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coffeeshades · 1 year

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credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART III

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who are obliviously in love.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 13.5k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). filthy smut. angst. cussing, age gap, mentions of drugs and alcohol. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: i know i made you guys wait a lot for this but i wanted it to be perfect and i was really busy but it's finally here now! thank you for the love on the first two parts, i love all of you. happy reading!!!

masterlist with next parts!

"Oh yes! I forgot about the most exciting part. It's your friend, Pedro Pascal."

You're not sure who it's exciting for, because it's certainly not you. Sure, Jon had no idea what had happened between you and Pedro, but you were hoping he did at the time. Because if he did, he wouldn't be gushing about how exciting it is that the two of you are going to collaborate.

You try to hide your dismay and muster up a smile as Jon continues to talk about how great Pedro is. You can't help but wonder how you're going to make it through this project without letting your personal issues with Pedro get in the way of your work and finally driving you into insanity.

Regardless, you know you have to remain professional and focused. It's just a job.

"Does he know about me?" you hesitantly ask.

"Yeah, he's known for awhile." Jon replies, "We asked him not to mention anything, but I've gotta say I'm surprised he actually didn't."

"I've got to say I'm surprised too."

•••

For the next few weeks, the only thing on your mind was Pedro. You couldn't stop thinking about what he might have said or what he thought when he found out you were going to work together. This war between you and your brain was pretty stupid because you could just call him or send him a quick text.

Hey, guess what? We're finally going to work together! :)

Simple as that.

The problem was that you didn't want to be the one to bring it up first. You weren't the type to hold a grudge over trivial matters, but here you were, silently punishing him for what he did last month.

One of your last shows on the tour was in New York, and as usual, you invited most of your friends. Even though Pedro had been living in London for the last few months, you still sent him a text inviting him. He had taken a flight for other stuff, so it was safe to assume he would make the effort for this as well.

You: Hey! I know you're in London, but my show at MSG is next week, and everyone's coming. I would like for you to come too :)

Pedrito: Hi, my schedule here is pretty tight for next week. I'm sorry. Next time?

You: Bummer. Sure.

Despite your disappointment, you understood the situation perfectly. His work schedule has become quite hectic recently, as he has been traveling and shooting movies in various locations such as Hawaii, Boston, and now London. Your schedules no longer seemed to be in sync, and neither of you made an effort to rearrange your plans to fit the other.

Those months he spent filming with Oscar in Hawaii were by far the worst. Mostly because they were having fun and you weren't part of it. To put it mildly, the FOMO nearly killed you. The group chat and his Instagram were filled with pictures of them surfing, hiking, and exploring the island while you were miles away alone.

The night of the show arrived, and everything went smoothly as planned, leaving you with a feeling of relief and satisfaction. That later changed when, backstage, in the midst of winding down, Oscar approached you with a smile, "Too bad Pedro couldn't make it, he would've loved this outfit."

You smile as you look down at your own stage outfit, knowing he'd like it because of its purple color.

"Too bad he's in London," you reply back.

Oscar's face falls slightly as he responds, "London?"

You nod as you chug down the last of your water bottle.

"No, he got here days ago," he says, huffing a laugh. "I called him so we could ride together, but he never answered. I figured I would run into him here."

"Oh."

Oscar's expression is slightly puzzled, as if he's trying to connect the dots between the two statements. "Is everything okay between you guys?"

You wanted to lie so bad; say yes and play it cool. After all, that's what you two have been doing for the past nine months: playing pretend. But this whole exchange has caught you off guard, and you're not sure if you want to continue with the facade or finally be honest about the situation.

"I don't know anymore."

Your attention snapped back to the present.

For days, you tried to brush it off and convince yourself that it was no big deal, but deep down, you couldn't shake off the feeling of disappointment and hurt. He had been there and chose not to go. Not even a call or text to explain or apologize. Nothing.

So, no. You weren't going to text him first, were you?

Manhattan Beach Studios, Los Angeles.

October 2018.

If somebody had told Pedro three years ago that he would be starring as a bounty-hunting badass in a signature Star Wars series, he would've laughed in their face. But here he was, about to start the table read for the first episode of The Mandalorian, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves as he waited to see how his character would come to life on screen.

It was a pinch-me moment. He had come a long way since his early days as a struggling actor, and he was grateful for the opportunity to work with such talented people on a project that was sure to be groundbreaking. As he looked around the room at his fellow cast members and crew, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment.

Until his eyes landed on you.

He then felt shame and guilt for how he handled things a month before. He knows he fucked up. You're sitting across from him, the heavy, discerning quality of your gaze sending shivers down his spine. It's as if you're peering right through him, past the gleaming politeness to the rough edges beneath. If looks could kill, he'd be a dead man.

Your expression says, "Wipe that smile off your face. There's nothing to be happy about."

He was convincing himself that he didn't exactly know what drove him not to tell you the truth about his availability. Except he did. His time away from you had allowed him to get you out of his system, and he didn't want to fall back down the maybe-I-have-feelings-for you rabbit hole again. So in true Pedro fashion, he avoided it.

He knew he'd be back in New York for your concert when you texted him. Yet he boldly lied. And it bit him in the ass.

He couldn't throw away all the progress the two of you had made, so he knew he had to make amends for his behavior before it was too late. He made a mental note to talk to you after the reading was over.

•••

The reading was over in what seemed like an eyeblink. You were so thrilled to be part of this, and even given everything that has happened between you two, you would be lying if you said you weren't happy you're doing this with him.

Though you weren't doing a particularly good job of displaying it. You barely talked to him when you got here, quickly exchanging hellos and moving on to something else.

You were settling into your trailer with your agent, going over some details, when you heard a knock. Your agent quickly rises to unlock the door as you continue to put some of your things in a drawer. When the door opens, you hear him before you see him. "Taylor, Taylor, Taylor!"

Taylor couldn't help but laugh at his antics, and you can't either. A smile formed on your lips as you closed the drawer before collecting yourself and remembering that you were really mad at him.

"Pedro, long time no see!" she says as they hug and exchange pleasantries.

Taylor looks my way. "I am going to get some of those snacks we saw earlier," she says, "I'll be back in a bit."

As she exits the trailer, you make your way to the door. Pedro is standing there, dressed in a black sweatshirt, olive green trousers, and white sneakers, which you can only describe as attractive.

Needless to say, he was making it difficult for you to hate him right now.

•••

Pedro's mind goes completely blank when he sees you; it's as if he has forgotten everything else around him and all he can focus on is you, making it hard for him to form coherent sentences.

"You cut your hair," he blurted.

"Yes."

"It looks very pretty; I like it."

"Is that why you came here?" you inquire, "to tell me my hair's pretty?"

"No, I came here to apologize," he replies back as he steps into the trailer and closes the door behind him. He watches you sit on the edge of the sofa that adorned the room, hands on each side of you, waiting for him to continue.

He takes a deep breath. "I know I messed up and hurt you. I just wanted to make things right, kid."

"Why?"

"Because you’re the last person in the world I want to upset. That would be, like, devastating."

"Hmm," you hum, a blank expression on your face, "you're not doing a very good job at it."

Pedro couldn't help but smirk at your jab, "Clearly. You looked like you were plotting my murder in there."

"Oh, I already know where I'm going to hide your body."

His laugh fills the room, and your face softens. He began walking towards the couch, and you both slumped back into it at the same time. "It's nothing really; I'm over it," you say, staring at the wall.

Pedro tilts his head to look at you, "When will you learn that you're so bad at lying that it's not worth even trying?"

You face him, your beautiful eyes catching him off guard. "This is the worst apology ever, by the way."

"I know, princesa," he says softly. "But I mean it. I'm sorry I didn't go, and I'm sorry it took me this long to apologize."

You slowly nod, your face displaying a hint of uncertainty. As if you're trying to figure out whether he's sincere or not, which he wishes you didn't have to even wonder about. "It's okay if you didn't want to go; I just wish you would've said that instead of lying and making me look like an idiot, P."

No, no, no. I wanted to go, but I'm a fucking coward.

Your words pierced him like a dagger, and the pang of guilt washed over him again. He's been drowning in it for the past few weeks, but to actually hear the disappointment in your voice is a completely different beast.

Before he could even muster up a response, you speak again, "But I forgive you."

Pedro's breathing slowed down as you placed a hand on his thigh, and he heard those words. He reciprocated the gesture and then put his hand over yours, gripping it softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Good," he says, "because now we can properly freak out about this," excitement overflowing through him as he couldn't keep it in anymore.

He needed to share this with you. When the creators of the show approached him, you were the first person that came to his mind. One of the things you've always wanted to be part of was Star Wars, so he knew you would be jealous to find out he was cast in this and couldn't wait to give you a hard time, just like Oscar did when he got the role of Poe.

That plan quickly fell apart when the creators revealed they were bringing you aboard, and even though it meant he couldn't torture you any longer, he was overjoyed you were going to be by his side in this.

“You must be ecstatic,” you tell him, your hands still connected, "this is a big deal."

"Yeah, who would've thought?"

"I did," you attempt to correct yourself, but it’s too late. Pedro has already saved the words for later in his mind. "I mean, we did! We all did. Your friends, I mean. We knew things were only going to get better for you. Even before I met you, I knew you were going to do great things. Sarah talked about it all the time, too, and we're pretty sure this is only the beginning."

He's stunned at the rambling explanation of your thoughts about his rising career. He looks at you with gratitude in his eyes, feeling fortunate to have supportive people like you in his life who believe in him.

The lack of hesitation in your voice did the opposite of what your words had done; it cooled down the hope that had lit up like a flame in his chest.

"Now, come on, let's find Taylor and those snacks," you tell him as you rise up from the couch and extend your hand to him, "I'm hungry, and we still have costume fittings," you add. He puts his hand in yours, restraining himself and letting you struggle to pull him up as you try your hardest to do so.

"You asshole!" you yell, tightening your grip on his hand, "Stop that and get up!"

He can't stop laughing as you finally manage to pull him up. "you need to work on your strength, baby," he says between chuckles.

You scoff and playfully hit him on the shoulder, "My strength is fine, thank you."

"Ow! Who's the asshole now?" he exclaims, rubbing his shoulder.

“And don't call me baby,” you tell him. "I forgave you, but that doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you."

"I don't think it works that way, baby."

"José Pedro!" you exclaim, clearly irritated.

"Sorry, old habits die hard."

The next two months were amazing, to say the least. It's as if all the two of you needed was to work together on a TV series to realize how much you needed to be together. Just like your on-screen characters, you two were tied to work together by a third thing, that thing being, of course, the child.

Speaking of the child, you were obsessed with it. You couldn't believe a green, Yoda-like animatronic puppet could win your heart in such a short period of time, but here you were. It was magical. Truth be told, everything about The Mandalorian was magical.

Every day you had to step on that immaculate set that's built and surrounded by volume, which creates an infinite sort of visual experience in terms of skies, planets, space, ships, and all kinds of things, was magical.

It just felt like you were stepping onto these highly sophisticated amusement park rides, with very little being left to the imagination because of how incredible the design work is from all the departments.

Another magical thing was seeing Pedro bring the character to life. His ability to convey so much depth and complexity to a character that is mostly hidden behind a mask is truly impressive. From crafting his "Mandalorian" walk and stance to his deep, jarring voice.

That voice.

That voice was made to torture you and send shivers down your spine. That voice made you forget all of your life's problems. Actually, that voice was made for one thing and one thing only, the bedroom.

"Oh my god, it doesn't sound like a bedroom voice!" he protested, as he highlighted lines in his script.

You were joining him and the creators in the recording booth for his voiceover session.

"It does! It's a sexy bedroom voice." you teased, making everyone laugh. "That's not very Disney of you, P."

He gets closer to the mic and whispers, voice altered because of the modulator, "Bite me."

"See? It works perfectly."

•••

You were having as much fun as you could. Simply put, you two were menaces on set.

You could tell Jon, Dave, and the rest of the crew were patient with your antics, but it was clear that they were also entertained by your on-set dynamic. It's not everyday that you get to work with your best friend, and you two made it everyone's problem.

Although sometimes you have to admit you take it a little too far.

"Catch me if you can, Boba Fett wannabe!" you scream.

Pedro was chasing you through the set with a prop sword, trying to get you to stop teasing him about his costume. "You are one insult away from getting a taste of this sword!"

"Okay, tin can man!"

You were running away from him as fast as you could, hoping to find a place to hide before he caught up with you. You quickly hide behind one of the makeup trailers and peek out to see him come to a stop, catching his breath. He was wearing his Beskar getup, minus the helmet.

“Give up yet, old man?"

He laughs. "We're being extra cruel today, huh?"

Taking advantage of his momentary pause and facing away from where you were hiding, you slowly inch closer to him, trying not to make a sound. As you get within arm's reach, you draw one of your prop knives from your costume pocket and hold it to his back. Using your free hand to hold him steady, you lean in and whisper in his ear, "I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold."

He turns his head slightly, and you can see the smirk on his face. "That's my line, thief."

Before you could pull away, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back toward him. He takes hold of you and tightens his grasp on your waist. "Let me go, P!"

You struggle to break free from his grasp, but he only holds you tighter. "I am going to squeeze you so hard you will fart," he chuckles.

You snort. "You have such a way with words."

As you try to wriggle out of his grasp, you accidentally elbow him in the face, causing him to release his hold on you and stumble into a piece of plywood that had been propped up.

"Aw, fuck!" he cries out, clutching his nose.

"Holy shit, I'm sorry!" you rush to him, cupping his face. "Are you hurt?"

He removes his hand from his nose, revealing a cut and a trickle of blood. "It's alright, just a bloody nose," he says calmly.

You touch his nose gingerly, and he winces in pain. "Nevermind, I think it is broken."

•••

You begged Jon to let you ride to the hospital with them; after all, this was your fault. When you get there, the doctors rush to Pedro's side and begin examining him.

If you weren't preoccupied with being mortified over this, you'd laugh.

The scene before you is straight out of a sitcom, with Jon frantically explaining the situation to the doctors, Pedro in full costume with fake injuries and blood that you were pretty sure the doctors thought were real, and you standing there with an expression that screamed: Hey! It's me! I did this!

After a couple of minutes of clearing up that it was an accident and that the blood coming out of his ears was fake and not the cause of a brain hemorrhage, one of the doctors led us to a room to examine his nose.

"It's not broken," the doctor said, as she prepared to clean the wound. "He's just going to need a couple of stitches."

"Oh great, we still need to finish a scene, and they're waiting for us." Jon replies.

"This will take 15 minutes, tops," she says, grabbing a tray of medical supplies. “I will be fast.”

"I'll call the guys," Jon tells you as he exits the room.

You nod in agreement and stand in a corner as you silently watch the doctor carefully clean, anesthetize and stitch up the wound. You feel relieved that it wasn't anything more serious.

After she finishes, Pedro thanks her, and she nods with a smile. "You're going to need to take some analgesics for the pain. I'm gonna go grab my prescription pad. I'll be right back."

She exits the room, and you walk over to Pedro. He moves his head slightly, showing off his nose.

"How does it look?" he asks teasingly.

Your cheeks warm with embarrassment. "I can't believe I ruined your perfect nose."

"Who said it isn't perfect still?" he says it as if it were a challenge. His brow is arched, with the tiniest smirk hidden in one corner of his mouth.

"Don't start. I'm mortified."

"Tranquila, princesa. I said it was okay after you apologized 20 times on our way here," he reassures you. "Plus, now we have a funny story to tell during our press tour next year."

You sigh. "I guess you're right."

"You know," he says, "what hurts right now is that today is our last day of shooting. I can't believe it's been two months already. Time fucking flew."

Your heart sinks as you're once again reminded that this amazing experience is coming to an end. The day you've been dreading for weeks is finally here, and you're not ready to say goodbye. It's not like you already know you'll be back next year for the next season, but you're not ready to say goodbye to him and the daily routine you've formed, which mostly consists of breakfasts together, long hours on set, and late-night movie marathons.

"Yeah, I'm trying not to think about it," you muttered, "gonna miss our little routine."

Pedro studies you. "Maybe we can extend it for a little while longer."

Not knowing where this is going, you raise an eyebrow inquisitively. Pedro smiles, "I..I was thinking maybe... maybe you could come with me to Chile for Christmas with the family."

Your heart skips a beat as you process Pedro's words. You open your mouth slightly to say something, but you close it again, momentarily speechless, overwhelmed by the unexpected invitation.

"Uh… I know you probably have plans with your family,” he interjects, “but I thought this would be a good time for you to finally meet my father and the rest of the family, and—"

Before he could finish, you nodded eagerly, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of spending Christmas in Chile with Pedro and his family, “Yes, I would love to."

You've never seen him smile as broadly as he does now, and you know that you have made the right decision.

New York City

December 15, 2018

“Dude, he invited you to his hometown with his family, and you still think that man has no feelings for you?”

“Taylor...” you paused, picking up a clothing item that had fallen to the floor. “It's just a friendly gesture.”

“Yeah, I'm sure he invites everyone to his hometown to spend the holidays with his family. Sureee.”

You didn't want to go there; you'd promised yourself that you wouldn't get entangled in what ifs, so your friend's teasing wasn't helping you keep those thoughts at bay.

“I told you, he doesn't like me like that. I know he doesn't,” you say, suddenly remembering that night when you overheard him telling Sarah how he felt about you. “Plus, as my agent, you more than anyone know I can't do relationships right now; my life's too busy."

Taylor finished zipping up the last of your bags for the trip and gave you a reassuring smile. "I know, but it doesn't hurt to have a little fun, does it? And who knows—maybe he has changed his mind. Just enjoy the trip and have fun."

No, he hasn’t changed his mind.

“Yeah, I just want to have a good time, really. Things have been so good between us these past couple of months, It just feels...right again. I don’t wanna mess it up.”

"Understandable, bestie. However, I think you’re both making a huge mistake.”

You shake your head in amusement. “Thanks for helping me pack.”

“Thanks?” she scoffs. "I'm expecting a raise."

Santiago, Chile

December 20, 2018

After the chaos of the day leading up to the flight, it was actually a relief to be sitting here. The large, comfortable seat, with your feet tucked up under you as you gazed out the jet window, felt very much deserved.

While the gentle buzz of the flight filled your ears, you laid your head against the window of the plane and watched the clouds and the seemingly endless expanse of sky fly by.

As you began to drift off, you did your best to keep your attention on what was outside the plane rather than allowing your mind to wander to what would await you once you arrived at your destination. The mixture of excitement and exhaustion lulled you into a peaceful slumber, dreaming of the journey that lay ahead.

•••

The taxi ride from the airport to the Balmaceda-Pascal's was a blur of unfamiliar sights and sounds, but you couldn't help feeling a sense of wonder and curiosity as you took in the new surroundings. As the car comes to a stop in front of the house, you shoot Pedro a quick text.

You: I'm here, tonto.

Pedrito: I'll be right outside, tonta.

Since you still had a few things to attend to in New York, he had arrived two days earlier. After insisting like a madman that he could pick you up from the airport and you insisting like a madwoman that you could easily get there on your own, he gave up and let you take a cab.

The driver has already gotten out of the car to wrestle the luggage from the trunk. You clamber out after him into the brilliant sunlight, the heat instantly making your travel outfit—which consisted of a pair of black leggings, a sweatshirt, and Pedro's Freaky Tales green hoodie—feel suffocatingly thick. The change in temperature is a shock to your system, having just come from New York's freezing climate.

“Hey you!” Pedro's booming voice interrupts your thoughts, “Nice hoodie. Where'd you get it?”

“Um, someone left it at my place a while ago, and I decided to keep it. It's really comfy.”

Pedro smiles and nods, "It suits you. You should wear it more often."

“Thanks, but not here,” you tell him, your face flushing from the heat. ”It's burning hot."

“Welcome to Chile, where it's scorching hot during the winter and freezing cold during the summer,” he says in a joking tone, as he tucks a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “Let's get inside, it's cooler.”

The moment you stepped into the house, you were greeted by a refreshing blast of air conditioning. The house was lovely. You take in the Mediterranean decor style and the large windows that let in natural light as you look around. On either side of the foyer, stone archways lined the way up two stories to an ornate ceiling.

As you make your way to the living room, you catch a glimpse of the various family pictures that adorn the walls. The living room was spacious and inviting, with plush couches and a fireplace that made you feel right at home.

Dropping your bags next to the stairs that led to the second floor, Pedro places a hand in your back and gestures you towards a hallway, “C'mon, everyone is out back.”

At the back of the house, tangled trees press close, the forest extending as far as you can see, and off to the left, in the meadow, a gazebo adorned with wild grapes stands within a smaller thicket of trees. Bright glass-shard wind chimes and cutesy bird feeders swing in the branches, and the path cuts past a row of flowering bushes before curving onto a footbridge and then disappearing into the mountains on the far side.

It's like something out of a storybook. Charming, picturesque, and perfect.

“You're here!” A familiar voice drew your attention back to earth. “And right on time. How was your flight?”

Pedro's sister, Javiera, lit up with a smile as she hugged you tightly. You returned the embrace, grateful for her warm welcome. "It was long, but good nonetheless," you replied with a smile.

“Well, if it isn't the infamous best friend I keep hearing about?” you turned around to see Pedro's father approach you with a friendly smile on his face.

"Yup, that's me," you reply, extending your hand for a handshake.

"I'm glad to finally meet you," he says, shaking your hand. "Pedro talks about you all the time."

“I hope good things,” you chuckle, “and it's great to finally meet you too, Mr. Balmaceda.”

“Oh, please call me José,” he tells you, waving his hands. Just like his son, you notice that José has a warm and welcoming personality, making you feel at ease. “And please, make yourself feel at home; we're thrilled to have you.”

“No, he's thrilled to have a world famous superstar staying at his house,” Nicolás, Pedro's brother, retorts back at his father. Making everyone laugh and leaving you feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Oh, I don't know about being a superstar," you say lowly.

“Are you kidding?" Nicolás cuts you off as he takes a seat, "Don't be modest. It's literally an honor to have you here."

“Yeah, you're sooo cool,” Javiera's older son added.

"Okay, alright, that's enough." Javiera must have noticed your embarrassed expression. She reached out to you and held you by the shoulders, reassuring you. “Let's not overwhelm her with too much praise. Let's give her some space, she must be tired."

And she was right. The almost 12 hour flight has left you feeling exhausted, jet lagged, and in need of a very long nap.

"Vamos princesa, I'll take you to your room." Pedro turned around and led the way towards the room while you followed him closely, trying to keep your eyes open and fighting the urge to just collapse on the floor.

As you reached the second floor, your attention was drawn back to the house. “This place is so gorgeous, P.”

“We got it a couple of years ago. We wanted something a little bit bigger so we could have everyone over for vacations, and we also wanted something that felt like home, you know?”

“I love it,” you tell him.

“This is your room,” he says, jerking his chin at the door on the right, “and this is mine.”

He opens the door to the room on the left. His room, much like mine, is absolutely huge. The bed is along the wall immediately to your right as you enter, a recklessly comfortable looking king size bed doused under the weight of a fluffy duvet and an insane amount of pillows.

The bedding is bright white and contrasts sharply with the dark wooden floorboards. "Your bed looks like a big fluffy cloud," you say, giggling.

"It feels like one," he says, smiling. He can tell what you're thinking by the look in your eyes,"Go on, I know you want to."

Like a little kid, you start running towards the bed, feeling the softness of the plush carpet under your feet. As you sink into the bed, you realize that it's even more comfortable than it looks, and you can't help but let out a contented sigh.

“P, I’m never moving again,” you say, your voice drifting over to him.

"Ha. You’ll have to.”

“Hmm, why exactly?” you turn over onto your stomach and lean against your elbows to face him.

"Because it's my bed," he simply states, "and I have plenty of plans that don't include you spending the entire trip in my bed."

Bravery takes over, and you give him a playful smirk. "Well, I guess I'll just have to make sure those plans change then."

He chuckles and shakes his head, “Good luck with that, sweetheart.”

You know this is cruel. You were torturing yourself. Being so optimistic was cruel, but because of your longing and deep, hidden desires, you couldn't help but indulge in silly fantasies and play along.

“Alright, I'll go to mine,” you say with a forced smile as you get off the bed, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. “I need to nap right now, or I'll die.”

“I will, uh, come get you for dinner later.”

“Sure, boss,” you tell him, patting him on the shoulder as you walk past him to leave the room.

“Sweet dreams.”

In the past four days, you've learned many things.

First, Chile was sickeningly beautiful. The vibrant colors of the buildings and the breathtaking scenery of the Andes Mountains made you feel like you were in a dream. It spread out beneath you like a patchwork quilt, with each square representing a different aspect of its culture and history. From the bustling city streets to the serene beaches.

The food was also a highlight, and you're pretty sure you gained a few pounds from indulging in the delicious local cuisine.

“Here, try this one.”

“That's the biggest empanada I've ever seen in my life,” you exclaimed as you took a bite of the savory pastry, filled with juicy meat and vegetables. “This is so fucking good.”

Pedro chuckles. “It's filled with a mixture called Pino.”

“Okay, forget the manjar. This,” you say, mouth full, “is my new favorite thing in this country.”

Pedro gasps. “I thought I was your favorite thing in this country.”

You grin and give him a playful nudge. "Okay, fine. You're still my favorite, but this empanada might take the top spot."

“That's better,” you look up at him, trying not to melt then and there at the signature wide grin spread across Pedro's gorgeous face. “But you know, there's still plenty of time for me to prove that I deserve the top spot.”

You chuckle at his remark, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "We'll see about that, Pascal," you reply, taking another bite of the delicious empanada and secretly hoping he succeeds in his mission.

•••

Second, Pedro's family were the warmest hosts you could have imagined, eager to share their traditions and stories with you. They accepted you as one of their own and made you feel like a member of the family.

They took you on various adventures throughout the city, showing you hidden gems that only locals knew about. The tradition of taking a trip to a hiking site outside the city whenever all of them got together was in motion and this year it was the Valley of the Moon's turn.

“That hike was so worth it, guys," Nico says, a little out of breath from climbing up the steep trail.

Damn right, it was. As you're standing atop a giant sand dune, you're bewildered by what you're witnessing. The view as the sun slips below the horizon is out of this world. The ring of volcanoes and surreal lunar landscapes of the valley are suddenly suffused with intense purples, pinks, and golds. It's the most beautiful sunset you've ever seen.

You quickly grab the camera that's hanging around your neck and start taking pictures, trying to capture the breathtaking moment before it fades away. “Guys, get together!” you shout, “A family photo with this stunning backdrop is a must.”

As you finish taking the pictures, Pedro's voice breaks the silence, “Javi, grab the camera and take one of us, please.”

You comply and hand the camera to her. Pedro sneaks a hand around your waist and pulls you close, “Smile, princesa.”

“Don't tell me what to do," you playfully retort, leaning into him and smiling for the camera.

•••

And third, Pedro has always had a thing for theatrics. Today, some of you decided to take a trip to the beach. The heat was unbearable, and the cool ocean water sounded like the perfect way to beat it.

He would often come out of the ocean dramatically, splashing water all around and pretending to be a sea monster to scare his nephews. As soon as he saw the waves, he ran towards them and jumped into the water with a loud roar. His nephews laughed and cheered him on as he swam towards them, pretending to be a giant creature ready to attack.

After spending most of the day in the water, you were sitting down on the sand, attempting to make sand castles with one of Pedro's cousins. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was soothing, making you feel relaxed. “My god, he's like a kid,” you tell her, looking at Pedro as he continued to play with his nephews, now closer to the shore.

She laughs. “He's always been like this. As a child, he was always playful and energetic, and he never lost that spirit as he grew up. It's one of the many things we love about him."

The sandcastle you were working on was slowly starting to take shape. Pedro's cousin continued to build it and tell you stories about him, letting nostalgia wash over you.

She told you about his grandfather and how he used to take them to watch double features of old movies, and how that heavily influenced Pedro's love for storytelling and cinema. You didn’t know him then, and you'll never understand why it feels like you did. “But you know, one of my absolute favorite memories is when he recited Hamlet here on the beach with Grandpa."

“Actually, it was Death of a Salesman, cousin.”

His voice startles you as you turn to see him standing behind you, a small smile on his face. "I do remember that day," he continued as he lowered himself onto the sand behind you, legs on each side of your body. He places a hand on your thigh for a brief moment as he settles behind you before removing it.

You want nothing more than to reach out and put his hand back on you, to insist he keep touching you but you don’t.

He starts helping you with the sandcastle, and your breath catches in your throat as you feel his familiar warmth spread through your body. Droplets of water from his hair fall onto your warm skin, and the small elephant tattoo on his right inner thigh catches your eye as he reaches for a shovel, "I was about 14 years old. I videotaped it but lost the fucking camera on the trip back to the States.”

“Damn, I would've loved to see that.”

He chuckles in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Maybe I can reenact it for you.”

“Please do.”

•••

Pedro suggested you two go outside and stargaze with a glass of wine after returning from the beach. The evening summer breeze was much cooler than the daytime breeze. You were both sitting on the back porch, leaning back on the cushioned chair, the wooden floor creaking under your weight.

“Want me to open another bottle, princesa?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Pedrito?”

You can't help but stare as Pedro throws back his head, a bellowing laugh escaping him into the quiet night air. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he shakes his head, still chuckling. "No, I just want to make sure you're enjoying yourself. And if that means another bottle of wine, then so be it."

He reaches for your glass, hands touching briefly, and pours you some more. Even in the dark, the blinding white of his smile and the twinkle in those achingly beautiful brown eyes are impossible to miss.

With the moon low in the sky, his silhouette was even clearer to you: the way the bridge of his nose dips into the top of the large glass, the delicate hold of his fingers on the stem, and the mess of his hair.

Cicadas screamed into the night air as the taste of the rich, velvety wine danced on your tongue. Now, slightly tipsy on the red wine, you were nearly too lost in your memory of the moment to notice that Pedro had turned his head from above to look at you. Clearly, your staring had captured his attention, but you went to stare resolutely at the night sky again.

He sobered quickly, but his eyes never left you. You felt the weight of his lingering stare and were thankful that the darkness of the night and warmth of the fire covered your suddenly flushed cheeks. “Excited for Christmas tomorrow?” you ask softly, trying to break the tension with a light-hearted question.

“Yes,” he replied with a small smile, "but I'm more excited that you get to spend it with us."

A warmth filled your chest, and if your cheeks weren't already blushing already, they certainly were now, but you wouldn’t look away from him. The meaning wasn’t lost on you. “Thank you for inviting me, really. I thought I was going to be sad, but you guys have made me feel at home."

Pedro frowns. “What do you mean? About being sad.”

“I kind of hate this season now because it reminds me how lonely I am,” you chuckle, gripping the wine glass slightly tighter. “And don't get me wrong, I love my family and my friends, but after you spend years with someone, Christmas just feels different without them around, you know? It's like...” you trail off, trying to put into words the feeling of emptiness that lingers within you. “Like there's a void that can't be filled no matter how many people are around you. And-and it's not like I miss that person in particular, I just miss having someone.”

His unblinking eyes hadn’t left yours, and you continued, feeling vulnerable but also relieved to finally get that out of your system. “I know it sounds silly, but I think it’s just a reminder that things change. you meet people and you love them, and then you lose them. It's inevitable, and it happens to everyone.”

It falls quiet between you again, the familiarity of the years of friendship meaning you are both comfortable with it. The weight of what you just said still hangs heavy in the air until he nods slowly, breaking the silence. “I get it. I feel the same way somehow,” you tear your eyes away from the constellations above to stare at him quizzically, a raised eyebrow telling him to elaborate.

He huffs out a laugh, as if he's amused by your confusion or embarrassed by his own vulnerability, and continues, “I guess that's one of the reasons why I don't date. I'm saving myself from that.”

“Yeah, I guess now I am too,” you respond, nodding in understanding.

"Also, not to sound like an arrogant asshole—"

“Which you probably will anyway,” you add in a playful tone.

“Ha, ha. Very funny,” he says mockingly. “But my schedule is busy, if I wanna be involved in something, I want to pay attention to it and nurture it. It takes energy to be with someone.”

“It's not arrogant, it's the truth. I was telling Taylor the same thing the other day,” you tell him. “I can't date because I don't have the time to, but...”

“But what?” Pedro interrupts.

“Don't rush me, dude,” you chuckle. “But I'm also human, and I have needs sometimes, and it sucks that I can't just go to a bar like a regular person and sit on the barstool, have a drink, and wait for someone to approach me so we can go to their place and have sex and forget about it the next morning,” you finally admit, staring down at your finger swirling over the rim of your glass.

“No strings attached," he adds, his voice scratchy. “I, um, ha. I wish I could do that too. You're not alone.”

“Hooking up with someone like that in our world would involve lots of NDAs,” you say, laughing.

“Oh yes, very romantic stuff.”

His eyes were doing the thing, the Pedro thing, and you did your best to ignore the way your heart lurched. The moment was charged with tension, and you both knew that there was more to say, and since neither of you dared to break the silence, someone else decided to break it for you, clearing their throat loudly and making you both jump. You turn to see Javiera standing by the door, looking amused and a little bit smug.

"I just wanted to let you guys know the rest of us are going out for dinner, in case you're interested in joining us," she said, her eyes flickering between the two of you. “Uh, no. Thanks, I'm beat. The wine has made me sleepy.”

“I'm gonna have to pass too, sis,” Pedro tells her. “You guys have fun.”

“Yeah, you too,” she says with a sly smile. “We'll be back late!”

After she leaves, you stand up and stretch your arms, feeling the effects of the wine yourself. “Woah. Too much wine,” you chuckle. “I should head to bed now before I regret it in the morning.”

“Me too,” he breathes out as he gets up, collecting his glass and yours. "Goodnight, princesa," he adds with a smile before you head towards the door. “Goodnight, P.”

•••

As soon as you entered your room, you immediately hopped in the shower, hoping to wash away the exhaustion from the day and also the dirty thoughts that had been lurking in your mind.

The warm water cascading down your body helped ease the tension in your muscles, and you let out a contented sigh. After a few minutes, you stepped out and changed into fresh clothes.

As you lie in bed, the conversation you had an hour before with Pedro seems to replay in your mind.

I wish I could do that too. You're not alone.

You promised yourself you wouldn't cross that line again. The last time you took that black, bold line and made it gray, it came with consequences. But you're not known for making the best decisions when it comes to these matters anyway.

You start to feel anxious and restless, unable to quiet your thoughts or fall asleep.

Perhaps a glass of water will help.

As you walk out of the bedroom, everything is dark, meaning everyone is still out for dinner. You have only the soft glow of the city outside the large windows to guide your way.

Hesitating as you walk through the hallway towards the stairs, you slow your steps, not entirely trusting your eyes to keep you from running into anything in the dark, unfamiliar space in such low light. Before you reach the stairs, you notice the light underneath Pedro's room, casting a faint glow onto the hallway carpet.

He's still up, you thought.

Before you even realized what you were doing, you were heading toward his room.

“Pedro?” you call out his name as you gently knock on the door, “You up?”

“Bathroom! Come in!” he screams. You reach the doorknob and push it open. The sound of water running fills your ears as you step inside. You plop down sideways on his bed, legs dangling off the edge, and wait for him to finish his shower. The chilly night air seeps in through the slightly open door of his balcony, making you shiver.

“Can't sleep?” His voice is soft and soothing as he walks out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry and wearing only black boxers. You avert your gaze, trying to ignore the way just looking at his face, with his golden skin from all the sun exposure, the shadow of dark scruff on his cheeks, and his brown eyes crinkled by a soft smile, makes your heart race.

“Nope,” you mumble. “Too much on my mind, I guess.”

“Enlighten me, please,” he quickly replies, returning to the bathroom. You get off the bed, take a deep breath, and try to compose yourself, but the sight of him in those boxers makes it difficult. You know that if you start talking about what's really on your mind, things might get even more complicated between the two of you.

“Uh...” you huffed out a laugh as the scenario played in your head, your legs almost giving out as you felt your guts twisting. Your mouth fell slightly agape as he stepped back into the room, “What's so funny?” he inquired. You fidget with your fingers and look at him, still chuckling a bit, “That conversation we had earlier. I can't stop thinking about it,"

Pedro leaned against the bathroom door, his face puzzled, reflecting that he had no idea which of the many conversations you two had today you were referring to. “The one about hooking up, I mean. And how you wish you could do that too," you continue, not bothering to try and hide the small beginnings of a smile from Pedro's watchful gaze, entirely more interested in testing the waters than anything else.

“Oh?” is all Pedro gives by way of a reply, not that you mind much since that works just as well as a real answer theoretically could. “Oh," you confirm. This could go either way, but as of right now, you're willing to take the risk.

His gaze is fixed on you, and you go back to lying on the bed, closing your eyes as if you're bracing for the impact of the unknown. “I was wondering if—and I might be making a complete fool of myself by saying this—but what if...” you trail off. "What if we..?” you can't bring yourself to finish the sentence, suddenly realizing that once you say it, you can't take it back.

“Fucked?” he interrupts, and your eyes shoot open, surprised by his bluntness. You sit up on the bed, heart racing as you try to gather the courage to speak. “I mean, we-we know each other, and we're both horny, and we wouldn't have to sign any NDAs,” you joke, trying to lift the weight off the air.

"That's true," Pedro quips quickly, though any hint of eagerness in his reply is tempered by the softness of his voice. You feel the blush that rises in your cheeks at the implication in his words and you look away, seemingly breaking the trance you’ve been in. “Okay.”

“Okay?” you repeat, dumbfounded.

“Would you rather have me say no?” he chuckles, crossing his arms as he leans one shoulder into the doorframe and deciding that for now he’ll stay where he is, knowing he looks like a smug jerk but unable to help himself.

“No!” you tell him, rather eagerly. “I mean, of course you can say no. We don't have to do this if you're not into it,” you add softly.

He says your name and looks into your eyes, "My answer's yes.”

“Okay, but I have some rules,” you get off the bed, body tensed with anticipation. “Of course you do,” Pedro says, arching his eyebrow and giving you a knowing smile.

“No feelings. This can only happen while we're here. Once we go back to our normal lives, this never happened,” you tell him. He nods, taking a slow step forward and then another, and although there’s still a great deal of space between the two of you, you can feel the tension building. "Also, we can't tell anybody about this, not even our closest friends,” you continue.

He's closer now, feeling his breath on your face, and his hands find their way to your waist. "It's our little secret," he whispers, and you grab his shoulders to steady yourself.

“And no nicknames. No princesa, no baby, no love,” you try to sound stern but your voice betrays the excitement you feel.

He grins mischievously, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “But there's no fun in that.”

“Fine. You can call me whatever you want,” you give in, finding his amusement endearing.

“Well, that was easy,” he chuckles, his grin widening. “Are you done with your rules?”

“Yes, I guess so,” you stammered, feeling a bit embarrassed for being so easily swayed by his charm.

“Good,” he says, and you feel a shiver run down your spine as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “So I can start doing this,” he whispers, his hand sliding down your pajama shorts, sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin. "And this," he adds, as his lips press against your neck.

When you finally make yourself let go and stop fighting for some false sense of restraint for even one second longer, you notice that something changes in the way Pedro touches you, as if he's more confident and sure of himself.

His free hand moves up to hold the back of your head to hold you in place. You do the same, your hands finding their way to his broad shoulders for support. The tip of his finger under your shorts traces over where you’re slick and too ready for him. His mouth is tantalizingly close to yours, brown eyes staring into yours, pining and desperately waiting. “Can I?” he asks.

It's humorous and sweet even that he's asking permission to kiss you when one of his hands is already under your pants. Every rational thought disappears, and you crush your mouth against his.

Everything is slow and heavy, and he never lets his finger slide into you even when you silently beg for it. Just dragging it over and back—too little and too much all at the same time.

He presses the pad of his finger into your clit, and you have to break away from his mouth to groan, overwhelmed, knees wobbly. Pedro laughs quietly and nuzzles against your neck so his beard scruffs.

“Mi princesa,” he whispers against your neck, kissing it softly, “you make such pretty sounds."

There is a real chance you could spontaneously combust into flames just from the sound of his voice and his sweet nothings. He continues to draw circles on your clit making you moan and writhe in pleasure, feeling like you're about to explode with ecstasy. As he whispers more sweet words in your ear, you can't help but surrender to the intense sensations he's giving you.

“Is that good?” he asks, his voice rough, “Does that feel good?”

“Yes," you whisper, a hand traveling to his hair, tugging it tightly. “Yes.”

Just when you're about to come undone, he suddenly stops. Your eyes quickly find his for some explanations as to why he decided to put on hold the very satisfying and impending orgasm that was building up within you. “Oops,” he simply states, a grin plastered on his face.

“I fucking hate you,” you whine, pulling away from him. “I was so close! What you do that for?”

"I have some rules, too."

“Now?” you ask him, clearly frustrated with his antics. “Well, go on.”

“Actually, it's just one,” Pedro says, arching his eyebrows and giving you a knowing smile. His reaction is met by narrowed eyes, like you’re making sure to watch him closely until you figure out where exactly he’s going with this. "You do as I say. Which also means you come when I say."

“Sounds—” you're regaining your footing, regaining control over yourself, trying to reinstate some power, but the way he just said those words has taken away any sense of authority you thought you had. His voice is commanding, with no room for compromise or disobedience. “Sounds dangerous, but... alright.”

“Good girl, now get on the bed,” he says, and the timbre of his voice nearly kills you then and there, the dropping pitch making the words come out rough and serious. Pedro still sounds like himself, since his normal voice is more than enough to make you a little weak at the knees on a regular day, this new variant is a completely different monster.

You lay there, waiting for his next instruction, as the shadows danced on the walls and the sound of his footsteps echoed in the silence. Once he reaches the bed and fists his hands in the sheets on either side of your thighs, bending down until he’s face to face with you, your eyes level with his. You let your hands roam over his broad shoulders and down his torso, feeling his tense muscles relax under your touch.

“I need you now, P,” you mumble, and you move your hand lower to hold him through his boxers. He twitches into you.

“What did I say?” his dark eyes are fixed on you as he reaches for your hand and pins it above your head. "I don't think you fully understand the consequences of disobeying me. We'll do this my way," he whispers menacingly.

This dark side of Pedro is one you've never seen before. The Pedro you know is a sunshine. However, the man on top of you right now is a completely different person, and you're more than the ready to get to know him.

“Keep your hands above your head. No touching."

Your body is aching for him, all willing and open, but he’s sliding down you, pushing your shorts down as he goes. His soft hands trace your thighs and stops at your knees, “Open up for me.”

"So pretty," he says, voice thick. You look down to see his face, pupils blown wide. “Can't wait to taste you, baby.”

You're a wreck. A writhing, moaning, shaking wreck. Shit. You don't even need to be looking at his face to know how arrogant he is right now, not that you could—it's buried deep inside between your thighs. You're desperate to grab his hair just to see where misbehaving will take you, but you settle for the headboard.

He kisses your cunt, messy and hot. A groan rumbles in his throat and he moves his tongue in circles, exploring every inch of your wetness. You arch your back, lost in pleasure, as he continues to devour you with his mouth. When you look down again, his brown eyes are staring back at you as his fingers slide into you, finding the right spot in milliseconds. It's fucking game over.

His pace increases as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, perfectly coordinated with his tongue and his goddamn nose. “Pedro...” you whimper, out of breath. “P-Please let me cum."

“Not yet, baby," he chuckles, fingers continue to expertly tease and stroke your sensitive areas, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. "I know you can hold it for a little longer,” you cry out, gripping the bedsheets as you desperately try to move your hips to ride his fingers. Your eyes are watering slightly from how good he’s making you feel.

“You can cum now.”

Every part of your body spasms, and you scream, everything buzzing and vibrating as you tighten around him, bucking and thrashing, pleasure and electricity flooding your body. Removing his fingers, he starts kissing the inside of your thighs, all the way up to your belly and lips. As you try to catch your breath, he whispers in your ear, "That was just the beginning. I want to make you cum again and again."

You can tell Pedro loves the way your face heats up at his words. “Please do,” you tell him, grabbing the waistband of his boxers, and your wandering hands are met by bare, warm skin and the short, neatly cropped hair that grows thicker the further down your fingers dare to venture.

“I know you said you're in charge, but I really need you to take this off,” you say, losing your ability to wait for orders. To your surprise, he complies and gets off the bed, slides down his boxers, just as you get rid of your t-shirt. You can't help but admire the sight of him fully exposed and ready for you, moving to the drawer to pull out a condom, tearing the packet and rolling it onto himself.

“You can take a picture, it'll last longer."

“Don't get cocky.”

Pedro settles between you once again, and you grab his face. His eyes glistened, his hot breath on your skin as he leans in closer. Your thumb brushes against the tiny white scar on his nose. “You've marked me forever,” he chuckles, as he cradles your head and kisses you, his nose brushing against yours.

You grab his length and give him a slow, steady stroke from base to tip, then back down. His mouth leaves yours as his dick twitches in your firm grasp, causing him to groan involuntarily. The pace of your hand up and down his length never picking up or slowing down, instead maintaining the same teasingly slow pace.

“Are you sure?” he whispers softly.

“Yes.”

Pedro guides himself over you, the head of his cock slipping over where you’re open, up to rub on your clit so your fingers dig into his shoulders. His nose nudges gently against yours, “I'll be gentle, princesa.”

“I don't want you gentle. I want you rough.”

“Is that so?”

You moan, eyes closing. You can't even remember how to breathe, let alone speak. Pedro pushes only his head into you, opening you before pulling out, leaving you contracting around nothing. “I'm going to fuck you roughly, and you'll take it like a good girl, won't you?”

“Yes, P,” you rasp, hands sliding across his back. He's playing with you and knows how to make it almost unbearably good. He pushes deeper into you this time, and you can feel your body resist, protesting that he's too big, too much, and he pulls out. He drags his cock over where you're slick and messy before thrusting forward as far as he can. Your nails sink into his broad shoulders, back arching and pushing your stomach into his. "Oh my God.”

“You feel so fucking good, baby. Like you're made for me."

Your legs wrap around his hips, ankles crossing at the bottom of his back, to keep him there, deep inside you. His head drops to your shoulders, pressing his lips to your collarbone. You're close, again.

“Please...” you beg, moaning like you've lost all sanity, his mouth pulls away slightly, his breath hot against your skin. "Please what?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

“More, please, I need more."

The way Pedro's fucking you right now borders on dangerous, making you question lots of things—things you'd rather not think about right now, as he reaches for your hand and places it on your lower stomach. “Feel that?”

You're not sure who moans louder: you when you realize why he's put your hand here, or Pedro when your walls clench involuntarily around his cock at the sensation. Your entire body tightens as you cry out, coming undone once again.

He presses his lips against your forehead and rolls you over, his cock still buried inside you.

“Pedro…that was…” you pant, body on top of his. “Did you come?”

He smirks. “Not yet, because you're gonna ride me now.”

Despite the fact that your body is weak and spent, the simple thought of being on top of him is enough fuel to make you feel a surge of energy. You straddle his hips, feeling his hardness against you, and sinking down on his dick.

“Like this?” you ask as you begin to move your body in sync with his, Your hips swirl and grind down, and Pedro's face is filled with pleasure. “Yes, mi amor. Just like that.”

Every rock of your hips and the way Pedro's pushing into you are the perfect rhythm. His hands grip your hips so tight, you're pretty sure it'll leave bruises for days. You lean down, his mouth close by your ear, as he fucks into you, hearing him whisper things only you get to hear. “you feel so good, baby, taking my cock so fucking well.”

Everything is so overwhelming—your body responding to his every thrust and word. It's a moment of pure ecstasy, and you never want it to end. Collapsing onto his chest, your fingers reach up to grip his hair. The satisfying sound of slapping skin echoes through the room, and you're suddenly glad there's no one in the house.

Pedro slaps your ass as you're still rocking back against his thrust. “You're gonna cum for me again, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” you moaned as your body trembled with pleasure, mouth crashing into his, squeezing him so tight he can't hold back, and you feel him spill into the condom. He curses out your name as he's twitching and spasming inside you.

The post-sex haze settles over you both as you lay there, catching your breath and basking in the afterglow. After a couple of minutes, Pedro finally slips out of you and heads to the bathroom. You manage to get up, body aching. As you gather your clothes from the floor and dress up, he emerges from the bathroom, his face puzzled.

“What are you doing?”

You chuckle, “Leaving.”

Of course you didn't want to leave, but since you agreed this was just sex and nothing more, staying sounds like a dangerous situation.

There's no need to make this situation more complicated than it already is, even if you gaslight yourself into thinking this is fine as long as you're both on the same page.

“No,” he interjects. “Stay.”

“Pedro, we said—"

“I know what we said, but stay. Just for tonight.”

You give him a warning look, and he gives you the same look back. “It'll make me feel dirty if you leave." you burst out laughing, and his face turns red. How's this the same man that just minutes ago was whispering the filthiest things into your ear?

“Okay, I'll stay.”

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed and no signs of Pedro. If you weren't lying on his bed, legs hurting like you ran a marathon, and your body wrapped in his warm blankets, you would have thought it was all a dream. Because in your dreams is the only place you are together, it's where you come home to him and he comes home to you.

You could still feel his hands moving over your skin, his breath on your neck, and the way he whispered in your ear, making you feel like the most loved person in the world.

Except it wasn't lovemaking; it was just sex.

The warmth of the hot chilean sun spilled through the bedroom window, casting a golden glow on the walls and illuminating the dust particles that danced in the air. The distant sound of soft music and laughter from downstairs made you smile as you sat up against the headboard.

The sound of the door opening interrupted your thoughts, and you looked up to see Pedro wearing the coziest looking sweater, his dark hair all over the place, and presumably a cup of coffee in his hand. “Good morning, solecito,” he says sitting down next to you. "I made you a cup of coffee, just the way you like it."

You take the cup from his hand, fingers touching. “It can't possibly still be morning,” you rasp, voice still hoarse.

“No, it's not," he tells you. “It's 2:30pm.”

The fear in your face is palpable. “Fuck, did I miss the gift exchange?” you blurt out.

Pedro's pursed lips and guilty expression made it clear that you, in fact, missed the happiest time of the day. “No...” you dragged out, “Why didn't you wake me up?!” you demanded, hitting him on the shoulder.

“I didn't want to disturb your sleep, you looked so peaceful," he replied with a sheepish grin. "But if it makes you feel better, everyone loved what you got them."

You groan in response. “I hate you so much.”

“Are you always this mean when you wake up?"

You shrug, bringing the cup to your lips. “Eh, only when I have to deal with people who make me miss the fun part of Christmas."

“Let's talk about how my dad got the better gift, by the way,” he tells you, moving his hands energetically. “And how I'm definitely not jealous at all.”

“I had to impress him, and you can never go wrong with a Rolex,” you remark with a grin. “Plus, you deserve it after doing the most evil thing you could do to me.”

“You mean caring for your wellbeing and letting you rest after the very... eventful night you had?” he says teasingly. “Shut up,” you reply, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him. In true Pedro fashion, he dramatically dodges the pillow and grins slyly, "You can't silence me that easily."

“I have other ways,” you quickly reply.

Oh, how you love to play with fire.

Pedro raises an eyebrow and chuckles, “Is that so?”

You hum. The tension is palpable in the air as you look into his eyes, trying to read his face. You wonder if he can hear the rapid beating of your heart.

“Wanna see what I got you?” he asked, breaking the silence that had settled, his eyes still on you.

“Dying to,” you say, pretending not to notice how he changed the subject, setting the coffee mug on the nightstand, “but first I need to shower before I go downstairs.”

“No need,” he reaches for his front pocket, pulling out a small wrapped package. You eagerly take it from him, eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Espero que te guste.”

Tearing the paper off and opening the black box, you find a beautiful necklace with a delicate gold chain and a small emerald pendant. “Now I feel like an asshole,” you say, immediately regretting getting him a bunch of funny socks. Your eyes are still fixed on the necklace.

Pedro laughs, your favorite sound in the world, “Hey, I love my socks. You didn't have to get me so many though,”

“I didn't know which ones you'd like better, so I got you a bunch of ‘em,” you say, a hint of embarrassment in your voice. “This is so beautiful,"

“It's your favorite gemstone," he says softly, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Your eyes meet his, and for a split second, everything is okay.

You rush forward to embrace him, catching him off guard by the way he chuckles and says oh. He wraps his arms tightly around you, and you nuzzle into his neck, feeling the soft fabric of his sweater and the familiar scent of his cologne. “Thanks so much, P,” you say, voice drowning on his skin.

“Merry Christmas, mi amor."

No strings attached, spontaneous, fun, and only while you're here. That's what you and Pedro agreed upon when you decided to have sex five nights ago. But the way he has you pinned against the shower wall and making your legs tremble with pleasure right now has you thinking of a way to make him not want to do this with anyone else.

The slick, wet sounds of Pedro's fingers pumping in and out of you filled the bathroom as you moaned in bliss. “Can you be a good girl for me and be quiet?” his nose brushes against yours, “We don't want them to hear us, do we?”

You shake your head, blown away, feeling suffocated, as he drags two fingers over your swollen clit. Your jaw sags as the pleasure floods your body as he applies more pressure to it, causing you to grumble in pleasure. As two fingers slide into you, deliciously stretching you, he covers your mouth with his, absorbing your satisfied moan.

He pulled his mouth away from yours, and the water slipped through his hair, dampening it and sticking it back on his forehead. "Open your mouth," he says, a glint in his eyes as you look at him, bewildered. He presses two fingers against your tongue and the sweet-salty taste fills your mouth as you suck on his fingers. “See how fucking good you taste.”

You hum, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I need to feel you inside me."

Pedro lets his hand wander around your hips and slowly drags it down, lifting your leg and securing it around his hip. He took the space between your thighs, aligned himself with your entrance, and pushed in, giving you a split second to adjust before pulling out and thrusting back in.

He was moving faster, and you felt like a ragdoll in his arms, so euphoric from your high that he could do whatever the fuck he wanted to you and you'd gladly accept it.

“F-faster, please,”

You've had sex in a variety of positions over the last few days, but there was something about this position and the access it provided that you found incredibly satisfying. His wet, solid chest pressed against yours, his hand tight against your thigh as he buried himself deep within you.

Pedro let out a low groan, one you were all too familiar with by this point, indicating that he was about to finish. His hips trembled and he let out a final grunt, his breaths ragged and heavy as he came inside of you, mouths meeting in a kiss.

The two of you stood there, still in that proximity for a moment, full of love and softness because above all else, he was your best friend.

“Can I wash your hair?”

“Only if you let me wash yours after,” he replies, reaching for the shampoo bottle.

“Deal.”

Since they had a low-key Christmas consisting mainly of hot chocolate, fuzzy sweaters and movies, the family decided to plan a big New Year's Eve celebration to make up for it. Which prompted you to take a quick trip to the city yesterday in search of a dress because you hadn't packed anything fancy.

Pedro insisted that you didn't have to stress over that, to which you obviously objected.

“Sorry, but I'm not taking fashion advice from someone who has like three t-shirts and a pair of jeans,” you said, scrolling through your phone in search of stores. “You wound me, baby,” he replied, putting a hand on his chest in mock pain. “But if you insist on shopping, let me take you.”

“No, you still have to help Javi with the party,” you said, getting up from the the couch. “I'll drive there, and I'll take Pedro and Bruno with me.”

Pedro looked at you slowly, processing your statement, looking uncertain.

“Google Maps is a thing, and we'll be fine. Now give me your keys.”

“I like it when you're bossy,” he said, his voice lowering with a hint of a smile. “They're on the counter."

And thanks to the heavens, you decided to make an effort and find something suitable for the occasion because they went all out.

The bass pounded through the walls as the guests danced and laughed, enjoying the party. The colorful decorations and delicious food made it a night to remember.

“Oh my god, they're gone,” Javiera groans, referring to the tray of now empty lemon bars that were apparently the highlight of the dessert table. “I wanted another one!”

“I made another batch, I hid them in the oven,” you quickly tell her, feeling a little proud of yourself over the fact that people were enjoying what you made. “I'll go get them.”

“I will come with you.”

Once you both reach the empty kitchen, you go straight to the oven, pulling out the tray of lemon bars and setting it on the kitchen island.

“Thank you for taking Pedro and Bruno out yesterday, by the way."

"I had so fun much with them. They're great boys and even better fashion advisers,” you tell her, gesturing to your burgundy dress.

“Glad to know I've taught them well,” she says laughing.

As you cut the bars into perfect squares, Javiera grabs one and takes a bite, savoring the tangy sweetness. "These are amazing, you should consider selling them," she exclaims, closing her eyes in content.

You smile. “In another lifetime, I own a bakery in a small town with a living unit attached to the top. I have a beautiful green kitchen, and I don't feel the need to prove myself to people."

Javiera gives you a warm smile as you grab the powdered sugar. “You know,” she says reluctantly. “I see things and I feel things,” you stop what you're doing to look up at her, confused. “My brother's just scared.”

Confusion is quickly replaced with clarity as you realize where she's going with this. You open your mouth to say something, but she shuts you down. “He's created this wall to protect himself, he's been through a lot, and he has convinced himself that this is enough, that he doesn't need more, but I know better.”

A sigh leaves your lips, all of those feelings bubble up until you can't get a good breath, until you’re drowning. She continues, “I have seen you two together, friends don't look at each other like that."

You know that she's right, but things aren't so simple. Not when it comes to this.

“Maybe in another lifetime," is all you tell her, grabbing the lemon bars and heading out of the kitchen.

•••

The backyard is a wonderland of string lights and bunting, the air is filled with the sound of laughter and music as people dance under the stars. You were lost in conversation with Pedro's father. He shared more stories of his youth, what got him to pursue medicine, and how he met Pedro's late mother, leaving you feeling nostalgic for a time you never knew.

He catches you looking away, follows your gaze straight to Pedro, and smiles knowingly. “I hope you have a good flight tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” you say, blushing a little at your own transparency. “Thank you for everything, really.”

“We hope you come back soon, It was a pleasure to have you,” he tells you, placing a hand on your shoulder, reassuring you. He walks off, pausing for a moment to talk to Pedro. Smiles were exchanged, and then he continued his way.

Pedro looks exceptionally good tonight. Hair perfectly styled, white shirt perfectly stretching over his back. You drink up his movements as he approaches you, a smile plastered on his face.

“Who did your hair?” you ask him, knowing damn well this was someone else's doing because he didn't know how to do it. “My sister,” he replied, chuckling.

“She's doing the Lord's work,” you tell him, folding your arms, feeling exposed by the way he's staring. It's comical that you feel this way, as if he hasn't seen you naked for the past week.

“I'm gonna have to hire someone to do my hair at all times if you like it this much.”

“I like it either way,” you admitted, "but I just think it looks extra good when it's styled like this."

His mouth splits into quite possibly your favorite of his various smiles, the one that makes it look like there's a secret tucked up in one corner of his mouth. “Dance with me?”

“Always.”

You take his hand and pull him to the deck, beneath the twinkling lights and away from the crowd, while the Bee Gees' “How Deep Is Your Love” plays like the universe just wants to mock you. Pedro folds your hand up in his warm palm, and you rest your cheek against his shoulder, closing your eyes to focus on how this feels.

It feels right, it feels perfect, and it feels like it's gonna end.

He nestles his mouth into your hair and breathes you in as you sway. His sister's words ring in your ear once again: My brother's just afraid.

You allow yourself to imagine this feeling lasting. A world within a world just for you and Pedro, where people just let you both be. Where you belong to each other. And then you invite reality forward to change the story.

You're working all day, taking endless flights to different locations, because you're trapped in a cycle of wanting to do more and never feeling like it's enough. Pedro exhausted from long days of shooting, press, taking endless flights, and getting pulled down by gravity.

Unaswered texts. Missed calls. Grief. Hurt. Distance. Missing each other. Fighting. Falling apart.

And you realize you're afraid too and this can never be.

“Pedro.”

There's a lengthy silence. His voice is a raspy, growly mutter. “I know. But don't say it.”

You don't look at each other. You just need to hold on to each other because if you look, you'll see that this make-believe game is over. You both feel the warmth of each other's embrace and the unspoken words between you. The silence is comforting yet suffocating.

His arms squeezed around you as everyone started to countdown. Cheers filled the air. Fireworks broke out over the sky in a thousand different colors. He tells you happy new year, and you say it back, never letting go.

Even though you never said it to each other, you both knew. The love was there, and it didn't change anything.

Maybe in the future, maybe in another lifetime.

Reblog or like if you enjoyed it, thank you for reading :) (i know this ending feels like this is it for them HOWEVER i will be making several other parts because i can't stop writing about this lol)

#love is complicated fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fic #my writing

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lovelytsunoda · 6 months

Text

spill the wine // lance stroll

summary: honeymooning with the hutchence-strolls. capri will always hold a special place in y/n's heart.

pairing: lance stroll x hutchence!reader

part two of the welcome to wherever you are verse

author's note: i'm so glad that you guys loved the first part of the welcome to wherever you are verse! i was so excited to make this into a series, combining two of my current hyperfixations. i hope that the first part was enough to make some of you curious about the life and times of my favourite aussie rock band. for people who are looking to learn more, i recommend watching the channel seven drama 'never tear us apart', starring luke arnold as micheal hutchence. it's two episodes, each of them an hour and a half that takes a look into the rise and fall of inxs. arnold's protrayal of micheal was beautifully done (and i love alex williams as kirk).

y/n.hutchence just posted to her private story!

y/n.hutchence just posted (private)

island of capri, italy.

tagged: lancestroll

liked by lancestroll, officialinxs, yourbestie and 130 others.

y/n.hutchence as my father once said, 'spill the wine, kiss that girl."

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jonfarriss first of all those aren't the real words, and your father didn't actually write spill the wine

-> y/n.hutchence jon why do you have to be right all the time huh?

-> jonfarriss you also know that song is about being on five different kinds of illegal drugs?

-> andrewfarriss he's being annoying because he cares. make smart choices, kiddo!

-> y/n.hutchence andrew have you ever known me not to make the smart choice? i'm living the sober girlie lifestyle here

yourbestie looking good sunshine!!!remember to send me pics, I need to pretend I don’t work a nine to five!

lancestroll wow I can’t decide what’s more beautiful: the scenery or my wife (jokes on you guys, it’s my wife)

-> y/n.hutchence 🥺🥺

kirkpengilly nice to see alcatraz hasn’t changed

-> y/n.hutchence of course you hated it...you hate the beach, the sand, the water, the sun

-> kirkpengilly i do not

-> laynebeachley sweetie she is right.

lancestroll just added to his story

lancestroll just posted!

island of capri, italy

tagged: y/n.hutchence

liked by y.n/hutchence, kirkpengilly, astonmartinf1 and 4,567 others

lancestroll honeymooning with the hutchence-strolls

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astonmartinf1 are lemons supposed to be that big?

-> y/n.hutchence arent they awesome?

estebanocon why do you have to add 'with the hutchence-strolls' to everything?? 'easter with the hutchence-strolls' 'cook chicken gyros with the hutchence strolls' its EXHAUSTING. watch you guys make a sex tape and call it 'making babies with the hutchence-strolls'

-> kirkpengilly they'd better not! y/n i will resurrect your father and have him talk some sense into you

-> y/n.hutchence kirky calm down!! there is NO sex tape!

user y/n is so stunning! europe looks good on her

yourbestie i held my tongue at the wedding but she has been so fucking happy since you guys got married and if you hurt her i will give you HELL to PAY

-> lancestroll don't worry, she's in good hands. she's my reason to get up every morning, my reason to smile. i have never felt more alive than i do when she is next to me

garrygarybeers huh i actually think capri has gotten nicer since 1993

mickschumacher why do your legs look so long in the first picture

-> lancestroll thanks mick, now that you've pointed it out i can never unsee it smh

y/n.hutchence just posted (private)

liked by yourbestie, yourmom, lancestroll and 278 others

y/n.hutchence take my breath away

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lancestroll it was an honor to experience the grotto with you, my wife

-> y/n.hutchence the view was pretty, but you were prettier, my husband

yourbestie consider my mind BLOWN. things like these just exist in nature???

timfarriss now why didn't we go here when we were recording the album again? this place would have inspired the crap out of us. your dad would have loved it.

fernandoalonso ah yes, the grotto. fond memories of skinny dipping there

-> lancestroll ew why did you think i needed to know that

-> y/n.hutchence i second that

(next part)

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @clemswrld @httpiastri @cartierre @lorarri @thatsdemko @sidcrosbyspuck

#lance stroll x reader #formula one x reader #lance stroll smau #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #ig aus #formula 1 x reader #formula one x you #f1 pov #f1 smau #Spotify #wtwya verse

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unmotivatedwrit3r · 9 months

Text

Cloudy Christmastime

damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent

(A/N): Before anyone protests, I headcanon the Wayne family as celebrating both Jewish holidays like Yom Kippur and Hanukkah as well as Christmas and Easter because yes, Bruce is ethnically Jewish (though may have done Christmas as well) but Dick/Jason/Tim/Steph would have likely celebrated Christmas. So they do both.

Anyway, this is a christmas gift for @glorified-red and literally the 5th take on this fic bc they first said Hallmark movie, then damijon hallmark movie, then whump. And then it took me three tries to get something I was close to happy with so I hope you enjoy. This ended up being a mix of domestic fluff and h/c.

warnings: sensory overload

wc: ~2600

“Tell me again why Santa doesn’t bring us gifts if he’s real. Like our dads have met him. And he still doesn’t bring us presents,” Jon lamented from the couch, bundled up in four blankets.

From your spot on the floor by the tree, you looked up, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Because we’re not kids anymore? And how do you know Santa ever brought us gifts?”

“Perhaps,” Damian added, passing Jon a cup of hot chocolate. He placed a second cup on the coffee table and lifted one to his lips. “He only brought gifts to people to make a point. I never received any from him as a child but father has gotten many over the years.”

Jon listed to the side, head landing on Damian’s shoulder. “I think that’s worse.”

For the first time in a while, Jon felt Damian’s huff of laughter more than he heard it. Your small chuckle was similarly inaudible. Jon hated solar flaring. Not only was it a pain to deal with for the day and change—one could argue he got either lucky or really unlucky by solar flaring the morning of Christmas Eve—but it always threw his senses out of whack as they trickled back in. And, with the gray skies of Gotham’s winter, Jon was expecting it to be even weirder than usual. It was worth it though, to him, in order to spend the day itself with his partners. It was enough that the Kent family Christmas Eve was ruined by Lex Luthor. He wasn’t going to let his Christmas day be ruined too.

“I’m sorry, mi sol,” you offered with a shrug and a smile. Jon met your grin with his own. A full-body shiver wracked his frame. Your gaze turned concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jon agreed, “Just chilly.” Damian’s arm wrapped further around Jon, pulling their sides flush against each other. Jon maneuvered the blankets away to soak in his warmth.

“Ameli, we can turn the heat up,” Damian offered.

“Nope,” Jon argued, nuzzling into Damian’s neck. “This is good.” Damian’s resulting huff of air teased at the hair on the top of Jon’s head.

“Mi luna?” You asked from the floor. Damian turned to look at you. Jon followed, eyes traveling over the mound of presents arranged under the tree. There was a pile around the back of the tree against the wall for Damian’s family (Jon still needed to give Dick his gift from the Hanukkah celebration a couple weeks ago. The blue dreidel paper was obvious against the sea of brown, red, and green wrapping paper.), and a smaller one for yours. The empty gap left behind after the Kent Christmas was already filled in with a large box Jon was like ninety percent sure was a new easel for Damian. You ordered it, not him, but Jon couldn’t think of anything else on any of your lists that was even close to that size. “Can you hand me that please?” You gestured to a precarious stack on the coffee table.

Damian acquiesced, passing over a teetering pile of vaguely book-shaped items. Who those were for was anyone’s guess. Jon was grateful Alfred had helped you and him pay for some of the gifts for Damian. Looking at the gift tags, it otherwise would have been horribly uneven. And Damian himself wouldn’t have minded, Jon knew, but you and him would have been upset about it anyway. He deserves the world, your rohi. Damian pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you, still arranging presents under the tree. He showed it quickly to Jon before texting it to him immediately.

“This look okay?” You asked, peeking out from behind the tree. Jon looked it over. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for exactly, but he also wasn’t exactly the reigning opinion on artistic presentation.

“It looks fine, hayati” Damian said, eyes still trained on his phone. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You didn't even look.”

Damian turned to look at you. “Because I knew it looked fine, beloved.” His eyes scanned the presents. “And it does.”

You shook your head at him, exasperated, before conceding and sitting heavily on the couch. Scooching in, you nearly pressed up against Jon’s other side.

“Come closer,” He whined, untangling a hand from the blankets to grab yours. “You’re warm.”

Jon could feel the look exchanged over his head.

“I’m not that warm,” you argued even as you grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table and arranged the blankets so that you could fit underneath. “You’re just cold.”

Jon shrugged. The hand that wasn’t holding yours reached underneath Damian’s shirt and he swore, grabbing Jon’s wrist to keep its chill away. Another look passed over Jon’s head. He wondered sometimes if the two of you were aware he knew what you were doing and just didn’t care. Probably.

“Are you sure you’re okay, amorcito?” You asked. Jon shrugged.

“It’s cold outside and I’m human but otherwise yeah. I have you two,” he added smugly. Damian’s playful shoulder hit came at the same time as your muttered “sap.” Jon grinned. “So because I’m sick—sort of—I get to pick the movie. And we’re watching Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” Despite the protests on both sides, the movie was playing before Damian could even get up to turn the lights off. To the side of the couch, the lights on the Christmas tree bathed the room in a soft white glow.

Jon awoke to a cold bed. On a good day, he’d wake with the sun—or whenever it wormed its way through the bedroom’s black out curtains—or to an international emergency. Okay, not that the emergency was good, just that he was feeling good enough to know it was happening. On a bad day, all bets were off. Jon stuck his hand out of the covers, searching blindly for his phone. After a moment of finding nothing but the wood of the end table, the scratchiness of the sheets was unignorable and he gave up, flinging back the covers to get out of bed. Hanging over the side of the dresser was a dark red sweatshirt. Jon grabbed it and tugged it on, rubbing his arms to get the lingering echo of the sheets off his skin. His off kilter super hearing zeroed in on the crooning of Michael Bublé before zooming back out into the general background noise coming from the kitchen. Jon winced, squaring his shoulders. That was a bad sign. But it was Christmas; he’d be fine.

A quick squint at his phone told Jon that it was just after noon. No wonder the bed was cold. Jon shivered, then grabbed a pair of your fuzzy socks before opening the bedroom door.

The smell of cinnamon and chocolate coming from the kitchen was pleasant rather than unbearable. Jon let himself breathe it in as he approached quietly. He didn’t even notice you behind him—though that was often true of an average day—before there were arms around his waist and a head on his shoulder. He let himself lean back into the warmth of you.

“Merry Christmas, mi amor. How are you feeling?” you inquired. Hot breath ghosted across his neck. Jon shrugged.

“Fine. Excited for today.” He spun around to face you, eyes taking in your christmas pj pants and sweater with a Robin logo. Over your shoulder, Jon could see flashes of blue, likely Damian’s nightwing sweatshirt. “Merry Christmas,” he added, tucking his nose into the spot just underneath your ear for just a moment. No matter what his super senses were like, he took comfort in the smell of the two of you. A hand weaved through his hair, a kiss pressed to the top of his head. Jon pulled back just enough to give you a peck on the lips before being spun around into a kiss from Damian.

“Merry Christmas, my heart,” Jon muttered, pressing a second lingering kiss to Damian’s jawline. A steady heartbeat pulsed under his fingers, wrapped around Damian’s wrist.

“Good morning,” Damian said, wrapping an arm around Jon to keep him close. Jon blindly reached out and a second calloused hand found his. A second warm body curled around him. He missed your heartbeats’ song in his ears, but Damian’s pounding steadily under his ear and yours fluttering underneath his fingertips was good enough for right then. “Are you alright?” Damian continued. “It’s late.” His voice was echoey underneath Jon’s ear and Jon flinched instinctively. The two of you reacted immediately, pulling back.

“Jon?” you asked, voice laced with concern.

“Yeah,” he managed. “I’m mostly good. About as expected, you know?” Jon offered up a smile. By the looks on your faces, it didn’t do as much reassurance as he’d hoped. “I’m sorry I slept so late.”

“Don’t apologize,” Damian argued. “There is no reason to.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jon sighed.

“How are you feeling about breakfast, mi sol?” You asked, tangling your fingers with his.

“Sounds good,” Jon agreed.

“Oh yeah I should definitely send Dick a text to thank him. And also say Merry Christmas,” Jon said, flopping down on the couch after breakfast. With his partners looking happy, Christmas music in the background, and a breakfast of vegan pancakes in his stomach, Jon could almost forget about the buzzing under his skin.

“Tt,” Damian scoffed. “He would have swapped with me anyway. Gordon and Father are both working tonight so it was pointless for him to have the evening off.”

Jon shrugged. “Still, doesn’t hurt to say thanks.”

“Say hi from me too,” you yelled over the running kitchen sink. After a moment more, the water shut off and Jon released a silent sigh at the absence of an irritating bit of noise. He was lucky the x-ray vision hadn’t started acting up. Not only was that like the antithesis of Christmas presents (his mom kept presents out of the house or in a lead box until morning for that very reason), but it was also a huge pain and the hardest to hide. Screwy touch and hearing was more than enough. Dishware clanked around in the kitchen as Damian sat beside Jon on the couch.

“No change?” He asked, reaching for a Nightwing mug of cider on the coffee table.

Jon shrugged. “Nope, nothing yet.” Damian narrowed his eyes and Jon attempted to start coming up with excuses. At the very least, he could probably get Damian to leave it alone until after gifts. Less so if you noticed too and started teaming up on him.

“Ready for presents?” You asked, sitting down on the other side of Damian. You raised the untouched Superman mug to your lips, eyes scanning over Jon.

“Yes!” Jon butt in before you could say anything. “Let’s do it.”

You and Damian exchanged a look. On the floor below, the elevator dinged, releasing a family with a horde of kids. “Okay,” you conceded, standing to grab the first load of presents.

In the apartment directly underneath, the front door squealed open. A load of presents was slammed down on the floor beside him. Three kids squealed “gramma!” in unison. Jon’s hoodie was all of the sudden suffocating him.

Jon jumped up and yanked the sweatshirt over his head, pawing the sleeves off before yanking his socks off too. He didn’t care where they ended up. His hands went up to press against his ears. Stumbling over his own feet, Jon meandered backwards until his back slammed into a wall and then slid down, knees up and head with ears still covered in between them. Sounds zoomed in and out. All of the sudden, he could hear Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer playing eight floors down, then A Christmas Carol on someone’s TV across the street. Focus! Jon yelled at himself through all the noise. One steady beat came into focus, then another.

Until there was a soft item brushing his feet, Jon didn’t realize he had company. A steady beat pulsed in his ears, too loud even for its familiarity. He pulled the blanket close. Something plastic nudged his shoulder and Jon grabbed it instinctively, slamming special-made headphones over his ears. The sounds faded down into something manageable. Jon took a deep breath. And then another. He didn’t need to hear to know that the two of you were there. When he reached out tentatively with his sense of smell, the usual wave of cinnamon-vanilla-brown sugar-clove and somethings just the two of you tempered by pine and peppermint was comforting rather than overwhelming. Jon let it wash over him, clutching the soft weighted blanket to his chest.

When he cracked his eyes open, two blurs blinked into focus as his partners, leaning against the back of the couch and hands linked. Damian’s head rested on your shoulder, one of your hands tangled in his hair. Jon noticed as soon as Damian saw he was up. He almost slammed his head into your chin as he shot up and Jon huffed a laugh.

“Ameli?” Damian asked. Your eyes locked onto Jon’s.

“You guys shouldn’t sit on the floor,” Jon responded. “It’s bad for your backs.”

You offered Jon a hand, ignoring his remark completely. Jon’s chest ached. If you weren’t willing to banter, he’d scared you. “How are you feeling?”

Jon took the hand and stood, adjusting the headphones so they stayed on his head. He tossed the blanket over his shoulder and reached his other hand out towards Damian before tugging the both of you up and towards the couch.

“I’m okay,” Jon reassured you, sitting down on the couch. “I promise.” When neither of you moved, he tugged you both down on top of him, interrupting the bat-assessment written all over Damian’s face.

“Promise like this morning?” Damian argued. Jon winced.

“Okay, yeah maybe I shouldn’t have—”

“Been a self-sacrificial dumbass as if we don’t a) know you and b) want you to talk to us?” You cut in. Jon could read the hurt underneath the anger clear as day. His fingers brushed over two sets of knuckles, one scarred from years of fighting without protective gear, the other dry from the winter air.

“I know. I just wanted today to be a good day, you know? We never get uninterrupted holidays.” Jon resisted the urge to pull his hands away from yours and curl into himself. The two burning gazes on him were ones of love and concern, though, not judgment.

“And for some reason you think accommodating you makes the day worse, why?” Damian asked. Jon didn’t have an answer.

“We love you, Jon. Eres nuestro pareja. We picked ‘partners’ for a reason, yeah?” You squeezed his hand in yours.��

“Yeah,” he agreed, head dropping to your shoulder. Silence was heavy in the room for a moment.

“You choose what we do next,” Damian stated, tugging the blacket from its bundled blob to instead cover you and Jon.

Jon moved from your shoulder to halfway on top of Damian, tugging you on top of him. “You guys are going to squish me in between you while we watch a movie and then we can do presents?”

You shot him a wicked smile. Jon shrieked as Damian pulled him bodily half on top of him along the couch, cut off when you landed nearly on top of Jon.

“Good?” You asked. Jon let himself sink into Damian, arms coming up to wrap around your waist.

“Yeah,” he said. “Good.”

Damian grabbed the remote. “We’re not watching Elf.”

Jon stuck his tongue out at him.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent #damian wayne x reader x jon kent #jon kent x reader #damian wayne x gender neutral reader #damian wayne #jonathan kent #jon kent x gender neutral reader #emerson writes sometimes

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

jonathan anon again lol!!! I love him so much. how about him introducing shy!you to his mom <3 ur super nervous she won’t like you but she totally adores you

Jonathan's stepped up to slot his keys in the door, and you consider using the time he's not paying attention to you to make your escape. You could do it, beeline back to his car, hotwire it, drive off into the distance with no planned return. But then he might have to walk to school, and you don't want him to have to do that. Before you can decide to sprint anywhere, the lock clicks, and the door swings open at his push.

"Mom," He calls into the house, rather unceremoniously, which makes you nervous, "I'm home, and I brought Y/N!"

"Oh!" A voice comes from the kitchen, honey-sweet but slightly flustered, "Oh, I'll- I'll be right there!"

"Jon-!" You swat at Jonathan's shoulder, hissing at him in a panic, "You said she knew I was coming!"

"No, I said she said you could come over anytime," He corrects you, dropping his backpack on the couch, "So I brought you over today."

This is a disaster. You're now an unexpected, barely-invited guest in the Byers household, and only your boyfriend really wants you there. You've met Will a handful of times, during pick-up or drop-off or just out and about, and he seems to like you, but you're sure he doesn't want you popping up in his living room unannounced. You'd been invited for dinner by your boyfriend, but you're not sure his mother has made enough, so you're not only intruding on their life, but you're putting the extra stress of another mouth to feed on her plate, and she's going to hate you for the burden you're causing, and-

"Will you stop burning holes in the wall? That's a picture of me, you know," Jonathan scoffs, tramping over to where you'd been zoning out to panic and pulling the frame off of the wall, "You're supposed to think I'm cute."

"That's- That is cute," You wanted to respond with a lot more fire than that, due to the nature of your boyfriend's planning abilities, but admittedly, the baby photo of him in nothing but a diaper is adorable. You can see the chubby rolls of his arms and legs, and his stomach pudges out in a round shape you're sure his mother kissed a thousand times.

"-but this is not fair to your mom! She probably didn't make enough, and now I look rude for showing up unannounced, and-"

"She always makes more than enough," He assures you, setting the picture frame down on the table and taking your hands in his. He has a way of looking at you while he speaks that calms the frantic beating of your panicked heart, and you let yourself get lost in his comforting aura for a moment. "She makes one giant meal on Monday nights, then we eat the leftovers until Sunday. Your one portion will not destroy the fabric of the household, Y/N."

"But it'll be one less portion for someone else," You fret, and you know his resulting glare is meant kindly.

"Will has a bad habit of sneaking into the kitchen for midnight meals. You'll just be preventing me from waking up to hear the microwave at one in the morning, babe. You're doing everyone a favor, here. Plus, my mom really wants to meet you. She bugs me every day about bringing you here, just because you're unexpected doesn't mean you're unwanted. Okay?"

You hear frantic footsteps from the kitchen, and nod before she has a chance to catch you in a freak-out, "Okay, Jon, okay."

"Okay." He grins at you, turning in sync with you just in time to see Joyce round the corner out from the kitchen, stuffing an apron onto the counter that she's clearly just taken off.

Her face lights up when she sees you, especially when she notices that Jonathan still has one of your hands in his own. She rushes for a hug, gushing "Hello!", and you're happy to let her engulf you in her embrace.

"Hi," You return just as enthusiastically, if not a little nervous, "Hi, I- I hope I'm not intruding."

You ignore the way Jonathan huffs out a sigh at your near-apology.

"No! No," Joyce pulls back from the hug, keeping her hands on your shoulders and shaking her head, a deep frown over her features, "No honey, not at all! I mean," She brightens, eyes wide, "I was really starting to think he'd made you up, or something! I mean I've been asking for ages, I- I was starting to worry." She concludes, a little drearily. Jonathan had admitted that he was nervous to bring you over in case you were expecting something better, something nicer, something newer, but a newer house with newer contents wouldn't hold the memories you see so plainly here, and you look around to admire the photos displayed.

"It's wonderful here," You promise, feeling Joyce's hands drop to your own and squeeze, "I've never seen baby pictures of Jonathan."

"Oh, I have a bunch." She grins, and Jonathan pales beside you.

"She's seen one!" He attempts to diffuse her excitement, "The- the one on the wall, mom. She's seen me in a diaper, isn't that enough?"

"No, she needs to see you in your Donald Duck Halloween costume," She insists, "After dinner- we're having spaghetti, honey, I hope that's okay." She cuts herself off to peer worriedly at you, and you nod vigorously.

"Oh, great! Okay, after dinner, I'll get the photo albums down, alright? And we can make fun of him," She looks far too eager to tease her son, "Does that sound good?"

"That sounds great," You laugh, at the same time Jonathan groans the opposite.

"Oh, stop," She swats at his chest, "You get to see her all the time, now let me take over."

"Not if you're gonna embarrass me!" Jonathan gripes, turning to you, "Y/N, don't hold my preschool drawings against me. I've gotten better with time, I swear."

"He hasn't," Joyce stage-whispers to you, then gushes to Jonathan, "Of course you have, sweetheart."

She's tugging you off to the dinner table without another word, and you glance back with a grin at Jonathan who looks half-mortified and half-fond.

"Now, sit," She pulls a chair out at the table for you, "And talk, I wanna know everything about you!"

#jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers imagine #jonathan byers scenario #jonathan byers oneshot #jonathan byers fanfiction #jonathan byers fanfic #jonathan byers fic #jonathan byers blurb #jonathan byers drabble #jonathan byers dialogue #jonathan byers one-shot #jonathan byers one shot #jonathan byers fluff #jonathan byers headcanons #jonathan byers hcs #jonathan byers x you #jonathan byers x y/n

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solsticewytch · 3 months

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Okay, I had a crackpot idea, not even a theory (it is by the end of this post btw) just an idea, that I need to put out in the ether.

So, I recently came across a post from @vertigala who theorized that RedCanary might be the new host for Protocolverse!Jonah Magnus. And I thought, if they were to ever show up in person it sure would be fun horrible if RedCanary was someone we know from TMA. So... I'm trying to work out who would make more sense be absolutely gut-wrenching when it hits me. What if, just IF, because the likelihood of this is, like, zero, I'm sure, but JUST WHAT IF... RedCanary is Protocolverse!Jonathan Sims?

I mean just think about the potential in that. The moment we first hear this universe's Jon talking in TMAGP, sounding "awfully happy" or something, bringing a fleeting sense of joy, knowing that at least in one universe he's not so devastatingly miserable, but it slowly dawns on us, and on Jon if he's the one/one of who's listening, that it's not him, that that bastard wins again, that utter, truly next-level defeat, that heartache! And then for however long Jonah would be an active threat in TMAGP we'd have to hear him through Jon's own voice, see him in his body, all the while TMA!Jon, trapped in the 'puters (with TMA!Jonah nonetheless), using the last remnants of his own agency, all of his remaining consciousness, is actively trying to stop him (and/or this world's horrors), as the only people being vaguely aware of him are a paranoid IT guy who is actively conspiring againts him and a woman from his own world who has every reason not just to never trust Jon but also (imo) wanting to work againts him given the chance.

On top of all of this there's the several layers deep irony to all of it. Jon being the one who reads out that case, either out of his own choice or being forced to do so, the implication of him specifically chosing this case to deter Sam from or leading him directly towards the Magnus Institue, or someone else using Jon for that. Then there's the idea of this universe's Jon willingly seeking out spooky abandoned locations for fun and then meeting a gory demise from exploring the burned down ruins of the Magnus Institute, becoming a mistery known only to the mostly oblivious staff of an organization that specifically looks for these eldritch monsters to recruit, reducing his experience to little more than random numbers in a database that nobody uses anymore.

Even though RedCanary doesn't particularly strike me as a likely candidate for Protocolverse!Jon based on the wording of their comments alone, plus they also suggest they're from Manchester and their dad is still alive, I still think it would make some weird, karmic sense for them to be this universe's Jon. By not growing up in Bournemouth or, more importantly, not being raised by his grandmother, who'd carelessly buy any random cheap book on clearance for him to read, he could have avoided making any significant connection to the supernatural in childhood and therefore avoiding geting on the radar of the Magnus Institute prior to their destruction in '99, despite now being much closer to it. This being Jon, I think he would still have that Eye-aligned thirst for knowledge, secrets, uncaring for the dangers he'd be exposed to while looking for them, so with the Institute gone he finds another way to satiate that thirst and developes a liking for exploring abadoned places. Which then leads him back to the Magnus Institute, striking his interest, publically at least, with it being "cleared", "explored to death", holding no more secrets, yet not having any pictures to show it, not having any concrete information on it. So he goes to explore, not being deterred by the state of the building, being careless, expects piles of papers, the renmants of the knowledge that place once held, having the sense of doors shutting behind him, seeing grafiti on the wall and wanting to know more about it, trying to document all of it and failing to do so due to photographic distortions, having to resort to older technology, taking something they're weren't supposed to, not just in a supernatural sense, but the place they're discussing all of this is also against it, the rising paranoia that leads to the brutal mutalation of their eyes, the sight of which makes the forum freak out and remove the only photo that found its way to the internet, the only real evidence of what happened to them. All of it is there, narratively speaking, for the audience of TMA entering this new world, this new story, serving as a red thread from one world to another, basically summarising the entirity of TMA without spoilers. But how thematically fitting it would be that after being welcomed in this new world by the remnants of Martin, who's pained sob was the last thing the tapes supposedly recorded before entering the Protocolverse, telling us a tale reminisent of his own feelings and his, Jon's and Jonah's state of being at the moment ("Some of him") the person who then basically introduces us not just to this world's Magnus Institute and the danger it still holds but also theslightly changed rules of the Fears, warning us not to / beckoning us to investigate further, to be this world's Jon, appearing only through a thematically fitting username in a tale told to us by the remnants of the original world's Jon. Once used by Jonah to be the vessel through which all the fears entered the world, now possessed entirely by Jonah, allowing him to enter the world even after being defeated and do as he pleases.

(...Okay, I know it all started as a sleep deprived mind's musing on a bittersweet scene that was likely never to happen but I'm lowkey totally sold on this idea now.)

#tmagp #tmp #the magnus protocol #magnus protocol #tmagp spoilers #jonathan sims #jon sims #jonah magnus #martin blackwood #tma #the magnus archives #magnus archives #tma spoilers #tmagp theory

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stonathandreamer · 5 months

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Stonathan headcanons to brighten your day pt. 2 ✨

🔸 Masterlist

🔹 You can read part 1 here | part 3 here | part 4 here

--------------------------✨✨--------------------------

✨ It took some time for them to refer to each other as boyfriends - especially Steve. He never knew he would one day call a boy his boyfriend;

✨ But after some time, Steve would always refer to Jonathan as his boyfriend (to his close friends, of course);

— "I don't know, Henderson... I need to ask my boyfriend first."

— "You mean Jonathan?"

— "That's what I said. My boyfriend."

— 🙄.

✨ You can't blame the guy for being happy. His last relationship was a disaster, and Steve thought he would never date again. But his current relationship with Jonathan is just perfect! He's never been happier!

✨ Compared to Steve, Jonathan uses the word "boyfriend" sparingly, but every time he does refer to Steve as his boyfriend, the other boy feels like he's going to explode (of happiness, of course!);

✨ Golden Retriever and Black Cat boyfriends. Steve is always full of energy, always wanting to do something, like going to the mall, the movies, the park, or anything, whereas Jonathan only wants to stay indoors and listen to music or watch a movie in the comfort of his room;

✨ No pet names, it's just 'Steve' and 'Jonathan/Jon';

✨ But one time Jonathan accidentally called Steve 'sweetheart'. He was taking a nap and Steve was trying to wake him up;

— "C'mon, Jon, wake up! It's the middle of the day. Let's go do something!"

— "Hmph... No."

— "Pleaseee!"

— "Five more minutes, sweetheart..."

— "... What?"

✨ Poor Jonathan was embarrassed as hell, while Steve was smiling like a kid on Christmas day;

✨ Jonathan definitely has a picture of Steve wearing his stupid Scoops Ahoy uniform (or a bunch of them...);

✨ Steve never says 'no' to Jonathan, and the kids take advantage of it - whenever they, primarily Dustin, want something from Steve, they would ask Jonathan to ask Steve;

✨ It's not a rare occurrence to see Steve walking around the Byers' house - he practically lives there!

— "Why are you here, Steve? Don't you have a house to live in?"

— "Don't you have a basement to crawl back into, Wheeler?"

— "I'm here because Will invited me!"

— "And I'm here because my boyfriend invited me!"

✨ Meanwhile, Will & Jonathan are just: 😑😑.

✨ Steve likes to stay at the Byers' when his parents are away on some business trip - either Jonathan invites him to stay or Joyce refuses to let him stay all alone in that big house. But the bedroom door has to be left open;

— "You boys better keep the door open!"

— "MOM!"

✨ Jonathan has insecurity issues. Look at him! Why would Steve ever want to date him of all people?!

✨ Didn't like it when Steve flirted with the girls at Scoops Ahoy, even though he understood he had to do that to 'keep appearances';

✨ But when Steve found out Jonathan didn't like his purposely bad flirts towards the girls at Scoops, he immediately stopped;

✨ Steve himself was jealous of Jonathan working with Nancy Wheeler. His ex-girlfriend working together with his current boyfriend?! Geez...

✨ On their first Valentine's Day, Jonathan gave Steve a photo of them together in a beautiful dark blue frame. It was just a simple photo, taken by Joyce, of them sitting on the couch and laughing. The average Hawkins resident would look at that picture and think 'just two good friends spending some time together'. And Steve gave him... A teddy bear and a bouquet of flowers;

— "I panicked! I don't know how to give gifts to boyfriends. I know how to give gifts to girlfriends! And your gift was so sweet... And mine is so shitty..."

— "It's alright, Steve! Really. I loved it. Thank you."

✨ He really did love the gift, but decided to only keep the teddy bear and gave the flowers to his mom;

✨ Steve wanted to make it up for his shitty Valentine's Day gift, so he asked Will;

— "What does your brother like?"

— *shrugs* "I don't know."

— "You don't know? How can you not know? He's your brother!"

— "How can you not know? He's your boyfriend."

Touché.

✨ He ended up giving Jonathan a box of chocolates;

— "I really suck at giving you gifts..."

— "It's alright, Steve. It's the thought that matters."

✨ Will ate most of the chocolates, by the way...

✨ Steve has the habit of forgetting some of his sweaters and jackets at Jonathan's house. Jonathan has the habit of not returning them and pretending to not know where they are;

✨ Physical touch is Steve's love language - he's always hugging Jonathan, resting his head on his shoulders, and kissing his cheeks;

✨ Jonathan is not as clingy, but he's always close to Steve, their arms always touching. Sometimes he likes to hold hands with him - this is his first relationship, okay? He needs some time to get used to things like this;

✨ When Robin found out Steve was dating Jonathan, she made a mark on the 'You Rule | You Suck' board: 1x6;

— "Can't you write a '10x6' instead? I mean, have you seen Jonathan? He's a 10, Robs!"

— "That's not how it works, Popeye..."

#stonathan #stranger things #jonathan byers #jonathan byers x steve harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington x jonathan byers #headcanon #Stonathan headcanons #headcanons #Will Byers #Dustin Henderson #Joyce Byers #mike wheeler #scoops ahoy #steve x jonathan

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saintmurd0ck · 2 years

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part one : untouchable

series masterlist | main masterlist | part two

pairing: mafia boss!frank castle x f!reader

summary: it's simple: mafia boss frankie castiglione likes to please his girl

warnings: mafia boss frank au, oral (f receiving), voyeurism/exhibitionism if you squint

a/n: i literally just finished watching the many saints of newark and by god jon looked delicious in it, so enjoy this lil inspired drabble / divider edited by me, but credits to @bernthalized for the incredible photo

Frankie Castiglione likes to please his girl.

They say it’s what makes him different among the other mob bosses of New York City’s crime families. He’s the most level-headed – sane, even, and that’s all because of her. He’s untouchable if she’s happy…

And that makes him dangerous.

Your eyes flutter open as your head tips backwards, allowing you a small glimpse of his office. Papers strewn everywhere, picture frames knocked to the side, one of his precious cigars laying right there on the carpet.

All this for you.

It’s always for you.

It makes you a little giddy, thinking about how your skirt’s bunched around your hips and New York City’s most formidable crime boss kneeling between your legs. You’ve become familiar with the sensation of his hardwood desk, pressed to your back, and it almost feels like the once-sharp edges have been rubbed smooth, just from the way you’re always finding them for balance.

A dark silhouette on the other side of the door’s frosted glass panel catches your eye. It must be Lieberman, Frankie’s consigliere, standing guard. All Frankie needed was to shoot him a nod, usher you in with a beckoning finger, and suddenly everyone in the house had somewhere to be. Only Lieberman ever stayed, and that was that.

“Not so eager f’me today, sweetheart? What’s on your mind?”

You crane your neck forward to look at him grinning between your thighs, nose and mouth glistening with the sheen of your arousal. He slides his hands out from under your skirt, only to drag the tips of his fingers along your skin, along where he knows you’re most sensitive.

Your body goes taut as he pulls a breathy moan from your lips. “N-no, Frankie. Just… just keep doin’ that, will you? I need you.”

If Lieberman can hear what you’re doing, as if he doesn’t already know and as if you ever bother keeping quiet, he doesn’t show. He doesn’t move a muscle.

Frankie licks his fingers first, and then his lips. His face goes calm. Focused.

You’ll never hear him say these words to anyone else, but for you, it’s without a second thought. “Anything for you, darlin’.”

#frank castle #the punisher #frank castle smut #frank castle x reader #the punisher x reader #the punisher smut #rhi writes 💻#x reader

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the-sun-falls-like-a-guillotine · 8 months

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admittedly, I just love feedism content in general, but the reason I love it so much in TMA fanworks is because The Magnus Archives is about hunger.

it's about thirst — bloodthirst (MAG112, MAG176), thirst for knowledge (MAG92, The Eye) — and hunger — hunger for power (Jonah Magnus), statement withdrawal (MAG148), feed your patron or it will feed on you (MAG89, MAG184). Any food and drink mentioned are often corrupted, whether literally, by memories, or by paranoia, like the human teeth apple from the anatomy students in MAG34, or the oolong tea offered by Also Martin in MAG186, or when Martin offers Jon a sandwich and Jon is so suspicious that he actually comes to the canteen to make sure it isn't tampered with (MAG53).

one of the only actual physical descriptors we get of Jon is scrawny (MAG185), so there's something very satisfying to me about relationship weight; about him recovering from years of deprivation and neglect; about a squidgy little belly in the palm of Martin's hand when he spoons in behind him. the thought of Jon and Martin safe and happy and healthy and together delights me, be it curled up on the sofa with tea and a bun, or making soup, or going out for ice cream.

I love the idea of Jon's much-improved appetite still not quite stretching to finishing his plate and he always insists that Martin finishes it without so much as one guilt-tinged word because he looks so ridiculously gorgeous when he's full, one big broad hand resting contentedly on the crest of his belly; or that scene I still have to work in somewhere where Martin catches Jon engrossed in their own reflection, studying the little roll of chub that now swells out over the waistband of their boxers, and Martin begins to panic because when he does that, his mind is loud and swarming with the voices of his mother, of other kids in the school playground, of the shitty men he settled for because he just wanted to be touched: oh, don't wear that top, Patricia, it makes you look fat; my mum has big tummy like you but there's a baby in hers; sorry, I don't think I can go through with this. I don't like girls and your hips are just... too wide. but Jon just turns to him and smiles with sparkling eyes and says I look... loved.

I'm also working on a polychives au where the worm bites across his back and shoulders restrict Tim's movement so working out isn't really an option anymore, and one by one all his coping mechanisms fall through leaving only food. the weight begins to pile on, stretch marks spreading like lightning across his belly, his chest, his hips, and for a time he feels so horribly conflicted about it because it feels good, but it doesn't feel like himself in any way that he's used to. then Sasha tells him in no uncertain terms how much she likes it, and once a miscommunication is sorted with Martin, and Jon begrudgingly agrees to try the four of them being together, he starts to love his swelling belly, his puffy little tits, every bit as much as they do.

I love love LOVE picturing Tim with this big lovedrunk smile, absolutely boneless in a cuddle puddle as he jokes that he should get a ouija board planchette tattooed around his belly button because of how often they each have a hand on his pudgy belly, like they all do now.

just... the softest of soft recovery and comfort against the cruelty of the original work.

#the magnus archives #tma #polychives #jon sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james

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issuesdolly · 6 months

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Jonathan Davis NAUGHTY Hotel Date with You

#jonathandavis #jonathan davis #korn #jon davis #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #oral

Warning: 18+ … smut… sex, oral, my filthy mind

Summary: You are Jonathan's girlfriend and you and he have been missing each other terribly while he's been on the road. He has been horribly deprived of an orgasm for a long time and needs you badly. You finally get to spend time with him in the same city on a few days off he has from touring and you have a romantic/sexual encounter with him at his hotel.

*Side note, I have a TikTok where I make Jonathan Davis thirst traps + sexy/funny JD edits if y'all are interested. (Apologies if this is now allowed, I'll remove the link. New to tumblr.

Link to one of my vids lol:

Link to my TikTok:

Story:

The night before you finally got to see your love, he called you on the phone after his gig. It was the middle of the night but you didn't care, you are both nocturnal insomniacs and you had waited for his call with all your heart. You had been dreaming about tomorrow, finally getting to wrap your arms around him, have him hold you tight and smell him, kiss him again. In your dream you were in the hotel lobby looking for him. You woke to the sound of your ringtone. Though you were lost in dreamland you immediately feel a jolt of happy adrenaline. You answer.

"Baby!"

"HI honey!" Jonathan says with a giggly tone.

"How did everything go?" You ask.

"That show just about killed me haha. I'm so fucking beat" Jonathan said.

"Well I can't wait to pamper you tomorrow.... or should I say later today," you said.

"Oh you have no idea how much I'm looking forward to these days off, and to finally seeing you. I have missed you so much honey," Jonathan said.

"I've missed you with my whole heart too," you said.

There was a pause as you both nervously laughed and breathed down the phone.

"MMmmmhh," Jonathan said in a sultry tone. Your breath caught in your throat.

"You know, I can't promise how I'll be this evening, I've gotta try to get some rest. It's so hard to wind down after a show. So much fucking adrenaline. But I'm going to do everything I can to rest up for you" Jonathan continued.

"Awww I know you will. It's going to be hard for me to get back to sleep now too haha, I'm so excited to be with you again," you replied.

"Oh hun, me too. You have no idea," Jonathan said in a more giggly and giddy tone.

"I want..... to make our time count," Jonathan said in the naughtiest voice you ever heard.

You had trouble replying right away because you felt immediately aroused.

"Oh, you can BET I want that too. We will make this time count," you managed to reply in a soft tone.

There was an awkward pause while he giggled the naughtiest giggle you had ever heard.

"Until tomorrow then, or should I say much later today haha," Jonathan said.

"Until later sweetie" you replied shakily.

"Sweet dreams hun," Jonathan said in a sweet tone. You hung up.

That evening you were in the hotel lobby in his favorite dress. You didn't even bother getting too made up. You knew he was going to tear you apart, in a good way haha. When you two are together at home you make love or straight up fuck HARD every night, and now you have been apart for a LONG time by your metric. You see Jonathan enter the lobby looking for you. You lock eyes and he gives you the happiest, radiant grin.

A few people immediately spot him and start approaching him while he gives them polite nods but doesn't take his eyes off you and continues forward as if they don't exist. He wraps his arms around you in a tight hug and crushes you against him. You give him a huge kiss on the lips. Because you are in public and people are watching, maybe even taking pictures, both of you put on your best "PG rated" kiss, knowing you will have your real embrace in private. Jonathan quickly takes your hand and leads you to the elevator before people have a chance to distract him, try to strike up conversations, or beg for attention. He's still kind to the bystanders though, saying "awww thank you guys.... this is my girl, we gotta get going right now, we are late for dinner.... but thank you."

You get into the elevator alone and you say "dinner? We're going to dinner? I gotta be honest, I'm not hungry. I really just want to be alone with you."

Jonathan turns to you and smushes you up against the elevator wall slowly.

"Oh trust me, we are going to be alone" Jonathan says very quietly.

" That was just my excuse to them. I'm taking you straight to our room. If you want dinner after, we'll order it in," Jon says in a naughty tone.

"Fuck. I need you," you moan and the two of you kiss passionately against the elevator wall while his arms wrap around the small of your back and slide down to your ass.

He is much taller than you so he has to lean down to give you a proper french kiss while squeezing and massaging your ass and pulling your lower body towards his crotch. He presses his front hard against yours, rubbing your crotches together, and you can feel him already getting hard. You instinctively wrap one of your legs behind his back inviting him into your open legs as he continues your standing make-out session. He slides his tongue further into your mouth while kissing you hard. His hands slide down to your thighs and he starts to instinctively pick you up by your thighs so both your legs are wrapped around his lower body. The elevator comes to a halt on the floor of your room and he groans and stops, gently putting you down reluctantly. The two of you breathe hard as the elevator door opens and you hazily walk out, holding hands and letting him lead you to your room with him.

"Fuck... I don't want you to think I don't want to catch up with you and just have a wonderful evening and talk and all that other shit," Jonathan says while nervously laughing with a raspy, giddy voice.

"Babe, it's really okay. We've talked on the phone as much as possible. And I'm sure we'll have a chance to just talk on the days off. Right now.... I think we both know what we want," you replied, your pussy already soaked. You can feel wetness in your panties with each step.

Jonathan opens the hotel room with his keycard. He stares hard at your eyes with the warmest, sexiest grin. "Yeah I think we know... and I've got something to admit" he says while giggling in that same naughty tone.

"What it is baby?" You inquire, as he leads you in.

"Well hun, I've not had much alone time this last week, like all. The road has been a stressful MESS. Basically I haven't even jerked off in a week," Jonathan admits.

"Oh shit" you say laughing. You know what that means. Both you and he are hypersexual. You BOTH need a daily orgasm whether it's by yourself or together.

"So hun, I'm really sorry if.... well... when we get into it.... I can't last long...the first time at least," Jonathan admits. "But YOU KNOW I'll give you more. I'll give you everything. I'm gonna make you cum so hard. It's just......right now.... my dick is fucking ready to burst for you" Jonathan says in a hushed, beyond sexy tone as he pulled you into his arms again and pressed his front against yours.

You melt in his arms. His dick is rock hard and your pussy is soaked and ready for him. There's nothing you want more than to feel him cum after so long. To finally let him relieve that long-held need.

"I almost had a wet dream last night while thinking about you," Jonathan said in a giddy tone. "But I'm glad I didn't.... I saved it all for you," he said in a whiny, raspy tone.

The two of you kissed passionately and you couldn't take it anymore. You pushed him onto the first thing you could see, which was a nice comfy couch. You ripped your own panties off and hiked up your dress while he moaned and undid his pants and yanked them off along with his boxers. His cock sprang out, and you shoved him back down onto the couch while kissing him hard, as he pushed his tongue deep into your mouth.

He gripped your hips tightly with an insane amount of need while moaning loudly and cursing, "FUCK. FUCK baby." You grasped his cock in your hand and started jerking him, nice and firm. He threw his head back against the couch and moaned some more. You wanted to tease him and masturbate him for awhile, but with his cock already rock hard and throbbing in your hand, you knew how badly he needed the rest of you. You quickly straddled his lap and lowered your wet pussy onto his needy cock. He gasped in a way that was like you had just overloaded him with pleasure and relief. His breath caught in his throat and he bucked his hips against your body, using his big hands to pull your hips further against him, pushing his cock deeper inside you. It felt beyond amazing to you too. The relief of finally having him inside you. Your clit was throbbing. You wondered if you might actually come as quickly as he will!.

Jonathan came back to earth for a second and tried to refocus on pleasuring you. As you road his lap and bucked your hips up and down against him, he slid a finger in your mouth. You instinctively sucked and licked it. He slid a second finger in, you took the second finger continuing to suck and lick it while you fucked him. He moaned watching you, his eyes staring HARD into yours with an intense and dazed expression as you could tell how much he was already losing control. He took his fingers out of your mouth and reached down to slide them against your clit. He definitely wanted you to feel good too. He rubbed his wet slippery fingers against your clit, rotating, flicking it and pushing hard against it and into it. You let out a huge moan and collapsed your head against his shoulder. Both of you moaned loudly as your hair was intertwined in a big mess and you lost yourself in pleasure while riding him. Your body was growing weak in his arms and your legs were shaking. You weren't sure you could stay on top anymore. The level of arousal was making you feel faint.

Jonathan could feel you weakening and collapsing against him.

"God, I'm so faint baby! You feel so good," You said

"Don't worry baby, just let me fuck you" Jonathan replied in a very raspy, deep voice.

He grabbed your hips and started bucking HARD against you. You didn't have to do anything except keep your legs wrapped around him and your arms wrapped around his shoulders for balance. You went limp in his arms from the overwhelming pleasure of feeling his hard dick taking you and you knew you were going to cum soon.

"Ugghhhh fuck!" Jonathan yelped. I can't-.... I can't hold back.

You wanted to cum but knew he was absolutely bursting for it. He'd held on as long as he could.

"It's ok baby, let it go, cum for me," you replied.

Jonathan started moaning and grunting loudly and uncontrollably. He pushed hard into you bucking his hips insanely hard into you in long rhythmic motions.

"fu-----fu----- oh god..... UGHHHhhh fuck I can't---- FUCK!!!!" Jonathan yelled. He grabbed your hips hard enough to dig his fingernails into you and let loose.

You could actually feel his cock erupt inside you and pumps of warm liquid spill deep inside you. He groaned loudly like an animal and completely lost his breath. The pumps of warm cum continued and continued. You just held him, with your arms wrapped around his neck, lulling your head against his shoulder and moaning as he continued to release inside you. There was so much pent up cum you could already feel it spilling out of your pussy and draining down his twitching cock and between the two of you.

You slowly lifted your head off his shoulder to gaze at his face. He had the most blissful expression on his face, with his eyes winced closed both the most relieved and exhausted looking smile you had ever seen from him. You slowly planted kisses on his neck, ears, flustered cheeks and lips.

His thighs were shaking and his cock was still buried inside you, leaking and dripping what he had held for so long just for you. His breathing continued to be hard and shaky and he loosened his grib pn your thighs, realizing he had left nail marks and a little bit of blood.

"Oh my god......" Jonathan said with his voice breaking. "Fuck. I'm sorry sweetie you have no idea how bad I needed that," he continued while trying to rub away the blood from your thigh.

"I think I do know how bad you needed that, Jon," you said reassuringly while still feeling beyond aroused. You slowly slid out of him and so much liquid came out of you you realized you both had made a mess of the hotel couch. Jonathan continued to try to catch his breath. You sat across his lap and the two of you chuckled at the fact you were both half dressed. His shirt still on and your dress hiked up above your waist, messed up and stained now. The two of you sat slow kissing and catching your breath for a few minutes. Eventually Jonathan moaned and said, "I'm stilll gonna make you feel good, trust me. I want you co cum as hard as I just did," he said with a wicked grin.

You shook in his arms. He got his strength back and carried you to the bed. He slowly took your dress off and took his shirt off and the two of you lay next to each other in bed, kissing and facing each other naked.

Jonathan slid two fingers into your needy pussy. It was still dripping with his cum. "Fuck, I really made a mess of you, didn't I?" Jonathan said with a wicked grin.

"Mmm hmmm " you moaned while smiling gleefully.

Jonathan slid a third finger in and you moaned loudly. He was always amazing at fingering you. He rubbed his thumb against your wet, hard clit while continuing to gently but firmly slide his fingers in and out of your pussy, pressing them hard up against the roof of your vagina. With his long soft fingers he always knew how to hit your g spot over and over again. Now it was you throwing your head back and moaning. He kept at it while kissing you and pressing against you as you felt yourself building to an orgasm. You moaned into his mouth while you bucked your pussy against his hand, holding his wrist with one of your hands to push him further into your pussy. You were feeling closer and closer. Without warning, Jonathan slid his fingers out of you and left you bucking the air with your needy pussy.

You were confused for a minute, until Jonathan slowly kissed down your naked body, sucking and rubbing your tits, then planting kisses on your stomach before dipping his head in between your thighs and planting slow kisses on your inner thighs. You knew you were going to cum so hard, you hadn't been this aroused before since the first time you and he had sex. He started kissing your soaked pussy. You pulled back for a moment.

"Fuck!!! Jon! You know I want you to lick my pussy.... But ... like, right now? Your cum is still leaking out of me" you said giggling and moaning.

He pressed his face against your thigh locking eyes with you and gave another darker, wicked grin, "I love you baby. I don't give a fuck! You know I'm freaky," Jonathan replied.

Your legs shook in anticipation of him licking your pussy. Jonathan briefly looked down at the cut he had accidently left with his nail when he gripped your thighs so tight and dug in. He looked briefly upset. "Sorry sweetie....." he said, and planted a soft kiss on the cut before opening his mouth and licking it clean. Your thighs shook while he did this.

He placed his head back between your legs and planted kisses on your pussy before sliding his tongue firmly against your clit. You moaned loudly and gripped his matted, moist hair with both of your hands as he continued to pleasure you. He pushed his fingers back into your pussy while licking your clit, letting his tongue massage your throbbing clit. You were so close already. Your thighs shook and with his other hand he gripped your thigh again, holding it firmly in place. He wasn't going to let you go anywhere until you had cum HARD on his face and on his fingers. You threw your head back, losing your breath, as you felt your orgasm coming. "Fuck ... fuck, yes, Just like tha---- that.... I need you baby," you yelled.

Jonathan moaned into your pussy. He couldn't resist and pulled his fingers out to slide his tongue as far as he could into your pussy while pushing his fingers hard against your clit and rhythmically rubbing. That was it, you lost control and came insanely hard against his tongue, fingers and face. Your hips shook and with his free hand he continued to hold you down, keeping you in place. The orgasm was an overwhelming stimulation to your clit and felt like you actually ached and vibrated.

But he was not going to let go until you had ridden that climax hard. You yelped and moaned loudly and let out a scream as he continued to press his tongue and head deep against you with his fingers pressed on your clit and his arm holding you down. You kept coming for what felt like a minute or more. You didn't know. You had lost track of all sense and time. Slowly you came back to earth as you heard Jonathan moaning and slowly pulling out of your pussy, leaving soft kisses all over it. He kissed your thighs and you could feel how soaked his soft lips were. You had made an absolute mess of his mouth and face. He looked up at you with a tired and satisfied grin.

"Do you feel better baby?" Jon asked.

"hugghhhh... fu..... what do you think? I love you so much," you replied through gasps.

"I love you so much too baby," Jonathan said as he slowly rose up from your pussy and crawled back up your body, placing his naked, sweaty body against yours.

He nestled his face against yours. You instinctively wanted to give him a huge kiss. You pushed your face towards his. He held back for a second.

"Right now?" Jonathan giggled. "Are YOU sure? My face is pretty messy," he said with a satisfied grin.

"I'm sure baby, I'm freaky too," you replied grinning. The two if you shared a slow passionate kiss. You could taste him as well as yourself. You tasted good together.

The two of you were exhausted. You lay next to each other in bed, facing each other. You threw a leg over him and realized how soaked your inner thighs were. The two of you had definitely made a mess of this room. The sheets were wet. The couch was wet. His hair and face was wet. "Maybe we should hop in the shower before bed," Jon suggested. "Mmmmm, yeah... maybe...." you replied, half asleep. The two of you continued holding each other and breathing hard. That ended up being the last thing you remember as the two of you just fell asleep. You had both come too hard to move. The rest can wait. You wandered into dream land while hearing Jon breathing and lightly snoring against you.

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