#I hope this answers all your questions :3

[street-smarts00]

in omnia paratus

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: Spencer's been on the fence with his feelings for you. Due to his past traumas he’s decided to keep his feelings hidden. Until you’re caught in a dangerous situation at work

WC: 3.5 k

A/N: I am SO SORRY this took so long. I’ve been sitting on this for two months because I was being a perfectionist and had writer's block. Thank you so much to the person who requested this idea and I hope ya’ll like it! beta read by @whats-yesterday00

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Protective!spencer, Friends to lovers, age gap (25 and idk 33 or 34), during season 9 (sadly no post prison Reid, I refuse to watch the show after Derek & Hotch leave), Maeve is implied 

Warnings!: mentions of murder, stalking, gunshot wounds, hostage situation and incorrect info about hostage situation cause Idk I'm not in the FBI

Everyone knew Spencer Reid had a soft spot for you. Well, everyone except for you. 

Since the moment you met you’ve been on his mind. 

“Do you know how old she is?” 

“No, how old is she?” 

“25!” Penelope squeaked before being shushed by Rossi. 

“Wow, she’s gotta be the youngest person to ever be in the BAU. Well, second to genius over here,” JJ commented while pointing to Reid. 

“That’s if she gets the job,” Morgan added. 

They were all crowded around the desks in front of Hotch’s office. The blinds were cracked and they could just barely make out the woman seated across from their boss for an interview. 

Due to the increase in caseload after Alex joined, Hotch made the request to add an additional member of the team. After interviewing a few people that didn’t pan out, he heard quite a bit about you from your supervisor saying how well you’ve done with the FBI and you’d be an exceptional fit for the team.

Then of course Penelope looked up everyone who was interviewing with Hotch. You being her most recent victim. 

“How long has she been with the FBI?” Alex questioned. 

“Three years,” Penelope answered 

“What? Did she join right after college?” 

“Not right away. She graduated early and got experience with law enforcement first.” 

Spencer sat at his desk quietly while everyone was peering into Hotch’s office. Not to say he wasn’t nosy as well. You were already behind the blinds when he arrived for work. 

“Oh they’re shaking hands! That has to be a good sign,” Penelope cheered. 

Morgan turned to the window, “It’s definitely not a bad one.” 

Her eyes widened before loudly whispering, “Oh no they’re leaving. Disperse.” 

She scurried off in her heels towards Derek’s desk while he followed behind with a grin. JJ, and Rossi averted their eyes from Hotch’s office and found Alex’s desk far more interesting. 

All while Spencer’s attention was brought to the woman led down the stairs by his boss. It felt like his heart stopped beating when he saw how beautiful you were. He was brought back to earth as Hotch introduced you to the rest of the team. 

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he gestured to the man sitting at his desk. 

You offered him a small wave and a kind smile, “Nice to meet you.” 

It became quite obvious you two would get along very well. From very early on conversation flowed incredibly well between the two of you. There were very few people that he felt were easy to talk to because of his niche interests and the way he would ramble spitting facts left and right. 

But he never had to worry about saying the wrong thing or talking too much with you. You often were a content listener or you would even match his passion on certain subjects. Most were topics Spencer already knew about. 

When you first met Spencer you didn’t know the Dr in his name meant he held 3 PhD’s or that he was quite literally a genius. 

So you were often telling stories or facts you found interesting that he already knew. In fact, almost every “fun fact” you brought up, he knew about already.  

But he never interrupted you. He always was listening intently to what you had to say. Like he was hearing about it for the first time. 

At some point you learned of his eidetic memory and how vast his knowledge was. It was during a case where you found out and mentioned it to him. 

“Reid, remember when we were at the harbor and I mentioned that thing about sharks?” You hesitated, “did you know that already?”

“Yes,” he guiltily admitted. 

You partially deflated suddenly feeling that the whole tangent you went on was pointless. “Why did you let me go on and on if you already knew?” 

His eyes softened, “because I wanted to hear you talk about it.” 

That was when his feelings started to peek through. As the months went on it only grew and grew. And you were none the wiser.

To the average person, it might not seem like much. Perhaps you were just good friends. But to a team of profilers (and best friends) it was painfully obvious. 

It was almost painful the way he looked at you with a longing in his eyes. Or when his gaze immediately turned to you to catch your reaction or smile. 

It was obvious by the way he found any excuse to bring you up in conversation. Or how in conversation with you he would mirror your mannerisms and lean closer to you. 

As well as the things he remembered about you or the little things he did for you. Like the countless coffee cups he bought for you from his favorite coffee shop before work. And when he saw you struggling to find something or open something he was always right there to help. 

Spencer Reid had feelings for you. Feelings so deep that he couldn’t pull the roots out even if he tried. 

He didn’t know what to do with his feelings exactly. He hadn’t felt this strongly for someone since … well for a while. He was terrified of history repeating itself. 

He couldn't lose you. He’d seen first hand what this job did to him, what it did to Hotch. Their loved ones ripped away from them too soon.

So for now at least, he kept his feelings to himself. 

Well, until your last case. 

The BAU was called in on a case that just turned serial. They found the unsub to be a man named Mark, who started killing because his girlfriend cheated on him. The first two victims reminded him of the man she cheated with. When that didn’t satisfy him, he hunted down and killed the other man. 

Now the team and SWAT was stationed outside a bus that Mark was holding hostage. He stalked his ex-girlfriend and tracked down the new city bus she took. 

The officers couldn’t get a clear shot of him because of where he was standing and he kept using the passengers as shields. Rossi was currently on the phone with him trying to make negotiation terms and get some of the people off the bus. Mark however was incredibly stubborn and didn’t want to let his leverage go. 

So Rossi asked about the children on the bus and if Mark would be willing to let them off. They were met with silence on the other end of the phone, contrary to his previous behavior where he loved to hear himself talk. 

After a short pause the phone spoke. “I’ll only send out the kids if you send in an agent.” 

Rossi shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “Are there any other circumstances you’re willing to send out the children for?” he asked. 

“Nope,” he said with a pop at the end of the word. 

A look of concern was quickly exchanged between Rossi and Hotch. While their faces didn’t reveal much, their eyes spoke volumes. 

“How about this,” the unsub continued. “I’ll send out their moms too.” 

Rossi’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at the eagerness to comply from the criminal. “You’ll send out the children and their mothers if we send in one of our agents?” 

“I promise.” 

Rossi returned his eyes to Hotch who stood rigid and tall with his arms folded. He was met with an approving nod before returning to the call. 

“Alright, we can agree to those terms.” 

“Oh and agent Rossi?” Mark perked. 

“Yes?”

“Send in a girl.”

There was a tension that quietly branched out between the agents listening to the phone call. 

“Why do you want a woman?” Rossi asked, clearly changing the dialogue used.

“I’m losing too many ladies sending out these moms. I want one back,” he replied with a cockiness to his voice. 

Ross confirmed they could send in a female agent. Almost immediately after the unsub hung up, you volunteered to be the agent going on the bus.  

“I’ll do it.”

Spencer’s head shot in your direction. “No you're not.” His voice was laced with concern and a hint of demand.  

“Reid-”

“He specifically asked for a woman. We don’t know what he’s planning, he’s devolving.”

“And I’m willing to take that risk to make sure those kids are safe,” You defended yourself. 

You turned to your boss waiting for his thoughts. Hotch knew you’d been exposed to enough high tension scenarios to know what you were doing. But just like any member of his team, he silently hesitated, worrying for your safety. 

He took a breath before meeting your eyes again. “Send her in.” 

Right before you were led to the bus, Hotch took off the holster on his ankle and handed it to you. “Some extra protection in case something happens.” You couldn’t hear the concern in his voice, but you saw it clear as day in his eyes. 

You made your way to the bus and saw through the window Mark holding a gun to the driver and telling him to open the door. You stepped on and the doors closed quickly behind you. The unsub took a long look at you, panning up and down. 

“Well how about that. Aren’t you a beauty? He said with a cheeky grin. 

You tried your hardest not to look disgusted with him. Instead you kept your composure and spoke with courage and a confident demeanor. 

“You this flirty with all your hostages?” you asked plainly.

As he gazed down at your legs his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. He bent down and with the gun in his hand, pushed away the bottom of your pants leg. When he saw the gun in the holster, he tsked. 

“You always carry this much dead weight on you?” 

He stood back up and put his hand out, “hand it over, I told them no weapons.” 

You reluctantly took off Hotch’s holster and placed it in the unsubs hand. Your one line of defense was gone. 

The longer you were on the bus, the more anxious Spencer got. He knew you were an exceptional profiler, and you had enough experience and skill to handle yourself in situations like this. 

But that couldn’t stop the ache in his stomach or the fact that his heart rate could power a car by now. 

He stood closer to the bus now to get a clearer view of the windows. They managed to successfully get the children and moms off and to safety, but you weren’t safe. Spencer figured you were trying to negotiate with the unsub, but that was going nowhere. This was confirmed when Rossi tried calling him again but every call was ignored. 

This unsub was stubborn as hell. He knows he trapped himself, but didn’t want to back down. At least he didn’t want to go quietly. 

Spencer was talking with the rest of the team trying to devise a plan when the gunshots were fired. The team immediately ran back to the cacophony on the bus. 

More shots were fired, he didn’t know where from. He didn’t care. 

He just needed to get to you. 

When he got a decent view through one of the windows that hadn’t shattered he saw you. Your hand over arm in pain but still standing in front of the civilians to protect them. The unsub stalking over to you, gun in hand and smacking you over the head with it. You slammed against the chairs and fell to the floor. 

Spencer's face paled. He swore he was going to throw up. 

Through the fog of his mind Spencer saw Morgan escorting Mark off the bus, his hands now behind his back in cuffs. 

He rushed past them, clambering through the door and up the stairs to get to you, calling your name. 

“Reid?” he heard your small tired voice through the crowd. 

He followed it to you, laying on the ground struggling to open your eyes and clutching your left arm. 

He crouched down to your level with a gentle hand on your uninjured arm. 

“Hey, I’m here. I’m right here,” he comforted. 

“My head hurts,” you mumbled.

His eyes softened, “I know. I think you might have a concussion, you need to go to the hospital.” 

You slowly started to fade out of consciousness. Spencer’s heart dropped and his hand moved from your arm to your face. 

“No no no no stay with me okay?” he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Stay with me sweetheart,” he consoled.

Your eyes stopped struggling to stay open and finally made their close. His other hand rushed to your pulse point as he called for a medic.

Time seemed to stand still while Spencer sat next to your hospital bed waiting for you to wake up. He couldn’t leave your side. He didn’t want to. 

You were okay. You were laying in the bed in front of him. But of course in his mind he ran through all the possible scenarios of how things could’ve gone worse, how things could’ve gone better. What would’ve happened if you didn’t have your gun taken away, or if the unsub got angry that you tried to bring a gun in. What if he didn’t lose his cool and start firing. What if you never went inside in the first place. 

And with all of those possible scenarios, the same thought plagued him. 

He was wrong. 

Before he was too scarred from past traumas to reveal just how much you meant to him. Not wanting to repeat the past and lose yet another person he loved cared for. 

But now, after seeing you in danger right in front of him, now he was terrified at the thought of you never knowing. He was now more scared you would never know how much he loved the way your nose crinkled when you smiled. How he thought the sound of your voice could cure any ailment he had. How he admired your strength and desire to protect others. How you could light up anyone's mood by just being you. How he could listen to you for hours, even if you were lecturing him on things he’d known like the back of his hand.

To him it was a whole new experience hearing it from you. 

Spencer was pulled from his thoughts as you stirred awake. He saw your eyes adjust to the bright fluorescent lights ahead. He quickly got up to dim the lights for you. 

When he returned to his seat you smiled at him, “hi.” 

“Hi,” he smiled back.  

“How are you feeling?” 

You sighed. “Like shit,” you complained with a hint of humor. 

“The doctor said you have a minor head injury, bruised ribs, and the shot to your arm thankfully didn’t break any bones.” 

“Fun,” you said sarcastically. 

A moment of silence passes between you two. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. How do you casually tell your friend and coworker you have a crush on them? 

There is no casual way. 

“You called me sweetheart,” you broke the silence. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?” 

You fidget with the blanket, “earlier, when I passed out on the bus. You called me sweetheart.”

He searches his mind for the memories of the day. When he finds the memory he realizes in the heat of the moment the term of endearment slipped out. 

He wasn’t aware you heard it. 

“I did,” he confirmed as his ears flushed.

“Why?” you asked curiously. 

He didn’t know how to tell you that he’s wanted to call you that for weeks now. So instead he settled with-

“It just … felt right.” 

“Oh,” you replied quietly.

Spencer tensed up at your response. 

“If I crossed the line-“ 

“No. Of course not,” you interrupted with a comforting voice. 

The corners of your mouth lifted and cheeks dusted pink. “I thought it was sweet. You don’t normally say stuff like that.”  

His heart warmed at your confession and a smile spread on his face. 

“You thought me calling you sweetheart was sweet?” he lightly teased.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “You know what I mean.” 

Your laughter was cut short by a sharp pain in your abdomen. You bit down on your lip and gripped the side of the bed in pain. 

The reality that you were injured on the job was rushing back to him. 

He licked his lips, his nervous unconscious habit. 

“I was really worried about you.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” he interjected. 

“The entire time you were on that bus I was sick to my stomach. Terrified that something bad was gonna happen and it did,” he started to ramble. 

You leaned closer to him. ”But I’m okay Reid.”

“You still got hurt. He shot you for christ sake!” his voice raising in pitch and volume. 

“Reid-”

“He lashed out at you! You could’ve died!” 

“Spencer,” you said firmly, pulling his attention towards you. 

He never heard you say his name before. No matter how many times he said you could call him Spencer, you still called him Reid. Hearing his name fall from your lips was like the consistency of honey.

You placed your hands on his face caressing his cheek. His golden eyes meet yours. 

“I’m alright. I’m still here,” you consoled. 

“But if-“

“Spencer.”

“Please,” he pleaded. “It’s important.” 

You nodded your head, signaling for him to continue. He gently grabbed your wrists and brought your hands in his. He took a deep breath before he decided to spill the thing that had been eating away at his heart. 

“I have feelings for you. I have for a long time. Almost as long as you’ve been at the BAU,” he started. 

With your hands in his he started tracing his thumb over your knuckles. 

“If we don’t have work I count down the days until I can see you again. When I do see you I desperately want to see you smile, see you happy. And if I’m the one that causes that smile, it makes my whole day. That’s why I never interrupted when you talked about something I already knew. The way your face lit up when you talked with such passion was the highlight of my day.” 

“For months I was scared of my feelings and I kept them to myself. I was too scared to admit how much I liked you because I-” his hold on your hands tightened.

“I know what it feels like to lose someone. This job takes so much from us; I never wanted it to take you.” 

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. 

“Today I realized it would be more painful if I went the rest of my life not telling you, than having even a fraction of a moment with you.”

A moment of silence danced between you two. Your head reeling from his confession, heart beating so hard you could feel it in your bones. Your palms sweaty from holding onto Spencers, but still neither of you let go. 

The silence was deafening, plaguing him. 

“Please … say something,” he begged. 

Your lash line was collecting tears that you simultaneously tried blinking away. Your eyes found his tie less intimidating than his gaze.

“I never thought you would like me back,” you said with a soft tone. 

Spencer's cheeks turned red as his heart started melting. “I do.” 

You brought your eyes back to his. That precious smile on his face was infectious. 

“Listen,” you squeezed his hands. “I’m not going anywhere. So you have as much time with me as you want.” 

Spencer's eyes softened at your words. He raised your hands and placed a loving kiss on your knuckles. 

The two of you were too lost in eachother to notice the footsteps towards the room. 

“Hey, I found some Jello for her if she-” Alex abruptly stopped once she noticed what she walked into. 

You both awkwardly pulled your hands away from each other; you fiddling with the hospital blanket, him rubbing his palms on his slacks. 

“So, feeling better?” she asked hesitantly. 

“Much,” you answered, still a bit flustered. 

“Good, good to hear,” She tried not to sound too smug, but the small smile on her face said otherwise. 

She raised and shook the jello container in her hand. 

“I’m gonna leave this here,” she placed it on the table. “I’ll be back in a bit.” 

“Thanks Blake,” you thanked as she left. 

Once she was gone you quietly giggled and mumbled “oh my god,” under your breath. 

“You know, she kept teasing me asking when I was going to ask you out. And don’t even get me started on Morgan,” he chuckled, shaking his head. 

Your jaw dropped and eyes furrowed. “Did everyone else know but me?” 

He pressed his lips in a thin line, “pretty much.” 

“I must be a shitty profiler,” you half joked.

“Absolutely not,” he said in the most comforting voice. He brushed the hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear. 

“You’re an amazing profiler.” 

You smiled that smile he loved so much. The one where you couldn’t hide your joy and your nose crinkled. 

“So, how do you think you’ll spend all those moments with me?” you inquired with a bit of a teasing tone. 

“Doing anything sweetheart,” he answered seriously. He looked at you with awe written all over your face. “I'm ready for anything with you.” 

“in omnia paratus” - ready for anything

Tag asks: @adrienneleclerc @ladybirdbeetle7

[fish-crow-star-snowman]

LaDS Zayne Imagine

Zayne x reader/mc

angst, fluff, pregnancy and labor

You had gone into labor before you knew it. Everything was planned and carefully organized for the big day that your little one would arrive.

No one is ever really READY though. Your excitement and nervousness was getting the best of you. While Zayne whom was often on the other side of that spectrum, calm and collected as ever, was quite the nervous wreck himself.

He'd been at work all day, not too busy. Regardless, he hated leaving you at home. Prayed in hopes that he would conveniently be home by the time you went in labor. His heart dropped receiving a call from the obstetrician gynecology department of the hospital.

"Dr.Zayne, your wife is in labor."

Throughout the months of the pregnancy, there were several talks with your obgyn about this being possibly high-risk. Every possible scenario surged through Zayne's head. During the whole experience, you often were met with doctor Zayne rather than what you needed the most, your partner.

The second the call hung up, he was quick to run to your side. He'd already given notice to his colleagues prior to your arrival just in case. He was almost always prepared. Almost.

His eyes gleamed upon seeing your already exhausted but seemingly relieved look. While he's obviously glad to see you're okay, his attention turns to the doctor, another colleague.

"How is she doing, Dr.Turner?"

"Oh Dr.Zayne, it's been a while! How have you been holding up?"

Silence sweeps the room for what felt like an eternity. Zayne clearly was not in the mood for a reunion. The doctor opting to answer his question instead.

"She is one centimeter dilated. No imposing risks so far. It's been smooth sailing. However she's not progressing nearly as fast as we would like.

"How long has she been here?"

"3 hours, sir."

"Why wasn't I called earlier.."

His tone deepens, irritation seeping from his obviously overworked body. The doctor stayed quiet, knowing the words 'too busy' wouldn't have been a good enough answer.

"My love, I tried calling you first but you didn't pick up. I remembered you had a 6 hour surgery this morning. I chose to call an ambulance instead. I'm sorry."

Guilt stung his chest. Of all hours of the day, why. He walked to your side and took your hands in his, pressing your fingertips to his lips and whispered.

"You always come first. No matter what."

His words were meaningful and for a moment you had the man you had been longing to have for months. It was short-lived however.

Like the doctor predicted, it was an unusually long process. You didn't dilate your second centimeter until 6 hours after your partner's arrival at your room. It's been about 30 hours of nonstop cycles of contractions. Unbeknownst to him, Zayne hasn't been making things easier.

Both of you were completely worn out, haven't ate or slept. Zayne's surgeon mode was still on and you were about to combust. Talks with the doctors about your condition like you weren't in the room, like you were just another one of his patients. Looking over your chart and giving demands to the nurses as if he were still working.

You knew he was trying his best to keep his composure for you. Making sure you were in the best health at all times and he was doing an amazing job. It didn't change the fact it was making you feel a little alone in this. What you needed was his hands on yours, telling you that you were going to be okay. That you can do this. A kiss to your forehead every now and again for reassurance maybe?

Nine centimeters. Finally. You were close to the end and soon you'd be holding the proof of yours and Zayne's love. At least it's what it should have been but you were at your breaking point. Zayne had his back towards you still keeping up conversations with nurses.

"Zayne!"

He tensed hearing your strained shout. He turned to look at you with that oh so familiar concerned gaze. Everything was quiet once again. All that was heard was the sound of the monitors beeping. It was your turn to feel guilty.

You closed your eyes briefly and sucked in a deep breath before holding out your hands for him to take. Understanding your gesture, he walks to your bedside crouching slightly to your eye level.

You fought hard to keep the tears from spilling out of your water line. You spoke in the softest tone possible, in hopes to forget how you just yelled at him.

"You are an amazing doctor and I couldn't ask for a better one these past few months." You paused for a moment, letting a tear shed your cheek and huffing another breath. "But I would like to have my husband for this.. please.."

His eyes widened at the implication of your words and letting out a soft gasp of realization.

He stands up finally relieving himself of his white coat he had been wearing since yesterday and removed his glasses to set on your bedside table. It showed how disheveled he was underneath. Hair was a mess, tie crooked from his constant fidgeting and tugging, and two buttons at the top of his shirt undone.

Zayne motions you to scoot down your bed a little, sitting behind you to cradle you with his strong legs on both sides of your body. His fingers traced the back of your arms before resting them on your shoulder and giving them a tight squeeze. Small kisses made their way from your shoulder to your neck.

Your body reacted immediately, letting loose the tension you didn't know you even had.

"I'm sorry." Zayne's voice a little shaky but gentle and clear nonetheless. "I'm sorry I've left you alone in this. It was never my intention. I love you so much." He repeats those same two words over and over.

While you can feel your gown dampen from his own tears, you can't help but smile. This. This is what you needed to relax. Before you could open your mouth to respond, the obgyn breaks the moment.

"Alright, ten centimeters dilated. Are you ready to start pushing?"

Zayne drops his hands to your side, signaling for you to take them into your own as support. Placing more kisses to the top of your head, he whispers reassurances. 'You've got this' 'You can do it' 'You're so strong'.

You have a tight grip on his wrist threatening to break his arm, but he didn't seem to care. If he could take all your pain, he would. Dilation was a tiring process, everything after seemed to flow rather quickly. The head, then shoulders, and finally legs.

Within seconds of the doctors clearing your baby's nasal passage, you and Zayne hear that oh so beautiful sound you had been waiting for. Before moving on any further, the baby was placed on your now naked chest. You admired every inch of your baby, in awe. Thick black hair sat on top of their small head. Eyes glowing hues of orange and green.

You have a Zayne mini me. Speaking of which, distracted by your own emotions, you forgot to see how your husband was hanging on. And it definitely wasn't like you expected, he wasn't saying anything but he didn't have to. His expression said enough. Your baby already had him wrapped around their finger.

His hand came to rest upon yours that was cradling the back of the baby's head. "Thank you for this new chapter in life you've given me, my jasmine."

"Congratulations Mr and Mrs. Li, it's a—"

——————————————

a/n: I never intended this to be a fic, it was just meant to be an idea for a better fic writer. one who writes more. It just rolled this way. however if anyone wants to use this, please do. Just give me a little credit ❤️

[erabu-san]

First of all, I would like to thank you so much for all your support and your kind message !! Thank you so much for being patient with me too !! (you will see, I thanks a lot in this post lol)

Haha tbh I believe that ignoring and move on is a great way too! Yeees when I read this anon ask, I was wondering if they are living somewhere where pale person are oppressed and they are personally in this case and it affects them so badly that they have so much hate in them or they are just being hateful toward poc w/o any explication ? It was a bit uncomfortable And what is appealing with Genshin Impact (for me) is the fact that they use real culture to create their game ; even in the last survey, they ask if we like Natlan's authenticity (weird they only ask abt environment and music, i think they know they have issue with character design bahaha). I learn a lot about persian, algerian, but also chinese and even about french culture ! It is because people recognize themself that they start talking about it. I know there is a lot of controversial topic in Natlan, but because of this, I learn a lot on Hawai'i 's culture too. So yes, even if it is fiction, representation *is* important. And it is because they take inspiration of their culture that there is people who want a better representation, and in my opinion, this is something to not ignore !

About taking well what anon said, thank you so much ! If i can be honest tho, I didn't take it very well neither, or just I don't know how do I really felt at the moment I am an adult but I still hard time to distinguish what is morally okay or not, what is bad and good ? So if someone doesn't tell me they are explicitly a bad person with bad intention, I won't get it haha (ofc I grew up and now I identify my value and morals, but I still questionning if my morals are objectively great or not- yeaaah i was called weird for that, I am aware) Since forever I always try to understand other so I can communicate properly (at least I try), and that's why I am always interested on how does people think, why do they react in this specific way etc etc. Pro, I am patient and can take even the most violent take "well" (all depends. I am still a human) Con, I give free speech to those who have a "bad" take </3 and I apologize for that aaaa

KFSDLFSD I wish to express my angryness sometime but I just don't know if it is really adequate What if I interpret their text in wrong way as they initially try to say ? I wasn't feel offended by what they said, I was just uncomfortable because their opinion is something I consider hateful. and what if i was wrong??? But reading you all's opinion just affirm that's they were indeed rude ! I should stop overthink, life would be easier Maybe next time I have a doubt I will ask my friends's opinion before answering ksdkfsf

Oh my god thank you !!! If i can be honest, I draw Kinich this way because when I draw him w a darker skin for the first time, I thought "Oh !!! he looks so cool !!!!" and seeing a lot of positive comment abt my Kinich just makes me happy so I keep him like this ! And thank you for sharing with me informations !<<333 This is not overstepping at all ! And it is a reciprocate feeling anon ! It might be a bit weird but "angry" is such a complex feeling for me. I feel it but I don't really know how to express it in the most healthy way and it is super frustrating. So... seeing people getting mad at something I also disagree on makes me feel better !! And for this, thank you all !

I SNORT SO HAAAARD Damn Macron you again..........!! I didn't put all ask here but I read them all !! Thank you for sharing with me your opinion and reaction, it is truly interesting (and way more relaxing that the hater anon kskskss) !! and again, your support is truly meaningful for me. You all have sincere gratitude Hope y'all have a great day !! Stay hydrated too <3

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART VIII

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 6.3k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). angst!!! cursing, age gap, mentions of alcohol and depression. feelings of hopelessness, anxiety. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hello besties, here's the next part!! happy reading <3

masterlist!

Pedro hadn’t expected his career to take another sharp turn so soon after The Mandalorian. The call he received that night in January, while lying in a dimly lit hotel room in London, still felt unreal. Hazy, thanks to the Ambien coursing through him, but real enough to make him sit up in bed after the line went dead.

Something big was coming, and he could feel it in his bones. It would change everything—if things weren’t already good enough as they were.

A few weeks later, he was back in London to film The Bubble. Everything seemed to blur by—filming, meetings, and the quiet rhythm of his life with Julia. He hadn't expected to fall into a relationship so effortlessly, but here he was.

She was a producer he’d met during a project in Budapest, though nothing had happened between them until months later.

Late November, to be exact. By then, things had shifted.

Pedro was never good at deciphering if someone liked him or not, and maybe that was why, when she suggested coffee, he didn’t think twice. She was lovely—kind in a way that didn't feel overwhelming, and he liked the way it felt safe, uncomplicated. When she reached for his hand, the world didn’t spin beneath his feet, and that was comforting. It was normal, and maybe that’s exactly what he needed.

After that first coffee, there were more—turning into casual dinners, casual sex, easy conversations, and eventually, a steady progression toward something more.

By December, things had gotten serious, though Pedro still sometimes woke up disoriented, feeling as if he was living in someone else’s life. Julia kept him grounded. And though it wasn’t the kind of love that made him lose his breath, it was steady.

One morning, in early December, he woke to find a message from you. You’d mentioned him in an upcoming Vogue interview, a brief nod to his help in keeping you sane during those first chaotic months of the pandemic. Your publicist thought it might make a fuss for a while, and you didn’t want him to wake up and think someone had died or something.

Nothing too big, P, just the usual storm. Call when you’re back in the States. Miss you.

Pedro stared at the message for a long time, debating. You’d always known everything about him. Every high, every low. But now? There was Julia to consider. He sat on the edge of the bed, Julia still asleep next to him, the London sky a dull gray through the curtains. He’d thought about telling you about her for weeks—maybe he should’ve before New Year’s—but it was easier to let the conversation slip away.

Until it didn’t.

That night, at Oscar’s New Year’s party, when you found out about Julia, he could see it in your eyes—the hurt, the shock, the confusion. You didn’t say much after that. Just told him you hoped he was happy, and if he was, that would be enough.

But it didn’t feel enough.

Not then, not now.

•••

Back in London, the routine of it all began to suffocate him. He spent his mornings reading lines, drinking bitter coffee, and answering the inevitable buzz of questions about his relationship status. He didn’t care to comment. He didn’t want to make it official in a way that felt like another announcement to the world. His job was to act, not live his life on a stage. Still, the headlines rolled out, and his relationship with Julia became another topic of conversation.

The days passed in a blur, but something bothered him. You had gone silent. Completely. Not only from his life but from social media, from the public eye, from everywhere. He called on your birthday. Oscar had mentioned you hadn't planned anything for the day, not that he knew off, and Pedro found himself standing on the cold balcony of his hotel room, dialing your number with a strange urgency.

You picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

Your voice sounded far away, thin and almost unfamiliar, like a melody he had forgotten.

“Hey.”

There was a beat of silence, a pause where recognition should have clicked into place. Instead, you sounded distant, hesitant.

“Oh. It’s you.”

His lips twitched into a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, it’s me. Did you delete my number?”

A soft shuffle on the other end, like you were shifting in place, caught off guard. “No, uh, I just picked it up without looking who it was.”

He leaned against the railing, gripping the phone tighter as if it could bridge the distance between you. The cold metal beneath his fingers bit into his skin, grounding him, though your absence felt like it was growing by the second. "Happy birthday, mi amor."

“Thank you, Pedro.”

The way you said his name, the clipped tone, made something stir in his gut, but he shook it off.

“You doing anything? I heard you didn’t have plans.”

“Nothing really, maybe over the weekend,” you replied, but there was a softness in your voice that didn't match the words, like you were choosing them carefully, holding something back. “I know you’re in London; that’s why I didn’t—”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t call,” he interrupted, leaning against the cold railing. His free hand found his hair, fingers tugging at the strands, trying to steady the unease creeping in. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been... You know how it is.”

Another long pause. For a moment, all he heard was the faint rustling on the other end, like you were curled up somewhere small, the space between you both stretching impossibly wide. He didn’t notice the silence for what it was—didn’t notice the way it wrapped around your words, cloaking the pain underneath.

“I do,” you whispered. It wasn’t an agreement; it was resignation. "Listen, I have to go. Say hi to Julia for me."

You hung up quickly, the words leaving him cold. The last part stung in a way he wasn’t expecting.

Days turned into weeks, and though you stayed in touch here and there, your conversations felt different. Lighter. Less personal. He tried not to let it bother him, but it did. The less he tried to think about you, the more you occupied his thoughts, living in the corners of his mind where you had always been. It felt like torture, the way your presence always lingered even in your absence.

When Pedro finally posted about landing the role of Joel Miller, the flood of congratulations came pouring in, but only one comment left him reeling.

So happy for you!!! You’re gonna kill it.

It was from you. Simple, encouraging, and yet it twisted something inside him.

His birthday arrived not long after, and he found himself back in LA, where his friends greeted him with a backyard party under the stars. Sarah held a cake with a single candle, and as everyone cheered, Pedro smiled, but there was an immovable weight in his chest.

Later that night, after the crowd had dispersed, he and Julia escaped upstairs to his room. They ended up half-dressed, tangled on his unmade bed. She smiled at him afterward, her gaze hazy with affection. “Happy birthday,” she murmured, running a hand down his chest.

Pedro wanted to stay in that moment, to let it be enough, but his mind wandered. He had that feeling of wanting to be trapped in one place, wanting to dig his heels in. It didn’t need to matter that that reality was waiting for him outside the door. It didn’t need to matter that you hadn’t called.

April 11, 2021

London, England

Pedro’s mood had been darkening for weeks now, but if Julia had noticed, she didn’t say a word.

She’d taken on a slew of new projects, coming home late most nights, leaving him to his thoughts and the silence that clung to their flat like fog. Pedro found himself pacing the empty rooms when she was gone, unsure where to place himself in her absence. He felt the weight of insomnia closing in again, the recognizable ache behind his eyes making the hours stretch painfully long.

That day, however, his focus had shifted. He was set to present Best Foreign Film at the BAFTAs, and his stylist had dressed him in a Prada tuxedo coat, a crisp white shirt, and skinny-fitting suit trousers. He looked sharp, elegant even, and for the first time in days, Pedro felt something close to confidence.

He and Julia arrived at the event together, but they didn’t pose for pictures side by side. Still, photographers captured fleeting moments—Julia holding his hand as they stepped out of the car, a quiet laugh between them under the canopy of flashing cameras. By the next morning, their images were all over social media, sparking the inevitable buzz about their relationship.

Pedro ignored most of it.

Two days later, while sharing a quiet breakfast in a cafe with Julia, he opened Instagram out of habit, and your face appeared.

There you were, standing in the middle of some forest, your expression serene. The caption read: Surprise. A new album drops at midnight. In isolation, my imagination ran wild, and this is the result—stories and songs that flowed like rivers. I hope you love it.

The post had already gathered thousands of likes and comments, and Pedro’s chest tightened as he stared at the screen. The timing of it all was almost cruel, but it was the impact of your sudden reappearance that left him reeling. You had vanished from the public eye for so long, and now, with no warning, you were back.

That night, Pedro lay awake next to Julia, the persistent itch of insomnia dragging him out of bed. He moved quietly so as not to disturb her, slipping his earbuds in as he stepped onto the hotel balcony. His hands trembled slightly as he pulled up your new album. He hesitated for a moment, but he pressed play anyway.

For ten songs, Pedro was transfixed. Your voice wrapped around him, haunting and familiar, weaving tales of heartache and isolation. There was a rawness to your words, an unflinching honesty that pierced through the midnight air. He listened intently, picking apart the lyrics, wondering if they were about him, if the pain you sang about was shared between you. It felt like an open wound, and yet he couldn’t stop listening.

Each song was a confession. Each melody a letter never sent.

When it ended, Pedro sat in the dark, overwhelmed. The emptiness gnawed at him, and all he wanted was to call you, to talk, to hear your voice. But he didn’t.

A couple of weeks later, he found himself shamelessly googling you again, hoping for something—an interview, a post, anything—but there was nothing. You had gone silent after the album drop.

No promo, no press. Just the music and then nothing. He congratulated you once, a brief message saying how beautiful the album was. You replied with a simple, “Thank you. It means a lot.”

That was it.

July 10, 2021

Alberta, Canada

Pedro arrived in Alberta at dawn, the skies painted in soft hues of pink and orange. The cab ride to the hotel was quiet, his agent and hairstylist riding with him as they prepared for the long months ahead. Filming for The Last of Us was finally starting, and though Pedro was eager to begin, a deep nervousness tugged at him.

Julia hadn’t come with him this time, staying back in London for her own work. She promised to visit, but Pedro wasn’t sure how often. In her absence, he felt that familiar loneliness creeping in, the kind that terrified him, mostly because it left him alone with thoughts of you.

He checked into his room and sat heavily on the sofa, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes until his vision blurred. He needed to eat, to call his family, to ground himself in something, but instead, he grabbed a beer from the mini fridge and settled back into the couch. His fingers hovered over his phone again, the compulsion to check your Instagram pulling at him like a bad habit.

But, like always, there was nothing.

Your only other post had been a month ago, thanking your fans for the love on the album. He had messaged you a couple of times—small, inconsequential exchanges that left him unsatisfied. He didn’t know what he was searching for in those brief interactions, but whatever it was, it felt futile.

Then, ten minutes later, like a sign from the universe, you shared an interview. A video with you talking about your creative process. Pedro couldn’t stop himself. He grabbed his laptop, another beer, and settled in.

As he watched, he couldn’t help but stare at you. You looked radiant, sitting across from the interviewer in the backyard of your California home. The conversation was easy at first, touching on the album’s success, but then it turned more personal.

"The pandemic was really rough, and also life in general, I guess," you said, your voice quiet. "I found myself post-breakup, isolated in a cabin in Calgary, and writing was all I had. But the inspiration wasn’t just from that breakup. It came from years of… things."

The interviewer asked gently, "You mean the breakup with your most recent ex specifically?"

"Yeah," you replied, your eyes dropping for a second. "It wasn’t entirely about that. I pulled a lot from my imagination, I guess. The lines between fantasy and reality blurred, and I found myself writing from perspectives that weren’t always mine."

Pedro’s heart clenched.

"There’s a song on the album," he continued, "the final track. It’s haunting. You sing about being hurt by someone you love but being unable to let them go. Can you talk about that?"

You paused, taking a breath before you spoke. "It’s a quiet resignation," you said. "That person and I, we hurt each other, but I love them. So, I guess that’s it. It felt like the right way to end the album."

Pedro’s world stilled. He realized, in that moment, what he had been searching for all this time. He had wanted confirmation, a sign that you still loved him. And with every word you spoke, you gave it to him.

Filming for The Last of Us began a couple of days later, and though Pedro threw himself into the work, your voice lingered, ghost-like, at the back of his mind. Days turned to weeks, and as production moved into September, the physical toll started to wear on him. He spent long hours on set; the Canadian cold started biting into his bones. Bella, his co-star, became a bright spot, their energy infectious, and though they bonded quickly, Pedro felt the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him.

In the early mornings, when the world was still asleep, he would take walks to clear his head, the cold sunlight grounding him. Julia came to visit now and then, joining him on these walks, but they often ran out of things to say. He could feel the quiet disintegration of their relationship, like watching ice slowly melt into water. He didn’t know what they were holding onto anymore.

•••

When October rolled around, Pedro’s schedule clashed with the start of The Mandalorian’s third season, and it became clear that he wouldn’t be able to join the production on time. His agents scrambled to find a solution, but when Pedro’s stunt double was suggested as a replacement for the early scenes, he was left with an odd sense of detachment. And when his agent told him it had been your suggestion, something in him cracked.

The anger simmered for weeks. He felt foolish and abandoned, wondering if you had pushed him away to keep your distance. But then, just as the resentment began to harden, you showed up on set with two coffees in hand, flashing him a smile. "One iced caramel macchiato for me and one large quad over ice for you," you teased.

Pedro blinked, startled. He hadn’t expected your warmth. "Thanks," he managed, taking the coffee.

"You’re welcome," you replied brightly. "We missed you here."

"Did you?" he said, a hint of sarcasm slipping into his tone. "Because I heard it was your idea to keep me away."

Your expression twisted into confusion before you laughed. "I was just trying to make things easier. You were still filming, and I figured rushing back here would be a nightmare for you. I wasn’t plotting anything."

Pedro felt a wave of relief wash over him, mixed with the faintest trace of regret. "Well, in that case, I missed you too."

•••

For two seasons, your character hadn't seen his without the helmet. Today you were shooting the scene where, out of necessity, he reveals his face to you. It was written as a pivotal moment in your characters' relationship.

The moment the director called action, the air on set felt different. It wasn’t the usual hum of crew members shuffling in the background or the low murmur of cameras whirring. Instead, a heavy, almost sacred quiet descended, blanketing everyone as the scene unfolded. Pedro’s mind mirrored that stillness, a sudden and unnerving hush. It felt like everything outside of this moment ceased to exist, like time itself had bent inward.

And then—nothing. No words. No script. Just you, standing so close to him, your face inches from his, hands cradling his jaw.

You widened your eyes, a silent prompt, urging him to speak, to remember his lines. But all he could do was stare. He hadn’t been this close to you in months, hadn’t felt the warmth of your touch or the soft presence of your breath in what felt like a lifetime. His throat tightened, his words trapped somewhere deep inside. He knew the scene needed to move forward, but for one fragile moment, all he wanted was to keep you there, locked in this pocket of stillness, as if holding onto you would stop everything else from slipping away.

You read him, like you always did. You settled in, your hands still on his face, fingers pressing gently into his skin as if anchoring him. Then, softly, you filled the silence with a line—one that Pedro was sure wasn’t in the script, but it was perfect. You carried the scene, leading him back into it, your voice becoming the tether that pulled him out of the stillness and into motion. Pedro blinked, refocusing, forcing his body and mind to follow your lead as he finally delivered his line.

The scene moved on, but something lingered, thick and unsaid.

When filming wrapped for the day, the tension still simmered. You caught him at the edge of the lot, your expression unreadable as you approached him. Maybe you'll ask him why he froze like an idiot during that scene, or maybe you'll just walk past him without a word.

Instead, you simply asked, "Dinner?"

Pedro couldn’t say no. He never could when it came to you.

You ended up at a small sushi restaurant tucked away from the chaos of the city. The space was warm, softly lit, a sanctuary from the noise of the outside world. Pedro sat across from you, picking at a piece of sashimi, trying to focus on the conversation but finding it hard. You talked about the year you’d spent away from the spotlight and how you’d pulled back from everything.

"I mean, I’m doing this because I signed a contract," you said, lightly joking, but your eyes flickered with something that gave you away. "Disney has snipers; you know how it is."

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

Pedro chuckled, though he could hear the sadness in your voice, the weight behind your words.

"If I could’ve gotten out of it too, I would have," you added, your tone quieter, more reflective. "I guess I just needed to slow down. I’m tired of it all."

"You even skipped the Oscars," Pedro replied, taking a sip of his drink. "That's how you know it's serious."

"Yeah, I love the Oscars. Excellent champagne."

Pedro watched you closely, wanting to dig into your words to pull apart the layers of exhaustion and sadness you were burying beneath the surface. He wanted to offer you some kind of comfort, to tell you that he understood—that he, too, had been feeling the weight of it all. But the words caught in his throat. Instead, the two of you ate in silence, the kind of quiet that wasn’t uncomfortable but spoke volumes.

There was something about being with you, even without words, that felt…right.

Later, as he lay in bed, his mind kept returning to you, to your confession. He wondered what you weren’t telling him, what you were holding back. But as much as he wanted to reach out to ask, he couldn't.

The next morning, Pedro was on a flight back to Canada. The weeks that followed blurred into a rhythm of cold, grueling days on set and long, sleepless nights. He threw himself into The Last of Us, trying to lose himself in the work, but no matter how hard he tried, thoughts of you crept back in. You were there, always, lingering in the corners of his mind, and Julia could sense it.

She didn’t say anything at first, but Pedro could feel it—the slow unraveling of their relationship. It wasn’t sudden, like a crash or an explosion; it was quiet, a gradual dissolution. Every day, a little more slipped away. He wasn’t sure what he had expected from this relationship, from this life they had built together. Did he think they would buy a house, start a family? Had he ever really seen himself in this life with her, or was it just easier to disappear into hers?

Finally, Julia said it. Brightly, almost too casually. "I think maybe we’re done."

Pedro didn’t fight it. He didn’t have the energy. "Yeah," he murmured. "I think that was my fault."

•••

Christmas and New Year’s came and went in a blur. Pedro went to Chile for a few weeks, seeking the comfort of home, of family. There, surrounded by his siblings and nephews, he found a brief pause, a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in a while. But even in the warmth of his childhood home, memories of you still haunted him. He saw you in every corner, heard your laughter in the echo of the hallways.

One night, after too many glasses of wine, he called you on a whim. It wasn’t about anything important—just small talk, catching up. You sounded good, better than the last time you spoke, but there was a distance in your voice, a kind of finality that made Pedro’s heart sink. For some reason, he didn’t tell you about his breakup. He kept that part of his life hidden, not out of secrecy but because it felt irrelevant at that moment.

What would it change? What did it matter?

You didn’t talk much after that. Your silence felt deliberate, not like a missed connection but a closed door. It was as if you were telling him, without saying it outright, that this was where it ended.

In the days that followed, Pedro did his best to push you out of his mind, but it didn’t take long for the thoughts to creep back in. They always did. Anger. Sadness. Regret. They whispered in his ear, insidious and unrelenting, reminding him of what he had lost, of what he could never quite hold on to.

February 7, 2022

Los Angeles, California

The suitcase lay open on the bed, half-packed, with clothes spilling over the edges like an unspoken reflection of your mind. Each item you folded and placed inside felt heavy, as if carrying pieces of the last year with you. Taylor sat cross-legged in the chair by the window, scrolling through her phone while talking, but her words barely reached you over the noise in your head.

“I’m surprised you said yes, that’s all,” she said, her voice light with curiosity. “You’ve basically been a hermit for a year now.”

You laughed softly, your hands smoothing over the fabric of a sweater. “I needed the break, you know that. ”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push yet. You were grateful for the acceptance, even if you knew she was waiting to bring it up again, the same way she always did.

“One day, you’ll tell me what really happened,” Taylor continued, her voice taking on a familiar teasing edge. “You'll tell me what had you sulking at home like a sad Victorian poet for a whole year.”

You folded another shirt and placed it in the suitcase before responding, “I’ve told you countless times. Nothing happened other than…he got a girlfriend, and I stayed out of the way. That’s it.”

Taylor squinted at you as if she didn’t quite believe it, her eyes narrowing with the kind of suspicion only a close friend could afford to show. “Aha,” she said slowly, drawing out the sound.

You rolled your eyes but smiled.

“I wasn't sulking,” you admitted, trying to keep your tone light. “I was…relaxing. It was my year of rest and relaxation.”

She chuckled at that. “Good one, smarty pants."

Outside, a breeze rustled through the palm trees, carrying the scent of jasmine and the distant hum of LA traffic. You imagined the street below, the shuffling of photographers leaning against their cars, lighting cigarettes, and murmuring to each other. They had become a permanent fixture, appearing gradually over the months, staking out your house like ghosts waiting for you to return to life.

It never ceased to surprise you how much people cared about what you did off-screen. You couldn’t just let your work stand for itself. No, you had to prove yourself over and over again, reminding the world that you were still an asset, still someone worth admiring.

You shrugged, half-smiling, but there was something sad in it. “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m only doing this because I've been dying to work with this director, and it’s a closed set. Once those eight weeks are up, it’s back to my hermit status.”

Taylor shook her head with a dramatic sigh. “So we’re missing the Oscars again this year?”

You threw a pair of socks at her, chuckling. “Seems like it.”

But inside, everything wasn’t as lighthearted as your words. Last year, you’d taken a step back from the spotlight, and while you didn’t want to attribute it to the hurt you were feeling over Pedro, the truth was, it had everything to do with him. Well, at least a huge chunk of it. It hurt not to have him. It hurt to see someone else kiss him, hold his hand so freely, so easily. The pain wrapped itself around you like a second skin.

The world expected you to bounce back, to emerge from this self-imposed exile with a smile and a perfect soundbite. But the truth was messier. You had spent a year nursing a heart that hadn’t fully healed. You loved Pedro in a way that still hurt, in a way that sometimes made you feel like a child who didn’t understand why they couldn’t have the one thing they wanted most. You wanted to be the bigger person, the one who could let him go gracefully, but instead, you had hidden.

You were blue all the time. Some days were okay; some days you barely got out of bed.

There were moments it felt paralyzing. The weight of the world outside your window, the expectations, the love you still felt for him—all of it crushed you. Some days, you simply couldn’t move. You stayed curled up in the safety of your blankets, staring blankly at the ceiling.

It wasn’t long before someone intervened. Your PA was that someone.

She didn’t push you at first. She’d just knock on your door, leave food outside, and ask if you needed anything. You’d spent three weeks in your room, moving only to get water or occasionally sit by the window.

One afternoon, Renata came in and found you in the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. She placed a sandwich she brought on the counter and looked at you, her voice careful, but firm. “You need to talk to someone.”

“I’m talking to you,” you replied simply, taking a sip of water.

“No, you know what I mean. A professional. It’s okay if you don’t feel…” She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to.

“I’m fine,” you said, starting to walk toward the stairs.

“You’re not going to eat?” she called after you.

“Not hungry, but thanks,” you mumbled, disappearing into your room again.

But Renata didn’t let it go. She pushed gently, week after week, until finally, you let her schedule an appointment. She promised not to say anything to anyone, especially Taylor. You didn’t want to worry her.

The word depression had seemed too big to say aloud, too heavy, but that’s exactly the word your psychiatrist had used.

“You’ll need to take these every morning,” he said, handing you a small prescription bottle. “And it would be good to write how you feel. Keep track of things.”

You sat there, legs crossed in an oversized chair, staring at the prescription bottle in your hand.

•••

You watched from the sidelines as Pedro continued to rise, landing roles in The Last of Us, becoming the face everyone adored. You were thrilled for him, of course, but the distance between you felt insurmountable.

The only interaction you had was through a comment on his Instagram post, and even then, you weren’t sure if it meant anything. You didn't dare to call him on his birthday; you didn't want to stain his day with sadness. Every time you looked at your phone, tears threatened to spill. You felt as if the moment he spoke into the phone, you might collapse.

He's better off; he might not even notice.

The album you dropped in the spring had been a release of every emotion you hadn’t been able to speak aloud. Each song was laced with love and loss, heartbreak and longing; every note was a confession you’d never let yourself voice. You wondered if he listened to it—if the lyrics registered with him, if he knew they were about him.

That same week, you saw photos of him in London, holding her hand. You cried yourself to sleep that night.

The months passed in a blur of avoidance. You busied yourself at home with anything you could find that didn’t involve thinking about him. You did the one interview your publicist insisted on. It was with Zane Lowe; you liked him, so it was mostly okay. You found yourself talking about the songs you wrote during that time. As you listened to your own words, you realized that the music had given you a voice when you felt silenced by heartache.

It was a bittersweet realization.

By October, filming for The Mandalorian had loomed on the horizon, and when you found out Pedro was still tied up in Canada, you suggested beginning production without him. It felt easier that way, like a reprieve. But when he finally arrived on set, the connection between you two still crackled beneath the surface. There was an unspoken understanding in the way he looked at you during that intense scene—the one where your character saw his face for the first time. He froze, and you wondered what was running through his mind—what thoughts had stopped him from continuing.

You hesitated, but after the scene wrapped, you found yourself asking him to dinner. It was a slippery slope. You could pretend you were okay all you wanted in the brief moments between takes, offering coffee and smiles, but no one saw right through you like him.

Still, you asked. It was a small gesture, just a way to extend the fragile thread of connection between you, to hold onto him for a little longer before he left again.

But you’d learned how to stay in your lane. You’d learned how to love him from a distance, how to let him be happy with someone else. It was an act of love, really—letting him go, stepping aside to give him the space to live a life that didn’t include you. At least that’s what you told yourself.

Taylor’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “Do you think you could be a hermit in Greece next? I could use a vacation.”

May 29, 2022

Los Angeles, California

Between promoting The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent and wrapping up the final scenes of The Last of Us in Canada, he had little time to do, well, anything else really.

It was late May, just after the Star Wars Celebration. He’d worn a blue two-piece set that felt more like pajamas than anything formal, which was fine by him. Comfort was the priority these days.

But something was missing. You. You hadn’t been there. Out of everyone from the cast, you were the only one absent, and that absence settled like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

"She’s just taking time off," he’d tell himself, repeating the words like a mantra. “She’s probably busy; she's okay.” But the nagging feeling wouldn’t leave him alone.

Pedro had even caved one evening, calling Taylor. It had been late, after a full day of press, his voice rough from interviews and late-night whiskey. He had only meant for it to be one drink. But then he thinks back to the fact that you've plagued his dreams every night this week and that there was a song he kept hearing repeatedly that reminded him of you, and one drink had turned to three, and now here he is.

“Taylor?” He had sounded more vulnerable than he intended. “Is she... I mean, everything’s okay, right?”

Taylor had reassured him, of course, her voice patient, telling him you were fine, that you just were busy. Pedro wanted to believe her, but it gnawed at him. Something felt off.

He still woke up some mornings with the urge to tell you something, a joke he heard or a weird dream he had.

•••

By August he found himself in Spain, the arid heat of the desert sinking into his skin as filming for Strange Way of Life began. The project felt like a strange departure—something raw and gritty, something that required his full attention—but even then, in quiet moments between takes, his mind wandered. He’d sit in his trailer, his phone in hand, thumb hovering over your contact name, but the messages stayed unsent.

The days passed in a blur of rehearsals, early morning call times, and late-night script revisions. He spent his downtime with Ethan, exchanging stories over beers. But there was a quietness to Pedro that hadn’t been there before—a missing piece of him he couldn’t quite place.

•••

November 22, 2022

Miami, Florida

The night was sweltering; even by late fall standards, the air was thick and humid. Pedro was grinning, wearing a loose-fitting animal print shirt that made him feel playful, like he was stepping into some exaggerated version of himself for the evening. Lux was by his side, vibrant as always, their laughter mingling with the clink of glasses as they arrived at a wine event.

But it didn’t take long for Lux to notice the shadow that hung over him.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said, side-eyeing him as they sipped their drinks by the bar.

“I’ve been busy,” Pedro answered vaguely, swirling his glass and watching the amber liquid catch the light.

“Sure,” Lux replied, smirking. “And when are you both going to stop being idiots? It’s getting tiresome, hermanito.”

Pedro nearly choked on his drink, laughing in surprise. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Lux’s voice was matter-of-fact, cutting through his defenses with that typical bluntness only siblings could pull off. “You and her. It’s obvious. To everyone.”

Pedro sighed, leaning back against the bar, the Miami night buzzing around them. “It’s not that simple.”

Lux raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’re both so afraid of what might happen that you’re stuck in this limbo. It’s ridiculous. Why let it get this bad?”

Pedro stared into his glass, her words echoing in his head.

"Because I love her," Pedro finally admitted, his voice quieter, weighed down by the truth. He stared down at his drink, swirling the ice around the glass. "I love her so much I’m willing to let her go."

Lux didn’t say anything.

Pedro shook his head, a bitter smile playing at his lips. "I would only hold her back. I know her so well. She’d sacrifice things just to be with me, and I can’t let her do that. I would only hold her back. She deserves so much better."

Lux tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “And what if what she wants is you? What if she’s out there feeling the same way, thinking she’s the one who isn’t good enough for you? Do you ever think about that?”

Pedro let out a slow breath, his shoulders sagging under the weight of it all. "Of course I’ve thought about it. Every day. But what if I’m wrong? What if she gives up things she shouldn’t for me? I can’t let her do that, Lux."

Lux leaned in closer, her voice gentle but firm. "Maybe it’s not your decision to make. Maybe she deserves the choice. Don’t you think it’s a bit arrogant to assume what’s best for her without even asking?"

Pedro met her gaze, feeling exposed. “I just... I don’t want to mess it up. I don’t want to ruin her life.”

Lux smiled, but it wasn’t pitying. It was knowing, soft around the edges. "You’re not ruining anything by loving her. But keeping it to yourself? That’s where the damage is, hermanito. You think you’re protecting her, but all you’re doing is pushing her away. And trust me, that hurts more than anything else."

He had always been so afraid of losing you, so terrified of not being enough, that he hadn’t even realized how much distance he had created.

Lux’s voice softened again, the words cutting through the noise in his mind. "She deserves better, Pedro? Maybe. But who says you don’t deserve her, too?"

a/n: please like, reblog and comment! i love reading your thoughts!! next part will be posted in a bit ;) aaaand something might be happening ;)

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 15

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 2615

Warnings: Angst, suspense, emotional situations, The Tension is Growing, Premonitions.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 15

For a while, you just sat there, your emotions running completely rampant as your thoughts ran laps around your mind. They all knew something that you hadn’t been told. Whatever it was, it wasn’t in your parent's letters, and it was more than Dean had already told you, which you thought had been everything.

Even if you still weren’t convinced he was your soul mate, you had kept your distance from him, only keeping things to friendship. The thought of the whole soul mate thing made your mind snap back to how you’d ended up alone in this room and looked around for a mirror. Finding one hanging over the dresser, you walked over to it and moved your dress so you could see what had only been incoherent lines.

You felt a knot in your stomach as you looked at it. The only letter that had come in was the last one, an n. 

There are other names that end with the letter ‘n.’

You needed to write down every tidbit of information you had at the moment. Quickly scanning the room, you found a notepad and a pen on one of the nightstands. 

No mark at 16. Parents killed at 2. Wounded soul. Shunned by town. Winchesters showed up 3 months before my 25th birthday. Promotion at garage and became Dean’s boss. They joked about him not doing anything funny with me. Sam and Dean knew I didn’t get my mark. Have to fully heal to get my mark. Dean knew something when he met me, and so did the boys at the garage. I could talk to Dean, easily, honestly. He saw me at school. Lisa isn’t Dean’s soulmate. Bobby had us work together on Dean’s first day, and we became friends, quickly. Dean was always thinking of me. The adults knew about the marriage contract and never told me, and they knew my parents hid key documents. Bobby and John were thankful Dean and I hit it off so quickly and became friends.

The more you wrote out, the faster your heart began beating. Most of that had only happened within the first month of meeting the Winchesters. There was so much more that was there, and you needed to see how it all fit together, like the parts of a car. That was how your mind worked, slowly seeing the connections. You’d never wanted to hope to find your soulmate, even after what Dean had said.

My parents left me letters, telling me about the Vaughts. The Vaughts knew what would happen if I lost my parents. They knew about my lineage. They knew I would be an empath.

That last line made you stop and think further.

Wait. Why would that matter? What would be the purpose of making me marry Cole? Why is that important? What about an empath, don’t I know?

You pulled out your phone and began searching online for anything related to empaths and why they’d be important, other than in specific jobs that helped people. There were more things you probably should have written down, but with the questions plaguing your mind, you had to find answers.

Nearly an hour, perhaps longer, passed, and you were still attempting to find anything that would answer your questions. You’d made a few notes, but it was only tiny pieces. One interesting thing was that if an empath found their soulmate, they could hear each other’s thoughts, but there was no conclusive evidence on the distance that worked. That didn’t help your other questions when it came to the Vaught family.

Frustrated, you tossed your phone on the bed and looked back at the list you’d been making. Reluctantly, you picked up the pen and jotted down other things. 

Dean seemed to know what I was feeling even if I hid it. He was always there when I had a nightmare. He never pushed anything intimate. All he ever did was try to comfort me and be there for me. He said he knew I was his soulmate at 16. The Vaughts

At that moment, goosebumps ran down your entire body. The Vaughts knew he was your soulmate. Dean had explained what had happened with that woman, Lisa. Even in your parents' letters, they had told you what the Vaughts were capable of. Now you had new questions, on top of the ones before.

Why didn’t Dean get closer to you? What was holding him back? Why wouldn’t he want to help you heal by being intimately close? What did your twenty-fifth birthday have to do with it all, and why was that date so important? 

That’s when you remembered Sam had told you that the powers that be were keeping this sort of thing from making it to the regular news. You glanced at the closed door of that bedroom and sighed, setting the pen down on the notepad. Yeah, you could storm back down there and demand answers, but what would it accomplish? 

You reluctantly got up and went through your bag, finding some comfortable pajama pants and a tank top. After changing and brushing out your hair, you laid on your back on the bed. You wanted to be alone, but you wanted so badly to have Dean there holding you like he would when you typically felt like this. The fact that he hadn’t come, hurt a bit, but you told yourself he was just busy hanging out with those he hadn’t seen in a while. You’d been the one to storm off.

My life sucks.

The thought made you roll onto your side, pull one of the pillows out from under the covers, and cuddle up to it. Your mark burned again, but you ignored it, no matter how badly it stung. You didn’t want to deal with anything, feeling as overwhelmed as you did. There were far too many questions circling your mind and just as many emotions coursing through your body to let you focus on any one thing, let alone deal with any of them.

With a heavy sigh, you closed your eyes, exhausted in every sense of the word. Your body, mind, and soul needed rest. So, you let the heaviness in your eyes win, slowly closing them as your body relaxed into the mattress, letting sleep take you.

The sounds of hounds woke you sometime in the middle of the night or perhaps very early morning, pulling you from another nightmare. Your heart was pounding, and your breathing was ragged, but you forced yourself off the bed and to the window as the house seemed eerily quiet. The stillness outside on the grounds of Crowley’s property made you think the shadows were moving, watching you. A shiver ran down your body as you watched three large dogs dart across a section of lawn where a lamppost stood.

He’s here…

The thought scared you, and it was hard to breathe, as if something was pressing against your chest.

Dean…

Without thinking, you ran out of your room, needing to find him, more to reassure yourself that he was okay. Halfway down another hall, you stopped dead in your tracks as an image began forming in your mind. 

It was somewhere outside, on Crowley’s land, around his home. Four men in tactical gear were slowly making their way closer to the house, using the shadows to stay hidden. They almost reminded you of what a SWAT team looked like, guns and all. Now you saw dogs, big, black, fierce dogs, more than a dozen of them, moving in packs of three. They were hunting. They, too, were using the shadows to move, just as silently as the four men. Broken glass and a silent gunshot in one of the rooms of the house. The room was blurry, and hard to make out the details. Someone was sitting on the edge of the bed, and there was a dart on the person's neck, but you couldn’t make out enough details.

You shook your head a bit, pushing the images away. With the emotions swirling through your mind and body, you took a shaky breath, steadying your nerves. Something you had read online teased its way through your mind. 

Follow the thread.

For a moment, you closed your eyes, taking slow, deep breaths and letting them out just as slowly. You knew that in order to find it, you had to accept that Dean was your soul mate, which both terrified you and brought you a sense of peace. When you opened your eyes again, you turned to the direction you’d come from, feeling a strange pull.

The darkness in Crowley’s mansion wasn’t what brought the feelings of dread that seemed to seep into your nerves. It was the eerie silence, not even the dogs outside making a sound. The shadows seemed to dance or move of their own accord. You set your hand on the wall, letting it guide you through the darkness.

You tried to find that thread, but it eluded you. Some light came in through the large windows near the stairs that led down the main room. For a moment, you looked outside. The grounds were still, and that stillness felt out of place. A shiver ran down your spine as the hair on the back of your neck stood on end. It was like someone was watching you.

When you were able to pull your gaze from the window, you continued down the stairs, creeping quietly through the main entrance. Cautiously, you opened the dining area doors. You almost felt like a mouse thrown into a game of cat and mouse that you had no control over. Swallowing hard, you looked under the table. You let out a sigh of relief, having found nothing there. Finally managing a deep breath, you pushed yourself through the dining room and into the kitchen. 

The light wasn’t on, none of them were, and you hadn’t come across anyone, not even servants. For a moment, you thought you’d seen the flash of a light outside one of the kitchen windows. Slowly, you crept closer to it, cautiously glancing around. Your heart was pounding so loud you were sure it would give away your location. 

A shadow that moved in the darkness outside the window sent a wave of fear throughout your body. Slowly, your hand covered your mouth, and you began backing up just as slowly. Someone came up behind you when you reached the center of the kitchen, wrapping one arm around you and putting a hand over your mouth. Just as you were about to scream, he spoke.

“Shhh, it’s me, Sweetheart,” he whispered softly, slowly taking his hand from your mouth.

You swung around in his arms and wrapped yours over his shoulders. “I was so worried something had happened to you,” you whispered, keeping your voice down.

“I’m okay,” Dean quietly tried to reassure you, holding you close, while also keeping a watchful eye. “Come on, it’s not safe here.”

Dean quietly but quickly led you to what looked like a study. There were no windows here, but the entire staff, Crowley, and Benny were there. There were also a couple of other men, although you hadn’t met them before. Dean pulled you into his arms after he closed and locked the door, wanting to help calm your nerves.

“Good, you found her,” Crowley said, both relieved and pleased, but he wasn’t happy that Dean had gone looking for you.

Dean just shot him a glare but stayed quiet; his focus was only on you now. Benny stayed leaning against a nearby wall, his arms crossed, unhappy with the situation.

“What’s going on?” you finally asked in a whisper, not wanting to mention the images you’d seen from earlier.

“Nick isn’t one to follow the orders of anyone,” Crowley sighed. “It’s why I arranged to have the three of you brought here until the next court date. The FBI isn’t capable of keeping anyone safe from that family.” 

Slowly, you looked over at him but stayed in Dean’s arms. “You knew they’d come after me?” you asked, a little confused.

“Love, he’s not just after you. He needs leverage, to make you comply. Figured you would have realized that already.” Crowley stated as he shot Dean a knowing look, which you didn’t miss. “That whole family knows they only have so much time before you’re useless to them.”

That made your brow furrow in complete confusion. You pulled away from Dean, looking up at him, now needing answers. “What haven’t you told me?” you asked him bluntly, but also were terrified of the answer.

You saw the sadness flash across his eyes before he hid it, even if he couldn’t look at you. “If Cole marries you before your mark comes in, it won’t matter who your soulmate is, your mark will change to his name, because you’re an empath.” Dean finally confessed quietly.

The silence in the room was deafening, but your heart was pounding, and again, it felt like you could barely breathe. For several moments, all you could do was stand there in a state of shock. It was the final piece to the puzzle that made everything else make sense, and the thought of that terrified you. 

“How do I make my mark come in all the way?” you asked quietly, your voice shaky, and your nerves felt like they were all exposed and firing all at once.

Dean finally met your gaze, as it had never left him. There was pain and hurt in his eyes, but you also saw a hint of hope. You could see his hesitation like he wanted desperately to give you the answer, but something was holding him back.

“Bloody hell,” Crowley’s exasperated words broke the silence. “If you don’t tell her, I will.”

That made both you and Dean jump a little, but you never looked away from him, even when he shot Crowley another glare before looking at you again. He managed a deep breath, but it was shaky. Before he could open his mouth to say anything, the man who had been standing near Crowley, watching monitors, spoke up.

“The Hellhounds have done their job. I’ll inform the police and the FBI,” the man told Crowley, his British accent thick.

Crowley took an annoyed breath, “Thank you, Ketch. You may all return to your rooms. The situation has been handled.”

With a heavy heart, you went to the door first, unlocked it, and headed toward your room. The staff followed you out, Ketch bringing up the rear, but Dean and Benny stayed behind with Crowley. You rubbed the place where your mark was, your gaze on the floor as you slowly made your way back to your room.

Dean’s words seemed to play on repeat through your mind. At least now you understood why the powers that be had kept something like this under wraps. If it got out, there were far too many grim possibilities that could happen. What was bugging you was that Dean knew more; they all did, and you still hadn’t gotten all the answers you needed.

You closed your bedroom door but couldn’t relax, so you paced a few feet from the foot of the bed. Your mind swam with questions. After several minutes, you finally just plopped down on the foot of your bed, frustrated, when you felt a sharp stinging feeling on the side of your neck. Just as you reached for it and your vision went blurry, someone came into view as they stepped out of the closet, and then everything went black.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 16 - Coming soon

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[farshootergotme]

Do you know if Dick has ever struggled with drinking in canon?? Besides when he was Ric maybe (bc he consistently hung out in a bar). Bc I've seen a few people say he has in the past but I haven't seen any comic panels/proof saying or implying he did. Just curious :3

I don't think I've ever heard of him having any trouble with an alcohol addiction before?

As far as I'm aware, he only drinks every once in a (long) while, most often when he's hanging out with friends, which is as often as the average person (legally) drinks.

Nightwing 1996 #141

Nightwing 2016 #15

(Tried to find more moments, but only found these two with Wally. It's possible there's more though, but as you can see, it isn't so common as to easily find anything about it)

And here's yet another moment with Wally in which they go out together to a bar but this time don't order any acholic drinks, which shows he isn't all that inclined to drink even if he has the chance to.

Nightwing 2016 #21

(Or perhaps he only feels comfortable doing so in a safe space where danger is much less likely to be present? Since we can see both times he's seen with alcohol he's at his house)

One more example of this: Dick drinking water while Bruce is holding a glass of wine.

Tales of the Teen Titans #50

(but it could be possible that in this occasion it's because Dick wasn't old enough to drink since I believe he's around 19-20 in this panel, and during the 80's the legal age was already raised to 21)

So, yeah, no struggles with drinking from Dick. I'd even say we've seen him more often drinking coffee or preferring tea without even considering alcohol.

From what I know, Roy is the only one who's dealt with an addiction in the main Titans team. And in the batfamily, Jason is the one I'd say has a liking for drinking, but not to the point of it becoming a struggle. Or perhaps Bruce you could also count as he often attends dinner parties in which is courtesy to drink something, but knowing him he'd probably avoid drinking too much since most nights he needs to go out patrolling and alcohol certainly wouldn't help with that.

If there's anything Dick's addicted to is work. He's the biggest workaholic you'll ever meet. To him relaxing means doing missions and capturing criminals, and when he should be resting because he's in no shape to do that, he's solving cases or working out because he can't stay still without doing anything useful with his time.

And well, can't really blame him when work is really one of the few things he's known since little. It wasn't what one would picture when someone says "job", but at the circus he was technically working with his parents by being part of the act.

But this isn't related to what you asked, so I'll stop myself there.

Hope this helps answering your question!

[justmeinadaze]

Nothing's Gonna Change My World (Steddie X You)(90s Universe)

A/N: I hope you like this. It's a new style for me and I have all the ideas for this. Each chapter will be a different universe. <3

Warnings: Steddie X Fem Y/N, The universe they view the first time is a 90s esc style one with Punk Boy in a Band Steve/ Entrepreneur Eddie and Regular 90's girl Y/N. SMUT, light spanking, daddy kink with Eddie (because Im me), and everything in between

ANGST (again because I'm me)

Y/N's kinda blah about the experiment mentioning she's only doing it for the money, mentions of cheating (her ex cheats on her), mentions of alcoholism (briefly touched on)(reader almost breaks her sobriety until Steve appears), mentions of loss of sibling (brief), these three get feisty with each other near the end. Slight cliffhanger ending I guess? There's some things we're going to learn about these three as the chapters go along.

Word Count: 6282

Donate/Tip Me

2075

“Ok, thank you all for coming and being apart of our experiment. I’m just going to go over some rules, guidelines and answer any questions you may have.”

You sigh and fold your arms as you drown out the sound of the doctor in front of you. Could you really call him a doctor? When you signed up to do this, he introduced himself as an inventor and scientist. You genuinely didn’t care either way. All that mattered to you was the ten grand payout you were expected to receive when this stupid thing was over. 

“As stated previously, you will be here for about 3 weeks. You will be provided meals and beds free of charge but any additives like cigarettes or candy do cost extra.”

A boy snorted as he laughed under his breath drawing your attention. There was a total of about 15 people in the room but this boy stood out a bit more. It could be because you saw him outside of the building smoking when you were leaving your first initial interview but he seemed a lot less “put together” than the people around you.

Every participant was given a white shirt with white sweatpants to wear and just like everyone else in the city most of the people were fairly clean cut with their hair pulled or slicked back, little to no makeup, and their face clean shaven. This boy had long, wavy hair that hung around to his shoulders and it seemed like he hadn’t brushed it in months. He dawned tattoos on his arms that had some of the people around him flashing him dirty looks like he was unkempt. 

You had a tattoo but it was hidden under your shirt by your heart where only you would see it. 

When his chocolate-colored eyes briefly locked with yours, you shifted your gaze back to the man who was speaking. 

“Every other day, you will be in the vessel for 4 hours and we do administer a calming agent to make sure you’re relaxed through the experiment.”

“Why? I thought you said this wasn’t dangerous.”, a woman interrupts beside you.

“It’s not, Mrs. Lynette, but it can be slightly…jarring… to see yourself in a different environment. We want you as relaxed as possible.”

“Excuse me. Can you explain that a bit more, please? Different environment.”, a boy asks as he leans forward with his elbows on his knees. 

You ran into this boy as well after your interview. He bumped into you as you were opening the door to leave, mumbling an apology before holding it open wider for you to step through. His smell always lingered with you even when you went back home, trying to identify where you knew it from. It was definitely cologne but it felt so familiar. 

He seemed like everyone else around him with all of his hair pushed back and his face clean of any stubble but his body language screamed that he was different. Up until this point, will everyone was sitting up straight and listening, he was leaning back with his large palms rubbing his knees as his long legs rested out in front of him. 

After asking his question, he glanced towards you before you both looked towards the doctor.

“It’s hard to explain but the best way I can is you will getting glimpses into different universes and realties. They are you just in a different plain so to speak.”

“Will we be hurt or anything?”, someone else asked.

“No, not in this universe anyway. You are only an observer. You won’t be able to interact or change anything.”

“So what’s the point of this experiment exactly?”, you ask more so out of curiosity than anything. 

The doctor smiles as he presses his clipboard to his chest. 

“To learn. Learn about other worlds, other universes, other ways we can make this universe better.” Your eyebrows raise sarcastically as you huff and gross your legs. “You guys will be the first people to test this system out so we’re hoping for a fun and unique month.”

“Will we be running into each other? What do we do if that happens?”, a man inquired. 

“We chose participants at random from different backgrounds with different circumstances and add in that there are so many factors that branch out universes or timelines. The chances of you running into someone in this room are one in a trillion. Less than even…”

You began to tune him out again until the feeling of hand touching your arm got your attention as you and the other participants were led to a large white room with 15 different pods or “vessels” as he called them. The nurse who guided you, held your hand as you stepped in and laid down in the somewhat comfy Styrofoam bed underneath you.

“Alright, Miss Y/L/N, you’re going to feel a slight pinch…” You hissed as the needle pierced your arm but the effects were instant as you laid your head back and felt your body calm. “Good. Now I’m just going to put these goggles over your eyes. This is what will allow you to see the universe. Remember, you’re just watching not interacting.”

“Okay.”, you murmured as you allowed her to place the bulky equipment over your head.

The sound of the pod closing had your fingers twitching as sounds around you became muffled. 

“Alright, Miss Y/L/N, dropping down in 3, 2, 1—”

##################

You sat in your car staring at the stupid club sign debating if you should go in or drive away. You had been sober for the past 3 years but your ex-boyfriend (as of today) decided to cheat on you with a friend from his office and all you wanted to do was drown your sorrows in booze. 

“Kallie, I’m sorry.”, you whisper as you open your car door and are promptly hit with freezing cold winds. After running to the front door, you show the man your id and he allows you entry. 

Smoothing down your hair, you quickly remove your jacket and hand it to the person behind the counter and thank her as you take the ticket you’re handed. The beeper clasped to your hip beeped but you continued to ignore it knowing who it was. 

As you take a seat at the bar, you glance around at the people dancing under the ambient red light while the band continues to play a slow but rhythmic song that even has you sway. 

“What would you like to drink, Miss?”, the bartender asks and you order the first thing that comes to mind. 

Feeling eyes on you, your gaze shifts towards the stage to see the bands guitarist eyeing you before giving you a soft wink and a smile. At the action, you suddenly feel under dressed in your overalls and long sleeve turtleneck that hugs your figure. 

The man focused on his music again and you couldn’t but watch how his fingers moved across the strings of his instrument. He reminded you of a lead singer from any 90s punk band with his hair slightly spiked up but haphazardly flowing every which way and his black polo clinging to his upper torso to show off every muscle and tattoo he had. His jeans left little to the imagination but you loved the black and white converse that he showed off when jumping into the air as he played out the final song. 

When he laughed and high fived his friend, he scrunched his nose and showed off his teeth making you smile as jealously panged your heart. You wished you were as happy as he seemed. 

Your drink was placed in front of you and you stared at the contents as your fingers played with the rim of the bottle. 

“Are you hoping to drink it with osmosis or?” You had been focusing so hard on your brain you didn’t even notice the guitarist had come up beside you causing you to jump when he spoke. “Whoa! I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you alright?”

God, he smells amazing.

“I’m ok. I was just…lost in my head.”

“I can understand that. I’m, uh, Steve, Steve Harrington.”

“Nice to meet you.”, you smile as you shake his extended hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N…that’s a beautiful name.”

“Thank you.” Clearing your throat, you try to regain control as you gesture towards the stage. “You guys sounded amazing up there.”

“Thank you, thank you so much. My friend taught me how to play and I’ve been doing it ever sense. I love the rush I get you know?”

“Yeah, I have some idea.”

His amber eyes scan you over as he takes in your soft smile and jittery hands.

“Hey. I have an idea. We’re going to an after party down the street at my friend’s house. His uncle makes a ton of money so he has like this huge mansion we all hang out in after a gig. Would you like to come? He’s a cool dude.”

You weren’t sure what it was about this boy but you felt safe with him. You felt like you had known him for years but you couldn’t figure out how or why. Following your gut, you threw money on the table and started to head towards the front to get your coat. 

“You didn’t finish your drink!”

“I don’t need to, Steve Harrington.”

“Would you mind if I ride with you? We all take a van here.”, the man asks as he slings on his jacket and he grins when your fingers graze his patches. 

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Y/N! I have been looking everywhere for you! Why the fuck are you at a bar?!”, your ex shouts as he meets you halfway up the parking lot. 

“That’s none of your fucking business! Get out of my way!”

“You know you shouldn’t be drinking!”

“And you know you shouldn’t be fucking other women yet here we are.”, you growl as you dig for your keys. 

A hand reaches out to touch you but it’s swiftly pulled back when Steve grabs his wrist. 

“Don’t fucking touch her.”

“Who the fuck is this?!”

As your ex pushes his hand away and steps towards you, the other man steps between you and shoves him back. 

“I’m not going to tell you again. Don’t touch her. It sounds like she’s done with you. Now get the fuck out of here.”

“Or what?”

Again, he steps forward but this time Steve’s fist flies hitting your ex hard in the face. 

“I warned you, asshole.”

As the bouncer comes out to see what’s going on, you hastily grab his arm and run to your car.

***

“Wow. Your friend lives here?”, you ask as you pull up to a two-story large house that took up most of the square footage of the area. “How did you two meet?”

“Um, high school?”, he answers before shutting his door and running around to open yours. “His uncle owns the factory up north and makes a ton of cash. He’s a cool dude and people love working with him.”

“Is that what your friend does?”

“Uh no. Eddie is kind of a freelancer, I guess you would say? He designs websites for people trying to utilize the world wide web. With this whole dot.com thing, he makes good money to. Designed our bands website.”

Steve didn’t even knock before entering the home but the party was in full swing as people around you were cozying up on couches and music blared. There was a pool out back where you could see people diving in and splashing around while couples clung to each other in their swimsuits. The man beside you high-fived people as he passed them, banging his head to the bass as it blared. 

Guiding you around a corner, there were a bunch of boys in front of a big screen tv, screaming towards it as they button mashed the Nintendo 64 controller. 

“Ah come on, man! Fuck you! You can’t use swords when I only have this knife!”

“Pick a better character than, Henderson! Boom!”, a long-haired boy shouted playfully as the character on the screen died. “And that is how you win, baby.”

Grinning wide, he ruffled the boy’s curls before standing and stepping over the back of his sofa.

“Harrington! Hey, man. How was the show?”

“Phenomenal as always.”, Steve beamed as he hugged his friend. “Hey, I want you to meet Y/N. Y/N, this is my friend Eddie Munson.”

As you reached out to shake his hand, he took hold of your own and kissed the back of it as he bowed in front of you.

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart. Can I offer you anything to drink? A beer maybe?”

“Oh, um, no thank you. I don’t…I don’t drink.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed as he scanned you over but he chose not to press you on the issue. 

“Not a problem. Let’s head upstairs so we can talk somewhere quieter.”

Still clinging to your palm, Eddie guided as the other boy followed and you took this time to visually take in the boy in front of you. His long hair was pulled back so you could see the beautiful features in his face and the stubble that dusted his upper lip. While everyone else seemed more casual, he was dressed in a button up shirt with black slacks as if he had just got off from some corporate job. 

Like with the other man, something about this boy told you that you could trust him. You had spent your whole life struggling especially within the last 6 years and besides Kallie never felt safe around anyone or anywhere. Even with your boyfriend, you were always afraid something bad was about to happen and oddly enough when it did you weren’t surprised. 

“Welcome to my cozy nook away from the craziness.”, Eddie beams as he falls theatrically into a bean bag on the floor. “Y/N, I know you don’t drink but may I offer you some weed?”

Reaching behind him, he produces a little black box and pulls out some bud that he begins to roll. 

***

You cackle as you laugh at a story Eddie had just told that had both boys beaming your way. 

“Oh my god, it’s 3am. We’ve been up here for almost 4hrs. Do you need to get back to your guests?”

“My moochers? No, sweetheart, I don’t.”, the man answers in a husky drawl that makes you feel warm. “Honestly, Steve here is the only person who doesn’t use me for my cash or free shit so that’s why as soon as he arrives at my place, we come up here.”

“Hm…must be kind of lonely. Not knowing who you can trust.”, you reply absently causing their heads to tilt. “I can understand that.”

“Yeah, poor girl’s going through a breakup.”, Steve relays causing you to sit up and cross your legs. “Something about him cheating?”

“Yeah, um, I came home from work early and they were… fucking asshole. I’m not sure how he knew what bar I was at but—”

“Especially since he seemed to think you shouldn’t be there.” At his comment, you and Eddie shift your gaze his way before your head hangs. “Something about how you shouldn’t be drinking. It’s weird when I met you, you were sitting at the bar with a drink in your hand but you weren’t drinking it.”

When you didn’t respond, Eddie clapped his hands and tossed a smile your way. 

“I have an idea. Let’s play truth or dare. It will help us get to know each other better and you can find out how much of a whiney bitch Steven is.”

The man narrows his eyes jokingly at his friend as you laugh. 

“Harrington, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Is it true… that every time your dad pisses you off you get a new tattoo?”

“Oh yeah. That’s why I have so many.”, he sasses, playfully widening his eyes as he removes his shirt to show them off. “I got this one on my stomach when my dad told me I was a waste of space for running off to join a band.”

“Steve…I’m so sorry.”, you try to comfort, reaching out to run your palm along his warm skin.

“Ed, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Is it true…is it true you don’t smoke?”

Eddie flashes his friend a disgusted face before showing of the joint in his fingers. 

“I only smoke the green stuff, my friend. I used to smoke cigarettes but after a doctor told me I was at risk because my mom died of cancer I quit the stuff.”

“That’s really good. I’m proud of you.”, you grin.

“Thank you, princess. Maybe you can help me talk Tom Delonge over here into stopping.”, he chuckles as Steve lightly kicks his friend’s knee with his bare feet. “Alright, Y/N. Truth or dare?”

“Um, truth.”

“Is it true what your boyfriend said? That you shouldn’t be drinking.”

You blink, taken off guard by his question as both men’s eyes bore into your frame. 

“It’s not that I shouldn’t be. I choose not to.”

“Why?”

“I, um, I used to be an alcoholic. When I drank…I got stupid…and people got hurt.” You glance their way expecting judgement like everyone else in your life but when you’re met with their soft eyes, you smile towards Steve. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Is it true you think less of me because I almost broke my sobriety tonight?”

As your head slightly hangs, he reaches out with his fingers to lift your chin. 

“No, it’s not true. I get it, honey. Fucking asshole broke your heart and you just wanted the pain to stop. He had no right coming at you the way he did like he’s your fucking dad or something.” You can’t help but exhale as his thumb caresses your cheek before dropping his hand back around his legs and focusing on Eddie. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Is it true you think less of Y/N?”

“God no. I think she’s strong, funny, and extremely beautiful.” You blush at his compliment, reaching out to lightly swat his arm before he swiftly grabs your wrist and pulls you closer to his lap. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

The long-haired boy smiles mischievously at your answer.

“I dare you…to kiss Steve.”

“You don’t want to kiss me?”, you ask incredulously as his grin widens.

“I do but I don’t want Harrington to think I’m trying to steal you away.”

Releasing you from his grasp, you lean back and scoot closer to his friend, closing your eyes as you inhale the smell of weed and nicotine on his breath. 

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”, Steve whispers and that comfort is all you need as you tilt forward so your mouth can crash to his. 

The best way to describe what you were feeling was safe and you reveled in it, falling deeper and deeper in with every movement of his lips. His palm tenderly cupped your face to bring you closer as his tongue invaded and danced with yours. 

“Hey, hey, hey. We aren’t done playing!”, Eddie chuckled as he swatted your two apart but Steve was unwilling as he lifted you off the floor and placed you in his lap with your back to his chest. His strong, tattooed arms wrapped around you and you melted into his embrace. “You’re turn, princess.”

“T-Truth or dare, Steve.”

“Dare, baby.”

“I dare you to take off your pants and underwear.” With one arm still wrapped around your stomach, he unbuckled his belt and awkwardly shoved down everything he was wearing below his waist. “F-Fuck.”, you moaned when his large cock sprung free and hit his stomach. 

“Harrington, she’s not going anywhere. You can let her go.”

“I like feeling her against me. Truth or dare, Munson?”

“Dare, dude.”

“I dare you to help Y/N out of her clothes so we can get a good look at this beautiful woman.”

Eddie crawls towards you on his hands and knees, playfully grabbing your ankle and sliding his palm up your calf. 

“Is that ok, sweetheart? Can we see your body?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah of course. Um!” They pause at your exclamation as both sets of eyes look down at you with concern. “I just feel like I should tell you…this isn’t normal for me…like I don’t go around jumping into bed with every guy…I meet at a bar.”

As you struggle through your words, Steve kisses your temple while Eddie unhooks your overalls. 

“No judgments if you did, babe. We’re not like that either. I’m assuming Harrington here really likes you. He’s never brought a girl to the after party before.”

Lifting your hips, you allow him to slide off your pants while you help by removing your turtleneck and tossing it to the side. 

“Is that true?”

“I’m, um, a little shy believe it or not.”, the man giggles as his lips lean down to kiss your neck.”

“Truth or dare, Y/N?”

“Truth.”, you pant as their hands caress your skin. 

“Is it true you’ve never been with two men before?”

“Yes, it’s true but…”

“But what?”, Eddie coos his lips attach to the other side of your throat. 

“I trust you. I can’t explain it but I do.” Neither man said a word as they continued to suck on your skin before you aggressively grabbed the long-haired boy’s collar and forced him to face you. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you both to fuck me.”

Lurching forward, his mouth needily kissed yours and you moaned at the taste of the joint on his lips. After hastily ripping off his shirt and pants with his own boxers, he pumped his cock in your direction and you didn’t even hesitate as your palm took hold of his girth and your tongue ran along the tip.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Spit on it. Get it nice and wet.” Eddie bites his bottom lip when your eyes flick up to meet his as you spit on his mushroom head and stroke it along his shaft. 

A loud moan ripples through from your throat when you feel Steve adjust you slightly before sliding his fingers under the waist band of your panties and run his fingers through your folds. 

“Shit, honey. Already so wet. Is this because of us?” When you nod, he mewls as he kisses your cheek. “Go ahead, pretty girl. Suck my friend’s dick. I got you.”

You did as he suggested and Eddie’s fingers tangled in your hair as he lightly thrust his hips, pushing himself as far down your throat as he could go. Your own whimper vibrated against him as Steve breached your entrance and slid one of his own digits into your cunt. 

“Goddamn it, Ed. She’s so fucking tight. I wonder how she tastes.”

His friend pants out a laugh as he bends down and lifts you off Steve’s lap to place you directly onto the floor.

“If you wanted to eat her out all you had to do was ask. Is this ok, Y/N? The floor isn’t cold or anything?” Shaking your head, you reach for his lips and he smiles at your eagerness as his hands roam your skin. “You really are beautiful, baby. What’s this?”, he asks as he lifts off your bra and his fingers trace the ink on your chest. “Who’s Kallie?”

“My sister. She died three years ago.”

Eddie’s eyes scanned yours before leaning down to give you a gentle kiss. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Feathery light kisses grabbed your attention as Steve traced your thigh with his lips before deeply inhaling you through his nose between your legs. 

“You smell good, honey. Can I make you feel good?”

“Please.”, you beg and he obliges as his tongue runs up your slit to your clit. 

Your fingers played with his hair and with every light pull, he would moan making your eyes roll back as Eddie’s palm massaged your stomach and up between the valley of your breasts. 

“Does his tongue feel good?”

“Yes. C-Can I…Can I taste you again?”

As he pushed up onto his knees, you stuck your tongue out and he licked his lips as he tapped his cock against the muscle. 

“Now keep your tongue flat, baby, and I’m gonna fuck your throat while Stevie here makes you cum.”

At the sound of his name, the boy tilted back and spit directly into your hole, eliciting a filthy moan from you as he slid two of his fingers inside of you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you allowed Eddie to use you as he pumped his length hard and you gagged around him. 

The sound drove Steve crazy and he wrapped his lips around your bundle of nerves as the obscene sound of slurping filled the room. 

“Good girl. Fuck, baby. Cum on his fingers and keep that throat open for me. That’s it.”

Your pussy clung to Steve’s digits as the ball dropped and you came aggressively as he helped you through it. Kissing his way up your stomach, his lips lingered along your tattoo before you felt his tongue lick your skin to your neck. 

“You taste so fucking good, honey. Taste yourself.”, he commanded in a breathy whimper as he offered you his fingers that you eagerly sucked on. “Atta girl. Sweet like you.”, he cooed with a smile as he kissed your cheek.

They exchange a glance and switch places, Steve on his knees by your head while Eddie opens your legs wider and tosses one of them over his shoulder. You mewl as he glides his cock through your folds, collecting your slick as he pumps his hips. 

As he begins to push inside of you, you wince slightly at his size while he carefully inches forward.

“I know, baby. You’re ok. Everything’s ok.”, the other man tries to sooth as he pets your head and places tender kisses along your face. “You’re doing good.”

A jolt of electricity shoots through your body and your gaze shifts towards Eddie who was rubbing your clit with his thumb as he continued to watch himself disappear inside you.

“F-Fuck, it’s so big.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m—fuck, you’re so tight—I’m almost all the way in.”

Searching blindly behind you, it takes Steve a moment before he realizes what you’re looking for. 

“You want to suck my cock, Y/N? Can you handle us both right now?”

“Yes…please…”, you whine making him groan with need as he scoots closer to your side. 

When his friend bottoms out, he freezes allowing you to get used to his size as he tenderly kisses and rubs your calf against his shoulder. 

“Fuck me.”

Finding a steady rhythm, Eddie obliges and so does Steve as he guides his length into your awaiting mouth. 

“Shit, baby. Your mouth is amazing. Taking—mmph—taking us both so well.  Y-Your pussy’s so good you shut Munson up.”, he chuckles as his friend’s head hangs absorbing the pleasure while he clings to your thigh for leverage. 

Biting his bottom lip, calloused fingers play with your nipples as the other boy tilts down a bit more to do the same. 

“Oh, Eddie!” As he leaned over, he brought your leg with him, pushing his cock deeper into your cunt and slamming into buttons you had no idea even existed. “Right—Right there.”

“Right there, princess? Ok…ok, I got you, baby. Daddy’s got you. Fuck.” The title threw you off guard as your pussy gripped him like a vice. “Fuck, Y/N. You like that, don’t you? Like knowing Daddy’s taking care of you?”

“Jesus.”, Steve murmured as you bobbed your head faster around him. 

Placing his palms flat on the floor to balance himself, the boy above you rolled his hips practically punching the air from your lungs as you choked and spit spilled from your lips. 

Steve hastily backed away, allowing you catch your breath as your eyes locked with Eddie’s. 

“Say it, sweetheart. Beg Daddy to make you cum.”

“P-Please, Daddy. Make me—ahhh—make me cum. Oh f-fuck.”

Skin slapping into skin echoed through the room till your back arched and your nails dragged down his bare chest as you came. 

“Jesus H. fucking Christ. W-Where can I cum, Y/N?”

“Inside…Inside please.”

Dropping your leg to the side, Eddie collapsed on top of you with his hands on either side of your head as he grunted in your ear. 

“Good girl. Good fucking girl. Mmph—take my cum, baby. For pussy this good, it’s yours.”

His entire body trembled as his release spilled inside of you, a little chuckle leaving his lips at the feeling of your cunt milking him till he was empty. 

As soon as he rolled away, Steve was at your side softly kissing your sweaty face. 

“Are you ready for me, pretty girl?” When you nod, he swiftly wraps his arms around you and spins you around until your giggling on top of him. “You really are beautiful, Y/N.”

“Very. Your ex is a fucking moron.”, Eddie smirked as he lazily reached out to run his fingers along your leg. 

Your own palms run along the guitarist’s chest as you take in all of his unseen tattoos that were slightly obscured by the hair on his chest. 

“I like this one. ‘Jai guru deva, om’.”, you smile as you point to the words. “I wouldn’t expect a man like you to like the Beatles.”

Steve’s own grin grows as he pushes up onto his elbows. 

“You really are something, aren’t you? Definitely more than what’s on the surface.”

Your lips kiss his and he cups your face bringing you with him as he lies down flat on his back once more. Feeling movement below you, you both moan as his grinds his hard, leaking cock between your legs. 

As you reach between your bodies, the two of you watch as you hold onto him and gradually sink down onto his length. 

“Oh my God, Steve.”

“Fuck, honey. T-Take your time. We have all night.”

As you slowly roll your hips, his large, gorgeous hands run along your thighs, up your sides, and to your breasts, kneading them in his palms as your own balance against him.

“There you go, baby. Am I—mmph—am I deep? Can you feel me right here?”

When his hand pressed on your lower tummy, your head fell back as you whimpered his name and covered it with your own. You found a rhythm as you bounced on top of him, his moans mixing with yours as he watched your body move.

“God, Y/N, you’re so fucking sexy riding my dick. That’s it, baby. Harder.”, he commanded as he spanked your behind causing you to fall forward and hold yourself up with your palms. Tilting towards you, his mouth wrapped around your nipple as his tongue flicked against the bud and he hit your ass again.

“Fuck, Steve.”

“That’s right, pretty girl. Mmm—say my name like that again.”

“S-Steve…please…I’m…”

Wrapping his arms around your back, he yanked you flat against his chest and planted his feet into the carpet as he thrust up into you roughly. Fingers threaded through your hair and pressed you to his neck as your lips clung to his skin as he grunted into your ear. 

Your screams were muffled but he could hear you chanting his name as you came, driving him over the edge as his rhythm faltered and you felt his release coat your quivering walls. 

You both continued to pant as he rolled you onto your side and a second set of lips tenderly kissed your shoulder. 

“Are you alright? Do you need anything? Water?”, Eddie asked with a kindness behind his tone that made you smile. 

“No, thank you. I’m alright.”

Nodding, he absently reached behind him and produced a blanket to cover your bodies with while Steve continued to pet your head. 

“Hey, um, I have a gig on Friday in Indianapolis. Would you want to come?”

You giggle at his shyness as his friend grins wide behind you. 

“I think it’s cute after what we just did, you’re still nervous to talk to me.”

“I’m not nervous to talk to you. I’m nervous…we won’t hear from you again and I don’t know about Ed but I’d like to get to know you more.”

“I definitely would. I’m going with him on Friday for a meeting and I’d love to experience one of his concerts with you. We can all get dinner afterwards…talk.”

“Truth or dare?”, you ask Eddie as you both softly smile at each other. 

“Truth.”

“Is it true that I have some demons in my past that may frighten you away from me?”

The man blinks as he takes in your question before leaning down to lightly kiss your lips. 

“It’s true but it takes a lot to scare me away, sweetheart. Trust me. We’ve got some demons to but we’re learning to deal with them just like you seem to be. Maybe we can even help you.”

“Truth or dare?”, you ask Steve as your turn your attention to him. 

“Truth, honey.”

“Is it true that this isn’t a one-time thing for you both? That you genuinely like me.”

Smiling, his tattooed hand cups your cheek as he gives you a sloppy kiss that makes you laugh. 

“It’s true. I fell for you the moment you walked into the bar. As soon as I spoke with you I knew Munson would like you to. We don’t have to move fast or anything. We can take this as slow as you need to.”

Eddie’s fingers tilt your head his way.

“Truth or dare, Y/N?”

“Dare.”, you answer as you bite your bottom lip coyly. 

“I dare you to stay and give us a chance because we promise you won’t regret it.”

########################

“Whoa, Whoa, Miss Y/L/N! Everything’s ok!”, the nurse tries to comfort as you jerk up and remove the goggles from your eyes. 

Glancing around you, you hear the sounds of the other participants crying and talking over one another as they describe what they saw. 

“Ok, let me just check your vitals really quickly and then we can give you another relaxer to calm you—”

“Mr. Harrington, WAIT!”, another nurse shouts across the way as the man heatedly stomps away from her to grab Eddie’s sleeve and tug him out of the room. 

“Mr. Harrington! Mr. Munson! Hang on now!”

“Miss Y/L/N, please come back!”

You ignored her as you jumped out of your pod to follow where they were going. 

“You said it shouldn’t be a fucking problem!”, Steve hissed.

“I didn’t think it would but I’m not a fucking scientist. I haven’t physically spoken to you or seen you two years and it’s not like we were the best of friends before that! I figured ‘other realities’ of me would also know what a fucking asshole you are!”, Eddie growled back as he pushed the man away. “I didn’t expect it to be like that…”

“You two know each other?!”, you angerly whisper causing their heads to jerk your way. “So much for fucking random. Look, just keep your fucking mouths shut! I’m not getting kicked out of this thing because you two screwed everything up.”

“Excuse the hell out of me, Miss high and mighty but how is what happened our fault?!”, the pretty boy scolded as he crossed his arms. “How do you know us?”

“WHAT?!”

His palm promptly slams over your mouth as he pulls you around the corner and shoves you against the wall. 

“Shhhh! You’re not the only one who needs to be here. Now, Eddie probably appeared because we’ve met each other so how do we know you?”

“I’ve never seen either of you in my life.”, you answer when he removes his hand. “And how do I know you don’t know me?” As his eyes scan you from head to toe your own roll. “Really? You are a fucking asshole.”

“I’m not trying to be. I just…My class of people don’t usually run into yours.”

“How do you even know what my class is?”

“I mean…”, he responds, gesturing absently up and down towards you.

“Wow. You were such a better person in the other universe. If I’m so beneath you, how do you know him?”

“Look, it’s none of your fucking business alright? Let’s just chalk that up to being a fluke or something and move on with your lives, hm?”, Eddie intervenes as you and Steve sigh and relent. 

“Miss Y/L/N! You three need to get back inside so we can take your vitals and prepare for the interview.”, a nurse commands as she points into the room. 

“Y/L/N. As in Michael Y/L/N?”

Without answering, you hurry back inside and fold your arms as you sit back near your pod.

“So you do know her?”, Eddie whispers as they both slowly enter the room. 

“Uh…no. No, I know her last name. You do to…Our private school was named after him.”

The long-haired boy blinks as he tries to comprehend the information in front of him. 

“Wait a minute. Why DON’T we know her then? Shouldn’t she be like a billionaire or something?”

“I don’t fucking know. Just drop it, ok. Like you said, it’s a fluke or something. Let’s just avoid her and avoid each other so we can do this and get outta here.”

#################

@baileebear @jasminelafleur @twirls827 @dashingdeb16 @myherometalhead @starboygf @alba8688 @crybabyddl @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @utterlyinsanity @hardladyheart

[study-diaries]

Highschool tips that no one told me.

Explore. Clubs. Extra curriculars. Sports. Anything. When you get to freshman year, start exploring. Even if you're a sophomore, junior or senior. Start exploring because you need to be involved in something other than your school. (But don't overdo it!! Max of 2-3 extracurriculars)

Do your homework/assignments as soon as you can.

Get a planner/calender. Update it daily.

Exercise. Dance. Jog. Jump. Do whatever you want but exercise atleast 3 times a week.

Sleep earlier. Before 11 preferably.

Whatever you do, don't back answer a teacher.

Allow yourself to relax but don't overdo it.

Choose your friends carefully. Keep 2 or 3 close friends.

Don't just blabber everything about anything. Think before you speak

Don't involve yourself in any sorts of drama. Clear everything out before it even starts cause it's definitely gonna backfire if you don't

Choose your friends carefully. I mean, very carefully.

Time is investment, use it to your advantage.

For exams, solve past year question papers!!!

Have a doubt in something? Go ask your teacher (it will save you the trouble)

YouTube has a wide variety of videos for you to learn from

Study everyday. Just for an hour. It's more than enough.

Read. Read. Read. Write. Write. Write. Anything.

Honestly, get a study group. (I mean it. Don't study together in the same place. Just send important questions and ask doubts.)

Study things that were thought in previous classes. You will be behind the class but it definitely helps during exams/tests.

Most of all, try to enjoy. You won't get back your highschool years. I realise that now.

I did a similar post a few months ago. The mistakes that I made during my junior year. You can find it here.

Hope this helps! :D

[charliesangel67]

Against all odds

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Word count- 1567

Warnings: Smutttt, a little bit of fluff, acedemic rivals (kind of, idk how to write it)

Authors note: I'm actually so sorry this took so long, idek why but it was a bit hard to write. Anyway, it's here and I hope you enjoy.

This was based of off @weirdowithnobeardo 's idea which is the first comment on this post

“Ok, can somebody tell me the answer to question b?” Quickly, hands flew up in the air. “Mr Cameron, what is the answer?” “4x+7n=33y” Rafe said confidently. “”That’s wrong.” I announced. “Go on, what’s your theory Miss y/n?” My teacher said, “It’s 4x+7n=36y because x is equal to 2.” I stated. “That is correct y/n, well done.” My teacher smiled at me. I smiled in Rafe’s direction but he just glared at me. Next period science, we got our tests back, “So Cameron, what did you get?” I asked Rafe curiously. “94%, you?” “99%” I replied with a smile. Again, he seemed so angry at me for getting a higher score. This went on for the next couple of weeks, He acted like we were academic rivals.

3 weeks later

There it was, the test sitting on my desk, a bright red ‘A+’ written in the top right corner. I was proud of myself for scoring so high on such a hard test. It was 40% of my final GPA result so I had to score high. I turned around to see Rafe staring daggers at me. “Bad result Cameron?” I asked him teasingly. “Shut up y/l/n” He growled as he clenched his jaw. I giggled to myself and turned my attention back to the teacher. 

The bell rang for the end of the day and I hurriedly grabbed my backpack and ran to my locker. My friend Maddy always meets me at my locker because we’re in different year levels, Maddy’s in 10th and I’m in 11th grade. “So, how was your day Mads?” I asked unlocking my locker. “Shit. So fucking shit you have no idea.” “I’m sure it couldn't have been that bad.” I laughed. “No, y/n it was bad. So bad in fact that I got broken up with by Jason the son of a bitch in front of half the cafeteria.” She announced. “Oh shit, sorry babe, he was no good for you anyway.” I said walking away with her. 

As we were walking to my car, Maddy realised she had forgotten something in her locker so she ran back towards the buildings. Suddenly, I felt a rough hand grab hold of my upper arm and pin me against a wall. A hand covered my mouth to stop me from screaming. “Oh you son of a bitch. You’re so fucking done little girl.” I knew the voice sounded familiar but I couldn’t quite figure out who it was. When my eyes finally adjusted to the light and situation, I realised it was Jason and his group of friends. 

“So, did you and Maddy talk shit about me to the school after what I did to her?” He asked again, still keeping me against the wall. “What the fuck. No we didn’t, why would you think that?” I was astonished at the accusation. “Because, now the whole school thinks that I have an STD and all the girls I’ve slept with have smashed my locker and put slime in the gas tank of my car.” He complained. “Wow, creative girls for real.” I said with a little laugh. “Ok, if it wasn’t you, then who was it?” 

“It was me, you son of a bitch!” Yelled Rafe, walking towards us. “Why?! Why the fuck would you do that?” Jason asked, close to tears. Rafe pulls a phone out of his pocket and starts reading some texts - 

“‘C’mon Maddy, It won’t be that bad. Why don’t you wanna sleep with me?”

“Because I’m not ready for that Jason, I’ve told you a million times. We have only been together a month and I’m not ready to have sex yet. Just stop asking me already.”

“Fine. Go fuck some other dude, you fucking slut. You’ll regret not being with me.” “What do you mean Jason? Are you breaking up with me??”” 

“Hey! Where did you get my phone from you bitch?!” Jason asked launching himself at Rafe, who dodged the blow perfectly. “You left her on delivered for 9 hours just so you could slut shame her and break up with her in the cafeteria in front of everyone, all because she didn’t want to sleep with you?!  Not to mention you cheated on her the entire relationship. You’re a real ass man.” Rafe said. “I suggest you leave Maddy, Y/n and all the other girls you’ve messed with, alone and get on with your life.” Rafe yelled as Jason and his friends ran away.

They knew how powerful Rafe could be and they didn’t want to get on his bad side. “Thanks Rafe. Why did you do that anyway?” I asked, “Don’t think I did it for you, I hate Jason.” “Oh, okay.” I replied sheepishly before walking away, back to my car and to meet with Maddy. The drive home was silent after I told Maddy all about what happened. Her being in disbelief about what Rafe had done to Jason. 

A couple weeks later, it was Midsummers, I had bought a nice dress and had a plan laid out on how we were going to spend the evening with Maddy and her sister, Kiara. Kiara picked us up and we drove to the Cameron’s mansion as that was where the party was. Kiara was friends with Sarah, Rafes younger sister.

A couple hours into the party,  Rafe approached me, taking my hand and dragging me upstairs. “Rafe, what are you doing?” I whispered, “Taking you to my room.” “Why?” I asked, a little scared. “Because you look way too beautiful in that dress and I noticed JJ basically eye fucking you.” He turned to face me, looking very sexy in his button down shirt and his hair falling into his eyes. Without thinking I put my hand out to brush his hair away from his face, he grabbed my neck and leaned down to kiss me. 

“No, Rafe, we can’t do this.” I said as I pulled away. “Why not y/n?” “Because, I’m a pogue, you're a kook and you should hate me. In fact, you did act like you hated me after you stood up for me in front of Jason, and now suddenly you’re acting all jealous when JJ looks at me?” I asked in a confronting manner. “Look, y/n, I like you.” “No, we can’t Rafe. Your dad is gonna kill you and my parents are gonna fucking disown me or something if they found out I was dating a kook, especially Mr Rafe Cameron with his bad reputation.” 

Rafe didn’t say another word, he just leaned down again to kiss me, This time it was more passionate. At that moment, I didn’t even care that we shouldn’t be doing this, I just kissed him back. Rafe picked me up and carried me to his room. He threw me on the bed and locked the door. He crawled on top of me and placed feather light kisses along my neck to my cleavage. “Can I?” he asked as his fingers were tangled in the strap off my dress. “Mmmh,” I responded softly as he carefully took off my dress. 

I tugged at his belt, hinting for him to take off his pants as I unbuttoned his shirt. Within minutes, we were both butt naked, he took my boobs in his hands, massaging them and kissing along them. I moaned at the pleasure. I palmed his cock through his boxers and I felt him getting hard underneath my hand. Quickly, Rafe ripped off his boxers and rubbed his cock against my entrance. Already slick and wet, he pushed inside. I moaned as he did so, Rafe thrusted slowly and sensually.

“Mmh, You like that baby?” He asked, staring into my eyes. “So much Rafe.” I replied. Rolling my eyes back as Rafe thrusted harder into my soaking cunt and he kissed along my breasts. Soon, I was nearing my release, my cunt tightening around him. And a couple thrusts later I had come undone onto his thick cock. “Fuck baby, I'm gonna come.” “Come in me Rafe.” I begged him and seconds later he squirted his hot cum into my pussy. Out of breath and panting, I crawled on top of him, lying on his chest, my hands tangled in his hair as he kissed my neck. “Promise we can keep this a secret for a little while longer until I tell my parents?” I asked him. Rafe nodded and uttered a soft ‘yes’. I kissed him one more time before getting up and getting dressed. 

“I’m gonna head back down stairs okay? The girls are gonna be worried about where I was.” I told him, opening the door. “One more kiss babe.” Rafe said and when I turned around, seeing his abs again stirred something deep within me. Want. I wanted this man. His hair, his face, his body, his personality towards me. I wanted everything about him. I didn’t think, I just jumped back onto the bed into his arms. Rafe kissed me hard and passionate and I melted into his touch. Soon we were back at it again, he was thrusting slowly and sensually into my soaked cunt as I buried my face in his shoulder quieting my moans.

That night was the best sex I ever had. 

I also got a super protective boyfriend.

I hope you guys liked this 😁

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 4.3 - Dating for Weirdos

Alice feels like her brain has been scrambled. How did she end up on a date with some dude who didn’t think she was worth any effort? Her self-esteem was…well, her self-esteem was in the toilet, but still! She had her pride!

Although, probably not enough of it. 

Reasonably, she shouldn’t be afraid. Vlad was not going to lose his shit just because her tone was too sharp, and if he did, she could just leave this date.

Unreasonably, she avoids his gaze and swallows down her rant.

Fucking muscle memory. 

“I’m trying valiantly," Vlad says gently. 

“What?” 

"I want to be the least shit version of myself on this date,” he continues, looking pained, “But even that version leaves a lot to be desired. I’m a difficult sim to be around, and so far, despite skipping my Civil Procedure class today to read a self-help book on using imagination to increase my charisma, I fear I’ve failed.”

Trying and failing is something Alice is pretty familiar with. And Vlad doesn’t lack charisma, per se. It was just kind of hidden behind his aura of “find out even if you don’t fuck around.” 

“What was the advice?” she asks, giving him what she hopes is a friendly smile. 

“Imagine a better version of myself,” he smirks, “And introduce you to it.”

“Kind of shit advice,” Alice murmurs. 

Vlad laughs, and she relaxes, “Ok, so was this the introduction to the newly developed, less shitty version of your personality, or do you have something else planned for later?"

“Usually, I’m better prepared, but no, this mediocre showing is the best I could come up with.”

“I give it a 4 out of 10,” Alice scrunches up her face, “Which makes me sort of concerned about your future as an attorney who needs to sway a jury.”

As soon as the words fly out of her mouth, anxiety pools in her stomach. But Vlad simply throws back his head and guffaws. 

“Very fair,” he concludes, wiping the tears from his eyes, “I don’t ever plan to practice law, but even if I did, I’m not worried about manipulating a jury of my peers.”

“Why not?”

“Universally, sims are stupid when they get into groups, and I have no problem lying. The hard part is that I want you to know the truth of me and like it.”

“Oh, I…” Alice jolts at his expression. Even guys she’s really liked have never looked at her with that sort of intensity.

“Ask me a question. Trust me, you'll know immediately if you have any interest in seeing me again.”

Alice hesitates. She could ask something basic to confirm that Vlad is a normal sim, but it’s pretty clear that the answer to that question is no. And the last time she fell for normal, it gave her a black eye.

“If you had any supernatural power, what would it be?”

“Paralyzing sims with fear and the ability to become a sentient mist so I could leave any conversation.” He taps a finger to his lip, “And enough strength to crush someone’s bones.”

“Messy,” Alice giggles. “What are you gonna do with all that bone dust?”

“I’m envisioning crushing their bones inside their body so it’d be more like a hearty stew as opposed to a pile of dust.”

“You would eat them?”

He shrugs. “Waste not, want not.”

It is an absolutely wild answer. Alice flashes him a grin. “The power to turn sims into mushy take-out meals. Got it.”

“And what about you?”

“I’m not turning sims into bone soup.”

The corner of his mouth tilts up. “You can't. As we’ve discussed, that power has already been taken. Might I suggest flight or rotting someone’s flesh with the snap of a finger?”

Alice laughs, and just like that, her appetite returns with a vengeance. “I like the true you,” she says as the waitress sets down Vlad’s order.

He smiles and begins dividing everything in half, shoveling it onto an empty plate that Alice didn’t even notice was on the table. He slides it over to her. “I’m relieved. Now, the pancakes are to die for and I promise no sims have been harmed in the making of this food.”

PREV | NEXT

(Part 3 of 4)

[thehollowwriter]

Ok so since i love sad but bad boys i'm gonna ask blaze for your event-

How about reader(gender neutral or fem your choice) who is blaze's childhood friend and tries to make him realize what his mother wants is not what he wants

Thank you! (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞

Hi! Sorry for the late reply! Yaaay a Blaze ask <3

Warnings: None. Word count: 520

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ♥️)

Art by @/moonyasnow

Choose

Blaze sat on one of the rocks closest to the shimmering water of the sea, throwing and catching a smooth, circular rock as he stared at the horizon. It was painted with beautiful purples and oranges as the sun gradually dipped down to welcome the night, giving Blaze at least something to appreciate on this shitty shitty day.

"You should get in," you said to him from your spot within the water, your tail flicking back and forth happily. "The water's wonderful."

"No." Blaze muttered. He didn't feel like changing forms right now. It was such an exhausting process.

An awkward silence reigned for a moment. Blaze kept throwing and catching his rock. Eventually, you spoke. "Your mom again?"

Blaze didn't answer for a while. He stopped throwing the rock and stared at it, turning it over in his hands.

"...I didn't get a main role in our theatre production." He growled out after a while, his voice softer and rougher than usual. "Not even a side character. I'm... 'too wooden'. Mom says she's wasting money and time on me if this is what she gets back for all those acting lessons..." He put his head in his hands. "I'm tyring. I'm trying so hard, but she just doesn't care. Now she wants me to do lessons and advice from Vil fucking Schoenheit."

You didn't say anything for a while. The same string of thoughts you always had every time Blaze mentioned acting flooded through your mind.

'You shouldn't have to be an actor,' you wanted to say, 'Do what you want. Don't you want to choose what to do with your life?'

You rarely did, though. He got so upset every time. But a question on the tip of your tongue escaped before you could stop it.

"Blaze," you said before you could stop yourself. "Is acting what you really want to do? It's more your... your mom's wishes than your own."

Blaze glanced at you, then threw his rock. It skipped across the water before sinking below the waves and into the ocean's depths.

"Of course it's what I want!" He hissed venomously. "I don't even like Alchemy that much. It's just an interesting subject!"

You drew in a breath, refraining from pointing out that you never mentioned alchemy.

"But you don't like acting either." You insisted. "You always hate going to classes. You said you wanted to be in a different club too-"

"Because I hate hearing Vil talk like he's all that when his daddy's money gave him everything! I would like it if that bastard wasn't there!"

You grinded your teeth. "Blaze, you've never been happy about anything to do with acting. You don't like acting. This isn't what you want, Blaze, it's your mom who-"

"Will you shut up?" Blaze hissed. "I'm going to be an actor, and I'm to be Vil Schoenheit levels of famous! You can either support me like a good friend should or get lost."

There was a long pause.

"Okay, well," you said, hiding your hurt. You picked up a smooth circular stone of your own and threw it in the same direction as Blaze threw his. It only skipped a few times before sinking. "Best of luck."

A heavy silence reigned between the both of you. You stared at Blaze. You stared at his face, the way his jaw set in a grimace, and the way his eyes seemed to water.

He could do so much more, be so much more, but he didn't want to. Or he didn't think he could. It hurt to see. But you stayed silent.

You disappeared into the water and left Blaze to sit on his rock. Alone.

-End

A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading! Blaze is a bit mean, sorry :(

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @the-banana-0verlord @cloudcountry

@skriblee-ksk @twstinginthewind @lumdays @theolivetree123 @natsukishinomiyaswife

@authoruio @jewelulu @raguiras @honeynclove @moonyasnow

@skibidibabygirl @paperclvps

[purplesoulcollection]

Unnatural Love

Part 3 Synopsis : Name has being transmigrated into the world of I'm Not That Kind Of Talent without ever reading the novel. She's not being reincarnated as a human but as a devil as well. Hi There! I want to let you know that this fanfiction story isn't solely my creation. I borrowed the concept from @quqiwo2. I haven't actually read the novel either, just some spoiler to the end.

I hope you'll excuse my spelling and grammar mistake, because English not my first language.

"Adele, starting today you are assigned to be a servant of Mr Demon. Get to work today!" said the Head Servant of this demon palace.

He was an older man who seemed to have a lot of experience in workforce personalization.

"You mean I work for Mr Demon? Isn't there Mr. Ed, the deputy troop commander, ready to help him?" My curiosity getting better than me.

Wasn't he already has a deputy who ready to help him, why should me too?

"Adele, you have been given a name by Mr Demon, repay him for your beautiful name." This butler seems to be saying that I don't deserve this beautiful name given to me.

Because lowly background...

And that makes me really annoyed with him.

But in the end I could only agree with the butler's words, having no choice but to swallow my resentment.

Then I was curious, why did I become his servant Mr Demon. It's true that I was given a name after the first time they met and Mr Demon greeted me when we met a few more times.

But I don't think there's anything strange about it.

Did my job change like this because of a request from Mr Demon or was this actually a ploy by the demon king.

If it was the latter, I would most likely be used as a pawn as a spy.

Because after all Mr Demon still a human. Unless he completely sides with the devil.

I'm not stupid enough to don't know that he still holds on to his human side too.

The proof is that he just kept to himself in his room, not too involved with the zero troops he led due to illness.

Whatever the demon king's cunning plans, I will not remain silent if I am used as his temporary pawn. I still have my brain to think logically to subjugate him.

But for the time being I will remain obediently a virtuous servant.

"Mr Demon, I'm Adele. I brought your breakfast." I knocked his room door, letting him know that I'm here.

"Come in!" Although be muted, his voices are still heard from outside.

Then I went in and put the food Mr Demon on the table available in his room. Not letting my eyes wander to him when he wears his shirt on top of his turtleneck.

And Mr Demon who was already wearing formal clothes, finally sat down in his chair to eat his food.

I watched him eat until he finished before I finally started to tell him,

"Mr Demon, starting today I am assigned to be your servant."

Mr Demon was surprised. He seemed to choke on his own saliva before he finally drank the water.

"You?! I thought you were just delivering food as usual."

Indeed, before today I was assigned several times to deliver food Mr Demon too. We were quite friendly in chatting about things unrelated to our status and differences.

Honestly, talking to Mr Demon made me feel again what it feels to be a human again in the midst of interactions with demons that are very annoying and discouraging for me.

Here's my relationship with the demons is not healthy for my own body and soul. I always have to be hit by anger, belittled, blows, sarcasm, death threats. I'm tired to always nonchalant about that fact.

I always have to be patient so that there is no reason for me to just die.

So talking to him really made me think that he is more friendly than the rumors that say he will kill you if you bother him even the slightest bit.

The real demon isn't any better than the rumored Demon.

To answer the question Mr Demon earlier...

"I thought so too, but I only received orders from my superiors. So I don't know the reason. "

Then he fell silent with his face wrinkled and his red eyes turned into those of a scary predator. That looks is really scary though.

But from my experience, Mr Demon will only stare intently. didn't actually try to attack me.

When I first saw those eyes I was scared to death, but now I'm used to it.

'As long as I've done nothing wrong, why should I be afraid?'

So I remained calm even though I was being stared at like that.

But the effects of being stared at for a long time like that are also dangerous, so let's shift the focus...

"After eating, do you want to visit Troop 0? Troop 0 has been waiting for your presence among them for a long time."

"Team 0..." As usual, Mr Demon always reluctant to discuss his own troops. If someone really used their brain, they will know it.

"Mr Ed has also been waiting for your arrival for a long time."

"Mr. Ed?! Why do you call him so polite. Is he not being nice to you?"

Is Mr Demon is the actual crazy? Even if he's not like the strong one in Devil's troop, he's still be one of the strongest devil in this devil palace.

"You keep joking, Mr Demon. Mr. Ed also really hates lowly devils like me. Besides, Mr. Ed is good with you because he is loyal and admires you. There's no way I could get the same treatment as Mr Demon."

"Are you... are you still experiencing hate treatment like this all the time?" His face looks not very good one. He looks very annoyed but still care for me... and that's makes me give a sorrowful smile.

"There won't be any significant changes, Mr Demon. But if I could hide behind a name Mr Demon maybe I could even scare them." I joked around to Mr Demon.

I need to change the sad topic, maybe he'll say no and i move on.

"Do it!" a spontaneous voice Mr Demon making me open my eyes to stare Mr Demon that had been speaking nonsense.

"I was just joking, Mr Demon. Please don't take my joke seriously." I tried to persuade him Mr Demon he just shook his head.

"You have to fight, Adele. Even if you consider yourself a worthless devil, you still have to fight for yourself." His face shows the fighting spirit that i should have, but i lacked that spirit.

'Maybe i don't really cut out with this world.'

"But, aren't you injured because of the effects of fighting a hero. If I involve you who are still sick in my problem..."

"I'll take care of it in time."

My mouth opened with reflexes, I found my savior in the midst of the complexity of this devil's world...

So I leaned a little closer and smiled broadly at Mr Demon and said "You said that yourself, I would like to thank you first, Mr Demon. For the inconvenience i'll brought"

I was busy thinking about the best way to use a name of Mr. Demon to get revenge on my bully until I didn't see his red face while looking at me.

To Be Continued

[flyin-shark]

"Cishet probably". The words of a man who is yet to learn that gender is a circus and clowns can be hot.

Or what I mean is more like.... That's really interesting in a sense, as soneone who is ambiguous/not caring on all levels, I really wanna study the anatomy of the cishet experience. I can't figure it out. Is it like. If you see a person your ability to be attracted to them depends on your current knowledge of their gender? So you could see a person and assume they are a woman, so then you are into them, but then they might turn out not to identify as a woman, and that is a turn-off?

And the other way around, maybe you meet someone and assume they're a guy so it doesn't enter your mind that they could be hot, but then you learn that they are a woman, and then it becomes an option?

I'm really not trying to be offensive so I'm so sorry if I am. I'm just super curious, as a person who was never able to conceptualize gender in myself or others very well. I find attraction complicated as is, and imagining adding the matrix of gender into it is like... Galaxy brain woah h o w ?

Uh. Anyways, good vibes.

(Came to think of it cuz you say you're a top/into bottoms. And like certainly the top/bottom dichotomy transcends gender, but at the same time, I wonder what the "communication" is in there in a cishet context? Does it mean "I don't like getting penetrated by a partner", or is it more about "top energy". And if yes, what is "top energy" in a cishet context?

I really hope I'm not coming across as rude, I'm literally just super curious about people who ID as cishet, so when I run into someone who seems approachable I turn into 12 questions with ....

Also this also is related to the fact that I'm like a dude but in a girl way you feel? Like most people attracted to me are also attached to gnc women, but also if you need to call me 'her' to get off, we probably won't vibe, and as a general rule I do avoid having sex with cishet guys bc if their attraction is somehow contingent on internal misgendering of me, it's awkward. But I'm trying to figure out how that works. )

Sorry I'll stop asking now. I'll get my ND ass under control.

Yes to your first three questions.

So I call myself cishet because first I’m fairly sure that I’m not trans. I feel like a man, whatever that means. I get what I think is a sense of euphoria from doing certain “masculine” things (wearing suits, fixing things, etc.). I don’t like the idea of me wearing a skirt of other typically feminine clothing. I don’t like when people use feminine versions of my name and pronouns that aren’t he/him for me. In all aspects I can think of I’m a man.

As for the hetero part I know I like women. I always have as far as I can remember. I’ve never had attraction to men. Although in the past few years with learning about trans and nb people I’ve had to think more about it. I used to be transphobic in the sense that while I respected pronouns and names I wouldn’t accept that people were their something other than their assigned gender. After learning about the science behind sex and the social dynamics of gender I now fully accept trans and enby peeps. But that means reconsidering what I like about women and don’t like about men.

I’ve seen femboys that I’ve mistaken for women and been attracted to them. After finding out they were boys i was confused but I just wrote it off and didn’t think about it. I saw a lot of enbies that looked more masc or fem and I was attracted to them if I thought they were afab. But then I saw some enbies that were really androgynous and was really confused again. I learned that you can’t tell if someone is a man or woman or other just by looking at them. It’s possible I’m just attracted to femininity and not women specifically. But also women with muscles are hot.

Answering your question about tops and bottoms. After spending time in queer spaces I realized just how boring most cishet relationships are both romantically and sexually. The top, dom, and giver roles, etc are all dumped on the man while the bottom, sub, and receiver roles are all given to the woman. I think most cishets don’t even differentiate between the roles.

My brain still doesn’t comprehend what it’s like to be “a dude in a girl way” or anything similar to that. Like I respect you as a person I just don’t understand how that works. It seems like a contradiction at first but I know boy and girl aren’t opposites.

Sorry for taking so long to respond to this but I wanted to give you some good answers.

[lokh]

what do you think toshiro's version of laios would've been like if he was still with the group during the shapeshifter shenanigans

there have been a few speculations in the tag and among the fans and they are all very good SO i am going to take this opportunity to insert a bit of my shipping bias as i like in my interpretation LMAO agdsfgdfgv

i noted that in actuality shuro seems to have a very good grasp on laios' character??? this is most obvious in the manga later on but even seeing how he criticises laios in their fight... iirc nothing he says is actually untrue or wildly exaggerated, and while he does express frustration over something he feels like laios Should have control over (noticing his cues), he is also aware that laios isnt being malicious and that hes Just Like That. what i mean to say is that while i think his version of laios may seem more pushy and in-your-face, i dont think it will be overwhelmingly so. if its post-fight, i think the idea of laios (and marcille) being willing to do anything to get falin back made a big impression on him, as well as the idea that they need to eat and rest in order to succeed in their goals, so those aspects would be prominent in his version. he seems pretty observant, so i think for the most part the physical traits would line up, but i think there would be specific things that stand out to him that would appear strangely striking on his version of laios (like. idk something about his eye colour or the subtle contrast of his armour and chainmail. he seems to have a weird sense of aesthetics if extras are anything to go by lmao). if hed actually been paying attention all those times laios had gone on about what the hell ever, then it might be even MORE hard to tell apart his version since he would also have a good grasp on what laios should know. so either his version of laios is pretty difficult to pick out, OR despite the character being accurate his appearance is too. stylised lmao (exaggerated features or something) OR!! they just get him to pull out his monster gourmet guide thing and are able to tell from there. iirc everyone was surprised at its appearance so its possible toshiro had also never seen it before

IN MY IMAGINARY SHIPPING SCENARIO............ lets say that his laios isnt able to be picked out immediately and that the monster guide thing also doesnt immediately occur to anyone. what the real laios Specifically notices is how close this other laios keeps getting to shuro. and hes like. ??? why is he getting so close to him, theres no way i get that close to him??? but no one else seems to be picking up on it as weird, so hes having a small crisis like do i REALLY get that close to him???? and now that hes on the outside he notices shuro subtly leaning away and he feels both a wave of shame and..... protectiveness??? (JEALOUSY??????) and he immediately steps in and grabs him like Hey!!! cant you see hes uncomfortable???? weve been through this already!!! and like. ok i cant believe im doing this again but i need to separate this into different endings

a) the whump route: i dont think shuro ever envisioned Actually Telling laios about his frustrations outside of being basically cornered into it. has he ever spoken up against what was expected of him?? has he ever been confrontational???? i think part of what held him back from expressing his frustrations, along with the cultural norms, could be fear of what the reaction would be. if he had done the same in any other aspect of his life (his family, his inheritance), i think he would expect disappointment, disapproval, more proof that he doesnt add up to expectation. to be honest i dont think he Truly believes that laios is the type of person to react like this. but it was strong enough to prevent him from acting and i think would be projected onto his image of laios. maybe fake!laios says something dismissive like Well if it really bothered him hed say something right? what, he cant even stand up for himself? cmon, shuro, prove that you cant handle it just like everything else. and thats pretty much the fastest giveaway that it isnt really laios. of course this would be a HUGE tonal departure from what the actual episode/chapter was, so:

b) the dumbass route: both laioses break into fisticuffs, and, yes.... barking. and so they speedrun the entire encounter as the shapeshifters true form appears and, after laios points out that thinking too hard about others versions of you can tear apart groups and peace of mind, they pointedly do not speak of it again. they think about it though. a LOT

c) the normal route: both laioses argue normal like and the group ends up being able to tell them apart because the fake laios goes on a little too long about how theyre all here for falin and everyones like ok its not like he DOESNT love his sister but.......... the rest of the scenario probably goes like canon, though then i would want to see what everyone Else thought of shuro

[trickstersaint]

Hi! I've just stumbled across your 'patron saint'-quiz and I love it! 🖤 The way you put the answers to the questions is flawless, especially the 'heart'-question and the afterlife-question, not to mention the results! One gets the impression that you really put your heart in this quiz. My results are eerily fitting - same for a friend who I made take your quiz as well.👍 I'm wondering whether it is possible to read the other result texts somewhere as well? (Or would I have to play through the quiz again with some different educated guesses?) Thanks for creating this quiz and all the best for you. 🫂 Enjoy the day/night 🤗

hi!!!! so glad you like the quiz!!!! i definitely had a lot of fun making it, and it's been really fun seeing people's reactions to it too :)

happy to share the other results! putting them below <3

[hiraganasakura]

Hi so me being me I've decided to hyperanalyze the conversation Qrow and Raven had in Higanbana practically line by line bcus I have Many Thoughts and this is the best way I can think of to get them all out. If you can't tell I'm absolutely obsessed with these two. Btw.

Thanks to the RWBY wiki for providing transcripts for every episode, otherwise I definitely would have missed smth despite having just watched this scene recently lol

I put it under the read more for easier scrolling due to how long this post got!

I immediately noticed smth in the very first lines of the interaction:

Raven: "Hello, brother." Qrow: "...Raven."

You'll notice throughout the whole conversation that Raven never calls Qrow by his name, only condescendingly referring to him as "brother" this one time and never calling him anything else. Meanwhile, Qrow directly refers to Raven a total of three times throughout the conversation, and only one doesn't call Raven by her name (which we'll get to shortly)

On the other hand, Qrow doesn't bother with even so much as a greeting beyond simply stating Raven's name

It's different ways of communicating their distance. While Raven holds her relationship with Qrow over his head — never once, even outside of this scene, does she call him "brother" with affection iirc, only derision and condescension — Qrow doesn't seem to rly know how to greet her. He hesitates before saying her name and approaching her, as if trying to assess the situation before acting

Qrow: "So, what do you want?" Raven: "A girl can't just catch up with her family?" Qrow: "She can, but you're not. Now how 'bout we get on with it? Unless you plan on keeping these [drinks] comin'."

Again, Raven seems to bring up her familial ties with Qrow as a tactic to get him to do what she wants — in this case, stick around to talk to her despite him not seeming to rly want to. Frankly, it feels manipulative. We're gonna put a pin in this for now and come back to it in just a moment

Additionally, Qrow already knows that Raven's not just here for a friendly chat between two siblings, and sees right thru her facade that it is. Raven is here bcus she wants smth from him. But interestingly, it is Raven in V5 that says, in an almost frustrated/disappointed tone, "Family. Only coming around when they need something." There's another pin; keep both in mind

Raven: "Does she have it?" Qrow: "...Did you know Yang lost her arm?" Raven: "That's not—" Qrow: "Rhetorical question, I know you know. It's just obnoxious that you'd bring up family and then carry on like your own daughter doesn't exist." Raven: "I saved her." Qrow: "Once. Because that was your rule, right? Real 'Mom of the Year' material, sis."

Qrow dodges Raven's question about the Relic and instead brings up her hypocrisy in how she treats family. And it's a good point. Here she is lording her siblingship with Qrow over his head while simultaneously defending and upholding her rule that she is only obligated to help her own daughter a single time. Another pinpoint on our little conspiracy board

Also, here's the one time in this conversation Qrow refers to Raven as "sis". Like Raven's use of "brother", Qrow's use of "sis" is very pointed and with intent. But it's not to manipulate Raven, it's a snarky jab meant to rly hammer home Qrow's point

Raven: "I told you Beacon would fall, and it did. I told you Ozpin would fail, and he has. Now you tell me. Does. Salem. Have it?" Qrow: "I thought you weren't interested in all of that." Raven: "I just want to know what we are up against." Qrow: "And which 'we' are you referring to?"

A few things of note here. At some point in the past, Raven expressed an outright disinterest in Ozpin's inner circle, at least to Qrow. Qrow also feels excluded in the "we" Raven mentions being against Salem. To me, there seems to be a distinct possibility here that it wasn't that Raven felt personally disinterested in Ozpin's operations, but that she somehow felt excluded and feigned a lack of interest in order to protect herself. An idea that is further supported in my eyes by the following dialogue:

Qrow: "You should come back, Raven. The only way we'd beat her is by working together. All of us." Raven: "You're the one who left. The tribe raised us, and you turned your back on them." Qrow: "They were killers and thieves." Raven: "They were your family." Qrow: "You have a very skewed perception of that word."

And there it is. Raven's problem is laid out here for us, loud and clear: She feels like she was the one abandoned, not the one running away. She says it outright! "You're the one who left." To her, Qrow is the traitor, the one who left their family behind. If you ask Qrow (or, for that matter, Tai, Yang, and even Summer based on the scene in V9), it's the opposite

Bcus they have different definitions of family

Another thing to pin (I promise this will all become clear soon)

Raven: "I lead our people now. And as leader, I will do everything in my power to ensure our survival." Qrow: "I saw. The people of Shion saw, too." Raven: "The weak die. The strong live. Those are the rules." Qrow: "Well, you've certainly got someone strong on your side. I've seen the damage." Raven: "We couldn't have known the Grimm would set in as quickly as they did." Qrow: "I'm not talking about the Grimm. And I'm not talking about you, either."

Notice Raven's shift from "the tribe" to "our people". More of that guilt tripping!

Additionally, Raven is *obsessed* with rules. One save. The weak die, the strong live. Raven lives and breathes rules, even seemingly arbitrary ones. Guess what this is? Another pin!

Raven: "If you don't know where the Relic is, then we have nothing left to talk about." Qrow: "I don't know where the Spring Maiden is, either, but if you do, I need you to tell me." Raven: "And why would I do that?" Qrow: "Because without her, we're all going to die." Raven: "...And which 'we' are you referring to?"

Qrow's "either" here implies that he also doesn't know where the Crown of Choice is, which is... interesting. He's one of Ozpin's closest lieutenants, and is in the dark on where Beacon's Relic is? Wherever it is, it is such a closely kept secret that even Ozpin's best spy doesn't know where it is (maybe so that in the event Qrow gets captured by Salem he can't be forced into giving her the information?)

Meanwhile, Raven's "And why would I [tell you]?" implies that she does know who the Spring Maiden is (obviously. Raven's the Spring Maiden lol) but refuses to disclose to Qrow

A lantern sputters out after Qrow says "Without [Spring] we're all going to die." Now, I genuinely can't remember if this is headcanon or canon, but iirc Misfortune seems to act up when Qrow's upset. He's clearly tired of this little game of dancing around topics that Raven's been playing with him

And once again, Raven indicates a feeling of exclusion from Qrow's life in the iconic final line. She gets the final word in before leaving

We've finally reached the end of the conversation. Now what does all of this tell us?

And here is where all of those pins I wrote down are relevant. As I mentioned, the twins view family very differently

Qrow's view is pretty obvious: he views family as the ppl in his life who matter most to him. Unlike Raven, he does not view the tribe as family despite the fact that they raised him, disgustedly referring to them as "killers and thieves". It's implied that he was, in fact, neglected and/or likely abused by the Branwen tribe, saying in V6C4, "No one wanted me... I was cursed..." further explaining his distaste for them. Furthermore, despite not being related to Ruby by blood, they clearly consider one another family throughout the series, and he even seems closer to her than he seems to his niece who's actually blood related to him (I personally headcanon that he keeps more of a distance from Yang bcus she reminds him too much of Raven, who he feels abandoned and hurt by, but that's neither here nor there). Bloodlines and debts are secondary compared to loyalty, if they're considered at all. He is obviously furious that Raven only insists on saving Yang once and never directly interacting with her beyond that, despite Raven constantly guilting Qrow over abandoning his so-called "family" of the tribe. And yet. And yet. He still offers Raven a place back in his life, even if only to unite against Salem

Raven's view, to me, has been an enigma for a while. But after hyperanalyzing this conversation, after noting down all of those points of interest, I feel like I've finally cracked the code. Raven views family as an obligation, an exchange that always has an ulterior motive behind it. She seeks out Qrow only bcus she desires smth from him despite showing distaste when someone does the same to her; condescendingly calls Qrow "brother" more than his actual name and calls the tribe their "family" to try guilting him into doing what she wants; and feels fierce loyalty to the tribe but barely interacts with her daughter, only seeming to count one of the two as true family. She views the concept of family with cynicism and seems to feel an obligation to the tribe, as if she "owes" them for raising her

I think the two's perceptions of what defines family are all to do with the way the tribe treated both of them. This crosses a bit into headcanon territory, but as you can see by the above quotes and analysis, I rly don't think I'm just making it up entirely

As I already mentioned, I think it's implied that the Branwen tribe neglected/abused Qrow. In fact, we could probably blame their treatment of him for the deep self-loathing he has due to his "cursed" Semblance. But what about Raven?

Well, it's simple: I think she was abused, too, just in a different way. While Qrow was likely shown and told on a consistent basis that he was unwanted, unloved, undeserving of good things, Raven may have been shown and told she was wanted, loved, and deserving of good things... if she did what the tribe told her. If she repaid them for raising her and her brother, for being her "family". The way she uses her familial ties with Qrow as almost blackmail may be exactly the way the tribe treated her. Her obsession with following rules may stem from the fact that she had to follow the rules the tribe set for her in order to be accepted and deemed worth smth

As for her distance from Yang... honestly, I wonder if Raven is aware that Yang deserves better and keeps her distance as her way of doing that. When Summer confronts Raven in the V9 scene, Raven says, "...You're better at that life. Better than I was." She seems to have a fear and insecurity about being a good family member, a good mother, and maybe that's why she fled. Maybe she was scared of being like her abusers due to how she emulates them as a self-preservation tactic in so many other ways. Not entirely sure about this point tho

And I think too this is why the twins don't rly understand one another. They may have been unaware of the different ways in which the other was treated. Qrow, constantly unwanted and loathed, can't understand why Raven sticks around with the tribe; Raven, who obeyed the tribe and, in doing so, garnered enough of their favor to even eventually become leader, can't understand why Qrow can't just be "good", earn respect, and stay

This dissonance between the two experiences may also be completely intentional on the part of the tribe; abusers will often eliminate their targets' support systems in order to make them completely reliant on the abuser, so it's highly likely that the wedge was intentionally driven between the two siblings so that they could not find support in one another. This would also tie into why the twins seem to feel excluded from one another's lives and abandoned by one another: bcus they were made to feel that way by their common abusers, and did nothing to challenge these assumptions bcus they saw no reason to — and only seemed to keep proving one another right if they did

Which rly has some disturbing implications about how the Branwen tribe works. Like, do they just pick orphaned kids up off the street and abuse them into being perfect little bandits, molded to be of the greatest possible use and discarded if they're deemed worthless? Plus Qrow says his Semblance is how he got his name, which implies that the tribe also renames the kids they scoop up (possibly as a form of control or a way to make sure they can't be tracked down by any remaining family)? Plus there's the whole thing where Qrow and Raven were originally sent to Beacon to learn how to kill Huntsmen, which carries with it the implication that the Branwen tribe grooms literal orphan children into becoming stone-hearted murderers? What. The heck.

And if I'm right, if the Branwen tribe is that severely abusive, then like... wow, no wonder Qrow and Raven are Like That. They're both very deeply hurt people expressing it in different ways

I was considering adding their conversation at the Battle of Haven to this post, but I think that would be better as its own thing. Also I haven't gotten there on my rewatch yet so I may miss some details if I try to analyze it rn; it's better to wait overall methinks

But I have reached the point of my rewatch where we see Weiss and Whitley interact, and I think it would be very efficient to sum up what Qrow and Raven's relationship seems to be by using those siblings as a point of reference. Qrow = Weiss, actively trying to break free from and fight back against their abusers in different ways, while Raven = Whitley, continuing to do as their abusers want and have wanted as a method of self-preservation. Only, unlike Weiss and Whitley, Qrow and Raven have yet to come to a point where they can understand one another. I think that's a good way to briefly summarize the uh. Absolutely massive post this is.

In conclusion, I may have cracked the majority of the Branwen twins' pre-Beacon backstory purely by hyperanalyzing a single conversation. Oopsies