"Now you listen to me, –" he says your last name with a clear edge to it, "I won't let ya fuck this up. As long as you're in witness protection, you play by our rules."

The way he stares you down with piercing cold eyes has you flinch and instinctively lean further back, the railing digging into your back.

The Marshal seems to take note of your discomfort, because he reaches out to give Rhodes a pat to the shoulder which has him take a few steps back. One fist subtly curled into a fist.

It allows you to let out the breath you'd been holding.

"Three weeks. That's all I need. I'll give you your statement. Just let me have this," you try to reason with them. Or maybe you're more like pleading now.

Rhodes is not done with putting you in place, though. Each and every word he spits your way makes your throat tighten up more.

"You signed a bloody agreement. We keep you alive and "- he waves a finger your way -" you make that statement. A bit hard when you're dead, innit? If you decide to jeopardise our plans, I'll personally have you relocated to one of WitSec's secret bunkers. If I have to, by force. So, it's either that, or you're on your own, dove." The Marshal cocks an eyebrow at that last threat but doesn't contradict him.

Instead he steps up next to Rhodes and drawls in a calm but final tone.

"So, what's it gonna be, dear?"

Three days later.

You're sat in the cold dirt between the bushes in your garden. Collecting herbs. Or you would be, if it wasn't for the fact that you keep replaying the same discussion over and over in your head as if it would change anything. The same twig of rosemary hanging loosely between your fingers for the past ten minutes.

"In that case, I'm leaving," you'd snapped at them. "I told you. I'm done. Now get the hell off my land." You'd even grabbed for the broom to send them fleeing off your porch.

Rhodes was swearing like an English sailor, hands going everywhere except your way. "You really willin' to throw yourself to the bloody wolves?" he'd barked, outraged as he ducked under a swing of your broom, and Bailey'd continued, "Don't be so stupid, are you going to throw all of this away now?" he was afraid you'd chicken out, now that the deal was off.

But, "I'm making that damn statement. But this time, I'm doing it on my terms." had effectively shut them both up.

You're free now to do as you please. At least on paper.

Which feels great.

But your nightmares are back ten-fold. So are the panic attacks.

You finally snap the twig of rosemary off and rub it between your fingers, then bring it up to your nose. The smell usually has a calming effect on you. But even rosemary had a hard time now to calm your mind.

For the past three days it has been a complete mess.

Thoughts spiralling more often than not. Questions, doubts and what-if scenarios tearing at your sanity without a break.

Maybe they were right – maybe I am being stubborn, maybe I am throwing myself to the wolves –

You should hazard the consequences of your deeds when you were undercover, shouldn't you? Your doubt puts all your energy into the efforts to grind down your determination and make you question your decision.

Over and over and over.

You drop the twig into the basket to the other herbs before your fingers instinctively go to curl into the fabrics of your soft coloured dress. Your boots digging further into the dirt.

"This is my home now. I don't need them. I'm safe here."

You keep repeating those words out loud like a mantra.

And it works, as your attention begins to shift to your surrounding and your senses finally seem to return to the here and now; Bathing in the late summer sun, watching how the clouds slowly swim across the roof of your house, just like the day you'd walked up to it for the first time.

They had told you it wasn't much.

Little did they know that this new life is the closest you've ever come to a home. Sure, the circumstances couldn't be more wicked, but the little Victorian house that's got the clutter-stuffed flair of the Weasley's Burrow wrapped up in a cottagecore look, couldn't care less, and neither could you.

The house you've been given, stands tall, unwilling to yield to the force of time. Like a grandmother; ancient, slightly hunched-over and wrinkled with a lifetime of stories and defeated battles but still refusing to let go of life and become one with the dirt. You're convinced she has witnessed countless families come and go, you've seen how their weight dented the stairs and their children's youth is still carved into the door frames of your kitchen.

She has watched the seasons take over and get driven back again, like the relentless ebb and flow of the ocean, as the roots of nature keep wafting up against her walls, weathering the painted wood down and cracking its walls of white and honey dipped colours open.

But to you, every blemish only adds to her charming beauty.

You gladly exchanged the skyline of Los Angeles for the crowns of the forest, snaking along the border of vast fields of wildflowers, their colours spangling the golden wheat fields like the floral patterns on the wallpapers in your bedroom, and the lush green grass pulled up to your front porch like a fluffy blanket.

Instead of constantly watching your back for the shadows that follow you home, you can watch how daisies, large balls of lavender and bushes of those cute little pink flowerets jostle for the best sun spot.

It's a tad bit chilly by now – but the sun warms your exposed skin enough to keep the goosebumps at bay and to tingle the back of your neck like the gentle kiss of a bearded lover. When a twig from behind you, grazes the nape of your ne –

"Get to your fuckin' knees."

You freeze.

A shiver runs down your back at the intrusive voice scratching at the inside of your head and the feeling of a cool muzzle grazing the nape of your neck.

The taste of copper fills your mouth.

No.

No I will not. Fuck you, Jack. You wrangle him back into the hole he once again slipped free from.

Take a deep breath. Then let out a long exhale.

Slow. In... Out. That's it.

You shift your focus to your hands. Ignore the slight tremble…

No more cold unforgiving steel under your finger pads or crusty crimson clinging to your fingernails no matter how much you'd rub them with acetone. Your fingers now curl around the handle of a cute little basket like they always use in those Easter commercials to collect their eggs.

Now focus on your ears… your nose…

You can hear the distant clucking of your chickens, roaming freely around what's yours and what nature offers you with generous hands. The wind, rustling of leaves. Chirping of birds. Craws singing. The untamed flora and fauna fills your senses with the smell of the woods. The scent of spices like thyme, rosemary, basil and citrus hang over your garden, and whenever the wind is just right, a swift waft of floral rose hits your nose.

You let out a long exhale.

That's it… just keep going. Just keep going. I'm alive. I'm ali-

The distant friendly chattering of the crows suddenly turns loud and alarmed. Your head snaps up, scrambling to your feet simultaneously.

Moments later, sputtering and groaning cuts through the idyllic atmosphere as tires comb through the dirt road and pull a flag of dust behind them.

You watch a vehicle emerge from the forest.

Not the Marshal's.

It grows bigger and bigger and your hands on the basket unconsciously tighten more and more.

From one moment to the next, your spine has gone rigid. Your pulse is hammering in your ears. And your throat is closing up like an invisible rope has been draped over your head with the intention to lead you up to your porch and get you hanged by the braces of your own home.

You're snapped out of your petrified state as the sound of the car draws up to your front porch and the basket from your hands hits the ground.

If you weren't feeling the adrenaline rush right now, you'd probably be scared of how quickly your muscle memory kicked in.

You don't even remember when you'd grabbed the shotgun next to your front door, or when you'd thrown said door open, gun cocked and finger on the trigger, eyes zeroing in on the car and the person stepping out of it.

When your eyes lock, he smiles – until he notices the gun.

"Jesus – fuck – Hold on! Hold on!" the guy yells over the frame of his car's door where he dived down for cover.

You stop at the first step of your front porch and bark back. Voice tight, yet sharp.

"Who the hell are you? What do you want?"

After a beat, when no shot's being fired, he dares to perk his head out, both his hands coming up slowly in a placating gesture.

"I'm coming out – don't fuckin' shoot me, okay?" - he slowly steps out of his cover, a strand of his dark brown hair fallen into his face, his hands still raised, waving them slowly - "Not a threat, see? It's me. LAPD detective Mark Meachum, reme–"

"Stay back!" you cut him off. He pauses and when your elbow moves he instinctively ducks his head, palms facing your way again. Voice raising. "We know each other! I'm the guy who busted you out!"

The guy who…?

You freeze. Gun still trained on him. Finger hovering over the trigger.

Mark doesn't flinch. Just. Smiles. "Remember me, sunshine..?" And of course you do. That charming bastard with the green eyes.

Who'd not only saved your life, but somehow managed to get stuck in the back of your mind ever since.

"You – … Why – how do you know about my location?" you sputter.

"Mind takin' that out of my face first..?" Mark jerks his chin at you, hinting at the barrel that's still aimed at him.

Right. You lower the shotgun, then nod back at him. "You didn't answer my question. What are you doing here?"

"I'm here on chief Norman's order," your eyes widen and he quickly clarifies, "Don't worry, no one knows about it."

"It's good to see you're okay," he comments and the way the corner of his lips pull into a soft smile sparks the memory of when you'd met him for the first and last time.

He hasn't changed one bit. Except for that patch on his temple... I wonder who decked him.

His beard's still full and dark around his sharp jaws, hair swept back with a stray strand hanging into his face, toned chest hidden beneath his grey shirt and smooth black leather jacket lining his broad shoulders, his bow legs bouncing and tugging at his jeans in all the right ways with every step he takes towards you.

Mark stops at the lowest step, head tipped back to meet your eyes. He looks as charming as ever – until a crease forms between his eyebrows and he manages to crush every positive memory of his in just two seconds.

"The better question is, why the hell did you leave WitSec? Are you out of your goddamn mind?"

Maybe he's not as nice and as charming as I remember him.

"What?" you almost scoff at his offending tone.

"You heard me," and he just adds to your irritation when his tone grows more pointed, "You're aware that the guy who almost killed you and did god knows what to you, is walking free and tracking you down as we speak, right?"

You blink at him, confusion still written all over your face until your patience finally snaps and your hands begin to tighten around the handle of your shotgun.

"What's it to you?" you snap back, "I don't want your damn help," or your patronizing attitude.

Mark's expression darkens and he crosses his arms in front of his chest. "I wasn't asking." He scoffs.

"Neither am I," you retort, "I told them. I'm staying. End of story." He rolls his eyes at your words and you feel the sudden urge to add a patch to his other temple.

"Are you even listening? Chavez wants you dead – or worse for fucks sake!" he yells back, voice raised to make up for the height difference between you two right now.

You want to bite back but you find your voice stuck in the back of your throat at the mention of your old tormentor's name. It's enough to send a shiver up your spine. Stomach twisting into knots. Chest tight and aching.

With just the right words, he successfully managed to tip over the first domino of the walls you had so carefully build inside your mind to keep the anxiety and panic at bay.

Without realising it, you spin on your feet and find your legs carrying you away. Away from him. From his annoying tone. His infuriating attitude. His eyes which bore into you every time they lock with yours.

"Where the fuck do you think you're goin'?" he calls after you in annoyance and moments later you can hear his boots thump up the stairs, "Hey – hold on, don't be so goddamn stubborn – At least hear me out!"

You don't stop, neither do you turn to snap back at him. Mark stares at your back as you march across the porch and into your house where he stops in his tracks when you slam the door into his face.

Who does he think he is? Why the hell does he even care? I told them I was done. That I'll stay here. And I'm not letting anyone take this away from me and lock me up again.

Screw him. Screw WitSec. Screw all of 'em.

Mark now faces your door, stunned. He scoffs. Shakes his head and rakes his hair back with both of his hands before he barks after you once more.

"I'm not gonna leave! Just so you know!"

Your hands are shaking – your grip on the counter's vice-like, weight braced against it, forehead pressed against the cupboard next to the pans hanging from their metal hooks, as you force the air down to your lungs.

I'm okay. Everything's okay. I'm fine – I'm –

"Fuck!" you curse out loud.

But your voice cracks. Like somebody had just choked you and your cords are still strangled and the air's still thin. Getting thinner.

"Now get a grip of yourself," you scold yourself and it does nothing to smoothen the tremors in every breath you take and to the way your muscles are coiled up like a spring.

Their voices lick at the back of your mind. Again.

Their threats ring in your ears. Graze the back of your skull with cold steel and wrap their long fingers around your throat. Pressuring. Speeding up your heart and cutting off your airway.

"Should've listened to them, doll." "You know what we do with cops like you, hmm?" "We'll take our time and-"

Shut up.

Ignore it.

You try your best to block out the fear that's clawing its way up your spine. The flashes of memories that cross your inner eyes.

Just ignore it.

Your chest starts to feel constricted, left side stinging like a blade's twisting your heart whenever your lungs try and fail to expand.

You can feel your control slipping. Fast. Too fast.

The beats of your heart hammer in your ears, your breath now ragged as the world begins to spin and your vision grows blurry, unfocused. Black.

When your eyes snap open, dazed and confused, first thing you feel is the soft bedding of your cushions against your back. The shelf hoarding books sits across from you, the heavy curtain with its floral patterns brushes your shoulder and some dust particles swirl through the god rays that shine through the window you're leaned against.

Your eyes drift off, follow the rows of books about random household skills like cooking, sewing, gardening and whatever your predecessors had left you here and you liked to thumb through in the afternoons with a nice cup of black tea with milk and a plate of freshly baked cinnamon rolls while getting cozy in the corner of your very own reading nook.

You loved this spot, but.

This is definitely not where I was last.

Your focus is drawn to the adjusent hallway when you hear steps coming up the wooden stairs, each of them groaning and creaking in protest, closely followed by a gruff voice.

"Hey there. You feelin' okay?"

You. You hiss internally, jaw clenching subtly.

Mark rounds the railing of the stairs and walks up to you where he sets down two mugs onto the tiny round coffee table and slides into the single chair next to it, keeping a respectable distance to you, but still close enough to reach for your arms if he felt need.

"You okay?" Mark asks again.

"What…" you groan, mind still spinning. You rub your head, feeling a small bump there that has you stifle a hiss.

Damnit, I must've blacked out.

"I... I'm fine, yeah…" you mumble under your breath, eyes averting his and trying your best to ignore the way they've taken on a vibrant sage green, matching the paint of the inside of your nook, and the way his hair's dark in the shadow but oh so soft with a shimmer of chocolate brown in the streak of light casted across his face.

You try very hard to not notice any of that.

But the way Mark's eyes are on you this entire time isn't helping either.

"Must've been the low blood pressure, that's all," you add the blatant lie, eyes still anywhere else but meeting his.

Can't he laser-eye something else?? I'm not a paper target on a shooting range!

Mark's eyebrows raise and he leans to the side to capture your wandering gaze. Damnit.

"Blood pressure, huh?" he probes, "That happen often?"

You persistently ignore the faint tingling in your stomach when your eyes lock.

"Yeah, on occasion." You shrug it off.

There's a moment of awkward silence. The air feels like it's going to shift any moment between you two, although you're not sure what direction.

Neither whether you want to find out. So you make sure it goes out the damn window where it belongs.

"Well, now that you've seen that I'm fine, you're welcome to get lost."

He cocks his head, then chuckles lightly. "Yeah, that's not gonna happen, sunny."

Excuse me? You blink at him for a moment.

"This is trespassing," you comment pointedly.

For a split second, his lips twitch into a smug smirk.

Is he enjoying this entire situation?

"Denial of assistance," he counters with a half-hearted shrug. "Had to make sure you didn’t get sniped on my watch." He reaches over to the coffee table next to you and grabs one of the hot mugs and then pushes it into your hands. You look down at your favourite mug with its cute cat paw prints and flower petals on it, surprised and frankly a bit befuddled.

"Felt weird to carry a lady to her bedroom without offering her a drink first," he quips with a flirtatious smile and then gestures with his chin at the pillow nest you've ensconced yourself in, "Plus, this funny granny closet looked much more cozy."

"It's a reading nook!" You correct him and aim to playfully kick him in the shin but he's faster.

Mark grabs you by the ankle and holds your leg back down to the cushions with such speed and smooth precision that you have no doubt that, despite your training, he could disarm and pin you down in a flash if things ever got heated.

Your heart skips a beat at the unexpected contact.

You'd expect the reason to be panic. Muscles tense and ready for the fight-or-flight instincts to kick in. But what happens instead throws you off entirely.

Something inside you is burning up as you feel the warmth of his hand on your bare skin, calloused finger pads rubbing against the inside of your ankle as his large palm wraps around it and fits perfectly there like a grounding weight, and something more which sends a shiver right to your – whoa okay hold your damn horses, woman. It's just a hand for Pete's sake.

When your eyes meet, Mark's voice suddenly drops a notch. Eyebrows pulled low. Voice edgy.

"You want me to detain you for assault on a LAPD detective, young lady?" You swallow. Mind gone on a fritz.

A teensy-weensy voice somewhere inside you pipes up "Hell-fucking-yeah" – but it never makes it to your conscious mind which thankfully is out of order right now.

After a beat, his serious face cracks and the familiar amusement and mischief is twinkling in his green eyes again as he leans in, teasing in a charming tone.

"Just fuckin' with ya."

Mark pats your leg once before he pulls his hand back to his knee.

All casual and smug.

Like he's done this a million times before, to every woman colleague, or newbie, or pretty front desk secretary... or helplessly lonely ex detective who'd willingly exchanged bullets for stainless steel tea infusers.

Wow… Ass.

Mark doesn't miss a single cue.

His intense eyes watch you closely before he slowly leans back into his chair, arms crossing in front of his chest. The corner of his lips suddenly pulled into a frown.

"Quitting the program was a really dumb move." Your jaw clenches at his lecturing tone while he continues with a "But-" which you cut short right there.

"I don't care what you all think, I said I won't –" This time he interrupts you. His voice raised enough to make you suck in a sharp breath.

"Just– " Mark rubs his temple with a frustrated groan "– let me finish my damn point, yeah?"

Your hands tighten around your mug, eyes dropped to the steam that's still wafting up into your face to avert his stern look. Its warm smell of cinnamon spices caresses your nose and you inhale it deeply while you close your eyes for a moment, allowing the scent to ground you.

"Fine," you mumble. Not really convincing, but he takes what he gets.

"But. I'm not here to drag you away," he watches how your head perks up at his words and his voice softens in response, "Look – I'm not gonna sugar-coat it. Things aren't looking very peachy. We lost eyes on Walker and we have no idea what he's up to, but it goes without saying that he's gunning for you until you've made that statement of yours. And–" Mark taps the coffee table once to get your attention, "that's the only reason why I'm here."

Your eyes drift back down to the tea between your fingers. Blinking at it as you take in his words.

"So…" you begin in a more neutral voice, "You've been assigned to be my bodyguard, is that it?"

Mark nods, then flashes a lopsided smirk in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Minus the love story."

You don't laugh.

Is this whole thing a fucking joke to him?

"Do I have a saying in this?" you ask, tone flat. Mark huffs through his nose and rakes his hair back.

"Nope." He tips his head to the side to meet your eyes again.

"Great," you scoff softly, your fingers tighten around the mug to the degree you can feel the stinging heat bite at your skin. "So I've got a watch dog latched to my ankle for the next three weeks."

With a sardonic smile, Mark rubs his forehead, causing your molars to grind together.

"Guess you better get used to me. I can be fun, though, promise."

J / Note: Pheew, I hope this wasn't all too bad for my first chapter. The setup took more words than anticipated, but from now on we'll focus on those two. 🤭

Please let me know what you think and whether you're interested in more, I appreciate all of your support so much! 🧡

Mark Meachum Tag List

@ambiguous-avery @lamentationsofalonelypotato @lori19 @fleurenoir @royaler1999 @writtenbyhollywood @ralilda @mostlymarvelgirl

@deansimpalababy @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @my-stories-vault @spnaquakindgdom @tinysnacklefan @deans-baby-momma

@bettystonewell @ladysparkles78 @hayah84

↬ Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for anything I post for the universe of Gunpowder Tea! ♡

#gunpowder tea #mark meachum #zepskies 5k #mark meachum x female reader #mark meachum x reader #mark meachum x you #mark meachum x fem!reader #mark meachum fanfiction #mark meachum series #mark meachum fanfic #mark meachum countdown #countdown fanfic #countdown fic #countdown x reader #mark meachum fluff #mark meachum angst #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #no use of y/n

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oracularvernacular · 2 days ago

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~ 𝕝𝕒𝕕𝕤 𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕒 𝕘𝕪𝕒𝕣𝕦 𝕘𝕗 ~

part 1 of the jfashion series! which is a series that I WILL continue. for once in my life.

*note! images are taken from gyaru magazine covers that all match in cutesy pink vibes just for the aesthetic, so not all gyaru substyles will be shown (it's mostly hime here i think)! please don't think i'm ignoring you beauties >///< !!! also- sooooo sorry if i got any of the gyarugo (gyaru slang) words wrong babez i got em off a website<3

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Xavier

~ He's been around for a long time, so he's definitely heard of/seen gyarus around, but it was never really his thing... until you.

~ He's jus a chill guy who don't gaf so judging you was never really on the table but he was a bit confused by gyaru slang at first

~ He lets you give him gyaruo makeovers and then he's too lazy to take the stuff off so he just. Goes on missions like that.

݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ──── ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ──── ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Zayne

~ Had no clue what a gyaru was, but the second you told him he started asking questions and doing his research

~ Memorized every gyaru magazine name and looks for them whenever he travels abroad for conferences in Japan

~ Once he was really sleep deprived at work and he accidentally said something in gyaru slang. The hospital staff has not recovered psychologically

݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ──── ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ──── ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Rafayel

~ Probably knows what gyaru is if he's been to any artsy districts in Japan. Now that he sees you wearing it he thinks it's cool af

~ BEGGED for a gyaruo makeover. Within five minutes he had figured out how to do it himself and now talks like a gyaru too

~ Constantly paints you in your outfits, of course! Enough of those portraits to make a whole exhibition at this point, he loves the vibes.

݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ──── ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ──── ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Sylus

~ Probably saw it offhand once or twice when Luke and Kieran were showing him tiktoks, but did not gaf until you showed up.

~ Buys you every single piece of gyaru-esque clothing he can lay his rich ass hands on

~ Thinks your gyaru slang is hella cute and teases you with it ("oh? lost another round of kitty cards, kitten? are you sagepoyo now? how angry are you?" "..." "go on, say it. say the thing." "..." "please..." "...fine. GEKI OKO PUNPUN MARUUUUUU!!!!!")

݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ──── ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ──── ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Caleb

~ He grew up with you, so he's obviously used to it and knows all the little ins and outs

~ He carries a little makeup bag with him just in case you forgot yours and need some touch-ups! He's also really good at doing your makeup after years of experience

~ He's suuuper into the gyaru thing of adding "-poyo" to words to make it extra cutesy!!! Whenever you text him you're gonna come over he replies with "AGEPOYOOOO!!!!" and a happy little apple sticker

݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ──── ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ──── ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

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ccyomie · 1 day ago

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꒰ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ꒱ hair clip ── park jongseong

꒰ details ꒱ — just jay teasing you about your hair clip collection and you putting a few on him.

Ი︵𐑼 ⌗ MORE JAY ⋮ ꩜ bf!jay x f!rea → drabble. fluff, pet names (baby), teasing (lovingly) and banter between two people in a relationship.

coco’s notes … i’ve been so motivated lately what’s happening AAAAAA? (this is a good thing) a mini jay drabble because they’re in the states and i’m screamingggg i won’t be seeing them sadly for this is for all my girlies who aren’t seeing enha but still wanna feel something lol. likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

“wait i don’t think i have this one yet,” you said, letting go of jay’s hand and grabbing a pompompurin hair clip, it was yellow and brown, just his normal face and that hat he always wears. the clip was plastic not plastic enough to snap if you bent it but plastic enough to know it was plastic.

jay turned around towards your direction standing close behind you, “this isn’t like the ones you usually collect.” he said, gently resting a hand on your lower back. “i know, but he’s cute.” you said, “he’s…?” he added “yes pompompurin is a boy, but fine i won’t get it.” you said gently straight up, jay grabs the hair clip and says “and why not?” “because you basically told me no…” you mumbled, causing jay to laugh slightly.

“baby i would never tell you no, i was just implying that all you other hair clips are like… different, you have some food ones i’ve definitely seen a ritz cracker hair clip in that collection.” he says softly kissing your cheek, “i just never seen you buy a sanrio…? did i say that right? one before.” you smile at his words “yeah you said it right,” you say pausing then continuing “maybe i just wanna start another collection with sanrio hair clips this time.”

he kisses your forehead then hands you back the hair clip, “and who am i to stop you?” he lifts his hand from your lower back slowly so that you can feel the warmth of his hand leave your body, he reaches for another hair clip this time it’s a ‘hangyodon’ one. “this is interestingly cute.” he says picking it up then putting it back.

you smile to yourself picking up the hair clip he just put back and said “mhmm, it is.” you grab his hand guiding him towards a little mirror hanging on one of the shelves. “squat for me really quick please.” jay doesn’t hesitate or ask any questions, he just does as you say, you slide the hangyodon hair clip out the packet and brush a few strands of his hair out the way of his forehead the clip the hair clip on to keep the hair in place.

“now this is interestingly cute.” you tease and he raises an eyebrow in the mirror, “wait you’re right…” he says in a mocked shocked way “but i am handsome so what did you expect.” he teases back.

“yeah yeah yeah,” you say rolling your eyes. he takes out his phone to get a better look at the hair clip before saying “alright let’s put this up and go pay for your pompompurin before i buy you the whole store.” he’s joking but he’s serious, if you told him that you wanted anything else he’d get it for you. simple. no discussions needed.

“baby, we have to buy that for you. you can’t just try it on look handsome and leave it here.” you say gently taking the clip out his hair and for a split second his eyes meets your and you look at but he sees the sparkle in your eyes, it’s always there. and how could he tell you no? “fine, but i want something in return.” he says lowly.

“mhmm… what?” you say, “i want you to put that apple hair clip on me as soon as we get home the green one, red is not really my color.” and you laugh not in a performative way but in a way that only jay makes you laugh and what he said wasn’t really funny but he’s cute.

“sure jay, i can do that.” he right hand comes and gently cups your face rubbing his thumb against your cheek gently, “i love you.” he says, softly almost like a whisper, like he was speaking only to you and he was. you smile at his words “i know.” you add back teasingly.

“you know?” he says any other time he would say back “good.” or “i never want you to feel any other way.” but the teasing in your tone made his blood boil, not out of anger but out of something else. something he couldn’t quite name or say aloud but he felt it.

and you were gonna feel it later.

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edwardhartenjoyer · 2 days ago

Note

This is my first ever Tumblr request!!! I love your writing! <3

We’ve only got a little over a month and a half until fall starts, and the summer home screen lines go away. I’ve had Taiga on my home screen more often recently (usually it’s Ren), so I came up with the idea of writing something around this summer nighttime line of his:

“Shower? I don't wanna... Shut up and strip me already then.”

Would you be willing to? 🫣🤭

Oooohh, omg, yes, I'm willing to write this. I love Taiga, and I usually do write him as very suggestive so we'll see how far I go with this lol

Definite warnings for this one.

Strip Me Kitten

Taiga x Reader

You'd been dating the Sinostra captain for a little while now and were on your way to see him.

The summer heat was really wearing you down lately, and you just wanted a nice evening to relax with your boyfriend in his wonderfully air-conditioned home.

As you entered the casino, you cast a look around, searching for that familiar bright red hair. You didn't see him anywhere, and, seeing as how you weren't suddenly being yanked off to sit in his lap as a 'good luck charm', you were faily certain that for once he wasn't down there gambling.

You made your way through the now far familiar halls up to his bedroom. The goons outside didn't even spare a glance your way. They knew you well enough by now and knew far better than to stand in your way.

You knocked on the door before letting yourself in, going cautiously incase Taiga was having one of his bad days. "Taiga?"

"Heeyy Kitty Cat~" Taiga greeted, his face brightening up when he saw you. You smiled and fully entered the room, the door closing behind you.

He seemed to be remembering you more and more lately. You didn't think he'd forgotten you once since you'd started to date. You made your way over to him, and he pulled you down onto his lap as he grinned at you.

"Missed you today, Kitten." He purred. You ran a hand through his hair, noting how dirty it seemed.

"Taiga, when's the last time you had a shower?" You asked.

"I don't fuckin know." He huffed in reply, pulling you in closer. "I don't wanna."

"Taiga, you're filthy. Please just take a shower, and then I'll cuddle with you." You pouted.

He ignored you and rested his head onto your shoulder, his hands fiddling with the bottom of your shirt.

"Taiga, take a shower." You huffed, lightly shoving at him to no avail.

"Shower? I don't wanna... Shut up and strip me already, then." He snapped back, narrowing his eyes as a wicked grin spread across his face.

You blushed darkly, staring at him.

"Well, Kitten? Gonna strip me?" He purred, amusement and something else, something darker and more dangerous that made you unconsciously clench your thighs together, filling his gaze.

"W-well..." you stammered before losing your voice. He just watched you like a predator watching his prey as he waited to see what you would decide to do.

You'd be lying if you said thoughts of doing more with Taiga hadn't crossed your mind, especially with how touchy and flirty he could be. You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly feeling dry as you put your hands onto his shirt.

His breath hitched, audible only because you were pressed so close to him. Slowly, your hands worked his suspenders off of his shoulders before untucking his shirt.

His eyes were locked onto you, watching your every move with an intensity he usually reserved for the card tables.

You decided to tease him a little as you slowly unbottoned his shirt, going down slowly until they were all undone. You traced your hand up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin before you finally pushed the clothing off his shoulders.

The moments it was off of him, he surged forward, gripping your chin as he pulled you into a hungry kiss. It was all teeth and tongue as he practically devoured you.

Your moans into his mouth only fueled him, and when he finally pulled back, you were both breathless.

"Keep stripping me, Kitten~. You're doing so good~" he purred, leaning back as he gestured down to his pants. The obvious tent in them making you lose your breath all over again.

You ran your hands back down his chest and teasingly rubbed your hand over his bulge, delighting in the moan it gained you before you undid his belt.

Taiga growled low and pulled you up into a kiss again, nipping at your lips. "Quit being a tease, Kitty."

You whined softly when he pulled away from you again, making him smirk.

"Earn it, Kitten~"

You were done teasing him, rushing through pulling his pants off of him, leaving him only in his boxers. You stared down at him before gripping the waistband and pulling them down, releasing his length.

You wrapped a hand around it and gave him a few strokes. He threw his head back and moaned, before placing his hand over yours and pulling your hand away.

"So good for listening to me kitten~ Now it's your turn." He moved suddenly, pinning you down onto your back while he hovered over you, his hands toying with your clothing. He met your gaze and you nodded.

He wasted no time stripping your clothes off of you. Once you were laid bare beneath him, he grinned.

"You're in for a wild night kitty~"

"Bring it on~" you replied, reaching up and pulling him into a kiss again.

It was a wild night, and at the end of it, you fell asleep in his arms after a shower, of course.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tag list: @cloudcountry @ash0-0ley @tinumaru @ventisimpilysm @fandom-maniac111

Wanna be added or removed? Let me know!

#tokyo debunker #taiga hoshibami x reader #taiga hoshibami #smut warning #but also no smut it's a fade to black but leave nothing to the imagination #my fic #andy answers #asks

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hedwigoprah · 20 hours ago

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A Word With Friends | August 4

Hello, hello, welcome to a brand new week! So many of you got to play along this past week and it was often the highlight of my day to get to read your work, thank you for playing!

The Crow's word is:

Intractable

• Not tractable; not able to be managed, controlled, governed or directed. • (mathematics) Not able to be solved (of a mathematical problem). • Stubborn; obstinate (of a person). • (medicine)Difficult to treat (of a medical condition).

Remember, • These challenges are available to complete at any time. • They can be as long or as short as you see fit. • If you tag me I'll share it :)

You can find every word we've ever done on the Word With friends Masterpost If you'd like to be on/off the official tag list for A Word With Friends, you can like this post

Just a housekeeping note: I have a few more un-themed words after this one and then I'll be taking break to focus on personal things (the new house, I must paint it), to keep the game alive I'm looking for willing hosts (non-threatening, but still with a little mwahahhahah behind it). My goal in reformatting AWWF was to make it easier for other people to host on their blog. All that's needed for the post is a good word, the definition, and the tag list. You're welcome to include your own work, but it's not required. Please let me know if you would like to host a word and I'll add you to the schedule.

Tag list under the cut

@notyourmamasdeerbat @clodicious @davrinsleftpectoral @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @sunny374940 @caughtnyact ✨@seaglassmelody (It's their birthday!)✨ @chaosherald @therivercrow @jenn2d2 @operative-arrow @serensama @woundedsoul12 @tinyshoopuf @tkwritesdumbassassins @aetherflowers @umbralaether @kai-dimir @grand-crow @afewofmyfavoritethingsblr @officialnostradamus @mythals-whore @the-sparrohawk @strugglinggranola @becausedragonage @aiyestel @starfleetteddybear @draco-illius-noctis @redheadsramblings @awildmareep @madamemortem @pixiedurango @basedonconjecture @nevarrantorte @waterjewelfaerie @in-the-drowning-deep @jukkaricity @elishnord @ziskandra @the-bear-and-his-sunbird

Trivia for your time: Human bones regenerate. Your entire skeleton is essentially remodeled every ten years. Don't you even think about knocking down that supporting wall or taking out the original tile, it's important to the structure of your character.

#A word with friends #dragon age #datv #dragon age the veilguard #tag games #writing prompts #word prompts #word of the week

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dearestxiao · 3 days ago

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the color blue: storm clouds [part three] | yandere xiao x reader, yandere venti x reader

synopsis: (college au) today's the day you finally meet the one you call alatus, your anonymous pen pal who you share a lot in common with. what had once started out as something on paper turns into something real. if that wasn't an emotional whirlwind enough, not soon after you are made to relive your past. and as the long night stretches on, you realize the one who you once knew best is becoming unrecognizable.

WARNINGS: while this chapter is mostly tame, this story will progress to have heavier and darker themes. implied stalking, lots of manipulation, dubious consent to touching, guilt-tripping, roommate venti is a warning in it of itself, some implied student-teacher dynamics (reader is 21, zhongli is in his late 20's/ early 30's), lots and lots of drinking, arguments, and a lot of mentions of a previous break up.

wc: 15k

authors note: first of all... is it too late for summerween, lol? I cannot believe this chapter took so long to come out, and I also can't believe that it finally did. but here it is! I'm always very grateful to anyone who has stuck around this long to see this chapter. I apologize if the writing style is different than the first two chapters! this one took way longer than I thought to write (and I'm tempted to write a giant authors note post to explain everything), so much so my style has definitely changed. I hope that it's at least somewhat enjoyable. please let me know if there are any formatting issues, unfinished sentences, or any other errors in that manner! I had a lot of formatting issues while uploading, so some things might have been deleted, jumbled around, etc.

this is my offering to the gods in hopes that the fanfic I've been waiting for to update, too, finally updates.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏” ♡♡♡ [part 1] [part 2]

this is a dark fiction story. minors, do not interact. as always, reblogs are extremely appreciated!

as much as you try, you can't fall asleep.

you've probably spent the past hour or so tossing and turning in bed, praying that your eyes would eventually get heavy enough for you to drift asleep, yet here you were, staring at the blank nothingness of your ceiling instead. to your displeasure, you're wide awake, and you're antsy, too. it's the night before sunday, halloween, and in just a few hours from now you'll be meeting alatus, your blue.

and yet, despite the fact that you were to meet so soon, you can't help but be nervous, because you still know little about the identity of the man who has been so heavily ingrained into your life for months now.

you picked through your messages with a fine tooth comb, all several months worth of them. there are little things, sure, small little paper trails of his likes and interests, but there's no clear identifier of who he really is. you have some ideas, of course, a tiny list of people you think it could be, but there's always a conflicting detail, something that doesn't correlate with what you little you do know about him, so you're forced to cross out their name out.

in your restlessness, you had managed to muster up just enough energy to dig into the archive of letters he had sent you, all the ones you've kept stored in an old box hidden deep within the recesses of your closet. you had returned to bed with a few of them, reading through them once again as if it were your first time ever doing so, eyes trailing against every word in search of finding something, anything, that'll help you paint a better picture of him.

you've spent an abhorrent amount of time talking to him, way more than you'd like to admit. he's the first one you text when you wake up in the morning, and the last one you chat with at night before bed. you'd update him about your life throughout the day, and ask him any questions that come to mind to try to get a better view into his little secret world. he always gave you just enough to keep you craving more.

you've always tried your hardest to get something a little more telling, helpful, in identifying him, but if there's one thing you do know about alatus, it's that he's a private man.

you know that this situation is abnormal. how could you be so trusting of someone who you know so little about? the truth is, your little infatuation had been born out of desperation. there was a time you had been surrounded by people you loved, those who were there for you, who would listen to you, who'd spend your time with you, and you'd spend your time with them. now, it's been so long since you've had a good, honest friend— if there's anything honest about your friendship at all; you can only hope that is— apart from venti, that you can't help but cling onto him.

after all, the life that you had before had been severed from you after the breakup.

but his choice to have stayed anonymous has always made you nervous, even if you liked the image of him you've created in your head.

one letter catches your eye more than the others. it's one of the last letters he sent before you two moved onto texting. most of the letters he had sent you had been riddled with questions aimed towards you, and responses to whatever the answers from the last letter you gave him were. that was the usual with alatus— he chimes in on your stories, but almost never answers with an anecdote of himself, unless you explicitly ask him to. this one was different though, the first time he truly opened up to you, let you peer into his mind even for just a little moment.

you only vaguely recall parts of the letter you sent to him.

‘dear alatus,

…is it okay if I ask you some questions too? I feel like I'm always answering yours, and while it's nice to talk to a good listener (or a good reader, I suppose?), I always want to know more about you…

I know that you know my identity, given that I'm not anonymous like you are, but can I ask, have we ever crossed paths to your memory? what's your area of study here? and, can you tell me anything about yourself? it doesn't have to be anything specific, it could be anything at all…’

and here, right in your hands, lies his response.

‘dear [name],

I appreciate your curiosity, but honestly, I don't have anything interesting to say. you don't have to ask me anything back. I'm more interested in hearing about you than I am in talking about myself. but it is true, it's only fair for me to tell you something about myself too, for all that you have told me about. I wasn't sure what that thing should be, so I hope this is of some interest to you.

I grew up in the harbor. it was beautiful growing up. it still is, but it's different now; it's changed so much since I was younger. still, a part of me misses it, even though I've chosen to leave some of the memories from there behind.

I moved to the city only a little while ago. I'm still getting used to it. it's not far at all from liyue, but it's so much different now. I've been spending my nights wide awake now, but I used to be an early bird, once upon a time back in liyue. back then I'd be up before the sun rose, sitting near the docks and watching the waves curl and crest. it'd be the only noise you could hear, but it was just loud enough to drown away my overthinking. I've been trying to play ocean sounds while I sleep. It's not the same.

there's no quietness like that here anymore. everything is always constantly moving. liyue harbor had much more of a community than here. there was no place you could go where everyone didn't already know you. there was no escaping yourself. I'm surrounded by people here in the city, but I'm more lonely than I was back at home. I think it's better that way, though.

I'm sorry to be so cryptic. I know that this answer will only leave you with more questions, but it's the most I'm comfortable sharing. forgive me.

to answer your other questions, we don't know each other, at least not yet. as for the rest of your questions; we have met before, or at least I've met you. I don't believe that you recall that, though, so I’d rather save myself the embarrassment of you not remembering than tell you. besides that, we're in two different departments, so we don't have as much of an overlap as would be favorable. maybe our schedule will align more in the future.

you said in one of your first few letters that you were craving connection. I guess that it's the same for me too. I think this is the most I've ever talked about myself in ages. I'm not sure how I feel about it, but I do know that I feel connected to you. by now, we've talked too much to each other for me to just sever it. I'd like to stay connected with you for a long time, if that's okay with you. if you are ever willing to meet me, let me know. maybe by then I could tell you more.’

you don't know why, but every time you've reread this letter, you find yourself circling back to xiao. you can't help but think back to the old photos of liyue you found on his pin board, and the similarities in their demeanors— cold and reserved on the outside, yet sweet and caring on the inside. both are rather private, too, only ever revealing as minimal as they can about themselves. they never stray from their self appointed listener roles unless they have good reasoning to do otherwise. yet despite their mien, they're rather attentive companions, as you've come to learn.

the similarities are there, but once again, there's always something that doesn't match up. for one, alatus had said you two had never met before, when you had, albeit for various brief moments, mainly stemming from chance encounters in the numerous classes you've two had together. besides, you already have xiao's number, which is different than the one alatus uses to communicate with you. and, at least to your knowledge and what you could infer by the fact that xiao had been in the aforementioned numerous classes with you, you two were in the same department, which doesn't match up with alatus's answer.

you can't help but feel frustrated. you feel like you're circling in dead ends. you can't help but repeat the question over and over in your head: are you making a mistake? it worries you, truthfully. what if he isn't whoever the hell your brain imagined him to be? he must be private for a reason. you just hope those reasons are for good.

thankfully, before you continue spiraling down further, your aimless thinking gets interrupted by a soft knock on your door, accompanied by a gentle call of your name, quiet enough that if you were sleeping, it wouldn't be enough wake you.

venti has come to visit you. it's become a nightly habit at this point, but you don't necessarily mind. you instinctively fold the letter back up, placing it and the others that had been in your lap into one of the drawers in your bedside table for safekeeping in a haste like you were hiding erotica.

“come in,” you let out as you tuck yourself back into bed with the small amount of energy you have, hoping that it was just loud enough to be heard through the thinness of the door.

you watch a bit of warm yellow light spill into the cold of your room from the hallway as venti pushes the door open gently. he's illuminated just barely enough for you to be able to see him, clad in an old t-shirt and sweats with the wild length of his hair thrown up into a ponytail. his blue locks are so bright you swear that even in this darkness it glows.

his expression looks light, much softer than the face he made the last time he had visited your room in the night. you can tell that he's more at ease now than he was just a few days prior. just talking to him last night must've helped.

“hey,” he greets you with a wave, other hand still wrapped around the door knob. “can I come in?” he asks softly. you nod, giving him the go ahead.

you flip over on your side and scooch over like it's muscle memory, making space for him to sit next to you.

he takes the gesture as a further invitation, shutting the door behind him before making his way over to the soft, warm comfort of your bed. the room is cast back in shadow, yet you can still make out his form as he lays next to you. he props his head up with one arm, while the other takes claim over your waist in the spot where your sleep shirt has risen up, doing so as naturally as breathing.

his fingers are calloused from years of playing stringed instruments, but his touch is light and airy regardless. you don't lean into his touch, but you don't pull away either, which is good enough for him.

“what's up?” you're first to speak, questioning your doting roommate as to why he decided to pay you a visit.

there's a little smile on his face and a glint in his eyes that spells ‘adoration.’ his thumb runs small circles into your skin. “just wanted to say goodnight. I figured you’d be awake. you've been staying up late a lot lately.”

you nod. “yeah, I have.” blame that on alatus, you suppose.

he hums at your response, studying your face. his eyes, which are admittedly awfully pretty, traces your face, catching onto the way there's a slight furrow ingrained in your brows and a little pout hanging off your lips. the expressions are tiny, almost negligible, yet he can't ignore them. it's quiet for a second as he thinks.

“...are you doing alright?”

you want to shake your head no, but you do otherwise. no, you're not doing alright. you're nervous, so incredibly nervous, an absolute wreck, really. you can't say that though, so instead you settle for the best little smile you could muster up over explaining the situation to him, forcing down your fears in a thick swallow.

“yeah, of course I am. why?”

his eyebrows furrow, looking at you with worry. “are you sure? you look a little… I don't know. worried, I guess?”

you thought that you were able to mask yourself well, but you suppose that nothing gets past the man you've been closest to for the past couple of years. you hum, “I’m fine, just thinking is all.”

you're not sure why, but he's suspicious of that answer, like he knows you're not telling the full truth, even still. he nods his head slowly, taking some time to plan his response. you can really tell that he's being more careful with his choice of words than he usually would.

“you know, if something's on your mind, you can talk to me.” it comes out as a soft whisper, thumb still rubbing soothing shapes into your skin.

“I know, I know,” you try to lighten up the conversation, ease him away, but you can tell he won't budge. you try to steer the conversation as far away from the real object you're engrossed with as you can.

a bout of guilt bubbles up in your stomach. just a night or two ago, you had been practically chatting venti's ear off. you two had stayed up into the echoes of the night, catching up and laughing and gossiping and even shedding a few tears. it was refreshing, nostalgic, even. of course you two talk on a daily basis (hell, venti can't get through a single day without debriefing), but this was different. it's been rare these days for you to actually interact like true best friends would, mainly because, as of a little longer than a few months ago, you had started to pull back away from him, growing more and more distant by the day. you two had even ended the night off with a long hug, one of the first in a long time.

venti, unbeknownst to you, had thought this was the start of the end of that little grudge he suspected you had against him, and yet now it serves as a point that you had broken your promise.

you can guess what he's thinking.

‘[name] is already back to being distant again.’

you told him you would tell him everything going on in your life, and you really did tell him everything!

everything, except that you're meeting alatus.

you give it one more shot to steer the conversation away. “just nervous about the party, that's all.”

to be fair, it isn't exactly a lie. you haven't been out like that in a while, and haven't seen some of your old friends for even longer, especially since most of your friends were your ex's friends, too. so you really were nervous about the party, but…

he gives you a deadpanned look that screams ‘seriously?’ without having to say it out loud. he shakes his head, not believing you for even a single second. “you wouldn’t be nervous or anxious about some party.” you can tell he's a bit upset. “what’s really on your mind?”

you're taken a bit back by this sudden attitude. “it's really nothing.”

he cocks his head at you. he looks up at you with big, begging eyes, a pout forming on his lips. “you told me you would tell me everything from now on.” it comes out as a low whisper, words dripping with melancholy and a hint of a disappointed tone.

you can't help but sigh at his words.

it's then that you accept your defeat. you take a deep breath, preparing yourself, knowing that his reaction will be unpredictable. “I’m meeting this guy tomorrow.”

at first, he lets out a little shocked “oh!” in acknowledgement.

and then, only a few seconds later, you watch as he internalizes what that means, like tasting the sour part of a candy that starts off sweet. “oh.”

you don't like the sound of that reaction. you can already tell that your innocent confession has been warped and twisted around in his head somehow.

“didn’t know you were letting someone steal you away from me on our day.”

the smile plastered on his face is strained, almost painfully so, and you know that a rush of emotions has entered into him.

“no one's stealing me away. you made it impossible for anyone to do so, you know?”

“true. a few have tried, but no one can ever take my treasure.” he chuckles softly, but you can still a hint of worry.

there's silence between you two before he finally speaks again, no longer making eye contact with you, instead watching his finger as he trails your skin. “so you're nervous about this meeting? why didn't you tell me that you were meeting someone? and who are you meeting, anyways?”

“I just didn't want you to worry, is all. I'm still going to be spending the night with you, of course. and it's just someone I've been talking to for awhile, is all."

the fact that you don't disclose explicitly who this mystery person is makes him feel... odd. he nods, removing his hand from your skin before turning onto his back, humming softly to himself as his eyes gaze into the ceiling. it's silent again, which worries you. you can never predict what he's thinking in times like these. the air is thick and heavy, and it's almost hard to swallow in such an atmosphere. you don't know what else to say. but then, he suddenly decides to change the subject.

“do you remember the first night we moved in?”

the question comes out of left field. you raise your brow.

“of course I do.”

he tells you the story anyways, as if you weren't there. his eyes are glossed over, cheeks rosy and lips forming a soft pout, and if you look closely enough, you can see him reliving the day in his head.

“it was early october, wasn't it? no, late september— anyways, back then we only had a couch and a TV, and we were unpacking all day. we were so exhausted that we just wanted to wind down. so, we laid down on our couch, and we started browsing for movies. and then you found this freaky horror movie and begged me to watch it with you. I said no, because I know you're a scaredy-cat—”

“am not,” you bicker at his comment, to which he shakes his head, chuckling at your denial.

“yes you are, don't even try to deny it. anyways, you were all like, ‘it's just a movie, of course I'm not gonna be scared.’” he mimics your voice, “so then I finally gave in, because I love you, and I can't say no to my cecelia, and you sounded so convincing. but guess what?” he can't help but giggle at the memory, “you were soooooo scared! you held onto me like the monster was actually in our home,” he laughs, a good, hearty laugh. “I had to hold you all night. you shouldn't have been so scared, I would've fended you off from that thing easily. then we fell asleep together on the couch, in each other's arms, might I add. that next morning you pretended like we didn't, but when we continued unpacking, you opened up to me, and you told me so much about yourself, stuff you wouldn't have ever told me before.

I'd never seen you like that before that day. you were always in your shell, but I think that moment opened you up to me. you'd tell me about everything; every fear, every worry, every hope and dream. who you liked, who you didn't like— you used to be so vulnerable with me, my dove. nowadays I have to beg you to open yourself back up to me…”

he faces you after taking a breath, eyebrows contorted in disdain, the comfort of the memory replaced with the bitter revelation that those days are long in the past.

he continues to speak, this time without thinking. “we were so close after that moment. but you've changed after that relationship.”

the words are bitter, nasty– ‘relationship’ is said with a thick coat of citric acid. your mouth goes agape, and so does his at the realization that those words actually escaped out of his lips, especially in such a tone.

it's the most blunt he's ever been about his feelings surrounding… that.

you can see the instant regret rushing across his face. he didn't mean to say it like that, really. you can tell that it was something that wasn't supposed to slip out of his mouth, a thought hidden deep in the recesses of his mind that was supposed to remain chained back, but it slipped from his grasp and out of his unsuspecting mouth.

he looks back at you, eyes wide and apologetic. "I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean for it to come out that way." but he meant it, and you knew that he did.

it's true. you two used to be close, once upon a time. you'd come to every one of his concerts, and you'd always spend days huddled up on the couch together. you two would cook and play house, and he'll never forget all of the drunken nights you two spent together. you, the old you, shows up again every now and then, like it did a just a night or two ago, the you who would share yourself with him. after all of that, how was he supposed to pretend like you two weren't that close?

he doesn't understand, can't wrap his head around it, what led to your relationship with him changing so rapidly. after all, he was there for you every second after the break up, ready to sweep you off on your feet. he was the shoulder you leaned on, the one who held you as you cried, who tried to help you get answers as to why, and yet, after the first few weeks, it became a taboo topic. you stopped coming to him, pulling away, creating distance between you two. so he repeats the question in his head.

what happened to you two?

you swallow thickly as if a lump is stuck in your throat.

"venti, can you look at me?" somewhat begrudgingly, he does.

you place a hand on his cheek, hoping that the touch would soothe him. "I promise that I don't do it maliciously. last night, when I told you I would tell you everything from now on, I really did mean it. if it'll make you happy, i'll tell you everything that happens tomorrow, okay?"

his hand cups yours, nodding. he would have preferred from the start, but the fact that you were willing to hear him out and understand him was enough for him. more than enough. "okay. thank you, cecelia. I believe you."

and you mean it. if anything serious happens between you and alatus, you promise you'll tell him, you swear, pinkie promise.

deep down, though, you’re not sure it's a promise you can (or should) actually keep, though.

———

the door lets out a soft jingle of bells as you enter. alatus had let you take claim over where you two would meet for your best comfort, and you had chosen the local cafe, lutece. it looks the same as it always has, and smells the same too, the intoxicating aroma of their special coffee beans and baked goods like crepes and macarons hitting you as soon as you step in. a wave of nostalgia washes over you as you give the cafe a once over. it's still as warm and cozy as it usually is. it's popular, especially on a weekend, and even more so today.

your eyes scan over the entire cafe, taking note of almost every single person your eyes can meet. you're trying to match them up with the picture of alatus you've come up with in your head, like a detective using a police sketch. this is gonna be hard, you think, especially since you don't really know what your idea of alatus is anymore. plus, there's a lot of people here today, any of which could be your blue.

still, you decide to try to take a wild guess.

okay, let's see… there's a waitress taking down an order (no), an older couple sharing what you think is a dessert (definitely not), a handful of people dining on their own (maybe?), there's even a few fellow students here that you recognize (if alatus really is one of your peers, it'd probably be one of them). oh, and xiao's here too (oh, xiao's here too!).

…

wait, xiao's here?

oh, xiao. you can't help but get your hopes up at the sight of the reclusive man sitting by himself in one of the booth seats near the window. he was one of the names at the top of your mental lists of potential contenders of those who could be alatus. but too many details didn't add up, and as much as you didn't want to, you had to rule him out.

and yet, there's a little hope that gets sparked, a flame lit with the same vibrancy as your next clue; his freshly dyed blue hair. his hair, which had been a faded, grown out green for the past couple of months, had been dyed navy blue with rich turquoise highlights peaking out from underneath.

you still don't really believe it at first, though. venti has blue hair, and so does ganyu, and xingqiu, hell, even your ex does too. It's not an uncommon thing on your campus. it could just be a coincidence, seriously. you try not to pay him any mind, forcing your eyes not to linger on him as you scan again for the sake of not getting your hopes up. there's that same waitress. and the same people dining. oh, there's that one girl you had a group project with awhile back, but she's probably not your blue. and then there's xiao, who's…

staring right at you.

…

alatus had gotten there early.

awkwardly early, even, so early that he freaks out thinking about whether or not it’s weird that he’s so early. he feels his skin crawl a little as he thinks. he's worried, always, that he'll come off as a creep, even though there truly is no reasoning behind that fear. paranoia is a bug that creeps down his spine. he taps against the table with his fingers anxiously as he looks out of the window, watching the orange leaves blow and tousle around in autumn's wake. underneath the table, his knee is bouncing down at the speed of light. he’s trying, desperately, to calm his nerves, but he can’t, because he was equally just as desperate to see you.

his unease is only exasperated further when he gets a text from you.

‘almost there, see you soon.’

he feels his heart quicken it's pace and the air gets stuffier in seconds. he's not exactly sure he's prepared for this, but this was always the end goal, right?

no point in walking it back now.

his head perks up at the sound of the bells at the entrance jingling, the sweet noise serving to alert whenever someone has entered. his heart skips a beat, imagining that it was you who had walked through that door. but, to his disappointment, when he takes a glance over at the entrance, it's not you walking through the door. then, it happens again, and again. the jingling makes him feel desperate, to the point that when he hears it the fourth time, he considers keeping his head down, but something tells him to look.

he turns his head. what was supposed to be another quick glance turns into something much longer, because…

you're here.

there's a hand-knitted scarf wrapped protectively around the sweet length of your neck. and underneath your protective jacket that fights against autumn's crisp air is your costume, accompanied by a plastic sword that hangs off your hip. if he were to assume, you were some sort of adventurer of sorts, he thinks. he can't help but think that you look cute. furrowed eyebrows frame your darting eyes. your head is craning this way and that, trying to search for alatus, scanning the room like you're a life guard. he watches your gaze closely, taking his time to observe you, before it happens.

you lock eyes with alatus.

you look like a deer caught in headlights, eyes a little wide and lips a little parted. he's not at all sure what to make of the scene except for the fact that he can't help but like the way you look startled.

he had expected you to look away, to have to call you over manually, but to his surprise, you pass him a little smile at the connection once you snap out of your shock, as if you were greeting a friend.

a friend. is that what he is to you now? he supposes so. but it's then that he realizes that you haven't made the connection, so right before you go back to your scans, he waves you over. in earnest, he does the motion out of impatience. it's not that you were taking too long or anything (besides, alatus has already proven himself to be a patient man), he just doesn't think his heart could handle the stress for any longer.

you still didn't want to believe it yet. but then he tilts his head to the empty seat in front of him, gesturing you over, and you know.

you've found your blue.

you feel the world slow down a little as you make your way towards his booth. golden eyes follow your every move, refusing to look away for even a second. everytime xiao has ever stared you down, you've always had this creeping feeling that he was almost analyzing you. you feel it now again. you don't mind it, though, maybe because you know it's only fair for him to do to you what you do to him. what's worse is that he takes your breath away to the point you feel like you're starving for air, and you're not yet sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing. he looks good today. really good. you're not sure what it is exactly, and maybe xiao's just always looked that good, but it doesn't help your nerves at all. you try your best not to melt underneath his hot gaze.

the small nook is tiny, intimate, leaned right up against the big frosted window panes. there's a table in between you two but you still feel so suffocatingly close to him. it makes you feel like you're meeting xiao all over again, seated right back on his bed like you were just a few days ago, back when he was a different man to you, a stranger. there's no reason for you to feel this antsy at just the mere sight of him. maybe sooner or later you'll accept the fact that you're developing a crush on him. now is not the time for that, though.

it's him who speaks first as you get settled. “hey.” the greeting is soft and low. in your haze, you forget for a second that you two are acquaintances now, maybe even friends.

“hey, xiao,” the name flows off your tongue. it's the most that you can muster, hands a little shaky and meek vocal cords refusing to say anything more.

your mind flips through all the things you could say like your choosing a record in a jukebox, but you never press play on anything.

‘how have you been, xiao?’

‘what a coincidence seeing you here today, xiao.’

‘xiao, are you the guy I've been talking to for months now without ever seeing, by any chance?’

none of those are what you want to say, and at this point, he's wondering if you still haven't caught on.

thankfully, you manage to muster up the courage to speak, although not much.

“are you…?” you draw the two words you can get out slowly, uncertain.

as much as you want to finish your sentence, you can't help but hold yourself from asking the full question, trailing off at the tail end. you wouldn't be able to finish it even if you tried.

a part of you is worried about how embarrassing (and disappointing) it'd be if you're wrong and xiao isn't who you think he is, how you'd have to leave your seat and say goodbye, which you really didn't want to do, and begrudgingly excuse yourself as you go find your real blue. if it really is him, he'd know to fill in the blank; alatus.

and, to your great relief, he does.

“yeah,” he swallows thickly, adam's apple bobbing, “I am.”

your eyes widen in disbelief. “oh my god.” the exclamation of surprise slips out of your mouth in a whisper, as if you're calling out to a higher being to ask if this is all real. a flash of worry strikes xiao face at the sound, which he had hoped you didn't catch, but you do. however, you're quick to try to calm his worries. he'd braced himself for the worst, which is why it's so shocking to see a smile creep up your face.

truth be told, he's taken aback by how pleased you seem to be that it’s him. you're grinning at him with teeth. does he deserve such an expression?

“I can't believe it's really…”

actually, you could. it's just like xiao to show up in every place you could think of. still, it shocks you nonetheless.

“I never guessed that it was you. I mean, I thought about it, but I never…” you find yourself short circuiting in a mixture of relief and excitement. how cool is it that your tutor is the one to have been your pen pal? “it's nice to meet you again. it feels like I've been meeting you over and over again.”

despite your expressions of what can seemingly be described as excitement, there's still a little ache in his chest, a fear he can't banish no matter how wide your smile is or how bright your eyes glisten at him. his eye are fixated downwards at the table, running through every curvature of each line of the wood's grain.

“I'm sorry if I wasn't who you were expecting.”

he doesn't know what image of him you made up in your head

you shake your head no. “you're beyond what I was expecting. I'm glad it's you.”

your words break his trance, forcing him to glance back up at you.

“sorry if that's too forward. I've just really enjoyed talking to you during our sessions.”

“no, I… thank you. I feel the same way about you.”

your heart beat quickens to a rapid pace at those words, and you can't help but feel flustered at the mutual joy you two have.

there's a brief moment of silence between you two. it feels like hours, but it's only a few seconds, a minute at most. it's heavy, but it isn't awkward, at least not like you'd expect it to be. it's the kind of silence that'd come after you watched an amazing movie or read a really good book and you need to take a second to take in what you just saw. you feel yourself start to smile uncontrollably, feeling not only relief wash over you, but gratefulness.

if the archons you read so much about were real, this would be proof.

in that moment, you use the silence as an opportunity to really look at him, look at alatus, look at xiao— look at your blue. and god, is he blue.

you didn't understand why he gave you such an ambiguous hint, at first, but you understand now, even if it was definitely unintentional, a throwaway line to satiate your need to know, just how revealing that hint was.

you do the very same routine you'd do on any regular day. you dig into him, excavating so much more than you usually do. your eyes track from his the first thing you notice from his appearance is that his hair is vibrant, but you've already taken that in.

you do make a new discovery when taking a glance over at his bare arms. it's the most you’ve ever seen of his skin. you could always correctly guess a man like xiao would be adorned with tattoos, but this was the first time you’ve gotten any confirmation of that theory. underneath all of those clothes that usually swallow him whole is delicately decorated skin. the main one that catches your eye is the largest of all of them, a big piece that spans the entire length of his arm (which you note are more muscular and toned than you were expecting). it's a light shade of minty green, and it's even a bit visibly faded from age.

you move back up to his face. you connect his piercings and beauty marks and scars all like little stars in a constellation, giving you a bigger, brighter image of xiao. his eyes are lined expertly with red and black, highlighting the lavish golden amber color of his irises. you've never seen someone else with such a rich color, maybe only zhongli, especially since your eyes have always shifted away from his before you got a chance to take in their beauty. and now that you've unknowingly breathed life back into them, they're even brighter than before.

you could spend all day looking at him, analyzing him, but instead you choose to let him speak for himself. you're the first to initiate a conversation again.

“I like your hair. did you dye it for the occasion?”

“you’ve noticed?” he smiles at your comment. it's partially a partially sarcastic response, given the circumstances, but he still adverts his gaze as he mumbles out a little thank you at the end.

“how could I not? it's the only clue you gave me.”

“see? I told you it was enough.”

you scoff playfully. “you could've spared me something else, at least. you're not the only one with blue hair on campus, you know.”

“really? I had no idea. name one.”

“hmm… I've told you about my roommate venti, right? well either way, I'm sure you've seen him around.”

he nods his head. yes, of course he knows venti. how could he not? even if xiao hadn't done his research, and you hadn't already directly telling him about venti, he'd have seen him around eventually. he's quite a popular member of the music conservatory, playing all sorts of stringed instruments both during and outside of concerts. you could go to any bar local to campus and see him playing during any open mic. and as for you… well, once upon a time you had been just as popular by association. everyone who knew venti knew that anywhere the modern bard would go, you'd be somewhere nearby, cheering him on no matter the occasion.

you were once his cheerleader, but everything has fallen apart since then, hasn't it, [name]?

“ah, speaking of venti, did I tell you I had a party to go to a few hours after this?”

“you've mentioned it in passing, I think.” he's not sure if that's true or not. sometimes he forgets what he's learned straight from the source, and straight from the grapevine. that answer plays it safe, though. “did he invite you to it? are you excited?”

you scrunch up your face, which tells him all that he needs to know. “well… I'd like to hang out with venti. we always hang out every hallows eve, but I don't know. I would have preferred to stay home with him like we usually do, but I think that he's trying to get me to be more social again. I'd stay home if I could, but I know that if I skip out on this, it'll make our relationship even rockier than it already is.” you sigh, fingers absent-mindedly tracing over the patterns in the wood grain as you accidentally spill out your woes to xiao.

“I think I would rather be at home watching…” you trail off, partially daydreaming, mumbling out your favorite autumnal/seasonal movie that would've been perfect to watch today. you've never been much of a party goer like your roommate, but you've always toughed yourself through it for his sake. it's just a little different now, though.

xiao perks up, realizing that it's a perfect opportunity. he thinks he's doing good at this conversation thing. “I have that one.”

you perk up at that, sitting up in your booth seat from your mopey slouch. “yeah, really? that's cool. I didn't get much of a chance to look through your dvd collection the last times I've been over, but I can tell you have good taste already. I'd love to look, if you're ever okay with that.”

of course, he nods. it's like a promise that you'll see him again. he knew back from your letters that for some reason, you had seriously taken an interest in him, developing a curiosity towards him and his likes, but it never manages to not send shivers down his spine and tingles up the length of his body anytime you express that. he doesn't know why he deserves it, knows he hasn't done anything to earn that kind of attention from you (quite the opposite, really), and yet here you were, wanting to dig more into him. the funny thing is, though, even though he knows he's unworthy, he'll still let you, because while he likes pretended like he has self restraint, he’s too weak to the way your eyes glisten at him to resist.

he takes a deep breath, unable to look you in the eye as he proposes something to you. “we can… we can watch it together at my place, if you'd like.”

the glow that has gone away while talking about your reservations about the party suddenly reappears, to his delight.

“really?” you lean in, surprised at the offer. “t-that'd be nice. I'd love to.” you're overly enthusiastic, stuttering over yourself as you take him up on that proposal. he thinks his heart is about to burst. he has a stronger will than expected, though, because he somehow managed to get the next sentence out of his mouth without a single stutter. “why don't we order some stuff to go and then head over to my place?” he moves to get up, sliding out of the booth, and you quickly follow suite.

“you're right. venti would lose his mind if he knew I went here without a slice of his favorite apple pie.”

———

venti: how's your meet up going?

venti: is he nice? sweet? a creep? someone I know? tell me all of the details!

venti: btw, make sure to get there at 8. I want to make sure we have enough time to hang out at home like we usually do.

venti: I rented out a couple films. don't worry, none are scary.

———

you two had arrived at xiao’s house, goodies from lutece in tow, although the warm coffee that you grabbed had already gotten cold by the time you two stepped foot through the door. it had taken longer than usual to get there, likely due to traffic from those who celebrate the holiday.

xiao likes the fact that you know where to hang your stuff up already, beginning to get accustomed to the space as it if were natural for you to do so, as if it were yours. maybe soon, it will be.

his apartment is a little more messy than the last time you've been here, but not by much. there's just a few more books and books and things of that nature sprawled out around. still, he apologizes. he hadn't expected you to want to come over, so he hasn't cleaned up in advanced.

you two are quick to settle in, sitting on his bed together, backs leaned up against the wall. you two are pressed side to side, watching your comfort film on his laptop. it plays in between you two, and you stare at the screen with a look of admiration. xiao has seen this one before, and he really liked it, yet his mind is simply somewhere else throughout the entire duration. he can't focus on anything when you’re this close to him. your body is warm. it's the kind of warmth that's only ever existed in his imagination, the kind of warmth that could cure frostbite, or save him from a night terror, the kind of warmth he just can't get enough of.

he's undeserving of this. it's inorganic, unnatural, a relationship (can he even call it that?) birthed on a lie (or rather multiple), and yet when you lean in a little closer to see the film better, he doesn't pull away. no, instead he takes it as an opportunity to shift himself a little closer, too, pretending as though he's helping you get a better view. you can't help but smile to yourself. xiao can't help but stuff down his guilt.

besides, what's the point of being so absorbed in the ethics when he's a non practitioner?

it's a miracle that you stay awake. between the calming nature of the film, the comfort of xiao's bed (and xiao's presence), and the way that you two are close enough that you can smell him— it's an intoxicating scent of delicate powdery scent of qingxin flowers that waft over your sense of small anytime you're in the harbor and almond extract— you can't help but get sleepy. yet, to your surprise, you had made it all the way to the end credits without nodding off.

he had turned the laptop off soon after, placing it to his side. you let out a little yawn, pleased with the moment you were in. not soon after, somehow, you two were still talking. you had been taking meticulous track of times, and even after you finished the film, you still had a little more time to kill before you had to head out. so of course, you take it as an opportunity to make as much of the time you two have together.

neither of you have really moved since the end of the film, casually discussing it while still side by side, shoulder to shoulder, thighs close to overlapping with one another. there's this soft glow that washes over xiao's face. despite his edgy appearance, its the most gentle you've ever seen him look.

there was a moment of silence between you two, simply just enjoying each others presence. it feels peaceful, natural, even, to be with him. you wonder if he feels the same, wonders if his chest beats as fast as yours does at the proximity, too.

your craving to know more about him causes you to break the silence between you two.

"hey, xiao?"

"hm?"

"I know I've asked already, but would you mind telling me anything about yourself? whatever you want to tell me. I feel like I've done a ton of talking today."

he shakes his head. “I don't have much to tell you about.”

you scoff. “you can't use that excuse on me anymore, you should know that.”

he really does want to tell you more, but truth be told, he's scared that his mouth is a ticking time bomb, and he's been good at keeping it to himself, so he doesn't want to blow up just yet. he doesn't want to say anything that'll ruin everything he's built up between you two, but that leaves him with very little to say, so he chooses to say nothing, if he can help it.

“but I'm really not all that interesting.”

you give him a deadpanned look. “xiao.” he lets out a little laugh at the frown you make. it's cute. he likes it. and he can't help but be swayed by it. he decides to make you a deal.

“I'll tell you something else about myself if you tell me something.”

you look at him, shocked. “tell you something else? that's all I've been doing all day!”

“just one more.”

you think about it, begrudgingly agreeing. “fine, what do you want to know?

“during our first tutoring session, you said you haven't spent much time with anyone else recently.”

“yeah, I haven't, not in a long time now, apart from you.”

“does that include venti?

“sort of. we definitely haven't been as close as we used to be, mostly because I distanced myself from him. things have just been weird between me and him.”

he hums, listening to you attentively. “why is that?”

you sigh. it's the first time explaining this all to anyone, and you're not quite sure how to do it.

you used to date this guy for a bit over a year. he was perfect, honestly. he was sweet and kind, but funny and sassy too, and so charming. he swept you off your feet with ease.

but venti… well, he had always been rather affectionate. there was always a head laid on your shoulder, an arm wrapped around your waist, he was always just a touch away. the issue was, his nature never really changed when you got with your ex, to his displeasure.

still, you didn't think much of it. venti had introduced you two in the first place, so you'd assumed that he was already used to his nature. there were some qualms that he would bring up, sure, but you were always quick to set a boundary and venti respected them, but there were some moments were he just… wouldn't. either way, everything had been going well between you two.

matter of fact, you two were set to move in together in just a few weeks time.

yet, one morning you'd waken up to a message that utterly shattered you, and it was compromised of just a few words with no other explanation.

“our relationship is over.”

that's it. after over a year of being together, that's all you got. nothing more, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get anything else out of him. just the night before you had a beautiful day together. careful caresses and sweet kisses, proclamations of love and a promise to see each other tomorrow. it's all turned to dust since then.

you called him about a couple dozen times, sent him embarrassing voice mails of you sobbing your eyes out and begging him to just at least tell you what you did wrong. you talked to everyone you could, no one had an answer for you, at least not one that they were willing to share.

but you came to find out that he also had blocked venti too from his life, only this time, without a message, a final note to leave him on.

that told you all that you needed to know, really, but the uncertainty of it all is what kills you.

you condense most of the story down for xiao, but you make sure he gets the important details. truth be told, he knows most of this already. what he didn't know, though, is that you're so clearly not over it, and even though he has no right to be, it hurts, bad. your voice is thick with regret, eyebrows furrowed and face scrunched up as if you're prodding at an old wound. you dig out a pit in his stomach alongside it.

the truth that you don't want to admit out loud is that a part of you truly believes that venti wouldn't have done something like that. they were friends before all of this, good friends, the reason why you two were introduced to one another in the first place. and you know venti, and so did he. he’s… a lot, yes, and maybe sometimes he takes some things too far, sure, but he wouldn't have done anything to your relationship.

no, he wouldn't have.

right?

that uncertainty is what makes your relationship so rocky. you trust him, you do, but then he crosses another boundary, goes too far again, and you just can't help but wonder whether he was innocent in this or not.

you don't want to think of it like that, but it's too late. the seed has been planted, and it's going to grow. you're holding a grudge that you don't even know is valid, letting it sprout too big.

once upon a time he had been the one you confided in. your warmth, your comfort, your sun. he was like a cool breeze on a hot day.

you told him everything. you'd lean into his touch and pleased him with some of your own. now your moments of affection towards him is few and far in between. you know it's unfair, accusatory, even, but no matter what you do, you just can't shake the feeling that something is amiss.

it's true that your ex had always been the type to rid himself of problems as soon as they occurred. anything that posed any sort of disturbance to him was quickly discarded of. but this is different. this was a relationship. you two were about to move in together, for god's sake, and yet you're tossed to the side like you're just another nuisance he doesn't want to deal with, and you don't even get the opportunity to know why.

it pains you that you'll never know. you wish you could just get some closure. maybe then you could finally move on with yourself, but how were you supposed to, when celestia had been ripped right under your feet?

maybe he couldn't take it anymore. maybe he just got bored of you. maybe you did something, or maybe venti did. you'll never know.

the worst part is, you hope that xiao would relieve your stress, tell you that venti is probably innocent in all of this, but he doesn’t. instead he just hums. you suppose he doesn't know enough about the situation either to make a judgement, which is understandable.

“do you think you'll ever find out what happened?"

"knowing my ex... probably not. besides, i've already exhausted all my options by now, so there's really nothing much I can do." you sigh. what you wouldn't give to just get closure.

xiao nods, gnawing at his lip out of nervous habit. "can I ask, what do you think happened?"

"I... well, given that he got rid of venti at the same time he got rid of me, I can't help but think that maybe something happened between them. I just don't know what."

he hums. "yeah, that would make sense."

you don't want to ruminate over it any longer. "anyways, I'm sorry for rambling. I didn't mean to spill all my relationship woes to you." you cock your head back at him. "do I get to ask you a question now?"

he gives you a little smile, admittedly a little mischievous. "isn't it already time for you to go?"

your eyes widen, checking the time before realizing that you were certainly cutting it close.

"ugh, you did that on purpose. you had me talk for forever just so that you could get out of answering my questions."

his smile only widens, eyes creasing a little in joy. "maybe I did."

you start to get up, shaking your head at him. "you owe me."

"yeah, I do. I'll make it up to you, I promise. I can drop you off, if you'd like.”

you raise an eyebrow at him, now standing towards the entrance putting back on your coat and about to bend down to put on your shoes. “really? aren't you getting tired of me? we've been together all day.”

he shakes his head, getting up to join you. “no. I don't think we can be separated going forth. our connection is too deep to be severed now, sorry.”

you button your coat up, watching as he starts to grab his stuff, too. “huh. so does that mean I can drag you everywhere with me?”

"if you want to, I wouldn't mind."

"good. I'll take you up on that answer. come on, venti's gonna kill me if we don't head out now. and don't forget that you owe me."

——— NEW MESSAGES ———

venti: whereeeeee are you????? venti: it's almost nine already... venti: at least let me know if you're on your way or not. venti: )))))))))::::::::::: venti: are you okay? im getting really worried. you: almost there, sorry, didn't have service. ill talk to you soon.

———

you were late.

you hadn't meant to be, seriously. when xiao had alerted you of the time, you two practically bolted out of the door, leaving so fast that somewhere along the way, you had lost your favorite scarf, the one that venti had given you. but you severely underestimated just how busy transportation would be on a day like today, and while you did enjoy the extra hour or so you had spent talking to xiao while traversing your way over to the tavern, you knew that your darling roommate would not be pleased by this development.

it's a theory that only gets proven correctly. as soon as you and xiao had stepped out of the train station, clocks showcasing that it was way past the time you were supposed to arrive, you had received a phone call from a distressed venti. in a quivering, upset voice, he inquired as to where you were, growing more and more impatient at how long it's been taking for you to arrive. he's worried, too, that something might've happened to you during your meeting with alatus, but you're quick to reassure him, telling him that you're almost there, just a few minutes away, and that you'd be there in no time.

and true to your word, you were standing in front of one of the oldest buildings in your town in no time.

it's been long since you've paid a visit to the angel's share— what was once a place you frequented perhaps weekly, for venti’s sake, was now totally abandoned by you. you feel like all you've been doing today is take a trip down memory lane.

a familiar face greets you just outside of the beautiful old tavern, the bar owner himself, diluc. his flaming red locks of hair were tied back, and he's adorned in his usual vest and business pants, although you take note of the way his eyes are messily lined with a purposefully smudged black eyeshadow. his arms are folded over his chest, taking a bit of leisure time away from the party just outside of the tavern to get some much needed fresh air.

you're sure that his bartending skills are being put to the test with the sheer amount of alcohol that gets ordered on a night like this, even if it's not as jammed pack as it usually is.

you two were closer, once, back before everything that happened, happened.

out of all the people you'd distanced yourself from, diluc was the one you saw the least around campus or events or things of that matter— being a bar owner and in law school takes up pretty much all of your time, as it seems— which was probably for the best, given the circumstances.

his eyes land on you as you walk up to the entrance. he raises his eyebrows, admittedly caught off guard by your reappearance, the first time he'd seen you in awhile.

“[name],” he calls out to you, garnering your attention.

you used to frequent the tavern not long ago. wherever venti was, you were almost always in tow. you were the more responsible one of the two, always keeping venti in check from drinking more than he could handle. now in days, nothing is stopping him from downing every glass his mora could get his hands on. as a business man, he can't say he's too upset about it. as his friend, on the other hand… well, it's nice to you again, nonetheless.

“hey, diluc,” you say, walking up to him with a greeting.

“huh. I'm surprised to see you make a comeback.”

“yeah, I know. you should thank venti for that, he did some pretty good convincing to get me to come.”

“my amazing drinks weren't convincing enough?”

he gives you a once over.

“interesting costume. you look nice.”

you're not sure if the first sentence is genuine, but you think the second may be. you flash him a smile.

“thanks. venti says every bard needs a wandering traveler to accompany them on their adventures, or something like that. so, where's yours? shouldn't the host of a halloween party be the main one dressed up?”

“I am in costume, actually. I'm bruce wayne.”

you nod, taking a look back at the black eyeshadow. “ah, that makes sense,” you chuckle.

it's tense between you two, but he does a good job at pretending like it's not, a skill he's picked up from bartending. “I didn't know you'd be coming tonight until venti told me. speaking of which, he's been waiting for you.”

“ah, yeah, sorry. I'm assuming you had to take care of him in my absence, hm?”

he nods his head in disappointment. you don't even know the half of it, he thinks.

“give me a heads up next time you go on a date. I need to know when to stock up on extra liquor so that venti doesn't run through all of my stock in one night.”

you're taken a little aback by his wording. “date…?” you don't understand what he meant by that, until you realize he was referring to xiao. ah, diluc had been mistaken. he had initially believed venti was so emotional tonight because you were seeing someone. turns out he was wrong.

“ah, no. this is my friend xiao. he's just dropping me off.”

xiao nods, grumbling out a greeting out of politeness. he

“ah, my apologies for the assumption. either way, it's nice to meet you, xiao. I've seen you around, but I don't believe we've properly met before.”

xiao folds his arms over his chest, looking away. “It's nice to meet you too. I've been here before, I just don't drink.” he says it low, as if the admission is shameful, but you don't get why. you used to do the same, it's pretty normal for people to remain sober around their friends. but then again, if xiao isn't there to drink, and he isn't there to hang out with other people, then what does he do when he's there? that makes you incredibly curious. you'll have to ask him that later.

diluc nods in understanding. diluc knows just about everyone, even if they've never come into his bar. people talk. xiao was no exception, although if you asked him about xiao, he wouldn't be able to tell you much, apart from the fact that him having nothing to say is notable. just like now, he has no response to that, unsure what to think.

“well, I should get back to my duties. if you two were planning to drink tonight, you better head inside before your little bard sells me out.”

“yeah, we should, thanks for the heads up. it’s nice to see you again.”

diluc nods again, mumbling a little, ‘likewise.’ he turns around to head inside before stopping in his tracks, realizing he has something to tell you. he turns back around, calling out to you.

“oh, [name]?”

you hum at his call, urging him to continue.

“I'm not sure if venti told you, but…”

he doesn't know the best way to say it, if there even is a best way to, so he just says it.

“kaeya’s here.”

and judging by the way your eyebrows furrow at the mere sound of his name, venti hadn't. you don't say much, though he wasn't expecting you to, choosing to only nod and thank him before he waves you a sympathetic goodbye and goes inside.

you feel a tad bit sick to your stomach. your ex is here, tonight, but it's too late to head back home now, might as well just bite the bullet.

after bidding diluc goodbye, you have to take a moment to ground yourself, preparing yourself for the possibility that you may or may not see him tonight.

xiao flashes you a concerned look, picking up quickly on the situation. you don't look well, not all. you've spent months trying to avoid seeing him for the sake of your well-being, yet he's here tonight.

“are you sure you want to go inside?” he asks, worried about you. “you don't have to do anything you don't want to, you know that, right?”

you nod your head, thankful for xiao's nurturing over you. “it's… it's fine. we're already here. besides, I probably won't even see him. we can head inside, no worries.”

you didn't know it then, but you had jinxed yourself.

either way, despite his qualms about the situation, xiao follows you inside, deciding that he'd prefer to be with you just in case you need him. it's funny, honestly. he reminds you of the legends of the yakshas who would watch over liyue. you have your own personal adepti watch dog.

as you make your way through the tavern, you realize that venti likes to over exaggerate.

you thought that you'd get to be able to fade into the background like you usually do at events venti strings you along at, but you're too surrounded by old familiar faces. you can't help but think again, for sure this time, that this is venti's way of reacclimating you into your old life.

nonetheless, the tavern is real pretty, a welcomed distraction away from your fears. homey, too, especially because of its age. to your pleasant surprise, diluc's gone a little more heavy on the decorating than you'd expect him to. to be fair, though, diluc has always taken great care of this little tavern that was passed onto him, especially when it came to sharing it with his close friends. the lights are dimmed and warm. there's orange fairy lights and spider webs and garlands hanging from the walls and ceiling, a couple of fake bats and spiders and things of that nature, too. there's a few party games set up, even an apple bobbing station, and everyone inside is dressed up for the occasion.

your heart tightens at the sight, coming to terms with all that you've lost out on.

as you walk through the tavern with xiao in tow following you like a shadow, you make out a couple of familiar faces, many of which people you lost touch with after the break up. they're all spread throughout, playing drinking games, dancing, and talking amongst each other. the bar is filled with idle chatter and light jazz playing in the background. a part of you wants to cower away in hopes that no one sees you. your eyes naturally scan for a particular face in the crowd hoping you wouldn’t (and would, truth be told) make contact with one particular face, but luckily for you he’s nowhere to be seen.

halfway through you two wading through the crowd in search of your roommate, xiao stops in his tracks. you're quick to notice, turning his way, noticing the way his gaze is stuck on you. you're just about to ask if he's okay, but he begins speaking before you do.

“[name], I—”

“[name]!” xiao is cut off by a familiar squeal of your name from behind you, your head snapping around to see your roommate. in front of you stands a grinning, drunken bard in his costume that matches yours, walking towards you with his arms extended out towards you expectedly. his cheeks and nose flushed a rosy red, and you can tell just by looking at him he's had plenty to drink already.

“there you are.” each word is stretched out and sung as he wraps his arms around your waist. he's light and cheery, almost suspiciously so, which makes you start to worry, because you know you fucked up by getting here so late. he pulls back a little to take a good look at you, but he doesn't release your waist from his possession. “where have you been, cecilia?” the nickname is thick on his tongue, every syllable of the word delicately enunciated so that everyone who were to hear could be sure of what he said. “I've been waiting so long for you,” he giggles.

his attitude, which was a jarring shift away from how he sounded over the phone, makes you nervous. what’s only worse is the way that he practically ignores xiao's presence, not even taking the time to ask about the guy accompanying you. it's nothing less than suspicious. you've always known that venti can get… weird whenever alcohol's in his system, somehow a little more touchy and clingy than how he is sober, but this felt more intentional than not. you take note of the way he doesn’t even so much as glance his way as he talks to you.

perhaps it's for the best, though, because if venti had acknowledged him, he'd see the nasty scowl that had been painted over his face.

“you kept me waiting for so long.” it comes out more as a whine than anything else. “where were you, hm?”

“venti.” you mumble out, beginning to pull away, nudging him to look at the one he has ignored.

“oh!” he untightens his grip on your waist so that he could follow your motion over towards xiao's direction.

they make eye contact with one another, finally.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't notice you there!” he does look apologetic, but you can't help but be wary of him even still when he gets like this.

“you must be who [name] was meeting today, right? I've taken that the meeting went well. I'm venti. I'm [name]’s closest friend. it's nice to meet you.” there's a big grin on his face as he introduces himself, easy to mistake for genuine.

you note that he does seem rather earnest, to your surprise. you can't help but feel guilty at your misjudgments of the situation. to be fair, venti had always been one to be visibly wary towards any new companion you've brought around him. maybe he's decided to be on his best behavior today, though.

“and this is…”

he averts his gaze, repeating his name as a way of introducing himself. “xiao.”

he doesn't perform the same niceties that venti had, which you think might've put venti off. you don't know what to think of the situation. perhaps this is just xiao's personality towards strangers showing through, but you know that venti wouldn't see it like that.

there's some underlying tension. you don't know why but you can see it, almost taste it, even. it makes you nervous. it's like they're playing ping pong with one another, each word exchanged is just another volley of unease.

“xiao, huh? I feel like we've met before. you seem so familiar. I think I know you.”

he mumbles xiao's name over and over again to himself, trying to rack his brain. xiao. where has he seen him from? it's just at the top of his tongue.

neither of you notice the way that xiao's eyes widen a little, skin growing clammy as he gets nervous. fuck. you were far too focused on venti to had noticed.

it turns out, though, that you're xiao's savior tonight, because you interject before your embarrassment gives you a heart attack.

“xiao was just dropping me off.”

venti is taken aback, his eyes creasing in shock. “you're going already? why don't you join us? I don't mind the extra company.”

“venti,” you try to pause him, but you can see him begin to really, really like the idea. “no, seriously! the more the merrier, right?” he clings on harder to your arm, leaning in even more so to your touch. “I’d love to get to know my darling roommate's secret admirer more. I’ll get us all a bottle to share.”

he starts to drag you further into the tavern before you halt him.

“venti—”

xiao is quick to cut you both off before you even get a chance to speak, beating you to it.

“it's fine, I was just about to leave.”

you both turn to him. he stands there, almost expressionless. you can't read him, unsure if he declares it as an objection, out of annoyance, or if he really has planned to go all along. you realize now that even though you've spent all day with him, you still know little about xiao and the ways in which he expressed himself.

venti's face contorts into one of disappointment. “oh no, really? I would've loved the chance to get to know you. maybe another time, then?”

xiao narrows his eyes at him, nodding slowly. “right,” he responds. “another time would be best.”

xiao moves to start leaving, but you pause him in his tracks. “wait,” you exclaimed, just loud enough for him to hear you over the ambience of the tavern. you call out his name, placing a hand on his shoulder to make him still, causing xiao to turn.

in an instance, that guarded demeanor he put up while conversing with venti slips away right in front of you, his eyes lighter than before.

you just wanted to give him a proper goodbye before he left. “I had a good time tonight. it was really nice meeting you, again. I liked talking to you, and… I'd really like if we could be together in the future.”

he smiles at you. it's small, subdued, but it's there, and it's all for you. he feels incredibly flattered, more than you'd ever know, but he thinks the way his cheeks turn a rosy red that you can get the picture.

“I really enjoyed being with you today too. I'll talk to you later. if you ever need me, just reach out. I'll be here for anything.”

you smile big as you watch him go. “bye, xiao.”

you turn back around to see venti staring at the ground, arms folded over his chest as his eyebrows are furrowed. like xiao, though, his demeanor instantly changes the moment he locks eyes onto you, becoming much more cheery than he was just seconds prior.

“all done? that's great! we can head inside now and have some fun, yeah? you've seriously kept me waiting.” he laughs, but it doesn't reach his eyes, which look almost misty and clouded over. his pretty eyes, which are usually a bright turquoise, are now a deep grey.

venti takes you to one of the few tables that were still vacant. there's a bottle of wine that awaits you two. you assume that he's been sitting here awhile, given that it's already half empty. it didn't take a genius to know that venti had already downed a concerning amount of glass after glass tonight. he asks if you want a glass yourself. you decline, not yet in the mood to drink, not when you feel a little uneased. ‘more for me!’ he had giggled before he poured himself another.

he swirls the blood red liquid around in his glass, one arm on the table propping up his head in his palm. he takes a languished sip, the slowest he's drunken anything all night. he hums at the flavor, almost purring. he simply just cannot get enough of it.

it's quiet, for a moment.

“so, how did it go?” he's asks, suspiciously sweetly. “tell me all of the juicy details.”

you shift in your seat out of discomfort. you can't read venti right now either, can't tell if he's being playful, or pointed.

“it was…” you think of an answer to give him, but you're more preoccupied by your worry. “venti, are you doing alright?”

he quirks his head at your question. “yeah, of course. why wouldn't I be?” he doesn't sound very convincing.

your mouth bibs open and close, unsure of what to say. dang, this must be how venti had felt last night when you were trying to maneuver away from his line of questioning. it feels weird being in this side of the fence this time.

“I'm really sorry for being late, ven.”

he waves you off, refiling his cup. “oh, it's fine. mistakes happen. don't worry about it. the point is you're here now, right? the night is still young.”

he tries to sound earnest, but all he does is come off as defeated. you swallow thickly. “you sounded really upset on the phone, though. are you sure you're alright?”

he waves you off again, shaking his head. “like I said, it's fine. you're here now.” he repeats himself. you can't help but wonder if he's reassuring you, or himself. “there's no need to worry. I understand. besides, I wasn't expecting much from you anyways.”

I wasn't expecting much from you anyways, you repeat the words in your head. they echo over and over again, each repetition hurting just as much as the last.

ouch.

“what's that supposed to mean?” you say.

“I just meant that, given your recent track record, I knew better than to expect things to do smoothly today, that's all.”

“my track record?” you repeat, growing more and more upset by the second.

“oh, you know what I mean. ever since you and kaeya ended things, you haven't been there for me as much whatsoever. I'd invite you to things, you wouldn't show up, I'd get my hopes up. it's nothing new.” he tries to play it lighthearted, at first, but the more he spoke and the more he thought about the past few months, the more his resolve started to decompose. it's like a kettle finally boiling over after having been placed on the stove for far too long.

“venti, I tried my best, seriously. I did get caught up in talking to xiao, that's true, but I tried to rush over as soon as I could. everything was running late, though, so it took us awhile to get here. I'm sorry I'm late, I really am.” you too, lose your composure.

“a-and I know that, know that I've been more absent these past couple of months, but you have to understand where I'm coming from.”

he taps his foot on the ground, arms crossed against his form as he stares at the wooden flooring. he's not sure if he believes you, as much as he wants to. he knows that you were never particularly excited about the party, and having you come in with someone else was just a pinch to the gut.

“understand where you're coming from?” he repeats the phrase like it's ridiculous, adding more salt into the wound. his cheery demeanor has now long been gone.

“do you understand where I'm coming from, [name]? you've distanced yourself from me out of no where, and you can't even tell me what it is that I did for you to decide to toss me aside.”

his lips, too, quiver, his entire body beginning to shake like a leaf caught in a squall of rain.

“I'm not the reason kaeya broke up with you, you know.” he mumbles it out, seemingly out of left field, but he knows that this is what started this all.

that's the last thing you hear before you stand up abruptly.

“I think I'm gonna step outside. I'm not really sure if I want to be here anymore.”

your voice is quiet and meek, almost inaudible over the sounds of the party, but it's just loud enough for the bard, your bard, to hear. he tries to stand up with you, instantly regretting what he had said, but you're already quick to walk away.

“[name], wait!”

for once, you don't turn back around, heading out from the way you came in and stepping back into the darkness of the night.

you had thought that you were doing good, but maybe you were just a worst friend than you thought.

———

venti couldn't find you, no matter where he searched.

you two were separated for the rest of the night. what was once a night he had been looking forward to since the very moment you agreed to come with him had quickly turned bitter. and he's certain that it's all his fault.

he regretted his words from the moment that he watched you walk away with that pained look in your eye that you tried to hide from your friends. it took all his willpower to not immediately chase after you, but he knew that you two needed the distance. still, he wonders if he should've. much later, when he thinks back on it, he wishes that he did.

the ache of not being with you right then had hurt.

venti could drum up a crowd anywhere he could, and it wasn't hard to surround himself with people he could have fun with. yet, even surrounded by people that he loved, he felt hopelessly empty, a feeling he had tried throughout the entire night with glass after glass of whatever diluc had in stock. he's not a light weight, far from it, but he knows that he's truly tested his own limits tonight. he had fun, of course, but that dull ache just wouldn't budge, no matter how he tried to cope.

he shouldn't have said what he said.

by the end of the night, he couldn't take it anymore, despite how best he tried to keep his emotions in tact. after bidding his sweet friends farewell, he tried to find you again, stumbling through the crowd in hopes that you were still around.

he asked around to a few of the people he saw talking to you tonight, only for him to find out that, to his grave disappointment, you had long been gone already. he didn't hesitate to head back home after that, hitching a ride alongside a few others from one of his more responsible, sober friends.

the first thing he does when he stumbles back into your shared home right after stripping himself of his shoes and the heavy coat that weighed against his shoulders was call out to you. your name echoes in the emptiness of the house, and despite his hopeful demeanor, he knew after the nth time of calling out for you and being met with nothing but silence that you were no where to be found.

he had stumbled back into his room, phone tucked between his head and his shoulder as he tries calling you while stripping himself of his costume, trying to change into something more comfortable. by the time he makes it into a tee and some pajama shorts, he'd already had called you around nine times, the ringer going off for it’s full duration without any response.

with a desperate groan, he makes his way over to your room, feet freezing underneath the cool tiles as he shuffles his way over. as a last resort, he knocks on the door to your room. he does it gently, at first, giving you a moment to answer, but still, there was no response, not even after he bangs on it with a little more fever, a little more desperately.

he stands there for a moment just thinking. his eyes are a little glossed over, and he's seriously on the brink of tears at this point. all he wants is you, but you're gone.

he decides, in his yearning, to let himself inside.

his hand grabs onto the door knob and twists. the lights are off and it feels unbearably cold. it's now that he finally accepts your absence.

it's too hard to stand at this point. he has a raging headache coming on, and his emotional state is only making it worse. he takes a seat on your bed, not even bothering to turn the lights on. he dials your number once more, biting on his finger nails as he hears the phone ring.

ring.

rinnnnnnngggg.

“hey, this is [name]. I'm not here right now, but leave a message and I'll get back to you soon.”

beep.

he just wants to cry, feeling unbelievably frustrated. his lip quivers as he decides to leave a voice mail.

“hey, I'm home now. where are you? can you call me back when you get the chance? I know you're mad at me, and trust me, you have every reasoning to be, but please, just tell me that you're okay, please.”

he stares at his phone for a minute, hoping that you'd call him back. he's losing hope by the second.

and then, like a final hail mary, his phone buzzes, illuminating as a notification displays itself. it's from you.

you: I'm fine.

it's all you say, and yet he can't help but feel relieved. he can tell you don't want to speak to him, understandably so, but at least he has assurance that you're doing fine. he’ll worry about the details later.

he feels undoubtedly silly. yes, you were late, but it's a party, who cares? it's not that big of a deal, of course not. and if what you said about the traffic was true, then he really cannot fault you. either way, he wasn't truly upset about that. disappointed, yes, of course, but what has really been the thing to have disturbed him was that shadow that lingered behind you.

xiao. he knows him, he knows he does, but he just can't place from where. it's at the top of his brain, but with the way it's pulsating right now, he can't think a single thought straight. he'll just have to figure it out in the morning.

he knows you don't belong to him. that's not what he wants, he wants you to be free to do whatever it is you pleased, but he just wants you to do it in a manner that doesn't make him feel so… casted aside. you hadn't even told him about your meeting with him until last night, and now all of a sudden you come late to the party he invited you to with him?

still, he'd tell you that he were sorry if he could, and he'd seriously mean it in all earnest. he'd even beg on his hands and knees for your forgiveness, but he can't shake the feeling that just that one sentence had cut too far for the wound he made to be fixed with just a few bandages.

he slumps down into your bed, taking claim and solace over the warm landscape.

he doesn't care how you find him at this point.

he just needs you, bad. so without another care in the world, he slips himself in, just like he has for years.

oh, your bed is always so warm. your blankets swallow him whole, and he can't help himself but to take one of your pillows and press it against his chest, tucking the plush form under his chin as if he were holding you. he's engulfed in your scent; it's like you're pulling him into a hug.

but nothing can replicate the warmth that radiates off of you. you used to let him hold you just like this, with his head tucked into the sweet crevice of your neck and your hand tangled in the soft length of his hair. that hasn't been

he feels a little vindicated right now. he always knew that that relationship wouldn't work out. part of him wishes he wasn't right.

nevertheless, he tries to rest, eyes fluttering shut, but the headache he's taken on feels like it's banging an angry fist against his skull. he tries to ignore it at first, sinking into the mattress as he tries to let the comfort of being surrounded by the remnants of you take him away, but the pain is just unbearable, simply too much to ignore.

with a groan of pain, he turns on his side, eyes still shut closed as he reaches over to your bedside table. his hand, somewhat clumsily, lacking the usual dexterity of his sober self, shuffles open the first drawer, where he knows you usually keep over the counter medicine.

he's gone through this exact drawer dozens of times (sometimes unbeknownst to you, if he's being completely honest), so much so he could do it blind. you keep a bottle of pain killers more towards the side closest to the bed within the cavity so that it's easy to find in case of situations like this.

he reaches in, instinctively moving his hands towards it's usual spot, yet to his surprise, the very first thing he feels isn't the cylindrical shaped life safer, but instead… a folded up sheet of paper.

this oddly shocks him. you don't usually keep any documents in here. maybe it's sentimental?

venti likes to believe that he isn't nosy, yet he can't help himself to take just a little peak. his need for something to quell the drumming pain in his head is superseded by his curious desire, grasping onto the delicate thing. he musters up just enough energy to sit up, clicking back on your bedside lamp to better absorb what it is he has in his hands.

it's a letter addressed to you, dated several months back, seemingly one letter of many. he unfolds it. it's written on one of those sheets of papers specifically meant to be used for letters, with a decorative border outlining the sheet. he skims it lightly, eyes catching on both the greeting, “dear [name],” and the closure, “...from alatus.”

he rereads the name out loud, eyebrows furrowed, mumbling it out in a slurred speech.

“alatus…”

alatus, alatus, alatus. he repeats the name a few more times in his head.

suddenly, he finds that he's sobered up.

——— NEW MESSAGES ———

UNKNOWN: hey. diluc gave me your number. UNKNOWN: I gave it some thought after we talked tonight. I'm open to talking to you soon. UNKNOWN: I hope you got home safe. let me know how you're doing whenever you get the chance.

#yandere xiao x reader #yandere venti x reader #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere x reader #xiao x reader #venti x reader #tw manipulation #tw age gap #tw yandere

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sherlocked-hunter-in-the-tardis · 2 days ago

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Batfam favorite stuffies?

OMG HI!! 💖💖 Yeah, I can ABSOLUTELY do that!! Stuffie headcanons?? YES PLEASE!! 🙌 Thanks so much for requesting it!!!

Here, have some Batfam favorite stuffies headcanons JUST for you!!! 🧸💥💕

(And, yes, I did include the girls this time. They deserve stuffies too!)

🦇 Dick Grayson (Nightwing)

Stuffy Name: Zitka — a worn-out grey elephant in a circus ringleader outfit, complete with a tiny top hat.

Origin: Given to him by his parents before they passed. He immediately latched onto it, and even now, as an adult, he keeps it on his bed.

Behavior: When regressed, Dick carries Zitka everywhere. He introduces him proudly to the other kids and insists that the stuffy is the leader of all plushie missions. If anyone’s hurt or upset? Zitka helps “fix it.”

Quirk: Zitka has to sit at the head of the bed or Dick can’t sleep. Also? Zitka has “diplomatic immunity,” and Bruce once had to make a legal certificate for him as a joke… that Dick laminated.

🐦 Jason Todd (Red Hood)

Stuffy Name: Fluffbutt the Third — a ridiculously fluffy and soft bunny in a pastel red hoodie.

Origin: Bruce gave it to him after Jason had a nightmare, back when Jason first moved in. Jason pretended not to care, then was found the next morning curled around it.

Behavior: When little, Jason clings to Fluffbutt like it’s life or death. If he’s especially sick or embarrassed, he’ll bury his face in it and refuse to talk. He claims it's only good for “punch training” (but everyone knows he sleeps with it every night).

Quirk: Jason won’t let anyone see Fluffbutt… unless they’re also little. He once cried when Bruce accidentally put it through the wrong cycle in the wash. Fluffbutt was “too dizzy to walk straight for a day.”

🐍 Tim Drake (Red Robin)

Stuffy Name: Professor Chai — an owl with big glasses, a little book bag, and a permanent sleepy face.

Origin: Stephanie gave it to him as a joke. He didn’t mean to love it. He definitely didn’t name it. (He totally did.)

Behavior: Tim only cuddles Professor Chai when he’s in deep little space or when he’s alone. He treats him like a therapist, whispering his worries to the plush owl like it’s taking notes.

Quirk: He once made an entire miniature computer for Chai to “work on.” Bruce caught him asking the owl for “research guidance” during a nap pile.

🐉 Damian Wayne (Robin)

Stuffy Name: Sir Buttons of the Blade — a regal green dragon with a tiny sewn-on sword and a cape. The buttons on his belly are for "armor."

Origin: Dick gave it to him as a joke. Damian scoffed. Then he started sneaking it into his pillow fort during thunderstorms.

Behavior: When he’s regressed, Damian treats Sir Buttons like a loyal knight. He’ll perch him at the top of a block tower to “guard” it. He speaks to him in formal language and insists that he’s the bravest soldier in the nursery.

Quirk: He absolutely does sleep with it, but if anyone asks? “Sir Buttons rests at my side only to strategize the next day’s missions. It’s strictly tactical.”

🦇 Cassandra Cain (Orphan/Batgirl)

Stuffy Name: Mina — a small bat plushie with oversized wings and a silver bow.

Origin: Alfred sewed it for her by hand. She found it waiting on her bed after her first birthday with the family.

Behavior: Cass cradles Mina like a baby. She wraps her wings around her and hums softly while rocking her. It’s her anchor when words are hard.

Quirk: She once gave Mina a hand-sewn “mask” to match her own. Sometimes, she’ll wrap her up in tiny blankets and gently “feed” her tea with a thimble.

💙 Stephanie Brown (Spoiler)

Stuffy Name: Princess Tater Tot — a golden retriever in a sparkly pink tutu and tiara.

Origin: Barbara won it at a fair for her. Steph squealed so loudly people thought she’d won the lottery.

Behavior: She uses Tater Tot for dramatic storytelling. There are voices. Songs. Entire musicals. When she’s little, Steph acts out grand fairy tales with Tot as the star.

Quirk: Once made the entire family sit through a puppet show where Tater Tot saved Gotham. Bruce applauded. Tim nearly cried laughing.

🧃 Duke Thomas (Signal)

Stuffy Name: Sunbean — a lion with a fuzzy yellow mane that glows slightly in the dark.

Origin: He found it in a donation box during a mission and secretly kept it.

Behavior: When little, Duke hugs Sunbean tight and talks to it when he’s trying to process his feelings. Sunbean never judges. Just glows.

Quirk: He shares Sunbean with anyone scared of the dark during sleepovers. Damian pretends not to like it, but always ends up with it in his arms by morning.

Let me know if you want bedtime rituals, tea parties with their stuffies, or stuffy drama (Jason and Damian arguing over fluffiness vs tactical readiness is very real). 💖

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commsroom · 2 years ago

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hi there, long time listener first time caller. genuinely i love your blog sm, everything you say about hera brings me so much joy.

anyways, what’s eiffel’s favorite ice cream?

hi, thank you so much! that means a lot to me. ♡

eiffel's favorite ice cream... hm. once zach said eiffel's favorite ice cream would be cotton candy dippin dots, and i love that answer. other than that... i think he likes 1) sugar, and 2) novelty. eiffel's not a same flavor every time guy; he's mixing scoops of bright neon flavors favored by children and then covering them in toppings. he also likes coffee ice cream, of course, and he doesn't think you can go wrong with chocolate. even better, combine those, too. he likes ice cream sandwiches, and the deep fried ice cream you can get at fairs. as long as it isn't trying to be fancy or healthy, i don't think he'll turn it down.

... there's also a non-zero chance that cigarette candy put the possibility of cigarette ice cream in his brain. that guy's taste buds are broken. love him so much.

#thank you so much really!!#i definitely see you in my notes all the time + please know that i am always happy to talk about hera whenever <3 #speaking of hera i know i've said this before but #i think eiffel would hype up junk food and if hera could actually eat she'd be like. hm. it's not good actually #hera's favorite ice cream would be like. kulfi.#minkowski of course is a big fan of ice cream. more of an ice cream enthusiast than eiffel who is just a general sugar enthusiast #and she wants like. the really decadent rich kind with cake bits and stuff in it. but she absolutely refuses to indulge #except on scheduled cheat days and this drives eiffel out of his mind. she's like despondently looking at a milkshake place and he's like #why do you torture yourself. and gets one for both of them. even if she complains about it she won't turn it down #like he knows it's giving her an excuse.#asks

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humanjarvis · 10 days ago

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lads LIs: when you live alone

zayne:

creates impromptu scavenger hunts for you. and by that, i mean he leaves treats in different rooms of your place for you to find once he’s gone. like, you opened a cabinet one day, and 5 chocolate candies fell out. this is zayne’s version of a prank.

sometimes, late at night, you’ll get a knock on your door. zayne, fatigued and still in his scrubs, has come straight to you after his shift. he could’ve gone to his house, sure, but after the day he had, he needs his home.

you go back and forth between each other’s places so often that his neighbors think you live with him, and yours think he lives with you. an older woman in his neighborhood stopped by to thank him after he saved her husband’s life, and the gift basket she prepared had two of everything.

he carefully curates care packages for you. vitamins, pastries, daily planners, blankets, medicines you should always have on hand. he always sends them before his big business trips, and they always include a souvenir he’d bought on the last one because it reminded him of you

tries not to show it, but he worries about you being all by yourself. basically has the terms of your lease memorized, and he knows multiple routes from your place to the nearest hospital

caleb:

he has to hold himself back from coming to visit every time you go grocery shopping. you have how many bags? to carry how far? it’s just not right. he almost can’t take it

when he is there to help, he honestly doesn’t even actually carry the bags. he uses his evol for that, so his hands can do the important things, like holding yours in the elevator or spotting you as you climb up the stairs

definitely uses his visit time to meal prep for you, no matter how much you tell him you can do it yourself. “yeah, you can,” he teases. “but will you?”

buys duplicates of your stuff so you can have whatever you need at his place. it also just lets him feel closer to you (he is definitely using the shampoo and body wash whenever he misses you. maybe even the perfume. the recruits notice he smells…fruity one day, but say nothing)

uses 10 different apps to check up on you. flicks through your social media, tracks your water intake and step count, sees what you’ve been watching on your shared streaming services, scrolls through your most recent songs played—there’s so much information out there. and if it’s about you, he has to know it. for your safety, of course

he’s basically your on-call problem-solver. caleb, can you open this jar? caleb, i can’t carry this box up the stairs. caleb, i can’t lift this thing out of its package. no matter how small the ask is, he’ll be there as soon as he can

he also doubles as your personal handyman. you tell him something’s broken, and the next day it’s miraculously working again with a smiley face sticky note on top. he kinda moves like the gnomes in the sims 4 where they come into your apartment and fix stuff overnight

please move in with him. he will hint toward it constantly. or he could just pack his bags, move in with you, and fly up to skyhaven every morning. does your apartment complex have an aircraft hangar he could use?

xavier:

if he’s still your neighbor in this scenario, you’ll hang out at each other’s places so often that the few times when you’re apart don’t matter as much.

if he’s not your neighbor in this scenario, prepare for psychological warfare

he wears a mask of innocence, but he’ll subtly bring his stuff over to your place, or your stuff over to his, to soft-launch your move-in together

“xavier? why is my hairbrush in your bathroom?”

“hm. you must’ve left it here the last time you stayed over. we’re basically roommates at this point.” all this with an innocent smile.

whether you’re neighbors or not, he loves when you call him over when you’re lonely. for you to choose him, for you to seek him out…a soft glow always surrounds him when you open the door

and when he’s lonely, he puts the house plants he’d gifted you to good use: he stops by “just to tend to them” and ends up staying the night, his body sprawled on top of yours when you wake up

he keeps a mental file of all of your neighbors so he can know if there’s anyone to worry about—and so he can steer you away from anyone who might be a threat

he’s soft-spoken, but he speaks the loudest when he’s right outside your door. when his voice carries through the halls, anyone who might’ve tried something knows that while you may live by yourself, you’re not alone.

sylus:

detests how constricting your space is, as well as the lack of interior design, but keeps it to himself (for the most part)

your bed is not big enough and ages him 10 years every time he sleeps in it. he also keeps this to himself.

even so, he lures you over to the base as much as possible. that way, just for a little while, he can pretend your cramped rooms and mismatched furniture don’t exist

mephisto practically lives in the tree closest to your window, and his owner is shameless about the spying. “basic security measures,” he’d said. he doesn’t trust the sluggish courtesy officer at your complex to do his job. though he’s debated simply buying your landlord out and giving the staff a complete overhaul a couple times

you never go grocery shopping. every week, sylus has you send luke and kieran a list. and every week, they show up at your door to drop the requested items off, trying to hide how out of breath they are

subtle hints to move in with him turn to outright conversations. but if you need your own space, he won’t keep you from having it. he’ll just…generously offer to fund an upgraded living arrangement. either that, or enjoy having a whole new wing in the base built just for you. fingerprint or beak access only—no twins allowed

rafayel:

you live alone? huh. you barely notice with him around

rafayel is constantly over at your place, as if he doesn’t have millions of dollars in beautiful real estate of his own to lounge around at

it started with silly excuses, like “i heard a weird noise outside and got scared,” or “i’m not feeling too good—can you watch over me just to be safe?”

but at a certain point, he just stopped bothering.

you come home from work to find him lazing on your couch, and he perks up the moment he sees your face. he says he missed you, you say you saw him yesterday. and he says yeah, but that was a whole yesterday ago

when he’s miraculously not invading your personal space, he still likes to pretend he is. he’ll text you like you’re sitting in the same room, making no-context references to things around him that you can’t see, because, as you’ve explained to him, you are not, in fact, together at the moment. his only answer is “well maybe you should come over then, cutie”

at least once a week, he’ll order food to your door, only to send a picture of him eating the same thing at his studio. does long-distance parallel play exist? if so, that’s him

helps you redecorate when you decide your furniture is too drab. even paints you a few originals to display in different rooms

you’re gonna need a bigger bathtub.

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chuluoyi · 1 year ago

Text

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄

- sylus x reader

more than friends with benefits, definitely lovers. your relationship is one filled with banters, steamy nights, and secret strings attached... but when someone shows an interest in you, sylus won't hesitate to stake his claim for everyone to see

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—jealousy, crack, fluff, smut, a dash of comfort, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc)

note: loosely a sequel to strictly (un)professional. how this snowballed into 3.8k... i don't really know :')

“Missus, please spare us!”

You shot an unamused look at the twins before you, who clasped their hands together, pleading for you to let them go.

“Why is it so difficult for both of you to say?” you hissed, crossing your arms together. “I’m not asking for much—just a recount of what happened!”

“Boss will have our tongues for this!” Kieran looked up at you, quivering. “No way, I want to live!”

“He’s terrifying…” Luke shuddered in fear, hugging himself. “You don’t know how frightening he is!”

You were holding both Luke and Kieran hostage, the tender preys, all because Sylus refused to reveal what you had been wanting to know these past few weeks.

“So you’re afraid of Sylus…” You fixed them with a steely glare. “But have you ever thought that if you don’t spill it now, I will be the one taking both your tongues?”

“—?! Missus, please!”

“Why are you bullying the twins?” A deep voice cut through the twins’ pitiful laments, and you let out an exasperated huff as your chance slipped away once more.

Speak of the devil, and Sylus shall appear. He looked at the scene before him as if you were all a bunch of kindergarteners.

Luke and Kieran immediately flocked to him. “Boss! Save us! She’s scary!”

And now you were suddenly the scary one. You rolled your eyes. "Your henchmen are useless."

Sylus glanced at you with a half smile, knowing what information you were squeezing the twins for. "Sweetie, just give it up. You'll find peace faster that way."

Was it wrong to be curious about what Sylus had been up to during the three weeks you were unconscious after the attack that literally took your life? Why was he being so secretive about it anyway?

“I know, you were so worried sick you didn’t even eat or sleep,” you taunted your lover with a wicked smile. “That’s why you won’t tell me about it.”

Sylus laughed outright. “Pftt. You’ve got quite the imagination. Good to know.”

Nothing much changed after that night of his confession—if you could call it that—to you. You were indeed no longer strictly his bedwarmer, but your banters stayed the same, if not even more sarcastic now.

“Chop chop, we have an auction to go to, sweetie.” Sylus placed his big hand on your head, amused. “Stop being a hissy kitten towards the poor twins and get ready, hmm?”

“I’ll definitely uncover it,” you shot him a resentful glare. “Just you wait and see.”

Such were your days with your true kindred-spirits lover. He would tease you during the day and turn you into a hot mess at night, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

In tonight's auction, you had one target: the broker for a new rising star firearms dealer. Sylus had been eyeing him, deducing his goods could be a nice addition to his armory.

And so, you went up to him. However...

“...Are you single, miss?”

Here we go again.

You forced a tight smile. “Sir, I’d appreciate it if we can stick to subject at hand.”

The man blinked, then quickly plastered on a wide grin to mask his surprise. “Oh yes! Yes, I-I’m sorry, I got distracted— well, I’d say this is a pretty solid MoU... but I’ll need to contact my boss first.”

This weirdo... you thought with boredom, is so transparent.

This wasn’t the first time you’d dealt with a situation like this. Granted, you were pretty and you knew it, but usually, more distinguished men would be a bit more subtle about it.

“Take all the time you need,” you encouraged smoothly, your eyes crinkling in an attempt to look friendly. “As you can see, Mr. Sylus has proposed the perfect bargain for this kind of dealings.”

“I wouldn’t argue with that. I assure you we’ll certainly try to accommodate his request.” The man nodded and gave you a meaningful look, before coughing awkwardly. “Uh, sorry, what was your name again, miss?”

Your faux smile remained perfectly still as you replied, “Mephisto.”

The man’s eyes roved over you, and he grinned roguishly. “Right. Still, I never expected Mr. Sylus’ secretary to be as beautiful as you, Miss Mephisto...”

This was tedious. Your patience was tested with every leering look he gave you. Sylus must know this already, and he's somewhere laughing at the sight of you dealing with this creep.

“You flatter me too much, I’m average.”

“No, no! I mean it!”

He knows... yet he wouldn't do anything about it. Not that you would expect Sylus to barge in like a man blinded by envy, but still, he was insufferable for not coming to you just like he had for Miss Hunter back then.

The man kept droning on and on about himself and everything else that had nothing to do with the business deal, and you were this close to dropping him and using your Evol to shut him up when—

He then turned to you expectantly. “Oh, there is a dance! Miss, would you mind if I have your first dance?”

“Oh...”

And it occurred to you... why not spice things up a little?

Sylus’ dark crimson eyes narrowed silently as he watched both of you from the island table while savoring his glass of wine, before he let out a loud snort.

That vermin doesn’t have a clue he is playing with fire.

For most of your interaction, the firearms dealer’s broker kept giving you suggestive looks, and occasionally brushing his hand against yours on purpose. He wasn't even trying to hide it, and it was amusing to see how aggravated you looked the entire time.

Adorable. Sylus found you incredibly endearing these days, from your pouts to your glazed eyes whenever he thrusted into you—

You were oh so delectable… at least until he saw you holding that lesser man's arm, as he led you to the dance floor.

A deep frown immediately formed in his forehead.

“What are you scheming now?” Sylus scowled, half exasperated and half in disbelief. “You naughty cat.”

He was even more irked when he saw how casually you wrapped your arms around that vermin, twirling and pressing yourself against him in a waltz. Seeing him trying to hit on you was one thing, but for you to reciprocate was just plain unacceptable.

—and to his ire, your audacity continued throughout the night.

. . .

“Miss Mephisto, do you play pool?”

“I do.”

“Then, will you play with me?”

Sylus was now burning with tendrils of anger, watching you from a closer corner. He had seen the broker put his hands on you so many times that he had lost count—during the dance, mingling with other guests, and while sharing hearty laughs. All in all, you were acting as if you had forgotten he was even here.

You were threading on a very thin ice and whether you realized it or not... you didn't seem to care.

"Ah, I think your stance is a bit off..." And to make it worse, the broker was definitely seizing every chance he could, as there was nothing wrong with your form—you often accompanied Sylus playing pool, so you were a pro—and yet he still got behind you, trying to drape his arms around your body.

That was the last straw. Enough is enough.

Before Sylus realized what he was doing, he stormed over to where you were, yanked your arm forcefully, and effectively separated you from him. He didn’t give a damn about the horrified shout from the broker or the judging looks from other partygoers as he dragged you by the hand out of the ballroom.

“Sylus!” you nearly shrieked when he kicked open a door to a meeting room and locked it with his black-red mist. He pinned you against the wall, and crashed his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

“Mmph!” You tried pushing him back, but he was stronger and held you in place, his tongue forcing your lips open as he pressed the back of your head toward him. His other hand slipped inside your dress—between your legs— two fingers in—

“—!” you couldn't even squeal as he devoured your mouth and the shock set in, feeling yourself getting aroused by the minute when his fingers did that scissoring thing and edged you further.

After he was done with your mouth, his hot lips trailed down to your neck and shoulder blades, sucking hard on several spots, making you gasp and moan.

"Hah... this... is the price to pay for testing me, sweetie," your lover growled his nickname for you with satisfaction as he noticed you trembling body, nibbling on your shoulder. "You want to get punished so badly, huh?"

"Ahh..." you threw your head back, clinging to him, grinding yourself against his fingers.

"Is it funny to you? Watching me see him touch you?" Sylus' unforgiving ruby eyes stared down at you like a lion eyeing its prey. "What an insolent little kitten you are..."

His fingers kept moving and thrusting inside you in an alarming speed, mercilessly hitting that one spot that could make you cry. He was seriously teaching you a lesson by forcing you to come undone right then and there.

"I-I...!" you tried to refute, but then you felt the knot inside you burst, and in the next second, you could feel yourself coming all over his fingers, shuddering, your breaths coming in pants.

Feeling faint, relief washed you when he pulled out his fingers. You leaned and clung onto him, pulling him closer, and Sylus finally saw what a mess he had turned you into.

Your glassy eyes focused solely on him, seemingly pleading—and those swollen lips, as well as the sizzling heat creeping up your cheeks—

“Ha,” he let out a low chuckle, a wicked grin curling his lips. “If I can still make you look like this, then I suppose I can forgive you.”

“You’re a meanie,” you mumbled breathlessly.

“You’re the mean one,” Sylus tutted with narrowed eyes, starting to pull away from you.

But then you pulled him close again and pressed your lips to his, this time with a gentleness that surprised him.

There was no malice or burning desire in your kiss. Strangely, it felt far more intimate. You pulled away, the heart-stopping swirls of his red eyes captivating you as you pressed your foreheads together.

“Needy, aren’t you, sweetie?” Sylus whispered, holding your gaze, his breath hot against your skin.

But right now, all of a sudden, you looked so vulnerable to him, as if any wrong word from his lips would shatter you. It made him almost feel guilty for manhandling you so roughly.

You didn’t respond, just wanting this closeness with him. Behind your snarky words and little schemes, this was what you wanted more than the release you just got. Sometimes, you still worried—did he want this too?

“What is it?” Sylus asked with a frown, seemingly concerned. “Talk. Tell me.”

“Nothing…” you replied in a small voice.

“Do you feel sick? Want to go back?”

You shook your head.

You weren’t usually this quiet. Sylus couldn’t help being restless at your sudden change. It felt awkward for him to do what he was about to do next, but instinctively, he figured it would comfort you a bit.

You felt a pang in your heart when he pulled away, but in the next instant, a wave of warmth enveloped you as he pressed you to him, burying your head against his sturdy chest.

For someone who deals with blood and gore, your body felt too soft and fragile, yet still fit perfectly in his arms. Though he had held you and made love to you many times before, it was only now that he truly noticed how small you were.

“You’re warm…” you murmured, your voice carrying a hint of a whine.

So needy and pliant… for him.

“My woman is such an enduring mystery.” Sylus mused, sounding almost as if he were lamenting. “Sometimes she’s a brazen kitten without a shred of shame, but then she pulls stunts like this.”

Your heart picked up the pace. You are... his. That was right. You were his woman in every sense of the word now, and he wasn't shying away from it.

But to cover your embarrassment, you could only come up with, “Can you not refer to me as cat...?”

He shot you an irked glance. “No.”

“He calls me by your bird’s name.”

“...”

“Sylus, you can’t murder him. Your deal will go down the drain.”

“Tch.” Sylus blew out an annoyed sigh, glaring at you. “By the time I get back here, you’re going back with me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, yes.”

Honestly you were exhausted, and you wanted to nothing more than a good sleep. But you couldn't just leave the broker without preamble because this deal depended on him, and Sylus too had some loose ends he had to tie before the two of you left.

Strangely, all eyes were on you when you returned to the ballroom. You wondered why as you navigated the crowd until you met the broker you had fooled in so many ways.

“Oh, Miss Mephisto, you’re back!” he was visibly and utterly drunk, and you cringed at the strong smell of alcohol on his breath. But then you noticed his eyes seemed to be fixated on your—

Neck. You realized in horror.

“Oh... hic, t-that... I-I see,” he blabbered, coughing awkwardly as he stared at the marks on your neck. “Miss... so that man is... y-your lover...?”

“Uh...” It was a wonder he didn’t recognize Sylus at first glance. Perhaps it was because he was so infamous, but it astounded you how this person couldn’t even tell that it was him.

"I-I thought... w-we..." he hiccupped again heartbrokenly, before snatching a glass on the table. "Oh, I need more drink!"

You observed him, half cringing. "Sir, I just want to remind you that once the documents are signed—"

"Yeah, yeah! It will be done by the end of the week!" he yelled at you. "Miss, how about you have a drink too!?"

Suddenly, a glass of gin was shoved into your hand, and you let out an irritated sigh. Yeah, he might be right. A glass of alcohol would help you sleep better tonight, you figured, so you chugged it down.

"Huh...?" And it didn’t take you long to realize something was amiss. The dizzying sensation set in far too quickly, you felt so hot, and you had to lean on the table next to you to keep from falling.

“Are you okay...?” a waitress asked you with concern, but the only sound you could hear was your own violent heartbeat. Before you knew it, the glass in your hand slipped from your grasp and crashed into the floor.

"Oh, miss! Are you okay?!" the broker suddenly got a hold over your body. "Oh! It seems you aren't feeling well! Let me escort you to you room!"

Room? You barely discerned what happened when he led you out of the crowd. Your head spun terribly, and then suddenly throbbed, making you clutch it and cry out in pain, "Ah!"

It didn't make sense, no matter how you saw it. You had a pretty good tolerance, so for you to get hungover from a gin was just—

“Oh, does it hurt much?” he suddenly asked in your ear, making you shiver. “Don’t worry... it'll be bearable soon enough... I’ll make sure you will feel good…”

It's him! You realized. He spiked your drink!

His arms were now locking yours, steering you to go into the elevator. You took a deep breath before directing your speech manipulation evol on him— "Let go!"

He was immediately jerked away from you, but as a result, you almost crumpled, your vision swimming and your head pounding intensely. The pain made you feel close to passing out, and yet you managed to trek forward, leaning on the wall for support.

You had to get away from him before he could catch up to you. Panic set in, and when strong arms caught you, you convulsed, thinking he had grabbed you—

“Stop thrashing!”

“S-Sylus...?” You looked up, trying to focus on his face, but everything was so blurry.

“I’m here.” His voice was ragged, and you’d recognize it anywhere. “What happened to you? Are you hurt?”

“M-my head...” Your voice came out as a broken whimper, clutching at your throbbing head. “Hurts...”

You were feverish, trembling against his hold, and you reeked of alcohol. Sylus instantly realized something was seriously wrong and pressed your head into his chest to provide comfort. “Just a little bit longer—” his deep voice carried a subtle hint of alarm as he hoisted you up to his arms. “Hang on, alright?”

But just as he was about to bring you back, he caught the sight of a fleeing silhouette in the corner, and realizing who it was, his right eye blazed, black and red mist swirled in the air and restrained the broker, engulfing his screams.

“S-spare me! P-please!” the man pleaded tearfully, pinned on the ground, and Sylus approached him silently, looking down at him with so much spite in his eyes.

“A roach that doesn’t seem to know his place…” The corners of his lips twisted into a sadistic smile. “Whether you survive or not depends on you. Best hope you’ll last.”

Despite his pleas, he paid it no mind as he walked away with you in his arms.

When you awakened, your head was no longer pounding.

It took you a moment to realize there was a cool compress on your forehead, you were now in a clean oversized sweater, and someone was holding your hand.

Sylus. You looked up to find him asleep, sitting with his back against the headboard beside you. It was rare to catch him sleeping. In this moment, he looked defenseless, yet a faint frown lingered on his handsome face.

Has he been waiting for you like this, holding your hand all night...?

You tried to get a better look at him, but the rustle seemed to wake him up instead, as his eyes cracked open.

“You awake?” he asked, voice so sultry it woke all your senses up. “I was just shutting my eyes.”

“Aren’t you uncomfortable sleeping like that?” you asked.

Sylus turned toward you, his eyes still hazy from sleep. “What about you? Feeling better?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He placed a hand on your head, ruffling your hair gently.

“Really, you...” His stare was so withering it made question marks appear in your head. “I took my eyes off you for one minute, and you ended up with alcohol poisoning?”

“—? I didn’t know! But wait, what happened to that bozo?”

Sylus gave you a deadpan look, and you gasped. “You… didn’t kill him and have his body secretly disposed of, did you?”

“Just who do you think I am?”

“…a kingpin of an illegal syndicate?”

Your lover’s scowl deepened further at your response. “Nah, he got lucky. I only returned him with a broken jaw, broken hips, and two missing teeth.”

“Sylus!”

If he looked sleepy before, now he definitely looked wide awake. Sylus always sleeps at dawn, and you wanted him to rest more than anything, but now you were itching to ask him...

“Say... were you waiting for me while sitting like this too when I wasn’t conscious for three weeks?” You avoided his gaze, the question burning on your lips. Sylus had never given you a straight answer whenever you asked him about this.

This time too, he grumbled, “Why do you keep asking that?”

“Because I can’t ask Luke and Kieran, they look as if you’d set them on fire.”

Sylus went silent, not giving you any affirmation at all, and you huffed and unclasped his hand, pursing your lips together. “I see. You don’t care about me at all. Noted.”

You heard him sigh, before his red eyes squarely landed on you.

“When I was shot, you worried about me even when you know I’m going to be alright,” he suddenly posed the question on you. “Didn’t you?”

You nodded, and he tousled your hair again—the action alone somehow made you feel warm.

“Whatever you felt that day, that’s the same to what I went through during those three weeks. Multiply it by ten.”

“Huh!?” you rose up from the sheets in surprise, facing him.

Sylus then turned away from you, crossing his arms and shutting his eyes. “That’s it, sweetie. I’m going back to sleep now.”

“Wait!”

You scrambled into his lap, clinging to his shoulder. Sylus begrudgingly opened his eyes again, a look of irritation on his face. “What?”

Multiply it by ten…? Heh. At this moment, you felt light and giddy, knowing that the two of you were now true lovers in every way that mattered even when you were faced with his sourness.

“Don't scowl too much!” you giggled merrily. You placed your fingers on the corners of his lips, gently lifting them to force a smile. “Honesty suits you much better, Sylus. It’s recommended.”

This cheeky woman... Sylus never thought the day would come for him to experience these myriad of emotions, much less for them to be incited by you.

He pulled you close, one arm around your hips and the other around the back of your head. Your lips met his in a passionate kiss that left no room for further conversation, only parting when you both needed to catch your breath.

“If you want me to, then don’t make me relive those nights,” he said with a sly smile, his crimson eyes glinting in the light and his voice like silk against your ears. “Can you?”

His tone softened your gaze, a warm sensation spreading through your chest. You responded with a playful snort, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him another peck on the lips.

After your innocent make-out session, you nestled closer to him with a contented sigh, savoring the reassuring warmth of his embrace as you both drifted off again into the morning.

Epilogue

"Do you hear anything?"

"No, nothing..."

Luke and Kieran whispered amongst themselves as they tried to hear anything of importance beyond Sylus' bedroom. After their boss went back home with you passed out in his arms last night, they had totally expected the worst.

“Seems like she’s alright then…” Kieran concluded, stepping away from the door. “We should just go. If Boss catches us, we’re dead.”

The twins backed away from the door and went back to the living room, sighing in relief.

"But honestly, Boss has changed lately, hasn't he? He looks kinder, somehow."

"Are you sure, Luke? Maybe it's just when he looks at the missus. With us, meh."

“I still get chills thinking about when he destroyed the Protofield to dust after he found her following the explosion,” Luke gazed off in wonder. “It was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen, but it was also heartbreaking—especially when he tried to wake her and realized she was beyond help because the steel had pierced her heart…”

Luke and Kieran went quiet at the memory.

“Anyhow!” Kieran suddenly exclaimed. “All’s well that ends well! To be honest, I totally saw it coming that they'd end up together!”

“Ooh, you're right! They did a bad job of hiding it too, no less! I mean, one time, the missus came out of his room while—”

As the twins gossiped about their master and mistress, they were unaware that Mephisto the crow, perched nearby, was dutifully recording their conversation and would report it all to his master later.

8K notes · View notes

littleapplle · 2 months ago

Note

Dearest writer, I would like to submit an order into your respected bakery! 🍞🥯🥖🥐

May I kindly get a NSFW A to Z Headcannon for Rafayel or Caleb? (or both if you don’t mind :3) I’m a huge fan of your writing and given that you are open for orders I figured I could try my luck in ordering something special 🙂‍↕️🥹

But ofc if this is too much of a hassle you may kindly ignore my order and move on 🤭🥹🥺 I shall kindly await for your response and I look forward to your masterpiece (even if it’s not my request) 💖

nsfw alphabet ⊹ ࣪ ˖ rafayel and caleb

cw.: nsfw. real porn links!! must be logged in twt to watch.

note: oh anon you'll make my heart melt:( thank you for your sweet words, my luv. i'm so sorry for the wait, i wish i had finished this much sooner >< hope this is good enough tho bc i lwk feel like i did a terrible job <//3

rafayel

a = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): Really good! Rafayel can’t stand being dirty after sex and won’t really rest until you and him are cleaned up so you two always end up snuggling in his bathtub while he massages your scalp and scrubs your body lovingly. If you're not too tired, talk to him. He wants to hear your voice. How was it? Did you enjoy it? Tell him everything, he'll listen. Rafayel holds you so close you think he’s actually trying to get under your skin, literally.

b = body part (their favorite of theirs and their partner): If you asked, he’d say he loves every part of you and he absolutely cannot choose. If he really had to answer… your boobs. They’re the perfect size, feel good on his palms, your nipples don’t have a single moment of peace. You have to physically pull him away before they’re sore and puffy. ❤︎...¹ ❤︎...² ❤︎...³

on his body though… his hands, of course! It is with them that he creates his beautiful pieces and makes you come undone as his slender fingers press down on that spongy spot inside you.

c = cum (anything to do with cum): Will come anywhere you want if you ask him to but he really likes to see his cum dripping on your skin. Be it your stomach, your tits, doesn’t matter, he’ll go feral. As for the taste, it barely tastes like anything. It’s a bit salty and very watery but that’s it. ❤︎...

d = dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs): Really wants to photograph you. Be it during sex, just you touching yourself, anything. Definitely has a secret journal about you and wants to decorate it with your beautiful body and face. 100% has a polaroid of your tits on his wallet and has no shame at all.

e = experience (how experienced are they): Barely any. Listen, he has read erotica, studied human anatomy a thousand times and knows the human body like no one else but he never had sex with anyone but you so please guide him the first few times. Be vocal, he’s a quick learner, he’ll learn his way around your body in a second.

f = favorite position: Rafayel likes a position based on how easy he can 1. kiss you and 2. look at your face. Missionary lover, basic but nothing with Rafayel is boring. Sex with Rafayel tends to be SO romantic, he’s THE lover boy. He kisses you so sweetly, sucking hickies on your neck while his cock drags inside you slowly. Also looooves when you ride him! it’s a combo of everything he likes, you frowning in pleasure, your boobs bouncing AND you on top of him!! ❤︎...¹ ❤︎...² ❤︎...³

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc): Oh sex with Rafayel is never serious! He’s always trying to get a reaction out of you, be it trying to make you laugh by pressing a kiss to that ticklish spot on your neck or by making the stupidest joke ever. Your laughter gets him going more than he’d like to admit.

h = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.): First of all, yes, it is purple and second, he shaves very frequently. As a lemurian, he never had any issues with body hair since he didn’t have any. Nowadays, he’s grown used to shaving since his pubes sensory bother him.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…): Puh-lease, we are talking about Rafayel. The artist, the lemurian that lives and breathes for love, your one and only soulmate. Rafayel is obsessed with you, always has been, always will be. To have skin to skin contact with you, letting him see you bare and vulnerable and yet still trust him, it’s everything he’d ever wish for. Rafayel lives for romance, love and pure intimacy and he will show it to you in every touch, kiss and praise.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon): Before getting together with you, if he was ever really pent up and stressed, maybe once or twice a week. After you two got together officially, he doesn’t see the point in masturbating when he’s always glued to your side. If you’re away for whatever reason though? I believe he can get pretty needy and maybe, just maybe, rub one off.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks): Does body worship even count as a kink? Well, doesn’t matter. How many times do I have to say that Rafayel is OBSESSED with you??? There’s nothing that makes him hornier than being allowed to kiss your body. Praising you in every single language he knows is not enough, he needs your soul to be tied with his so you can read his mind and deepest thoughts about how lovely you are. Also, voyeurism, Rafayel is a closeted perv. He likes to watch, to take his time eyeing his food before actually diving in. Seeing you touch yourself without his intervention makes the knot in his lower stomach grow tighter and his skin hotter.

l = location (favorite places to do the do): Rafayel is too possessive to have actual sex in public so that’s a no. Anywhere in his studio is fine if you’re comfortable! Buuut if you trust him enough, please let him drag you to the ocean. There are no interruptions, no important phone calls, no Thomas to accidentally walk in, it’s just you and him where he’s most comfortable. It doesn’t tire him to be in his human form but giving his body a break and finally being in his real, lemurian form, feels like a relief from time to time.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): When you’re more petty than him and talk back. FUCK he could bust a nut right there. Or the fact that as a hunter, you can manhandle him just as easy as he can manhandle you. OR the fact that you’re not scared of him in the slightest. He would never hurt you, but if he wanted, a single song would be enough to make you go crazy and drown in the ocean. You’re aware of that, you just don’t care. That’s what makes him go insane.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs): Share you with someone. Although he doesn’t show it, Rafayel is extremely protective and can be very possessive depending on the situation. Letting someone else touch you turns him off completely.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc): #01 pussy eater. Rafayel loves your pussy ok, leave him alone… Can totally cum untouched from just eating you out and is not embarrassed in the slightest. Actually really good at it too, like, 100% a muncher. Def tries to make you squirt on his tongue. As for receiving? Sure! It’s never unwelcomed. Just know that he will return the favor 10x better. ❤︎...¹ ❤︎...² ❤︎...³

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): Rafayel can be both. There is no red and blue with him, there’s purple. Rafayel can’t stick to a single thing forever. During his heat, he’s rougher, manhandling you around and bending you in whatever position he judges comfortable in the moment. When he’s feeling needy and clingy, he’s gentle. Rolls his hips against yours slowly, kissing your neck sensually while praising you in lemurian.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.): Not a big fan but he isn’t totally opposed to them. For Rafayel, sex is something intimate and he wants to take his time with you. He wants both of you to enjoy the moment with no rush.

r = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.): That depends on how far you two are going. Fingering you under the table at a banquet? Sure, why not. Getting a bit handsy and making out? Lovely. Actual sex? No. Not happening at all. Rafayel, even if he hides it, is a possessive creature. Your sounds and body are for his ears and eyes only. You’re his and he’s not up for sharing.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…): Normally, he can go for two rounds before falling on top of you tiredly. In heat though? He is not stopping. His mind breaks but his body still wants and needs more. Doesn’t matter how many times he’s come already, his hips do not stop against yours until he thinks you’re full of his eggs.

t = toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): Doesn’t own any but is not opposed to them. If you’re interested in trying it out and using them during sex, sure! He can work with that. Extra stimulation on your clit while his fingers are shoved on your cunt isn’t unwanted.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease): Now, is it really Rafayel if there’s no teasing? He is insufferable. He likes to see you work for it even though he knows damn well it’s him that will fold first in the end.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make): Sorry, he’s not holding back. He needs you to know how good you make him feel. His range is insane, he’d be grunting in your ear and suddenly his moans turn high pitched and beautiful. Rafayel can get whiny, he complains, he’s petty, he mewls and in the next second he groans and curses in his mother language in pleasure.

w = wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice): I need to spread the virgin Rafayel agenda… He is a lemurian, he’s bound to you in a level that no human would ever understand. There are no “friends with benefits”, “situationship”, “hookup”, Rafayel has been waiting for you and only you. He doesn’t need it to be magical or perfect, he just needs it to be you.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words): The prettiest cock you’ll see in your short human life. It’s genuinely nice to look at. Rafayel’s cock is pale, with the prettiest pink tip and cutest mole on the length that if you kiss, his knees buckle weakly and his head spins. It isn’t thick but it’s curved up and it drags deliciously inside you. I’d say #c7b2ab for the length and #d9a3a3 for the tip. In his human form, solid 6,7 inches (17 cm).

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?): Lemurians are creatures with many cycles. Rafayel has a high libido naturally, but during ebb day and his heat? He is trying to crawl under your skin. Ebb day makes him needy, sensitive and whiny, he just wants an effective way of cooling off. His heat quite literally makes him feral, he wants you and if you consent, you’re not leaving the water at all. At least not until it is over.

z = zzz (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward): Pretty quick. After he’s sure you two are clean, comfortable and satisfied, he’s hugging you close and burying his face in your neck sleepily. If you feel like it, you two can chat. Rafayel loves pillow talk. If you’re tired and wish to be quiet, then it’s time to nap.

caleb

a = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): THE BEST. King of aftercare. Knows everything you want and attends to every one of your needs. You want water? There’s already a glass on your bedside table. You’re hungry? You want him to cook or do you want to order takeout? He’ll do it. You feel dirty? Let him run a bath for you- you get the idea.

b = body part (their favorite of theirs and their partner): In your body, definitely your ass. Always has been. Doesn’t matter what you are wearing, be it those old pj’s from your childhood, a new pair of undies, nothing at all, it all makes him feel like he’s gonna bust a nut on his pants.

He really likes his arms. Caleb has always worked out a lot since highschool and he’s really proud of how far he’s come. He likes how big they’re compared to yours, how he can manhandle you during sex and roughhousing, and how comfortable you look in his arms when you two hug.

c = cum (anything to do with cum): If you allow him to cum inside you, that’s all he’ll ever want to do. Caleb has a huge breeding kink, and the fact that you trust him enough to let him fill you up drives him mad. If you go down on him, he never lets you swallow it, he feels too bad to do so. Makes you spit on his hand and honestly thank god. It’s thick and slightly bitter but he cums so much you WILL choke. ❤︎...

d = dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs): Sigh, is it really a dirty secret if you already caught him at least twice? Caleb’s interest in your underwear is pathetic. At this point he’s not even trying to hide it anymore, he’s just shamelessly going through your drawers to find that old and stained pair you forgot to throw away. Bonus point if you catch him sniffing them and complain about it. Secretly likes when you scream at him and say “Gross, Caleb!”. Also wishes you let him keep your undies on during sex, it really turns him on.

e = experience (how experienced are they): None. Caleb has never felt any attraction to anyone but you his whole life. For years he has been waiting for the right moment for both of you so, you’re his first and last.

f = favorite position: Backshots. He loves your ass. There’s nothing better than taking you from behind, a hand wrapped around your waist while the other smooths the skin of your back. Also really enjoys being inhumanely close to you, doesn’t matter the position. As long as you two are close, you, safely in his arms, he’s happy. ❤︎...¹ ❤︎...² ❤︎...³ ❤︎...⁴

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc): Caleb wishes that you only see his outgoing and playful persona, created just for you and the sexual aspect is not different. He likes to make you laugh at any and every moment. If you whine in pain because his cock is too big, he’ll blow a raspberry on your neck to distract you and make you giggle. He’ll tickle your waist if you talk back. Anything to make you smile.

h = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.): It’s trimmed. Not all shaved and smooth but it isn’t unruly. Has the sliiiiightest happy trail peeking up his boxers. If it bothers you though, he’ll shave it in a minute.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…): Very romantic. At least he tries. Caleb wanted to be your prince charming, your knight in shining armor his whole life. Sex is one of the many ways he wants to prove he’s the best for you, that around him, you’re safe and can be yourself with no fear. He kisses you gently, whispering the sweetest words ever in your ear, massaging every sore spot in your body while wishing he’s worthy of your praise too.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon): Yeah… During his teenage years, he jerked off a lot. Caleb had a high libido but could not have the only person he wanted so all he had was his fist. Nowadays, before and after you two got together, i still believe he jerks off alot since you two are still very far apart, you living in Linkon and him in Skyhaven, though he prefers coming to you rather than fucking his fist by himself.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks): As I mentioned previously, Caleb has a huge breeding kink. Part of it is because he genuinely wishes to start a family with you in the future but also because he feels so close to you this way. Loves to keep his cock plugged inside you for a while before actually pulling out. ❤︎...¹ ❤︎...²

His praise kink goes both ways. He’s always praising you for all of your achievements, not only sexually. Please praise him back, he’s trying his best for you, always. Tell him he is making you feel good, tell him you love him, that what he’s doing feels right. He might come on the spot.

Do I even have to mention his size kink… He is bigger than you. Caleb goes weak at the thought of being able to manhandle you into whatever position he wants you to be. And if he can press down on your tummy and feel his cock abusing your cunt? Ohhh yeah, yes he came. Don’t judge him. ❤︎...

l = location (favorite places to do the do): Caleb can only actually relax when he’s alone with you at your apartment or his. Preferably yours back in Linkon. He feels tense in Skyhaven and is always on alert. In Linkon though, he can let himself relax better knowing that you’re safer. Not a fan of kitchen sex specifically. That aside, anywhere is fine.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): You’re horny? So is he! Caleb has been waiting for you for years, saying he’s pent up is an understatement. Just say the words and he’s already looking at you with puppy dog eyes, waiting for an order.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs): Anything related to impact play. No. He hates the thought of hurting you and finds no pleasure in such things.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc): Zero skill, no experience, but he has a dream. Show him how you like it, ride his face, pull his hair, order him around, hell, sit on his face. He’s a quick learner once he sets his mind onto something. 100% a giver and doesn’t want you to go down on him because it’s too “degrading” and he feels bad. Please go down on him. He’ll complain and try to pull away but he comes SO quickly, cock twitching, grunting, knees buckling and all. ❤︎...

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): … Rough. Listen, he doesn’t mean to be rough but he can’t help it. Your cunt makes Caleb malfunction, overheat and shut down. He’s dumbed down at the slightest clench around his cock and his hips have a mind of their own, snapping against yours harshly as he drools and kisses your shoulder in apology.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.): Actually likes them! You two are always very busy with your jobs and being distant from each other most of the time isn’t easy. To him, quickies are more about you than him. He wants to get you off so you feel at peace. He can rub one off later and you don’t have to concern your pretty head over it.

r = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.): No. Caleb hates, hates, hates the thought of taking risks with you. He’d rather die than having you be seen in such an intimate way. As for experimenting, yes of course! Be open with him, tell him what you’re into, what you want to try… Your wish is his command.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…): From the lack of experience, Caleb can last two rounds max before you tire him out. That does not mean he’ll leave you unsatisfied though. He still has his mouth and fingers ready to satiate you. ❤︎...¹ ❤︎...²

t = toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): Absolutely not. Are you trying to get him killed? Caleb is jealous of anything that breathes the same air as you and you want him to accept the idea of having something else making you cum? Just shoot him already.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease): If anyone is being teased, it’s him. Although you two play fight a lot, Caleb isn’t one to be a tease during sex. He has been waiting, planning for this moment for years. Everything needs to be perfect. He can wait to get under your skin later.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make): He tries so hard to be quiet… he wants to focus on your moans, your moans are the pretty ones, not his. Caleb holds back, bites his lip, hides his face on your nape but nothing can make him shut up. The moment he enters you, he’s moaning, huffing and grunting like an animal.

w = wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice): Caleb really enjoys all the attention you give him when he’s looking all scary and dominant in his colonel uniform. He knows you eye him hungrily when gets home, he won’t take the uniform off on purpose, he just waits to see how long it’ll take for you to fold and come sit on his lap, grinding your cunt on his clothed thigh. Won’t admit it but likes when you call him colonel, sir, mr. xia, etc.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words): Alright mr. fat cock pack it up. It’s thick alright. I can totally picture him saying “biiiig stretch, pips” while shushing your whines. Thick base, thick and veiny length, fat tip. That’s what he's hiding in his boxers. 6,6 inches (~16,5cm) that stretch you out SO good, the veins drag inside you soooo nicely it feels like heaven. #a88479 for the length and #a66d5b for the tip.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?): Oh boy, do I even need to say this? We are talking about THE yearner. Caleb’s super pent up and dare I say he has a pretty high libido. He is always stressed because of work and he has been waiting for you for years. The moment you consent, he’s fumbling with both his and your clothes.

z = zzz (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward): He usually doesn't sleep after you two have sex. He’s too busy watching you sleep to do so. Caleb is only at peace if he is sure you’re safe and comfortable. Poor boy barely has time to catch his breath as he’s running around the apartment getting everything you might need and want so you don’t have to leave the bed. Tell him to relax, ask him to lie down with you, bury your face on his beefy chest and make sure he doesn’t leave the bed, he needs it.

⊹ ࣪reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you for reading!(*´▽`*)

2K notes · View notes

iniquitousyearning · 2 years ago

Text

jealousy. | slytherin boy headcanons

author’s note: im completely unhinged, as always. no surprise there. love me some angry snake men🥵 please enjoy.

-your boyfriend sees another guy flirting with you in the hall.

Draco Malfoy.

Sees you from down the hall as he’s walking with his friends.

“You know what, guys, I’ll catch up with you after.”

Would literally ditch his friends to make his way over, collecting himself as saunters up to you and mystery man.

Would instantly grab your ass, no hesitation, grip firm enough to bruise. When you gasp, caught off guard, he’d shift his arm up and around your shoulder, pulling you against him.

“What’re we talking about?” He’d sneer.

His voice would be laced with feign interest, smirking down at you with blaring eyes before shooting daggers at the boy.

He’d simply chuckle at you when you tell him nothing, just school stuff, leaning down to place a possessive kiss on your cheek as he grabbed your hand.

“Wonderful. let’s head to class, yeah?”

He’d pull you away from that dude, shooting him another look meant to kill, a silent warning not to fuck with him.

Finally gets you alone in an empty corridor or bathroom; would waste literally no time at all before pushing you against the wall and grabbing your neck/jaw.

“Who the fuck was that, hm?”, “he was practically eye-fucking you…give me five good reasons why i shouldn’t have him expelled or hexed into bloody Azkaban.”

He’d be furious, but he’d also know that you’d never choose some other guy over him, so he’d soften once he hears the innocence in your tone.

“You’re mine, princess,” he’d loosen his grip, kissing you softly. “Say it.”

Blaise Zabini.

Was listening to music while walking down the hall, instantly rips out his headphones the second he sees you laughing a little too hard with some dude he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t necessarily stop walking, but he’d definitely slow his pace, kind of just watching, not wanting to interfere but also not wanting to look creepy stalking you from a distance.

When the guy doesn’t leave, he’d tired of waiting, saying “fuck it”, before marching over naturally.

This man is so fucking cool calm and collected he’d just saunter right up and join in, making himself at home.

He’d practically take over the conversation because he’s literally just that chill in every situation, seamlessly fitting right in, so fucking charming and loved by everyone.

You’d kind of just end up staring at him, smiling in silent awe, knowing that this was his way of asserting his place, letting the guy know what the fuck was up.

After the dude leaves he’d just causally look at you, smirking that charming smirk, wetting his lips as he hooked an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, leaning down for a kiss.

“Ain’t no one getting you without getting me too, babygirl.” He’d murmur against your lips. “let that be known, right now, forever, always.”

Lorenzo Berkshire.

Would literally stop everything. The second he’d see you laughing and smiling he’d be completely unable to focus on anything else and would completely zone out of any conversations with his friends.

Would get like super anxious and flustered pretty much immediately.

Wouldn’t want to intrude so he’d just kind of hang back, wait for you against the wall and try not to stare too much.

His adorable little cheeks would flush, and he’d know he seemed utterly ridiculous so he’d try to busy himself with his shoelace or something while he waits.

You’d quickly cut off the conversation and move over to him, instantly being able to tell that he’s overthinking.

He’d smile at you, though you could still see the concern on his features.

“Who was that guy, darling?”

You’d tell him he was just a friend from class, no one special at all, pulling him in for a hug and giving him a quick smoochie on the cheek.

“Don’t worry enz, no one could ever take your place.”

He’d blush, trying to play it off. “Sorry love, I know you’re my girl.”

You’d take his hand, squeezing him hard, never wanting him to doubt that for a second. “Only yours baby, forever.”

Mattheo Riddle.

“Who the fuck-“

Would literally whip his bag at Theo, hastily shoving through the crowded hallway with blazing eyes, tunnel visioned as he tried to figure out where the fuck this dude found the audacity.

You wouldn’t even have to turn around to know he’s there, you’d be able to literally feel the anger radiating off of him.

You’d already know exactly where this was heading, but you’d also know there was no attempting to stop him because it’s pointless. Everyone in the school knows that.

Matty does what Matty wants, and right now, he wants to fuck up this guys face for even thinking about flirting with you.

You’d simply look up at him, noting his tensed jaw and his dark eyes as he glances between you and the dude, before fixing back on you, wetting his lips before he says,

“Is this fucker bothering you?”

Unable to help it, you’d smirk, shaking your head as you calmly attempted to talk him down.

“No Matty, he just asked if he could borrow my study notes-“

He’d heard more than enough.

“Study notes? Yeah, I don’t fucking think so,”

Without giving the guy a chance to react, he’d reach for his collar, shoving his back against the wall, teeth barred and face contorted in a snarl as he’d hiss:

“Bother my fucking girlfriend again and the only study notes you’ll need are the ones on how to drink out of a fucking straw, understand?”

Not interested in the response, he’d shove the guy away, eyes softening instantly as he moved back over to you, thrusting a hand through your hair as he kissed you like it’d been a hundred years, right in the middle of the hall for everyone to see.

And judging by the intensity in his grip, you’d already know, later that night, he’d be extra fucking sure to ask you who the fuck you belong to while he’s fucking you.

When he finally pulled back, he’d smirk at you. “Some bloody nerve on that guy, huh?”

You’d just shake your head and laugh, taking his hand as the two of you headed for class.

Theodore Nott.

He’d spot you from down the hall, his eyes instantly narrowing, gaze darting around as though he was missing something, as though this was some sort of sick joke.

Surely, this dude is mentally unwell, right? There’s no fucking way that he’s-

Doesn’t bother to think about it for even another fucking second, instantly shoving through the crowd to make his way over.

Proceeds to wrap his arm around your waist, other hand finding your jaw and pulling your lips to his before you could even process it.

Would proceed to full-on make out with you in front of the dude, and I mean tongue and all, his grip on your jaw so tight you’d know exactly what he was trying to do.

His hand around your waist might even slip lower, grazing over your ass, and then that’s when you’d attempt to gather yourself and push him back, completely embarrassed.

He’d just shrug, smirking down at you before he’d finally acknowledge the guys’ presence with literally nothing more than a glare meant to kill.

“Move along,” he’d say to the guy while pulling you away, grip tighter than ever. “This one’s fucking taken.”

As soon as he got you alone he’d be damn sure to remind you that you’re his, and only his, making you beg and whine his name before he fucked you like you deserved the pain.

Tom Riddle.

“AVADA KEDA-“

Lowkey kidding but not really.

No one would even dare because that man would make it clear as fucking day what would happen if they tried.

26K notes · View notes

buckysleftbicep · 2 months ago

Text

you deserve nice things too 𐙚 b.b

pairing: new avenger!bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: so much fluff, soft!bucky (if that's even considered a warning), this is probably my favourite fic already

summary: you decide to get your boyfriend a dyson airwrap, and teach him how to use it.

requests are open

word count: 829

author's note: i love writing teeth rotting fluff, ugh i love it so much! i hope you enjoy, and as always please like or drop a reblog if you did! love you guys!

i just know bucky definitely learned how to style his hair

The apartment smelled like cedarwood and the lavender soap you’d finally convinced Bucky to try last month. The bathroom door clicked open just as you set the last pillow on the couch, and your favorite sound in the world—his bare feet padding across hardwood—made you look up.

Hair dripping. Soft grey towel slung over his shoulder. Sweatpants hanging low, a sleepy tug to his features.

god, you loved post-shower Bucky Barnes.

“Why are you smirking?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.

“No reason,” you replied far too innocently. “Come sit.”

“Sit?” he echoed warily, towel now in hand as he began aggressively towel-drying his head like he always did.

“Exactly why I’m intervening,” you muttered, hopping up to snatch the towel away before he could turn into a puffball.

“Hey—!”

“Trust me, baby” you laughed, stepping around him and gently guiding him down onto the floor between your legs, where you’d already laid out the softest blanket and the box.

He blinked. “Did you—? Is that…?”

“Open it,” you said, grinning.

He glanced at you, then at the sleek leather case on the floor, fingers tracing over it with gentle suspicion. He opened the lid—and froze.

You felt his breath catch before he spoke.

“…This is that fancy hair thing. The, uh… Dyson curl-sucker thingy.”

You snorted. “Airwrap. And yes. It’s for you.”

His brows shot up. “For me? Sweetheart, this thing costs more than my entire wardrobe combined—”

You reached forward and tugged gently on a wet strand of his hair. “And yet, you’ve spent more time trying to tame this than any secret mission in the last six months.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t even do anything with it.”

“You try to. And you get frustrated. And you mutter under your breath that it never looks the way it used to.” Your voice softened. “I see it, Buck. I see you. And you deserve nice things too.”

He stilled. Completely.

Then, slowly, like he didn’t know what to do with all the warmth in his chest, he tilted his head back to look up at you. His voice was almost shy. “You bought this just… to be nice?”

“No,” you teased. “I bought it because I’m helplessly in love with a grumpy, broody super soldier who secretly loves it when I brush his hair after a long day.”

A blush rose high on his cheeks. “I don’t—”

“You fall asleep every single time,” you said, already plugging in the Airwrap with a grin.

He groaned softly. “You’re gonna make me soft.”

“You are soft.”

You towel-dried his hair gently this time, careful not to ruffle it too much, then clipped up little sections with the exact hair clips he pretended not to like but always asked for when you styled his hair on lazy days.

The heat of the airwrap blew warm and quiet as you ran it through each section, curling it back away from his face just the way he liked it.

He didn’t speak for a while.

Just leaned back against your legs, arms folded loosely in his lap, breathing calm. He only shifted when your fingers occasionally scratched at his scalp while repositioning strands. That part always got him.

You pretended not to notice the soft hum he let out.

When you finished the last curl, you combed through them with your fingers and leaned over to kiss the crown of his head.

“All done.”

He looked in the mirror across the room, eyes wide. His hair curled gently around his ears and cheekbones, looking soft and shiny and better than any time he’d ever wrestled with a hotel blow dryer.

He blinked. Then blinked again.

“I look like I actually slept this week.”

“You look gorgeous,” you said, wrapping your arms around him from behind. “Like a freshly brushed baby lion.”

He gave a snort of laughter. “You’re dangerous with compliments, you know that?”

“I just tell the truth.”

He turned slightly, enough to look at you over his shoulder. “I’ve never had someone… do stuff like this for me before.”

You kissed his temple, your voice low and sure. “Well, get used to it. I’m not going anywhere.”

He turned fully then, and without a word, pulled you down into his lap like it was second nature—like you belonged there. You did. You always had.

His hands slid around your waist, hair curling perfectly around his ears now, and he whispered, “Thank you.”

You touched his face, smiling against his cheek. “You’re welcome.”

He leaned his forehead to yours, nose brushing yours. “So… how mad would you be if I told you I kinda wanna learn how to use it myself?”

“I’d cry from joy.”

He grinned. “Maybe we can do your hair next. Practice makes perfect.”

“You’re gonna be terrible at it.”

He smirked. “I’ll be cute though.”

You giggled and kissed him again—because he was right.

He really, really was.

2K notes · View notes

dilf-docs · 7 months ago

Text

Call It What You Want

husband!pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: you and pedro are married, but you've kept it a secret up to the point you sometimes forget there's supposed to be a golden band on your finger. but then you both get cast in your first movie together. the chemistry is off the charts, and it starts to catch upon you: will the lines between shipping and reality finally blur?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (ñom), smut, dry humping, oral (m. receiving) while pedro wears the skirt™️ (welcome to another episode of the writer's barely disguised fetish), p. in v., teeny bit of angst because i malfunction if i don't bring sad vibes to the function, the worst ever attempt of comedy witnessed by human kind, they're so down bad it hurts, jealous!reader, possesive!pedro, reader speaks spanish and may or may not have direct/indirect latino blood somewhere, use of spanglish but no translations ☹️ (boo go do your homework, citizens. that's what u get for making my dieter bravo fic flop BYE), i transcripted two real interviews for this so keep those likes, reblogs and comments up in the air where i can see 'em 🪓🪓

word count: 11,706 words

side note: hello! this is me, sliding my cv to become president of the pedro pascal fics. i'm kidding, just on duty to fulfill another request 🫡 believe it or not, i envisioned something like this but for myself IJBOL we have to keep the delusional levels UP!! i hope this meets ur expectations, it was fun to write :)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"Please welcome, the internet's newest darling, Y/n L/n!"

You walk into the set, cameras flashing bright and the band playing on the back. You hug Jimmy Fallon, and when he notices your body trembling he tells you everything will be alright. So did your manager before you stepped inside, but you can't help the nerves. You've never been this big before, and now it's all coming down together without letting you breath.

You take your seat and so does Jimmy.

"Hello, Y/n. This is your first time here, right?"

"Am I being too obvious?" you snort. The crowd laughs with you.

"Don't worry. It happens, especially when you're so young"

"Oh, please" you blush. "I can promise you there are kid actors who could handle this better than I am right now"

"Kid stars?" he lets out one of his famous cackles. "No need to be humble. You are great! Let's just talk about the year you've had: big breakout roles, ascend to fame, you're rocking it!" the crowd cheers, and you again turn into a flustered mess.

"Yeah, I suppose. It's hard to dimension when you've started as an extra for popular shows, to now being, you know, the main face of projects. But I could get used to it" you smile, "it's been a dream. I still can't believe it sometimes, look- I'm shaking"

The camera pans closer to the hand you're showing to Jimmy.

"Oh my God, even big stars like you get nervous"

"Big star? I wish I could feel like a constellation. I'm feeling more like a red dwarf star, baby"

The whole place bubbles in laughter. You feel better, your manager even giving you a thumbs up from behind the cameras.

"So, Y/n" Jimmy says once the laughter dies. "You just got casted in the upcoming Gladiator II movie, directed by Ridley Scott. How does it feel to be on your first big movie, alongside names like Paul Mescal, Denzel Washington and Pedro Pascal?"

You try to steady your heartbeat. "First of all, I have to say, it's such an honor to work with Scott. I grew up watching his movies. Like, Thelma and Louis is definitely my go-to movie. So, like, getting paired with such a talented cast is as awesome as terrifying" you answer with a laugh.

"Talking about that, you see" he leans closer, like he'll tell a secret. "I've heard things about you and a certain future co-star of yours"

You shift your position on the couch, your ring(less) finger itching. You have to avoid breathing in relief when Jimmy pulls out a picture.

"Oh. My. God"

He stiffles a laugh. No way. Has the room's temperature suddenly gotten hotter? Why is your face burning?

"Will you tell us the story behind this?" he asks, the camera focusing on the picture in question. The audience laughs, and you pray to God this is a nightmare, because it's too much embarrasment for a human to bear.

"Okay" you clear your throat, coughing awkwardly. "For my 25th birthday, I uploaded a bunch of pictures on Instagram, including ones where I was a teenager" you begin to giggle, "So. Um, there was this one, you see, that's, me, in my childhood home's bedroom, and my fans were quick to notice the poster above my bed"

"You mean, this one?" and Jimmy points it out. You cover your face with your palms. "It's a... Narcos poster" the audience laughs as you get redder. "A Pedro Pascal's Narcos poster"

"I know" you groan. "Picture this: me 18, and while my friends had posters of their favorite bands and artists, I was so different because I had a whole ass poster of a crime drama show about the world's most famous drug dealer on my bedroom" you recall with a laugh. "It was hard to explain to my mom. I believe she thought I wanted to sign for the DEA or something. When I told her I was going to be an actress, she was so relieved! She said: Oh, well. You'll die, but of hunger! Not a bullet in your head, at least"

"Oh. I'm so sorry. You proved her wrong though!"

"I did! Don't worry, Jimmy. She's my biggest fan now" you look at a specific camera before saying, "Te amo mami!"

"I see you speak spanish. I sometimes forget" he comments. "You've got one thing in common with Pedro, it seems. Think that'll make working with him less awkward?"

"I just hope he forgives me or I'm capable of moving out of the country and changing names" you giggle. "Pedro, lo siento!"

"Well, that's Y/n L/n, everyone! Pedro Pascal's number one fan" you burst out laughing in shame. "More on her lastest movie after the break"

mandoshoney: tell me i'm not the only one who started shipping pedro pascal and y/n l/n PLEASE can't wait to get content of them interacting ㅤㅤann-gell: mandoshoney y/n's pedro pascal's controversially young gf era starts now! i wonder how the press tour for #gladiatorII will go 🤔 unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they are dating ㅤㅤstarlightt180: unhing3dprincess ptwt can never tweet like normal ppl…wdym you're betting your grandma?!!!?

You were never a fan of secrets.

But then Pedro waltzed into your life with his charming smile and iconic mustache, and before you knew it, you had married him off in some church in California one random sunday morning ("I love you so much, can't wait to marry you, cariño" "If you can't wait any longer, why not now?")

Flash forward, four years later, and you'd think such event would be plastered all over the internet. But there is a reason why only you, family, a selected number of friends and your agents knew: you kept it a secret.

To the world, he was Chile's most elegible bachelor and you were a young rising star. The public loved both of you for the same reasons: charming persona and acting skills. Yet inside the privacy of your home, he was Pedro and you were y/n, wife and husband; he was yours as you were his.

And of course, no marriage is perfect, and your first real challenge is rather funny: you both get casted in your first movie together.

It shouldn't be hard, but it is. Being inside the Gladiator II set during seven months, so far away yet so close at the same time, was torture. You were Rome's empress and he's Marcus Acacius, yet behind the scenes, the actual married couple were you both.

It was hard to pretend you didn't know what he looked like without clothes when he wore his bathing suit, or that you didn't know his favorite food when Paul asked, or acting like you weren't interested in dating when a local in Malta during your trip at the beach asked you out (he didn't know who you were. You were flattered when he called you pretty in such a hot European accent, but then Pedro appeared from seemingly "nowhere" and you remembered what your real favorite accent was. He immediately called you bonita after that)

It was so hard to keep hands to yourself when he walked by you, covered in fake blood. To not think about licking it all over and under his armour. So was to pretend the thought of dry humping him with his Roman skirt on wasn't tempting. Or that the urge to kiss him got harder and harder to fight each passing day, even getting to a point where you would envy Connie for being able to kiss your husband in the open more, a privilege you didn't have.

You were loosing your mental health here. But Pedro was no better.

It was so hard to see you, the Moroccan sun shining over your features like you were an angel. Otherworldly. That he'd see red when you'd finish filming a scene with Joseph, forcing himself to interrupt the small chat you'd engage in after. He too couldn't keep pretending he didn't want to tear off those silk dresses out of your body, and kiss you out in the open like Joseph did.

He almost failed once, cornering you in the hallway of the hotel you were staying. His hot breath lingered on your neck. I miss you, he had said. You felt his hard brush the inner of your thigh. We can't, you whispered in a dragged out voice.

It was hard.

So you gave him your used panties, and you swear you could hear him jacking off in the bathroom of his room, next to yours. He'd screamed your name, and your hand had found it's way to your dripping cunt, doing what he was supposed to do; touching you the way he did. And you came, drowned out moans against your pillow. But it wasn't like when he did it.

But God has heard your prayers.

For the first time in weeks, you're lucky. You find Pedro sitting alone in the cafeteria, his phone in hand. He's still wearing his armour and skirt, not bothering to change for the break. You aren't God's strongest soldier, but you're trying not to go down on him so badly right here and now.

"Hey" he raises his head when he hears your voice, smile adoringly. It only grows wider when he notices you alone. "Thought you'd never get rid of Paul. He's like, stitched to you"

"Same can be said about you and Joseph" you sit across him, and despite most of his tone being playful, there are still hints of jealousy behind. It arouses you deeply, and with this hot summer day above you, your skin isn't the only thing that's getting sticky.

"In case you haven't read the script, I'm his wife" you wink. "Sorry this is how you find out"

He laughs loudly, and God, how have you missed that laugh. Sure, it's been there when you've been out with the cast together, but it doesn't tingle your chest as when you're the cause of it; it feels like it's for you only, and that's what makes it special.

"I miss you so much" he whispers, his hand sliding across the table, finding yours. His thumb carresses your soft palm, and you melt under Pedro's tender touch.

"I do too" you sigh, but it's instantly replaced by what could only be described as a smug face. You lean closer, whispering on his ear, the warm meeting cold. He shivers. "Wanna know something?"

"I'm all ears"

"I just came back from walking. Guess what?No one is 'round here" you lean back against your chair, shit-eating grin on your face as all his body tenses up. "Made sure of it. The trailer zone is empty too"

Pedro gulps, his adam's apple bobbing as his eyes look at you.

"Y/n" calling your name as a warning.

"What? Can't a girl find ways to have her husband all for herself?" you snort. "Please say yes" you let go of his hand, but the free fingers now travel across his broad chest, taunting him. "C'mon, we both deserve a break"

He can't say deny you anything, can he? You know it, he knows it.

Before you register, his big hand engulfs yours as you run across the set. You giggle at his rushed steps, even more when you stand before his trailer and he's fumbling his slippery hands with the doorknob, sloppy movements erratic.

"But you told me to stop" you tease, and he doesn't even let you add more because he's pushing you inside, forcing you with rough calloused hands to a chair and then you to sit over his lap.

"Fuck, babygirl. I've spoiled you way too much" he groans against your lips. "Lo sabes, ¿verdad? Just can't say no to you"

Your eyes darken dangerously, the hunger on them mirroring his own.

"How could you ever say no to this?"

You press your chest against his broad one as your lip bites into his lower one, teasing. Pedro feels his underwear getting tighter when your tongue finds its way inside his mouth, even getting a glimpse of the taste of the strawberries you had earlier before.

He deepens the kiss, and when you pull away to catch your breath, he doesn't waste his lonely mouth and busies himself with the task of kissing your sun-kissed neck, licking and pressing his lips under your jaw. Pedro goes even lower, down until he's reached your collarbone, making you groan a bit under his wet sloppy needy mouth. He's enjoying how putty you are under his intense kissing, fingers in his curls, that have begun to damp under the ablaze of the small space and pleasure that fills the air.

"Kiss me again in my lips" you whine after a while of him teasing you with kisses that get only rougher. "Pretty please, papi"

You cup his face in your hands, and Pedro's back to kissing you in the mouth, tasting all of your insides as he hasn't had in what feels like a lifetime.

"Of course, baby. Missed this pretty mouth" he mumbles in between hot kisses, his now growing boner pressing into you.

"Baby" you giggle. The skirt he's got on may hide it, but your fingers refused to wait, pulling it up. His bulge presses against the shorts he's got under the skirt, and you can feel your pussy and mouth drool. "We have to do something about this big boy" your hands pull down the short, leaving just his underwear on. He's about to remove the skirt, but your demanding hands stops him. "This stays"

His brown concerned eyes make you laugh, but you don't give him time to think about it, rather grinding against his erection. Pedro's breath hitches when he feels your daring movements, bucking his hips against yours.

The friction is addicting, and he captures your lips once again to make you feel what he can't with words: how fucking good this feels.

You keep moving over his aching dick. Your husband throws his head back, groaning in pleasure at the way your hips move against him, knowingly. His hands find their way to your ass under the flowy almost translucent skirt you chose to change in, gripping the rosy skin tightly, hands almost covering all of it.

"You wore this for me, right, cariño? Knew I couldn't say no" he groans, firm hands on your cheeks, the grinding meeting his hips now harsher. "Less with you walking around with this slutty skirt of yours"

You make little sounds he's obssesed with, dripping out of your filthy mouth.

"Fuck" Pedro groans after a while, "I need to have you, mami. Missed you so much" eager fingers make it to your top. He growls, deep within him―guttural, ready to pull it off as he mumbles naughty wife when he realizes you got no bra on, chastising you for a "rushed" plan that seemed planned all along, when a sound cuts through the air.

You both stop.

The sound gets clearer.

It's a knock. A knock at his door.

A knock in Pedro's trailer.

And you are inside. Both.

While you're grinding him.

With his skirt on.

(It's time to build a bomb and kill yourselves off and whoever is stading behind that door)

"Pedro!" a familiar accent calls. Peudrou. It's Paul. "Hey, man. Just wondering if you are here"

He's debating on speaking up when he sees your red face and rising-falling chest before him.

"Answer" you whisper breathlessly. He tries not to groan when he fills you slip out of the spot in his middle while also trying not to think about murdering Paul as soon as he gets out.

Aside from the order, you're unexpectedly quiet, and Pedro quirks an eyebrow at you. He knows you better―you're his wife after all, and if there's something he's aware of, is your inability to loose.

"I'm here" tone clipped and annoyed. But no footsteps backtracking are heard: the Irish man is still there.

You bite your lip, watching the skirt with his legs spread, a sight too tempting. Also, he was still hard, as hard as the task to not go and keep doing your job.

Oh, fuck this shit.

Your devilish hand equals the grin in your face, fingers making their way toward his unattended bulge.

"What are you doing here?" Paul asks, but Pedro's attention has completely deviated, now focused on how they land right over his clothed dick, skirt pulled up by your other hand. "I thought you were at the cafeteria"

"Yeah?" but it comes out strained, yet the younger man doesn't notice or comment.

His hips raise when your fingers press his member, massaging it.

"Yeah" he uses a tone that equals a duh. "You texted me yourself"

Pedro rolls his eyes, wishing desperately he would go away, annoying him just as much as a fly hovering above fresh food. Talking about food, fuck, weren't you hungry? He tried to warn you, holding your wrist, but all resolve was lost the moment you looked in his eyes: he immediately pulled down his briefs, dick sprouting hard.

"Well, changed my mind" his tone falters in between words, member now free from the confines of his tight underwear.

"Are you tired, man? You sound tired" Paul comments on his tone. "Came to rest?"

You spit on your hand, and he gulps.

"Somethin' like that"

You start to jerk him off, leaving little wet kisses and licks just above his dick. Pedro's eyes are hypnotized, glued to every lick of yours across his girth, the spit making your movements smoother. Sexier. Fuck.

"Well, sorry to break it to you but rest time is over. They want us back on set now"

Your tight needy lips are wrapped around his his length and it's so hard to keep the talk normal when he justs wants to yell at Paul to fuck off. Your hand is there too; you are as of help as much as you aren't.

"I'll be there, Paul, just―Fuck!"

But his attempt to cover a moan doesn't go unnoticed.

"Are you alright in there?" he tries to enter, but Pedro locked the door. He's yelling he's fine, but Mescal doesn't sound convinced. "I can't go inside; it's locked. Are you sure you are okay, mate?"

"Didn't want you to take a picture of me drooling on my sleep" he manages to get out in a monotone voice. A real win if you take into account you've gotten to a point where you squeeze under his cock, massaging his balls.

"Smart move!" he chuckles from outside. "I guess I'll see you there"

Pedro covers a moan with his palm as he's throwing his head back in pleasure. He can feel his orgams looming over, minstrations growing sloppier around his pulsating cock, the need to fill your greedy evil mouth with his seed making him sick. He's a simple man: he just wants his pretty wife to fuck his cock silly and come in her mouth in peace. Is that so hard to get this days?

Paul seems to be finally gone as Pedro can't keep containing his grunts anymore, steps moving: until said steps sound closer again.

"Oh, I almost forgot, have you seen Y/n? I can't find her anywhere" it's coming. His orgasm is coming in the absolute worst moment. He can feel you gagging at his hard rock cock, hitting the back of your throat now. Still, your hands don't loose their grip on his cock and skirt, determination filling that sexy little body of yours. It was rather admirable the effort you were putting in this. "Think she went to the beach? She said she loved it. God, that little rebel. Anyway, if you see her, tell her-"

He leans his head back once again, seeing stars. No one knows him like his wife, truly.

The sight of you drooling from your chin, the wet sounds of him fucking himself onto your mouth as your spit-coated fingers pump his girth, you gulping down the precum from his tip, his fingers holding your face roughly by the cheeks...

"Yes, Paul, yes!" Pedro barks, barely hiding the moan that erupts from his ribcage, thick shots of his hot cum hitting your tongue and deep of the throath. "Fuck off and let me get ready"

"Jesus, mate, chill. I'm sorry. See you there"

And Paul Mescal's hovering fly ass is finally gone.

"Poor Paul" you say as soon as you pull off his length, voice raspy as you huff for air. Pedro lovingly cleans rests of your saliva and his cum from your chin as he chuckles at how much audacity, courage and horniness could fit in such a small young body. "You've ruined the friendship"

"You think?" he licks off some as you sit on his lap again, tongue directly on your face. You feel aroused again, but time's up. "It's your fault. That and this"

He points down.

"Just as you used that pretty head of yours to think of the trouble you just made, think of an excuse for Mr. Ridley about the skirt"

at0michips: wait wdym paul is sick??? ㅤㅤl-u-n-a-m: at0michips he's died vnightx: i'm wondering who'll do now the do you even know me interview with pedro now :( i was so excited!!! hope they don't cancel it :( ㅤㅤunhing3dprincess: vnightx i bet my grandma it's y/n ㅤㅤat0michips: unhing3dprincess why do u keep betting ur grandma omg 😭😭😭

"You know what I think would be fun?" Pedro comments while you wait for the interview's set to be prepared.

Tour press has finally begun. That meant you could go home for a while after the filming wrapped, just to be back for the promotion of the film. You were excited of course, the experience new and thrilling. After much needed battery recharging and husband/wife time, you were ready to take over the world.

But then Paul got sick.

Today's interview was scheduled to be him and Pedro, but since he was unavailable, they paired him with you, since you both spoke Spanish (which felt slightly racist in your opinion), and because Fred and Joseph were already paired up for the other.

You leave your coffee, knowing he's about to say something stupid or endearing, perhaps both, brown liquid probably spilling out of your mouth. Or worst, nostrils.

"Tell me"

"What if we left little hints that we're together?" his smile is one of mischief. "Like you could wear my cap, or I could wear a chain with your initial around my neck, like Ryan Gosling did at the Barbie premiere"

"Or as Taylor Swift sang" you counter. "But Pedro, dear, you're underestimating our fans. You don't think they'll match it sooner than we think?"

"Maybe" he agrees. That's just what I want. "What's funny is we're about to do a type of interview where we could blow our cover"

"Maybe" you repeat, "or maybe you don't know all about me as much as you think, Mr. Pascal"

He fake gasps, feigning hurt. "Is this a dare, Mrs. Pascal?"

"No" you try to be mature for once, cutting the banter as much as you'd like to go on and kiss him right there. "Also, remember to answer incorrectly sometimes, you know..."

"There's no way I'm letting you win though"

"Pedro, no seas necio!"

The producers arrive just in time to let you know it's ready.

"After M'lady" he's back to being charming as he is, not as husband charming but just Pedro Pascal charming. The nerve of this guy to do it in front of the LADbible crew.

"Whatever" you grumble, the nerves getting the best of you as you realize this interview may or may not give away more than you've been allowed before.

"Hello, I am Y/n L/n" you present yourself. Wow, the camera is really close. This isn't going to end well.

"And I'm Pedro Pascal"

Hearing his voice soothes you. It's okay, y/n, you got this. "And this is Do You Really Know Me- No wait, it's do you even know me. Okay, let's start again: Hello, I'm Y/n and this is-"

"I don't even know anymore" Pedro jokes, making you laugh. "Do you even know me?" he asks while looking forward, now making the crew laugh.

"This is Pedro Pascal, that'll do" you sigh.

"This is gonna be sad, she's not going to know any of these" he says, but in reality, he's mocking you, the mischief in his eyes glowing as he only looks at you tauntingly.

"Same can be said about you" you tease, "we're like a million years away"

"That's not true!" he gasps, "I watch your every move" punctuating each word. God, you try not to make a face. "I have Google alerts on you"

If he was gonna play, so were you.

"Glad to know I have you alerted" with the sweetest voice ever, seeing how his friendly façade falters for a bit at the tone you've used. You laugh, and Pedro takes the chance to laugh it off too.

After the introduction, they ask one of you to keep score, and you offer yourself because, well, you don't trust Pedro.

"I'll go first" you say. "Which was my first ever role in the industry? As an extra during an episode of Stranger Things, as a voice actor in A dog's purpose" you can't help but laugh, "or as a back-up dancer in Hustlers?"

"In Hustlers?" Pedro inquires in disbelief. "You're telling me you were in Hustlers?! I didn't even know you could dance!"

Lies. You and Pedro sometimes put some bachata and dance in the kitchen. God bless Juan Luis Guerra.

"Jennifer Lopez and I are practically besties" you answer nonchalant.

You know the answer. He does too. But he chooses the last one for comedic purposes.

"I'll go with Hustlers. Now that I'm looking at you, you do have a... dancer face"

"It's okay, you can say the forbidden word. I'll take it as a compliment" you laugh, "you're wrong, though. The answer is Stranger Things"

"No way!" and it sounds as if he genuinely didn't know. Good lying son of a bitch; Jim Carrey on Liar, Liar would've been proud.

"Yes. If you look in the background of season two, on this one episode where Nancy and Steve appear to have broken up during a halloween party, you can see me drinking from a cup on a corner"

"That's so crazy"

"Yeah, I was twenty already, yet playing a highschooler" you giggle. "Wow, time flies by. Anyway, we're both at zero. Your turn"

"What film did my dad not let me see at the cinema when I was, uh, ten years old?" Pedro reads from his card. "Rambo: first blood, The Breakfast Club, Day of The Dead"

"I'm going to base this in the year you were born. Okay, so 1975. Let's see" one of the things Pedro loves about you is that you're like a film encyclopedia, but right now, that'll cost him a point. "They all came out the same year, and they were also R rated. Hmmh, I'll choose The Breakfast Club"

Your analysis was just mindless bragging really. You knew the answer the moment he started reading the question, because the anecdote came during a time he heard you listening to the movie's soundtrack ("Did you know that my dad...")

"You complain about Paul all the time, but you're just the same" he comments. "She's a real competitor, people!"

You flush in embarrasment. "Okay, that's one for me. Next question" you read the card in your hands. "What pet do I own? An orange cat named Louis after my favorite singer, a fish, or a Shih Tzu named after my brother"

The orange cat lives with you both. You're curious as to how he'll answer.

"You aren't naming a Shih Tzu frickin' Fernando" he laughs, so loud, it ends up catching up to you and the crew. "I'll go with the cat"

"That's correct" you lament. "How would you know?"

As if the damn cat doesn't love him more than he loves you.

"I follow you on Instagram" he defends himself. Clever. "We are, um, what do you call it-"

"Oomfs"

"I'm not gonna try to pronounce your made up language. Okay, my turn. Which of these characters I've played in Saturday Night Live? Naughty daddy, protective mom, or weird uncle who has a creepy sneeze" he reads out loud in a confused tone.

This is easy. It was all over your timeline.

"Protective mom" you answer on a beat.

"This isn't fair, that was really popular!" he complains.

"It's still two for me and one for you" you mock. "Now, what is the nickname the internet has given me? I won't give you clues because it's an easy one"

"Easy? You said we were million of years apart and now I'm supposed to know?"

"Well, you seem to manage Instagram so I think you'll be just fine" you tease, and Pedro just wants to rip that smirk off of you. So he caves in first.

"It's people's princess"

"What?!" your eyes grow comically large, shimmering with betrayal as you shout with an incredulous tone. "I can't believe you know" more like can't believe you said it.

"You're royalty! How am I supposed to not know that, internet darling? Besides, told you: I keep my eye on you" and he winks.

This motherfucker. Oh, he's totally sleeping on the couch tonight.

"Talk about internet darlings" your snarky tone comes out, and Pedro knows he's pissed his competitive wife off. "I guess we have a tie. Your turn"

"What are the initials of my full name?" his brows furrow. "I forget. JBPP, JPBP, JBPP"

"José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you recite. "B, of course"

"But that's too easy, everyone with Google knows it!" but then he's leaning into your ear, whispering in a very low voice to make sure only you hear. "I'll let it pass, though. Love hearing you pronounce my name, mami"

Your face grows obscenely red. "I'm back ahead. Let's see if you can keep up. Okay, here it goes" you read the card, "what is the director I've stated I want to work with? Greta Gerwig, Pedro Almodóvar, or Quentin Tarantino"

"Pedro Almodóvar, no? You said you were jealous I had already worked with him" he playfully nudges you. Too much contact, face hot again. Maybe in group interviews you'll do better, because right now, you're doing a rather poor job at controlling yourself, even as an actor; you can already picture your agent pulling her hair behind the cameras.

"It's Greta Gerwig, actually"

"What?! No way, you told me this!" he grumbles. "This game is rigged"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm still jealous. I just think working with Greta Gerwig is peak womanhood, and I gotta live that. So, Greta, if for some reason this silly video gets to you, call me. I promise I'm not that childish"

"She is" Pedro slips in, "don't call her. So unprofessional" in a mocking exaggerated tone.

"Whatever, you sore looser. Me three, you two. Next!"

"Fine. Which of these songs would I have played at my funeral? My Heart Will Go On, Purple Rain, Nothing Compares To You"

He looks at you, silently pleading you to not answer correctly. Your competitive side screams in agony.

"I have no idea. Why do I feel you've already said it somewhere, though? I'll go with Nothing Compares To You, because the first its too corny for you and the second too epic"

He scoffs, amused at the fact that you did obey, but at what cost? Pedro's well aware his princess can get as competitive, if not worse, than Paul.

"You're saying I'm not epic enough for Purple Rain? Too bad, because that's the answer" you grunt, crossing your arms. "That's right, I am cool enough to have it played. I guess we're tied again!"

"No, you don't loose a point. It's still three to two. This just gives you the opportunity to tie"

"W-wait a minute"

"Settle down" you pat his thigh, "you can still try, handsome"

He gulps when your hand meets his skin, despite the layer of clothes. It's still something that gets him on edge, no matter the years you've known each other. And handsome? You came here for blood.

"Okay, here's your chance: what image of me became trending topic on twitter? An image of me eating a typical dish from my country, an image of me watching Deadpool and Wolverine with glasses while Hugh Jackman's shirtless scene reflects on them or C, me meeting Taylor Swift at the backstage of the Eras Tour"

"The typical dish is tempting" he muses out loud, "but I'll go with the Taylor Swift one because that sounds like something that'd trend"

"You're right" you throw your card. "I'm not complaining though. Best day of my life"

"Does this mean I'm winning?" he beams excitedly. "Oh, in your face Paul! I will finally win something!"

"Slow down, cowboy. There's still some left"

He purses his lips. "Let me have this one thing, would you? Guess not. Here it comes" he starts to read his card, "At school I competed in state competitions, in which sport? Soccer, lacrosse, swimming"

"Swimming" you answer hastily, trying not to think on Pedro wearing tight little swimsuits, as you've only seen him wearing swim trunks.

"Okay, that's dissapointing. Please continue"

"I participated in which play while I was in highschool? Hamlet, The Iliad or Much Ado About Nothing"

You doubt he remembers. The only time it ever came up, was when you visited your parent's house and a photography of you during said play was showed to him by your dad.

"The Iliad, right?" you laugh. The answer is wrong: It's Hamlet. "What? I swear it was that one! It's just you have very..." beautiful is at the tip of his tongue but he refrains himself, "...very greek features"

You can't help but laugh.

"Why of course! This is a face people go to war for"

"I agree" your heart skips a beat, "but I don't think I'll make it that far, if we talk about a war"

"You big fat liar!" you slap his arm playfully. "You've played all sort of characters, from soldiers of all nationalities and places, and like, superheroes, f*****g Joel Miller, even a DEA agent. You at least learned something!"

"Wow, slow down, this isn't a filmography recount" he jokes. Liar, you mouth to the cameras. "Okay, last one: I became a viral sensation for eating what type of sandwhich in LADbible's snack wars: BLT, PB&J, grilled cheese"

You remember the video fondly. Even your brother had sent it to you, along a text that said: Isn´t this your husband?

"PB&J, I win!" you cheer, instantly getting off the chair to do a celebratory dance. Pedro doesn't say anything, just throwing the cards away while the fondness of his eyes betrays him.

pyramiidsf: i want someone to look at me the way pedro looks at y/n mybritishstyle: guys they're just friends 😭 he's like that with all his female co-stars ㅤㅤann-gell: mybritishstyle me when i'm delusional af mandoshoney: where's that girl that's always betting her grandma??? SHE WAS RIGHTFLKRGJ

"Hello, I'm Paul Mescal. I'm here with my friends from the cast of Gladiator II" Connie and you both raise your palms to greet the camera, laughing when you realize you'd done it at the same time, "and we are going to play a game about how well we know each other for Vanity Fair" the irish man introduces the interview you're filming today.

"Did they prompt you?" Pedro speaks up, "or did you just make that up on the fly?"

You laugh a bit too loud, hoping they cut it off in the editing process.

Paul goes first, taking up a card with the first question written on it.

"Okay. Question: What's my least favorite day of the week?"

"Tuesday" answers Joseph once Paul is done reading. "Oh, you're writing it down?"

"Yeah" he answers.

"You just wrote Tuesday" Connie points out, Paul's card on his legs. You laugh along the rest.

"Yeah" he repeats laughing. "I actually, when you said Tuesday" Yeah, he said Tuesday Pedro adds on the background of laughter. "I was like...I'm gonna give everybody a point for that"

"I think I deserve a point for being observant" Connie complains.

Everyone gets a point and Paul moves towards the next question.

"What was the name of my character in Normal People?"

"Connell" both you and Joseph answer, looking at each other before squinting your eyes playfully.

"Callum" Pedro answers out loud at the same time, and you laugh. He clearly had slept when you played it for a re-watch last summer.

"No, you're out" Paul pokes Pedro next to him.

"Connel" Joseph repeats, and Fred agrees to the same answer.

Paul then asks Connie what's hers after he confirms you three.

"Connor?" she asks, confused.

"Incorrect. Three points" while pointing you three.

"You got wrong" he tells Pedro, "Callum's a different character"

"See? You just don't pay attention when you watch things" you blurt out, stopping yourself before adding the with me. It would be harder to come back from that, but so is this as everyone looks at you, even your husband, subtle panic in his eyes. Where the cameras this close? How long had you been silent?

"It's just, quick funny story" you improvise. "Pedro didn't know much about Paul's career, and as I am a fan, I took the time to show him and recommend him your stuff" Paul smiles. "Clearly, my fanatism didn't rub on Pedro but a girl can try"

He laughs, before saying "So the answer is Connell" and you try so hard to remain normal like the energy hasn't shifted.

"He only plays characters with the letter C in the name" Pedro jokes, chewing on a toothstick he seemingly pulled out of nowhere. More laughs follow, and you are so grateful for how he's handling your little metida de patada.

"What's number one on my bucket list?" he asks next, "and don't look at my answer"

The marker is the only sound to be heard, and then Pedro jokingly tries to take a peek.

"No peeking" Connie berates as Pedro laughs.

"You're not gonna be able to see that" Paul replies in an anyways tone.

You repeat the same joke, before Fred blocks you. "Not you too!"

Paul finishes after a while, Connie commenting it was long. Joseph raises his hand.

"Yes, Joseph"

"Is it to see the Great Wall of China?" he asks.

"No, but it's in that-"

"It's close, isn't it?" you interrupt.

"...family of thought" he finishes.

"It's to go and see something" Pedro points out.

"Okay. Rajasthan" tries Connie. "Go to Rajasthan, for a tour"

"Travel to South America" Paul interrupts with the correct answer, "I've never been to South America"

"I'm from South America" Pedro comments, never missing a chance to shout out his dear Chile.

Paul jokes about him getting three points while the rest of you laugh.

"I was born in South America. 17 points for Pedro"

"I want points too" you jump on the joke. "I know Spanish, so I can take you there and avoid you getting lost, mi querido amigo"

"But who was born there?" Pedro counters, "you get no points"

"I think Joseph is the only person who gets a point there" Paul adds, "because everybody just jumped on the bandwagon"

"He said to visit the Great Wall of China" Pedro protests, "which is nowhere near South America"

"It really is not" Connie agrees.

"Qué gente tan tramposa" you complain. "That's unfair. I remove my offer"

"Think about bucket list, and he came up with travel to bit" he tries to reason Joseph's point.

"And by the way, where in South America?" Pedro questions.

"Don't fight, don't fight" pleads Joseph, the calm one. Fred just sits there, enjoying the chaos.

"I want, any, I want to do a big tour of everywhere" Mescal defends himself.

Pedro doesn't back down. "'Cause it's very different"

Paul starts to get angry too. Jesus, men. Competitive men of it all.

"I know it's very different" making an annoyed face.

"Well, different is nice" you intervene, a hand placing in Pedro's left shoulder. "If you stop giving points for free, I'll come with you to the big everywhere tour"

"Alright" Paul agrees. "When's my birthday?" is the next question.

"February" all of you say.

Joseph struggles with the date first, saying seventh, then fourth. Fred tries with ninth, Pedro with eight, and then Joseph starts counting from one to two. Fred counts from eleven to twelve.

"Second" Mescal reveals. "Point to Joseph"

"Oh my God, you guys are good" Connie mentions.

"That's all my questions" and it's time to move on the next one: which happens to be your dear husband, Pedro.

"Paul is like" he brings up while the toothpick dances on his teeth, "Paul is motivated to catch up on points. He's coming for you" to pick on his competitive side as Mescal looks deep in thought.

"He's coming. He's coming" Joseph repeats as Fred laughs.

"What is my full name?"

"Oh! Pedro-" Paul tries in a blink. "Something, J? Jose? Juan?"

"Pedro Pascal, something, something" says Joseph.

"Nope"

"No?"

"Pedro Maria, Jose Maria Pascal" Paul struggles.

Pedro is about to answer when your voice cuts through the air.

"It's José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you recite.

"It indeed is!" he says, smiling a bit too much. "She gets a point"

"Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" your husband repeats in a more english-friendly pronunciation, looking at the camera while toying with his toothpick.

"I said Jose, I said Jose" Paul protests.

Pedro shakes his head. "You said Jose, but then you put it-"

Connie takes Paul's side. "You did say Jose"

"But then you put it behind Pedro which eliminate- which disqualified you" he replies.

Paul gets angry. That sore looser.

"That's absolute bullshit"

"Don't worry mate, the game has just begun" you joke, making the man more irritated. "Think you can get ahead of me?"

"Joseph is still ahead, y/n" Paul counters, still irritated. "Besides, wouldn't it be cheating? You can speak Spanish!"

"So? Not like speaking a language allows you to know every person's name Paul" you mock. He just snorts, despite still being half angry. Pedro is allowed to continue, trying not to make a face at yours and Paul's banter.

"The question is, who is my favorite actor?" he reads. As the cast members laugh, he uncaps the marker with his mouth, and now you have to try not to make a face, thinking about those teeth sinking into your flesh.

Quinn raises his hand. "It's me"

"That you're my favorite actor?"

"Yeah. You said that to me once" the bald man sounds sure of it.

Paul tries to think in the background. So do you. How can you not know this? he must've brought it up at least once.

"Do you remember?" Joseph insists.

Pedro finally remembers. "I said you were- I said I thought you were special"

"Oh" he sounds rather dissapointed.

"And special can mean a lot of things" he jokes, laughing by himself. Fred laughs with you as Joseph makes a face, your laughter turning even louder when you notice Paul all moody, trying to get this point.

"Who's your favorite actor?" Paul asks, "I think we just have to shoot from the hip here guys"

"Marlon Brando?" Connie guesses.

"Is it Harrison Ford?" Fred guesses.

"Let's go with Harrison Ford just because he's my favorite actor..."

You can't believe you didn't know this. You've re-watched and watched so many Star Wars content together. He gives you a brief look, knowing you're embarrased at your lack of answer.

"As a kid?"

"He's most influent, yeah" Pedro agrees.

"What job did I have before I became a full-time actor?" is next.

"Dancer. You were a great dancer" Paul aswers. Both Fred and Joseph repeat it, adding he was specifically a go-go dancer.

"Oh, he is" you add. "Videos of you dancing are lovely. Ever thought of getting back in the bussiness?"

He laughs, what appears to be a light blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Sure, darling. When you ask me to dance, I'll be there"

Nobody comments on this, too busy waiting for Pedro to say yes or no to the answer they believe to be right. But he isn't saying it is. Now you remember why.

"Come on, come on, come on" Paul begs.

"Can any of you guys remember?" Pedro pleads.

They insist that he danced in Spain, then New York, then settle with Spain again, even Pedro confirming so. But it still isn't the answer written on the card, no matter how much the boys insist.

"Connie?" he tries. She just looks confused.

"The answer in the card is-"

"Waiter" you answer. "You were a waiter"

Now you have three points under your belt.

"Why do you always say the answer at last?!" Paul grumbles. "You are cheating!"

"I'm not" you laugh the accusation off. "You just can't accept I'm better"

"Si que lo eres" Pedro agrees. "Es divertido hacer que se enoje Paul"

"What did you say about me? It's not fair, you're probably sharing the answers!" he's still adamant on insisting with the supposed cheating issue, making you laugh.

Now it's Connie's turn, who starts with: "How many languages do I speak?"

You put a puzzled look.

"You speak seven, eight maybe" Joseph guesses. Pauls says she speaks french, "but most likely seven"

Pedro points his finger at him. "Once he gets going, he's on a roll"

"Joe's got it" Connie agrees.

"Paul, end this reign" Pedro jokes. He looks rather frustrated.

"And the bonus points" Connie offers. "Okay, bonus, what are they?"

"This is an emperor's reign" your husband adds.

Joseph answers: Italian. Danish. English. Swedish. French. Spanish. Norwegian.

Connie agrees she speaks Spanish, making you jump in excitement.

"Oh, I didn't know that!" you beam. "Wait, does that mean you did get what Pedro and I gossiped about you?"

"What?" Joseph asks.

"Nada" you quickly correct yourself. "Yo no dije nada"

"Not that much. I just speak a bit of Spanish. I mostly dominate my own language, German and English"

"You blew our cover!" Pedro nags, hitting your bare leg, yet its devoid of anger.

"He needs a bonus" comments Connie, surprised at Joseph.

"This is horrifying" Pedro says when Joseph gets another point and a fricking bonus on top of that. "This is a slaughter"

"Oh, for which film did I have a gym built in my garage?"

Both Joseph and Paul answer the question correctly, saying Wonder Woman. The latter is quick to state they both get that point.

"That's one for me" Paul says, then looks at you. "And none for you"

You stick out your tongue at him as Connie reads the next card.

"If I were to take this cast on a vacation where would I take you?"

"Ibiza" answers Joseph. Connie agrees in Spanish, with a cute and excited correcto.

Your husband feels the need to crack a joke at Quinn's expense.

"Somebody was paying attention to Connie Nielsen very closely during the shooting of this movie"

"Okay. What is my favorite curse word in Danish?"

"Fuck" Pedro tries.

"No"

"Nobody is going to get that, Connie" Paul bickers.

"Oh, I don't know any Danish" you lament.

"At least now you know how it feels" Mescal drops, making you snort. You playfully kick him on the ribs with your shoe.

"It's very simple" Connie gives as a clue. "It's the same word in every language"

"Shit" Paul tries.

"Satan" she reveals.

Everybody is laughing in confusion at that, saying there's no way you could use that.

"Vos Satan!" Connie curses.

Now it's Fred's turn.

"What is my weirdest on-set habit?"

"I haven't noticed you do anything weird on set" Paul tells.

"I have" Pedro interrupts.

They all get on a small briefing about what could it possibly be, that it was weird, and wasn't part of his character, as you ponder. It was funny before, but now Paul is behind you by a point. So think fast.

"Yeah. I would say being yourself" Pedro jokes, but surprisingly, it works.

"Me! Five points for Pedro" he celebrates as you all laugh. "Love Fred. Oh, Fred"

"Oh, oh, okay" he moves to the next question. "What is my favorite reality TV show?"

Joseph tries with Survivor and Paul with Alone. Truth is, you don't watch any show of said kind, only vagely hearing about Love Island.

"You and I have talked about reality TV" Pedro reveals, "It's just that we never identified one"

They keep guessing shows that sound like a foreign language to you.

"You know what's offensive? That I'm the second youngest of this cast and I have no idea what are you all talking about"

"She's not to be trusted" Pascal quips, "can't trust someone who doesn't appreciate the art of reality TV"

You huff, annoyed.

"Is it A&E stuff?" Pedro asks.

"Yeah, it's the competitive cheapskates" Fred answers. "It's people that really save money on everything"

Pedro gets the point because he mentioned the A&E bit.

"There's like this amazing guy that made a stew out of fish bones, and I just thought it was incredible" he shares. Then, moves to the next question. "What is my go-to crafty snack?"

Nobody remembers eating snacks on set, and Fred gives the clue that it's a drink. Joseph says it's a smoothie, and he does remember it but it isn't the answser.

"I'm thinking of something specific. That Emerge-C that you put in the water"

"Oh, that's very good" you agree, so does the rest, even discussing the best colors

"Who in the cast would I ask to bail me out of jail?"

Everyone even Pedro agree its him. Everyone gets a point, yet Joseph remains ahead.

It's Joseph's turn. "What is my favorite sport?"

"Skateboarding" Paul is so quick to answer, earning him two points for both being correct and time.

"What celebrity do I get mistaken for?"

"Daisy Edgar-Jones sometimes" says Mescal. Of course he had to bring her up.

"No, she gets mistaken for me" Joseph jokes. "Yeah, poor Daisy. But I'm writing it down"

"That was the two letters?" Pedro notices. Still, no one gets it.

It's fucking Justin Timberlake. You'd never guess that.

"What is my favorite film franchise?"

You've probaly named all the existing franchises to no avail. You think fo your dad, a huge geek, trying to remember if there is one missing.

"Oh- Lord of the Rings!" you both answer with Paul at the same time.

"C'mon!" his celebration is short lived when he realizes you tied to him.

"What is my favorite British slang word?"

Pedro says it can't be said, but Quinn insists they can, even adding it's his favorite one too.

"We can say bad words? We can say-?" but the camera beeps over it.

The answer is Bellend. What even is that? Joseph feigns sadness and Pedro keeps apologizing, even as you sit on the chair.

"Okay. I'm last"you wiggle your eyebrows with interest. "Let's see. Okay, first question: what did I take from the Gladiator II set?"

"You took something?" Joseph asks on disbelief.

"Why wouldn't I take something?"

"Is it like an item or memorabilia?" asks Connie.

"It's an item" you uncap the marker, scribbling down the answer.

"It's a short word" Fred points out, but still can't provide a guess.

"You took the rings home" Pedro answers. You snap your had on his way, probably obvious. "What? You told me" he says.

Of course Paul complains. "Hey, that isn't fair! He knew the answer before!"

"Well, if you payed more attention to me, you'd know it"

Lies. Pedro knows because it's sitting in the jewelry box inside your house.

"See? I do pay attention" Pedro playfully hits Mescal.

"I could pay you more attention" he looks at you.

"Alright, then do. Ready? Next question: what is my go-to movie? Oh, this is a good one. I'm always changing it, but most of the time I end up choosing the same one"

They all give you a puzzled look as you scribble.

"C'mon, guys! I've said it on interviews before too. Paul?" the man shrugs. "Thought you said you'd pay me more attention. Heads up, you're doing a terrible job so far!"

"Hey!" he protests. "It's not fair if the answer's changing. Give us a clue"

"You didn't give any clues to yours!" you giggle. "Besides, I don't want you to win"

"Hey, that's against the rules!"

"I'd say it depends on the season" Pedro speaks up. You quirk an eyebrow. "Like, if it's changing, I don't think your Christmas go-to movie is the same as your summer one"

"Actually" you smile fondly, "that is true. On summer, it's Mamma Mia. So I suppose, if you can't guess the one, that'll do"

"No" he smiles, cheeky. "I know it too"

"Yeah?" you challenge, "what is it, then?"

"It's Thelma and Louise" he answers, and your heart beats fast.

"How do you know?" Paul inquires. "Somebody was paying attention to Y/n L/n very closely during the shooting of this movie"

Ah, his joke from earlier. Joseph giggles behind him. Karma, he supposes.

"She said it on an interview, guys. C'mon, learn your sources!"

"Okay" you clear your throat. "What movie got me into acting?"

"Thelma and Louise" Joseph tries.

"No" you laugh, "you're just recycling the answer"

"Is it an old or modern movie?" Connie asks.

"Hmh, old" you pause, "just not... I don't know if you'll ever guess it"

"Is it a Pedro Almodóvar film?" you shake your head. "What? You're always mentioning him!"

Pedro looks into your eyes amid the others' discussion, and you can tell he remembers the conversation.

"There isn't one"

You smile, chest pounding at his soft tone.

"That's correct"

"A trick question?!" Paul yells. "I quit"

"When there's just one left?" you tease.

"Yes, because you've been hiding it all the time but no more" he counters, pointing both you and Pedro. You feel the space getting smaller, breaths going from even to noticeable. "You are sharing answers"

You try to make your breath of relief pass as a chuckle.

"I'm not even gonna win, relax. And drop the charges, please. Loose like a man"

"You didn't explain it though" Connie speaks. "What did Pedro mean?"

"While I have many movies that are inspiration to me, they aren't the reason I chose this path. I did it because I saw an Oscar's ceremony when I was 11" you explain fondly, feeling warm at the memories. "I still remember when they handed the award to Diablo Cody for best original screenplay. I don't know, man, it moved me. What it meant for young artists who came from nothing. I guess I wanted, one day, to be the one standing there, for other dreamers to see it's possible"

"Wow, that's beautiful" Connie says.

"Thank you" you get flustered. "Suppose it was worth it, you know, to do interviews about not really knowing my cast mates" and laugh.

"How does Pedro know, though?" Joseph asks.

"We talk a lot" you clear your throat. "Last one: what indie horror movie did I make a small appearence in? I'm feeling generous because it's the last so I'll give you a clue. It's a Stephen King adaptation"

Paul is the first to speak. "You where in a-"

"Yeah but it wasn't such a huge role. Don't make yourself any ideas"

"I have no idea" Connie surrenders. "Other clue, as in how many words?"

"It doesn't even have any words" you laugh. "You give up? It's 1922. Was an extra as well. Made me think Netflix had my name highlighted in the extra call sheet, because I did so many minor and background roles during that year. Grateful, though, because now I get to be Rome's empress and not fortune teller or highschool #6"

The interview ends, and the camera may or may have not captured the last seconds, Pedro's gaze fixated with you the entire time.

elysyannemimi: we all saw that right? GET PEDRO AND Y/N IN A ROMCOM ❗THEIR CHEMISTRY IS INSANE❗ at0michips: love paul and y/n so much 😭😭 gimme enemies to lovers RN ㅤㅤbobgirllll: at0michips wait what if paul and y/n are secretly dating 😳 ㅤㅤann-gell: bobgirllll quick question are u dumb unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they're married. it has to be. trust me ㅤㅤstarlightt180: unhing3dprincess BESTIE U ARE BACK

You arrived in London today. The premiere will be in a few days, and things have been, well, hectic.

Lux couldn't stop talking all the plane ride, but your mind kept going back at the email your manager had sent you before you had boarded the plane.

It's catching upon you, read the haunting message. Attached below, a TMZ article that claimed a regular church attendee had seen you both getting married. It also used a lot of the noise fans had been making on social media, connecting dots or just hyping up the undeniable chemistry. It ended with a little paragraph saying it was obvios, and they're just hoping you'd confirmed it.

You came to realize you didn't care about it anymore. Sure, the pushing around annoyed you, but the thought of still keeping your marriage under wraps feels pointless now. Why wouldn't you shout to the world how in love with your husband you are?

Yet, when you arrive at the hotel, you keep the same protocol of arriving after Pedro, who has already checked in with two keys, claiming its for him and his sister, while you ask for the key to Lux's actual room. After you swipe cards with her, you head over the room you'd be sharing with your husband.

His face appears in your frame, everything happening quickly.

"Get inside. Now"

Your body is dragged inside the hotel room, not even giving you time to swipe the key for yourself.

"Pedro!" you exclaim, between surprised and confused. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Did you read it?"

"What? The article?" your tone is filled with annoyance. "Yes, I did. Why?"

"What do you mean why?" he snaps, voice raising higher. "Don't play dumb with me. You know fans have fuelled the rumors, and tabloids have started digging every corner in fucking California"

"So, what? You're acting as if people finding out is the worst thing in the world" you roll your eyes.

"It is, yes!" Pedro bursts out, caving in to the stress.

It feels like you've been hit across your face.

"Excuse me?" you seethe, hurt etched all across your features. "Would it be the worst thing in the world to admit you're married to the person you supposedly love the most?"

"I love you, y/n. It's just-"

His voice softens, trying to reach for you, yet you pull back, his hand falling to his side in an akward manner. He sighs in frustration, running a hand through his hair as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"I love you" he repeats, sounding much more sure this time.

Your frame seems smaller as your voice comes out hoarse, filled with emotion, appearing to be in the brink of tears:

"Then why do you act like you're embarrassed of me?"

He hates himself for making you feel this way, making you think things that aren't true.

"I don't. Never" he emphasizes. Then, tries to reach once again when you move a little bit closer to him, recognizing that's your way of letting him know you're ready. "You're the most precious thing in the world to me, don't ever think the opposite" then he sighs, heavy. "I'm just scared"

You silently ask him to explain, rubbing his thumb soothingly across his tattoo.

"You're so young, and I'm, well- I know we're aware of it, but people are cruel and the press is ruthless. I don't want to see your name dragged across the mud because you decided to marry me. Your career is starting, and I'd never forgive myself is something happened to you because of me. Not trying to make this about me, yeah? But this industry is fucked up. You've work hard to get to where you are, and it'll be unfair if you'd loose it. I'm scared because us..." he wavers, words trailing off. "I want us to be. I wouldn't want to live in a world without you, i-it would kill me not to have you be my wife"

You desperately want to kiss off the worry on his face, but let him finish.

"N-not saying our love is weak, or anything! That a couple of opinions or tabloids will- you know? Just, I-I don't want them to break us apart. Mi vida, you're the light of my life. Please, forgive me, I-"

He feels his throat closing up, words failing to come out. You sense the grip on your hand to be stronger, immediately letting loose of it.

"Hey. C'mere" your voice is tender, allowing him to bury his face in your stomach as you comb his messy curls with your fingers. "It's okay, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere"

He lets himself melt under your touch, his mind loosing itself in the soft of your digits and your perfume up his nostrils. He's again breathing normaly, hands now hugging your waist.

"There you go. Better?" Pedro nods, still not being able to talk. "That's okay, take all the time you need. We have all day"

"Do we?" he raises his view, his eyes soft yet there is something else to the brown shade.

You hum as to nod. "We agreed to join Lux for dinner. It's barely 1pm"

"Tell me you're thinking it too" his voice cuts throughout the air, boucing off the tapestry on the walls.

You laugh, nervously. "I don't think I do"

"Hmmh, I see" he stands up, towering over you. "You sure you don't?"

"You sure you want this?"

Before you know it, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss, cutting off all words to be said. What a waste of air, anyway. You are quick to reciprocate, whimpering against his lips.

Pedro picks you up like you're as light as a feather, his arms flexing as he carries you and places you on the bed, frame hovering over yours. He breaks the kiss to breath, but you're pulling him back in, his hold on your hips tighter and the wet spot in your panties wetter.

"Look at you, pretty baby. So needy" he whispers against your face, hot breath lingering above your lips. "And mine. Mía. Only mine"

"I am, yes. Yours only. Need you so bad right now, papi" you answer in a rush. "Now shut up and fuck me"

"Con gusto" he chuckles darkly, "gotta keep the wife happy"

"Happy wife, happy life" you recite, stripping him off of his plain shirt, revealing his toned torso, bulging biceps defined by the movements. You gulp. "Fuck, papi. Gotta thank Marvel for this. I love all of your versions, but I can work with this too" you dreamily stare at him, your hands cupping his face.

He strips the rest of his clothing, but a cute blush adorns his cheeks.

"Yeah, well, it's Scott's fault too"

Your impatient fingers reach the middle of your panties to rub your clothed pussy, letting out a sound that darkens his hazel orbs.

"Fuck that guy" you mutter. Pedro laughs.

"Thought you said you loved the guy"

"Until I learned what he said about your body" you groan, still rubbing. "Connie told me"

His hands now travel to remove your clothes, almost ripping them off.

"Who cares? I just want to fuck you now" he breathes out, practically drooling at the sight of your damp panties. "Lemme take this off too"

He unhooks your bra, seeing the hard nipples. The urge to lick them is so bad, but his desire to fill you silly to the brim is stronger.

You see his hesitation, which is why you grab him by the neck to pull him in for a kiss. He kisses back fiercely, labored breaths as he struggles to focus on your lips, his wet mouth darting to your jaw, neck and collarbones. His hands roam all over your body, needy.

"Gotta be inside of you, mami. Can't wait any longer"

"Then stop waiting" you plead, tugging at his boxers with urgency.

Seeing you so cockhungry, lips parted and pupils blown wide makes his hard dick twitch with anticipation.

He mutters a labored fuck, aligning himself to enter your sticky folds. Pedro enters your tight pussy with a low groan, burying himself deep inside of you, used to his length by now. You're basically begging for it, nails digging and eyes supplicating.

He can't deny you anything, can he?

A messy whine leaves your widened mouth as you adjust, pleasure mixed with pain.

"Mhmm" you moan.

"Mhmm what?" he mocks. "You asked for it. Now take it, cariño"

He thrusts deeper into you, watching in awe how his dick enters your pussy; it was always perfectly, your pussy made for him.

"You're drippin' baby" his rough voice caresses your cheek. He kisses the are, giving a lick to the sweat starting to form. "S'fucking tight too"

You move your hips towards him, trying to augment the friction. The overstimulation starts to cloud your sense, reducing you to a whiny mess as you grip his steady arms.

"I can't think of anything but you, baby" he confesses between grunts, "filling up your pussy to the brim, you dripping with my seed for days"

You moan at the filthy words.

"Love how you take my dick, amor" stretching you as Pedro moves in and out. "S'made for me"

"Yes" you moan, skin slapping sounds bouncing off the walls. "Fuck, I love your dick..."

His pace picks up, and it comes to a point where he's just fucking you silly, his grip on your hips surely to leave a bruise as you keep spilling obscene sounds of pleasure from your lips.

"Your pussy's mine, yeah? No one else gets to have you like this"

"N-no, just you, Pedro. My h-husband" you manage to squeeze, more moans vocalizing the pleasure you felt with each thrust, his big dick inside of you moving in a a steady rhythm, making your eyes roll back further and orgasm closer.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust, and he finds impossible to resist the urge anymore, licking the sensible skin and hard nipples, your hands moving to his back, scratching him harshly, both chasing your release.

"Please!" you whine out loud, not caring how desperate you sound.

Harder. Faster. Rougher.

But your husband knows you, so he indeed starts to fuck you harder, heavy breaths and slippy kiss noises hanging in the spaces between each thrusts. He pants with every motion of his dick, a knot forming on his belly.

"Shit, baby. I think I'm gonna cum. Gonna come so hard"

"Do it. I'm on birth control, remember?" you groan, feeling your high approach as well. "Fill me up, please. Give me all your cum"

Your bodies move as one, precise thrusts hitting exactly that sweet spot of yours repeatedly, chasing your orgasm. For a brief moment, your eyes lock with his and then he's saying:

"I love you, y/n. So much"

Your heart skips a bit, his dick twitching inside as his gaze glimmers with adoration and possesiveness, teeth grazing your skin with marks for him to call you his.

"I love you too, Pedro. More than you know"

A final thrust is delivered. Fuck, feels so good you think you hear him say. Just like promised, he fills you with his release, shots of his thick, warm cum inside your sticky walls. You follow soon, back arching, toes curling, and both head and eyes rolling back. Pedro falls on top of you, his broad body collapsing over yours, as you both pant hard, trying to steady your pulse and breath. He then removes himself and positions you to be the one on top now, lazily throwing the covers over your bare bodies. We need to shower, you said, but he argued you'd do it later before going out.

"I needed that" and you happily hum in agreement at your husband's dragged out words.

Your head falls and rises, with the movement of his chest, silence settling on the previously filled with sex noises room. That until he speaks up:

"One day, I'm gonna fill you up so good until you have my babies, mami" he murmurs, just then realizing what he said. But you snuggle closer, hand and legs drapped over his bare body. You look at him closely, seeing nothing but certainty on his eyes.

I choose you. I'll always choose you.

"Whatever it is with you" your nose brushes his, a small sweet kiss on his lips, "I want"

His eyes shine, probably with tears or the glow of affection.

"Let's do it"

"What?" you look into his eyes for any sign of doubt, bull all you see is love. "Pedro, are you serious?"

He nods. "Wouldn't you want that?"

You feel the corner of your lips pull up.

"Never have I wanted anything more"

poppysplayground: Y/N AND PEDRO RED CARPET DEBUT AT THE LONDON PREMIER OF GLADIATOR II WTF I JUST WOKE UP ptwt is in SHAMBLES mostannoyingbillioner: UM HELLO pedro showing up with two hot women on his arms LUX GIMME A CHANCE pompeiianbollockr: WAIT WDYM THEY ARE MARRIED?!??! ALL THIS TIME?@?#? HOW???! NEED BIGGER CAPS TO SCREAM I'M GOING INSANE at0michips: that article better come out now or i'll burn the TMZ building ann-gell: not me thirsting for a married man 😭😭😭 how they kept this a secret for so long?? we should've noticed ㅤㅤunhing3dprincess: ann-gell i did. knew betting my grandma was the way all along ㅤㅤpyramiidsf: i'm gonna start betting my grandma too

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @trashcora

#dilfistwrites #gladiator II #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fluff #taylor swift #reputation #call it what you want #paul mescal #call it what you want series

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