#guys with problems and issues. guys with Stuff. in their brains.

[hirokiyuu]

scaramouse in my house :)

[skrunksthatwunk]

stole this chart from @asubakaa and spent wayyy too much time making my own so. yeah. also i did 6 instead of 5 bc i know no restraint

[ozymoron]

reading posts that come across my dash and sitting for a minute to debate with my mental disorder if not reblogging this will mean a hell portal will open beneath my feet and i will suffer for eternity for my lack of action or if its all good and i can just scroll on by (its usually the hell portal thing)

[thethingything]

it's times like this where I'm sat here with a fevere and severe pain in the side of my face and the vague looming anxiety of whatever treating this is gonna involve that remind me that I'm a fictive of a guy who makes magical healing candy and can regrow his fucking teeth and does not have to deal with any of this shit

[nomairuins]

under the cut bc it is relating to The thang rhat happened yesterday. so umm. idk how to tw it. i thought some very scary stuff happened to my body but none of it actually did but i talk abt it a bit in detaul and its a bit gruesome . and i rambled abt it in the tags for a bit so dont read those either if u r squeamish Andor just dont want to hear abt that rn . apologies

in hindsight now im calming down a bit it is like. funny in a sad way that while i was literally Convinced that my rib had punctured my lung and also my heart and blood was filling my entire body. i Kept on asking the paramedics Is this gonna be really expensive . im sorry. um is this ambulance gonna cost a lot . and when my mom got to the room i kept crying and saying sorry in between my literal gasping for breath and gagging on what i was convinced was blood and uncontrollable shaking bc i was rly rly rly terrified it was going to cost her a lot of money . bit funny. where r your priorities girl...

[cats-in-the-clouds]

my sister got engaged and we’re all really happy for her but my bitter rain cloud of a dad (who naturally she told last) is giving her a bit of passive aggressive grief about it despite her boyfriend being like the best man of our generation (presumably either because he’s not catholic or because my dad sees them as young dumb unemployed people who aren’t ready for marriage or because he’s mad he barely has any real love with his own wife or something). so like pray for us? i wish i knew what to do

[notthestarwar]

are you normal or do you print out your ao3 comments and make them in to a little book so you can look at them all together when ur feeling sad

[kozachenko]

[Click for better quality]

Ok yay I'm back from my vacation yipeeeeeee. I started this drawing of Keiki before I left and I was half considering just giving up on it.... until I did a short study of facial planes and then got motivated to work on this again! I'm glad I didn't give up on it though, as I'm actually really happy with this one!

Artist's Notes;

So as I mentioned in my last post about Touhou 17, I wanted to finish this by the game's five year anniversary but with how progress was going I didn't want to rush this so I decided to take a long break from it. Mainly because of the face. For a while now I was kind of feeling like I was stagnating with my drawings, not really in the clothing but in the bodies. There was something about the way I was rendering them that I just wasn't happy with, and after talking with someone else about this issue, I realized that the reason I felt this way was because the faces were too flat and didn't match the rest of the drawing and that I needed to find a way to make the rendering of the face feel consistent with everything else. So after doing a short study of the plains of the face (I used this 3D head model from art station as a reference for my short study, please go give this person some love as they are a lifesaver) I went back into this drawing and applied what I learned here. It was only after that that I finally became motivated to finish the piece, and while it started off as just a simple character sketch like Saki and Yachie's were, the moment I added in Keiki's little fire dragon I knew I had gotten in too deep and now here we are with a full on background. OK it's not super crazy or anything, but it gets the job done and it's better than there just being an empty void behind her. It's rare moments like this when I use brushes other than the Clip Studio Default Charcoal Brush and use the Clip Studio Default Paint Brushes as well (god bless the oil paint and dry gouache clip studio brushes, they were amazing). I don't know why but painting fire has always been really fun for me, there's something oddly satisfying about it y'know? I do think that another reason for this problem was because I was drawing faces like I would in my more sketchy style that didn't mesh well with my lineless style, so I'm glad I've started remedying that.

After adding in the fire dragon I had an idea to kinda make it feel like splash art in the way the composition works... probably because I have been playing Reverse 1999 again and it has taken over my brain. I do feel like Keiki's tools get a little lost in the composition, and I didn't fully render the metal parts of them mainly because I didn't feel like they needed it, but that's just something for me to improve on later down the line.

If you guys are wondering where I went for my vacation, I went to New York and got to go to the MET and the Museum of Natural History. In both places I found Kofun period stuff and I was so happy to see it you have no idea. I remember one of the Haniwa I saw had some neat face paint under the eyes that I tried to replicate with the makeup under Keiki's eyes in my drawing, though I think I'll gave to figure out how to draw makeup on characters because this reads more like blush to me than anything. While drawing this I also looked up some references of Kofun period jewelry and really liked the stuff I found, which also meant that now she has proper Kofun earrings instead of earrings shaped like Kofun tombs. I put some of the things I referenced with a closeup of Keiki's face as well down below. I made her outfit more reminiscent of the outfit I gave her at the beginning of the year with the buttons and all, though I do want to try and draw her in some more period accurate clothing like the Haniwa I took a picture of at the Museum of Natural History. I wish I could find a way to make her handercheif look better though as I wish I made it a little bit bigger, though I think I'm saying this because I've looked at this drawing for too long lmao. Once again something to work on for when I next draw her. Also want to get better at rendering hair, as some details (like the little strands in front of her ears) kinda got unreadable due to the similarities in colour lol.

Now you may have also noticed the little cracks I added onto Keiki's face, and that's because I have fallen in love with the idea of Keiki's body being made from ceramic and that she crafted her body herself. While they aren't very visible I also tried to add some doll joints to her body, which is an idea I played around with in the past but never went to far with. I also want to get better at rendering cracks in ceramic, porcelain, etc, as I'm not sure how those read in the drawing. I also have a headcanon where the cracks in Keiki's face show up because of heightened emotions, and while Keiki is aware of this and does her best to make sure her face doesn't break off.... she will still end up with at least a few cracks during any given day, and she can often forget to repair her own body quite frequently so Mayumi has to remind her quite a lot. Mayumi even taught herself some basic sculpting techniques to help repair parts of her body that are so badly damaged to the point where Keiki can't repair them herself, i.e. if both her arms broke off, Mayumi would put them back together for her so Keiki can at least have something to repair herself with rather than nothing. I also like to imagine that if Keiki created her own body, if you took a look at Keiki from the beginning of her life she would look completely different compared to now.

BTW If you guys are wondering what a very very angry Keiki looks like....ok in order for this to make sense have any of you read volume 11 of Land of The Lustrous? Am I bringing back some memories for those of you that have? Ok good, glad we all got that mental image brewing in our minds, I'll probably draw a version of Keiki that is somewhat inspired by that one day as it's an idea I've had for a little while now. And to those who haven't gotten to that volume yet and are confused.... don't worry about it, just keep reading :)

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART III

—old habits die hard

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)

[cripplecharacters]

How should you write/draw burn survivors? I know this isn't a drawing blog but I don't know of one that I could ask this question to.

Hello!

I'm not a burn survivor myself, so I'll mostly talk about facial differences/visible disability in general and link some stuff made by burn survivors.

First thing, I think it's important to remember that being a burn survivor changes a lot of things - not only appearance. Very important part is the psychological one, but I'm not a burn survivor so I will just let the resources linked below speak.

From the physical aspect, burns can also come with: chronic pain, limited range of motion due to scarring, tightened skin, problems with regulating temperature, itching, skin irritation, and even different nutritional needs during the initial healing process.

There is also specific everyday care associated with burns - something you basically never see in fiction. That could be things like occupational therapy, physical therapy, skincare (like heavy moisturizing and scar massaging), wearing sunblock, wearing splints, or stretching to prevent contractures or tightness.

There are also different types of burns and they (unsurprisingly) differ from each other - for example, electrical burns have a much higher rate of amputation than any other type. Chemical burns can cause eye issues. A burn caused by a fire in a closed space might result in a brain injury due to the lack of oxygen. A much larger portion of people than you (probably) assume have survived burn injuries as small children, and if they were young enough they might not even remember the event at all, unlike older people who might be very affected by the trauma.

Experiences of a person with 80% body surface burns, a person with quadruple amputations from an electrical burn, a person with a facial burn, and a person burnt very recently will be different from someone who has a 5% body surface 2nd degree burn in a spot that’s usually hidden, who has lived with their burn for a decade - despite them all being burn survivors.

When it comes to more thorough research, I recommend going through Phoenix Society’s and Face Equality International’s websites to learn more about both real burn survivor’s perspectives, and face equality as a social justice topic. I think the 3rd link (see below) puts it very well when talking about burn survivors being represented in fiction:

“Most likely, these characters were not created by someone with lived experience. The result is an increasingly garbled game of telephone [...] To avoid contributing to this false narrative, embrace research as part of the process. Explore interviews, first-person accounts, and articles from reliable sources.”

I personally think that the links below should be mandatory reading for writing not only burn survivors, not only people with facial differences, but visibly disabled people in general - because the treatment we get is often so similar the advice still holds up just fine. And if you don't plan on writing any of these, you should still read them to see how prevalent of a problem ableism in media is.

Lise Deguire's Hey Hollywood - scars don't make you evil.

Face Equality International's International Media Standard on Disfigurement.

Niki Averton's Tips for Writing about Burn Survivors.

The main sentiment that you will read from basically any first-hand source is that if you're writing the burn survivor to be either:

evil (just throw the whole character away. please.)

a guy with the "World's Saddest Most Tragic Backstory Ever and It's So Sad and Tragic" (because he revealed he has a scar.)

a helpless victim who is there to be The Helpless Victim

...then you're already doing it wrong and need to make some major changes.

From our blog's reblogs and posts, you might want to look at tips for writing a visibly different/disabled character and tips on drawing people with facial differences. Neither are specific to burn survivors but cover the topic of visible disability and facial differences.

Now for tips on drawing burn survivors (that weren't included in the last link);

Reference real people. 99.9% drawings of burn survivors seem to go through the same "increasingly garbled game of telephone" that Niki Averton mentions with how burn survivors are written, in that the newer the drawing, the less in common it has with how real people with burns look like because people reference from each other and none of them ever think to actually check if their depiction is accurate. If you just google "burn survivor" you will very quickly notice that burn survivors don't have that damn red overlay layer put on top of their skin. It just doesn't look like that, and basic research (aka Google Images search) will tell you that - and still, people color a hand with bright red and think that's how it looks like (it doesn't).

In the same vein, maybe don't just draw an able-bodied person and then put some scarring on top (or maybe do exactly that. No burn scar and no burn survivor is the same, and there are people that fit what I just described... but hear me out for a second). Think about how scars interact with their features - do they have both of their ears? Do they still have all of their hair? Do they only have parts of their eyebrow? Do they have all of their fingers? Can they move the same as before their burn, or are their scars limiting their joints? How did their body react to the post-burn hypermetabolism? Lots to think about. Take into account what type and thickness of burns your character has.

Ditch the mask trope. Just ditch it. There's no need to cover your character's scar from the world unless you as the author think it requires to be hidden, is too scary to show, or other ableist trope that seems to always come up with drawings of visibly disabled people, especially burn survivors. The one exception I will mention is a transparent face orthosis/mask (TFO) that facial burn survivors might wear while awaiting a skin graft early after their injury. But as the name suggests, it's transparent and doesn't work for the awful "ohh scary facial difference better cover it up and only reveal it in some hyper dramatic scene!!" trope because you can see right through it. (I will also mention that TFOs are a very modern thing. Your medieval burn survivor wouldn't be wearing one.)

No "body horror", no "gore" tags or trigger warnings or whatever. That's a human being. If you feel the need to warn your followers before they see a disabled person existing, you're better off not drawing them.

Some last notes;

Throughout this ask I used the term "burn survivor" rather than "burn victim" because that is, to my knowledge, the general community preferred phrase. Individual opinions will differ (because no group is a monolith) but "burn survivor" is generally the safest term to use and probably the best if talking about a fictional character.

Similarly, I used "facial difference" rather than "disfigurement". Just as the above, opinions will differ on what is the best to use but I personally, as someone with facial asymmetry and a cranial nerve disorder, heavily prefer the term "facial difference" over "disfigurement". (I am in this case The Individual Opinion Differing because you can notice that in the links above, facial difference and disfigurement are used interchangeably. The general community uses both, some people have specific preferences. I'm some people.) When talking about a fictional character, "facial difference", "visible difference" and "disfigurement" are all probably fine. Just stay away from calling a person "deformed".

mod Sasza

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Just then Eddie walks in, raising his brows at the veritable mountain of food Steve and Eleven are putting together. “What’s all this?”

Steve smiles warmly at him. “Hey, Eds,” he says, which is certainly an experience. He’s spoken roughly twice with the guy—in his memory—but Steve’s three chapters—nay, three books ahead. Eddie is Frodo, about to embark on his first journey, and Steve is Bilbo, or even Gandalf: someone who’s done this all before, whose eyes carry the weight of worlds.

Speaking of, Steve’s eyes dim slightly the longer Eddie takes to answer, so he waves his fingers at Steve, trying to ignore the swoop in his stomach when Steve’s smile brightens again. “So… what’s this?”

“Dinner,” Eleven answers. “We are making sandwiches.”

Eddie nods, because sure. Why not. “Okay.”

“How’s the song coming?” Steve asks, and the swoop returns, because not only is Steve asking, but he’s asking about Metallica, and Eddie’s gay, metal little heart can’t take it.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out, grinning. “It’s so good, oh my god. I mean, it’s gonna take a bit to learn, but it’s gonna be the most metal solo I’ve ever done.”

Steve’s smile dims again. Probably because he’s remembering what happened last time, i.e., Eddie’s death. Eddie pushes down the queasy feeling.

“Eddie,” Eleven says.

“Yeah?”

She turns to face him. Her eyes are more serious than any twelve-year-old’s eyes have any right to be. “You will be okay,” she says. Then, apropos of nothing, “And I can move things with my mind.”

Eddie blinks at that. Apparently his face is doing something, because Steve chimes in. “She can.”

“I can show you,” she volunteers.

“Anything but the utensils,” Steve says in a distracted voice, like this isn’t the first time he’s had this conversation. Eddie wants to laugh hysterically, or maybe cry. Smoking a joint seems like the best third option, except all his stuff is at home. Fuck.

Then she does, lifts a whole cutting board—complete with tomatoes— and moves it over to him. He resists the impulse to snatch a piece and eat it. He doesn’t even like tomatoes, what the fuck, brain.

Steve’s watching with an amused little smile, like he can somehow read Eddie’s mind. That legitimately wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen today, so Eddie does his best to stop thinking about it, because he doesn’t think he can deal with more than one real-life superpower right now.

“I need that back, El,” Steve murmurs, and she grins at him before zipping it back over, stopping it just before it hits his face. He nods, brows raised, impressed. “Nice control. Put it down and go wipe your nose, please.”

She does, Steve watching her as she goes, fond little grin on his face. “She’s a good kid.”

“She can move things with her mind.”

“Yeah. Honestly, that’s one of the easier things to get used to. Y’know one of the craziest things, to me?”

“Do I want to know?” Eddie asks hesitantly.

Steve just grins at him. “Jonathan Byers has this baseball bat that he sticks a bunch of nails in.”

Eddie blinks at him. “What the actual fuck.”

Steve nods. “I took it, sometime back during the first year. Actually,” he thinks about it, “what month are we in?”

“Um. October.”

Steve winces. “Great. October…”

“Um. Twenty-fourth.”

Steve hums and thinks. “In about… less than a week, actually, I think—I don’t really know, the concussion messed up my days—oh, hey!” He suddenly says excitedly, then raises his voice. “Rob!”

Robin pops her head in a moment later. “What’s up?”

He grins at her. “No concussions!”

She stares. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face. “Holy shit!” She says. “No concussions!”

“No memory loss!”

“No hearing loss!”

“No eyesight problems!”

She freezes. “Steve. You were having vision issues?”

“Um. Not anymore?”

She groans. “Since when?”

“Um…” he thinks, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Billy, I think. At least that’s the first time I really noticed it.”

She sighs. “I’m going to murder you.”

“Are not.”

“In cold blood.”

“Are not.”

“Nancy’ll help.”

Steve considers this. “She might. She’d be good at it.”

They both pause for a moment, then Robin turns to leave. “I’m gonna go make sure Jon doesn’t give you a concussion this time.”

“Have him make the nail bat, too!” Steve calls as she leaves.

“What,” Eddie says desperately, “the fuck.”

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[songmingisthighs]

Beefcake Raccoon

group : ateez

pairing : yeosang × reader (ft. boyfriend!jongho)

genre : smut

wc : 6.5 k

tw : mdni, explicit smut, unprotected sex, consensual sex, slight m × m (ofc between jongsang), fingering, cum tasting, dirty talk, cowgirl, creampie, mentions and description of jongho's junk, idk what else to tag here ngl

a/n : pt. 1 of an impulsive mini series with @bro-atz and @skteezcursed. pt. 2 and 3 will be added here once they drop! and yes, i call yeosang beefcake raccoon. how can i nawt when he looks like this ??? and yea i kinda went overboard with this because i had planned on writing 2.5-3k but here we are

a/a/n : it's 12.38 am and i'm sleepy and still sick as fuck and i had the sudden raging NEED to purchase all of the aniteez keyring. which i might do. idk if this is my manic episode making a comeback or me having impulse control issue

buy me coffee ?

beefcake raccoon | concrete bear | manwich

Yeosang isn't really one to butt into other people's business, not even when certain things affect him personally.

For example, he never really voiced out how much he didn't like the way Hongjoong would come into his room, steal his supplements, and just leave things a mess. Mind you, he has no problem with letting the older guy take a couple pills or tablets from what could only be described as a collector's mountain. Heck, he's a firm believer in sharing whatever they own especially with people Yeosang already thought of as family. He just didn't like the way Hongjoong tended to leave some of the bottles not properly screwed. He hates seeing things not properly screwed. So he would just take a breath and clean up after the captain.

Another example is when a tornado came barrelling in. And no, it's not a real tornado which would have probably been better. Yeosang didn't voice out his complaints when his best friend of almost a decade suddenly came by the dorm he shared with Yunho only to kick him out. "Yunho and I are in this small gaming tournament and we need to beat this son of a bitch," Wooyoung said as he set up his gaming stuff on the dining table with Yunho who stopped momentarily and furrowed his eyebrows at this frantic friend, "You do know punchpunch483 is 12 years old, right?" which resulted in Wooyoung glaring at him, "A punk is a punk no matter the age, I will not stand the disrespect that's why he and his guild are going down so deep in the ground he can say hi to his grandpa." At that point, Yeosang simply clocked out of the conversation, dejectedly resigning to the fact that he wasn't going to be able to just watch his show in his bed and fall asleep to it.

There were some conflicts in Yeosang's brain, however. One good thing about the dorm Wooyoung shared was the fact that he lives with a workaholic nomad and an introverted busybody. One bad thing about the dorm Wooyoung shared was the fact that said dorm is often occupied by a girl Yeosang has a crush on and that girl is dating one of his other best friends.

Yeosang considers Jongho to be one of the luckiest men to be alive to be dating you. You, who in his mind is the most adorable sweetheart of a human being to have ever lived. It wasn't like you were the most polite person what with the names you can throw towards people you dislike and mutter towards rude strangers and the screeching laugh you sometimes let out when someone told you a stupid joke. Everything about you seemed so charming in Yeosang's eyes even when you were being touchy with the friend he was oh so jealous of. Sometimes Yeosang wonders, in his existential crisis-ridden thoughts at 3 am, the chances of the two of you being in the same lifetime. He wouldn't say that he was in love with you, but he wouldn't deny that he would often daydream about what it would be like to be with you, to be the one kissing you and to be the one getting back hugs from you. Well, he wouldn't deny it to himself.

So another good thing about Wooyoung's dorm is probably the fact that he could see and interact with you. But one other bad thing is the fact that sometimes he felt like Jongho knew how he thinks about you and that unnerves him. So he tends to avoid moments where you and Jongho are together because he can never seem to control the longing expression on his face and Jongho would always send him a knowing look and he knew one day he would just crack like an egg under hydraulic pressure.

It seemed like his resolve wasn't faring any better because when he first came by the dorm, he saw you on top of Jongho's lap on the couch, kissing him all over his face and whining. He knew he should at least expect to be met with you and Jongho being all over each other, but maybe not to this extent. The sound of him coming in didn't seem to deter either of you from your... Activities.

Whatever dirty thoughts passed Yeosang's head were almost immediately pushed away however when he saw Jongho pushing you away from him gently and sighing, "I told you I can't do this tonight," he said which earned him a scoff from you, "You've been saying that for the past four days, Jongho and frankly I'm starting to can't do it anymore," you said before pushing yourself off of your boyfriend completely. "That is not even grammatical," Jongho chuckled and you only flipped him off before turning to retire to Jongho's room only to pause when you saw Yeosang.

Yeosang's heart skipped a beat when he saw your frown turn into a bright smile, squealing and hugging him tightly. "Raccoon!" You called out happily. Yeosang never knew why, but you had seemed to start calling him 'beefcake raccoon'. Well, you did explain that it was because he was, in your own words, 'beefy' and his hair for his latest comeback made him look like a raccoon so in a sense, your logic did make sense. What doesn't seem to make sense is how you only call him and your boyfriend with adorable yet odd animal names. To you, Jongho was your concrete bear and Yeosang was your beefcake raccoon which pissed Wooyoung and San off but maybe that's because San is a jealous cat and Wooyoung wanted to be called foxy mama and you scolded them for being so relentless.

Despite his nerves, Yeosang grinned and hugged you back gently, not being able to stop himself from inhaling the scent of your shampoo and enjoying your warmth against his body. "Hi (y/n), is something wrong?" Yeosang asked as you both pulled away. At the mention of something wrong, your frown returned and you snapped your head to glare at your boyfriend who was still just sitting there, smiling innocently as if he hadn't denied you sex for four days straight. "Oh something is very wrong but it's with your buddy Choi Jongho over there. I'm starting to think he's no longer turned on by me or by any vagina-owning creature on earth," you hissed. "Okay you can't say things like that because some animals also own vaginas and I'm not into bestiality," Jongho scolded. At that moment, Yeosang thought he should just go to Wooyoung's room because he felt like he was being dragged into people's business and as fun as it is talking about kinks that could possibly lead him to know yours, he was not about to delve into this particular discussion. Luckily, you threw your arms up in the air and turned to him again, "Seriously Yeosang, if you were Jongho, would you choose vocal recording over sex?" Yeosang's eyes widened and he almost blurted out that he would never choose anything over you but thankfully Jongho beat him into answering you, "I'm telling you, Hongjoong hyung has been riding my ass with this new demo and you know how he is when inspiration struck," Jongho tried to reason. With a roll of your eyes you walked away to Jongho's room but not before yelling out, "Well, at least something's riding you, you cocky bastard!"

Jongho seemed unbothered, chuckling by himself as he watched your figure retreat. "You're not following her?" Yeosang asked, looking back and forth between the couple. Jongho simply shook his head, "Nah, she needs time to just... Cool off and I need to resist the temptation because Hongjoong hyung will be pissed if I come into the studio tired and hoarse," Yeosang nodded in understanding because he does understand what Jongho meant, having been on the receiving end of Hongjoong's wrath in the past for being, in Hongjoong's words, unprofessional, unprepared, and unremarkably disrespectful to people's time. But still, Yeosang felt bad for you and he didn't like seeing you pissed like that which was shown by the way he stared in the direction you went to for quite some time before he excused himself to rest in Woyooung's room, missing the way Jongho was staring at him knowingly with a smug smirk on his face.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Yeosang thought that his involvement in your relationship with Jongho would end that night but when he woke up at 7 am the next day, he was met with the sight of Jongho's door open and as he passed the room, he saw Jongho tucking you in and stroking your hair and taking particular focus in the way his friend's shoulder drop when he sighed in disappointment.

Feeling like Jongho could use a moment, Yeosang just quietly tiptoed to the kitchen and helped himself to Wooyoung's stash of good coffee and started brewing.

Soon enough, Jongho showed up and sat down on the stool of the kitchen counter while opening his phone to check his text message, waiting for the manager to inform him that the car had arrived. Wordlessly, Yeosang poured himself and also Jongho a cup of coffee each. Jongho quietly thanked his older friend before sipping his cup in a slightly slumped position.

"Are you okay?" Yeosang asked, sensing something. Jongho sighed and nodded, "I feel bad for (y/n) for denying her sex and it's not like I don't want to, but I'm just not in the position to considering the state I would be in would not be conducive for recording and I really don't want to deal with Hongjoong hyung getting pissy at me," he sighed. Not knowing what else to say, Yeosand decided that he should at least be polite in this situation, "That's rough man, anything I can do?"

That particular question seemed to have turn a switch in Jongho's head because one moment he had a mopey look on his face, and the next, it was pure intrigue.

"You know what, hyung, I think there is something you can do," he said, finishing his coffee and straightening up. Sensing Jongho's resolve genuinely changing, Yeosang raised an eyebrow, "Okay? What can I do?" "Do you think you can accompany (y/n) and make sure she has all her needs met?" Jongho asked. The prospect of spending the day with you made Yeosang's eyes blink faster and heart beat harder. "S-sure, I guess. I have no schedules today so I can take her to wherever she wants," he ensured, clearing his throat when he felt like his tone showcased how excited he was even if it was only sightly. Jongho raised his eyebrows and smirked, realizing that Yeosang hadn't caught his drift, "You'll take her wherever she wants? What about taking her... However she wants?" Still not getting it, Yeosang nodded slowly, "Yes? I'll... Do whatever it is you want me to do to help your girlfriend feel better?"

Jongho couldn't believe how adorably innocent Yeosang was being. Knowing him for years, Jongho realized how some things could easily go over Yeosang's head by no fault of his own. He was just never introduced to the more scandalous side of life and it wasn't like he sought out information either.

Yeosang stared at Jongho in confusion as the younger chuckled and stood up, "Yes, that's... Correct in a sense I guess," Jongho then rounded the kitchen counter to stand in front of Yeosang. Jongho's phone buzzed and he momentarily checked the message he received before shoving his phone into his pocket, "But just to make sure both you and (y/n) get my point," All of a sudden, Jongho pulled Yeosang by his shirt and planted his lips on the older guy. Yeosang's eyes widened and his hands gripped the counter to regain control of his body because the impact from Jongho's sudden attack suddenly sent him reeling.

Initially, Yesoang was sent into a panicked and confused state because what the hell was Jongho doing? Why was he kissing him? What if you woke up and saw your boyfriend and one of his best friends kissing?

Correction, making out.

Somehow Jongho had managed to slip his tongue into Yeosang's mouth and at first, Yeosang wanted to protest and push him away. Heck, he had already gotten a hand on Jongho's shoulder but for some reason, he melted slightly into Jongho and as fucked up as it is, his mind drifted to thoughts that he knew he shouldn't be having. Those thoughts were mainly in the area of 'this is the tongue that had caressed and tasted (y/n)' and it got him hard faster than he cared to admit. The thought of you helped relax Yeosang slightly and before he realized it, he was kissing Jongho back with the same fervor which made Jongho unknowingly smirk, pleased that Yeosang was responding to him.

It wasn't until Jongho felt his phone buzzed again that he pulled away, realizing that he had to go. He couldn't even hide the satisfied look on his face when he saw how flushed Yeosang was after their little makeout session. For sure, you were going to like things just as much as he did should things go according to his plan. "Please give that to (y/n)," Jongho said all too simply as he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Still blear-eyed and slightly confused, Yeosang was trying hard to make his brain work. "W-what?" he managed out after he felt air filling back into his lungs. "Give that kiss to (y/n), the exact same way, please?" Jongho grinned, a little bit too happily.

Even with Jongho repeating himself, Yeosang was still trying to make sure of things, putting 2 and 2 was for him especially since he was practically mauled by Jongho. Seeing the state his friend was in, Jongho exhaled sharply and stood closer to Yeosang, "I am giving you full permission to do ABSOLUTELY WHATEVER it is my girlfriend wants you to do to satisfy her, okay? Starting with that kiss. Carte blanche, sky's your limit!" he then placed a hand on Yeosang's right shoulder and tilted his head, "Capische?" Just to make things more sexually confusing for Yeosang, Jongho smiled at him, showing off the gums that cleverly hid his perverted agenda.

"I- I- Capische, I guess?" Yeosang answered, kind of getting what Jongho expected off of him but also still in disbelief. "Awesome! Thanks hyung, I owe you this, I'll pay you back when I think of something, okay?" he said before leaving his friend with a pat on the chest and an extra squeeze that made Yeosang's eyes bulge out (and almost made him let out a sound but in fear of sounding like a car being honked, Yeosang somehow managed to keep the sound in. Things happened so fast all at once and it made him slightly dizzy. It was only 7 am and so many things already happened. Part of him thought that he was imagining things and that maybe he was still asleep and dreaming but he didn't even know where to justify himself dreaming about kissing his friend.

"Hey Sangie, what are you doing up so early?"

Yeosang snapped his focus back to reality at the sound of your voice but the blush returned to his cheeks when he saw you oh so casually walking your adorable self out of your boyfriend's room and trudging to sit down on one of the stools, right where your boyfriend had just set which effectively set his mind drifting to what had just happened.

"H-hey (y/n), morning! What are you doing up at 7 am?" he asked with nerves thickly laced in his voice. You furrowed your eyebrows and checked the clock on your phone before showing him the screen, "Sangie, it's 8.24," you pointed out. Yeosang had stood alone in the kitchen, so deep in his thoughts that he hadn't even realized that an hour had passed and that time had kept on going while he was making out with your boyfriend in the kitchen. So he turned his back on you after saying a simple 'oh', making it seem like he wasn't flustered by pouring you a cup of coffee before setting it in front of you and heading towards the couch to enjoy his now cold coffee.

For a moment, both you and he were silent, neither of you was sharing anything and just enjoying the silence and calmness of the atmosphere. Even when you moved to the couch when Yeosang turned the TV on, neither of you was conversing over anything substantial.

Well, until you brought up your boyfriend.

"Did Jongho say anything before he left this morning?"'

It was almost comical how Yeosang snapped his head in your direction and blinked twice. "I'm not quite sure but I think he mentioned Cate Blanchett?" You furrowed your eyebrows at his answer, "The lady who played Thor's older sister?" "Yes?" "You sound unsure..." you pointed out, crossing your arms on your chest and turning to look at him fully, "Tell me what Jongho told you and I know he told you something," you pressed.

Now Yeosang found himself between a hard and awkward place. The hard place is between his legs and the awkward place is the position of having to tell you that your boyfriend had practically told him to service you, who is his secret crush, should you request for him to. So he kept stammering, trying to find a way to tell you what he needed to tell you while you stared at him, making him even more nervous than he already was.

"I- I- Well, you see,"

Yeosang sat up straighter and shuffled closer to you, prompting you to do the same.

"W- we- I, Jongho and I, he-"

God, he wasn't even this nervous at his audition and frankly it was starting to annoy you.

"Just spit it out!"

"Fuck it,"

Before you know it, Yeosang pressed his lips on yours, his body no longer at the end of the couch but hovering above you with arms caging your head. The impact caused you to let out a sound of surprise as you were not expecting Yeosang to jump on you like that. There was a nagging voice in the back of your head that was screaming for you to push him away but there was another voice that spoke louder than the former voice. That voice belonged to your boyfriend and it came from the memory you had from earlier in the morning when he woke you up to tell you that he felt bad for disappointing you for the past four days and he was going to make it up to you. Then your brain tried to connect that memory with the text message your boyfriend sent to you, stating that his apology gift has been set up and you can claim it from Yeosang. Was this it?

"Jongho," Yeosang panted as he shifted his lips from yours down to your chin and jaw, "Left you a kiss," your eyes rolled back when he took your earlobe between his teeth and started nibbling, "With me, and he wanted me to deliver it for you," he finished before reconnecting your lips once again. You moaned into his mouth when he slipped his tongue and allowed your own to battle his for dominance.

The kiss was electrifying, breath-taking, and cunt clenching. You couldn't help but spread your legs wider so Yeosang could push your body completely flat on the couch. At this point, his crotch made in contact with yours and you could feel from your short sleeping shorts and his own sweatpants that he was long and hard. Another moan was sent into his mouth and the feeling of vibration made Yeosang grind his crotch onto you, taking it as the perfect moment to let you know the other part of the message.

"A-also," you whined when Yeosang pulled away slightly, resting his forehead on yours, "Jongho wanted me to... Satisfy all of your needs, however you want, wherever you want."

Looking into his eyes, you saw how his pupils were blown and the flush on his face made your heart burn slightly, realizing that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him at that moment. You were not sure if it was because of how needy you were from being denied sex for almost a week or if your teeny tiny crush on your boyfriend's friend was forced to bloom due to the circumstances. Of course, the circumstances are the fact that your boyfriend had allowed his friend to kiss and fuck you should you want to.

"So, Jongho told you to just kiss me or did he specify that you had to kiss me like that?" you teased, starting to relax and opening yourself up for Yeosang who had dropped his gaze from your eyes down to your lips. "He... Left me a kiss but what I gave you is partially from him but mostly from me," he muttered before he dove down to attach his lips to your neck. As he began sucking the sensitive skin, your body reacted automatically to him, your hands curled on the base strands of his hair as your heels hooked on the backs of thighs, allowing his crotch to press closer to yours. "Fuck, is this your way of telling me that you've been wanting to fuck me?" you moaned when his teeth grazed against your jugular, causing your cunt to clench and your spine to tingle. At that point, you were sure that you were soaked but you couldn't be too sure because the warmth pressing on your crotch could Yeosang's body warmth. "No, this is me telling you I didn't like to see you so disappointed because Jongho, your boyfriend, has been denying you sex so I want to help you feel better." As he spoke, you felt his hands creep up to the waistband of your shorts and your breath hitched in both anticipation and excitement, wanting to see just how much you both could go with the fact that you've already gotten your boyfriend's approval in the bag. Toying with the band whilst simultaneously teasing the skin underneath, Yeosang looked up at you with eyes full of hope and desire, "Can I help you feel better?"

It didn't take you long to nod, giving him the confirmation to proceed which he happily obliged by pulling your bottoms so hard he ripped your panties slightly. Yeosang misunderstood the widening of your eyes as a bad thing and he immediately cringed, apologizing profusely as he told you he felt bad and that he would buy you a new pair. So it surprised him when you pulled his face up and hungrily kissed him. "That was so hot, Yeosang, I'm totally okay with that," you said breathlessly, starting to grind your now bare cunt onto his crotch, delighting yourself at the feeling of something hard pushing back against your needy clit. "Jongho has been the only person to be able to do that and fuck did he make such a good decision entrusting you," you whimpered, pulling on Yeosang's bottom lip needily.

Hearing the way you talked about him made Yeosang's heart soar and he suddenly felt the need to show you just how much exactly he had been thinking about you and pleasing you. Confidently, Yeosang pressed two of his fingers against your pussy, effectively trapping your clit between his two digits. His eyes never left your face, enjoying the ecstasy-ridden look on your face as you threw your head back whilst a high-pitched gasp escaped your lips. Wanting to see that expression again, Yeosang began massaging your clit between his two fingers whilst adding more stimulation by moving his fingers up and down. The pleasure was starting to build in you slowly but surely, adding the fact that it was Yesoang who was giving you pleasure and your mind was sent to a pleasure-induced haze. Had it not been for Yeosang's body between your legs, you would have successfully clamped your legs shut.

A shaky breath left Yeosang's lips when he noticed you reacting positively towards his ministration. To the people who would not understand, they would say Yeosang was weird for reading into your reaction so much but how can Yeosang start to describe how much he loved seeing the way your hips rolled onto his hands? Seeing you seeking more of his touch was a whole other level of satisfaction that Yeosang never even knew existed until he saw it with his own eyes. Between your face and glistening cunt, Yeosang couldn't choose which part he liked best. Then again, he had yet to have the chance to feel his aching cock nesting inside your core so he'd have to reserve his decision for after you came on him.

The dynamic of your expression was beyond anything Yeosang could explain because once his fingers slipped inside you, your face contorted to showcase even more of your ecstasy. "You like that, princess?" Yeosang teased as he curled his fingers inside you, caressing the sensitive walls ever so gently that caused your cunt to leak more arousal and your body to shake from the pleasure. "Fuck yes, I do! Jongho, God bless his physique, is chunky and big but so is his fingers but you, Yeosang- Fuck! You and your damn long fingers are reaching so deep inside me- fuck!" you whined, hips rising as Yeosang's finger pulled all the way out only to slam them back in, revelling in how slick you were when they felt your juices staining his palm. "Long, huh? So... Why do you call me a beefcake?" Yeosang teased, lowering himself closer to your cunt which surprisingly made you a bit shy as seen from the way you tried to close your legs. Of course, Yeosang wouldn't let that happen so he used his upper body strength and directed it to his palms, forcing your legs to stay open and not even caring that your stream of slick was trickling down on the couch. "Excuse you, Yeosang, you're not just a beefcake, you're MY beefcake raccoon," you scoffed as you maintained eye contact with Yeosang in faux confidence, oblivious that your stance was being betrayed by your quivering pupils and blush. "Yours, huh? Is that what I am?" Yeosang tried to bite back the grin on his lips as best he could but it was futile as he couldn't even hide the way his hips grind onto your shin when he heard you referring to him as yours. "I don't know about you but fuck, I love the sound of that," he said shakily before diving down to lick a fat stripe from your drenched hole up to nibble on your clit.

That was the last straw. The teasing, the sexual frustration, and seeing Yeosang between your legs had fucked up your brain so much that all you wanted was him.

Sitting up slightly, you somehow managed to pull Yeosang up by the collar of his shirt and push him so he was the one on his back. The frantic movement of your hands pulling Yeosang's sweatpants and underwear paired with the manic, almost crazed look on your face was absolutely thrilling. "I need you inside me Yeosang, please, I want you to fill me up with cock and cum so bad, I need it now!" you whimpered, pussy drenching the fabric of his thigh so embarrassingly bad that it caused Yeosang's cock to twitch as it was released from its confines.

"Use me then, after all, that's why I'm here."

It was the last confirmation you need before you all too easily slip his cock inside of your cunt. For a moment, the both of you only revelled at the feeling of each other for the first time. Yesoang was enjoying how warm you were and how much he liked the sharp contrast between the cool air and your warm core, the sudden change forced the air to be knocked out of his lungs and his eyes to roll to the back of his head. You, on the other hand, were struggling with the fact that Yeosang was reaching inside you so deep that your legs were starting to shake. As crude as it seemed, your immediate reaction was to notice the difference between him and Jongho. It wasn't like you were ranking or making a pros and cons list in your head, you were just noticing how different they pleasured you. Jongho was definitely shorter but girthier, it was always a struggle to take him in as he filled you up almost immediately and even once you got used to the feeling of fullness, you still struggled to move your own body so usually, Jongho would do the work. But Yeosang, he was slimmer but definitely longer, something you didn't take into consideration on the first impact as once he was sheathed inside of you completely, you felt his tip kissing your cervix and it was a new feeling that you had yet to be accustomed to. Whether it was due to his size or the pool you had created down there, you found yourself able to move on your own a lot easier and that made your brain go fuzzy.

Once you both got used to the novelty of feeling each other so intimately, you began fucking yourself on Yeosang's cock. Right off the bat, you were moving so vigorously and Yeosang could only stare with a slacked jaw. "Fuck, Yeosang your cock is hitting me so deep!" you whined, throwing your head back from the feeling and clenching down on him. Yeosang never had much of a comparison material as he was never one to seek out physical relations so often. But even then he knew that the level of pleasure he was experiencing was only achievable because he was getting it from you. Yeosang had to grip your hips to ground him back to reality because he was sure that if he hadn't, he would've definitely thought that he was dreaming. But the feeling of you grounding yourself on top of him was surely something his brain couldn't manipulate no matter how much he tried. And when you changed you changed your position, his brain went haywire. You initially had your knees on either side of his hips and the sight of you rubbing your needy cunt on him was something he could never forget. But then you paused to prop your legs by bending your knees and leaning back with your hands on his muscular thighs. The feeling of Yeosang's flexing muscles beneath your fingers honestly made your cunt clench and weep slightly and Yeosang couldn't help but take note of it.

The very moment you got settled in your new position, you immediately started bouncing yourself on top of Yeosang, impaling yourself multiple times on his cock. If your rhythm was vigorous before, this was... Maniacal. You were jackhammering yourself like a crazed person trying to seek relief. As sick as it was, for some reason, Yeosang loved the way you were basically using his cock for your own release as if he was a toy that you oh so graciously choose to relieve the building ache and need from being denied by your own boyfriend. Your stamina was proof of your desperate need to get sexual release and the way you showcased it could only be described by him as an art performance. "Shit, you're so hot," Yeosang hissed on a particular snap of your hips, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass before his right hand travelled up to your (Jongho's) shirt and grabbing the bottom as he pulled them up to reveal your torso, "Bite this for me please, baby, I wanna see your body, I NEED to see your body," he whimpered, his finger caressing your chin as he tuck the bottom part of your shirt between your teeth. You bit back a grin when he called you baby, feeling giddy all of a sudden but you tried to play it cool. He let out a shuddered breath when he noticed you weren't wearing any bra and frankly, he couldn't help but think about how lucky Jongho was to be able to feel you pressing up to him every night if he wanted to. You moaned and clenched down on him, "Fuck, I didn't peg you for a tits man, Yeosang," you teased but took a moment to tweak your left nipple, "Do you like my tits?" you asked, purposefully moaning and rolling your hips. "No," he huffed as he placed his right hand on your crotch, thumb pressed on your clit which caused you to jolt slightly "I like you," he smirked cheekily.

The confession was rather surprising but you noticed it made your stomach to flutter. Egged by his profession, you started fucking yourself on Yeosang's cock again, this time, the stimulation from his thumb on your clit made your movements harsher but messier. Neither of you could speak clearly, not that you wanted to, you were enjoying the sounds Yeosang was making and he was in a trance as he stared at the way your pussy was swallowing his cock whole. "Greedy baby," he hissed, finally finding the ability to snap his hips back to meet yours, "Taking my cock so good, making sure I'd remember your pussy always." The impact from his hips successfully made your footing falter as you found your right leg slipping and your body tumbling forward, your bare chest met Yeosang's clothed one.

"Fuck me, you got some talented hips there," you giggled, immediately adjusting your thrusts to the new position and enjoying the friction of his shirt on your tits. Moaning, Yeosang held you tight with one arm as the one that was on your clit moved to his face, "Nothing you couldn't escape from your beefcake raccoon, right?" he smirked while licking your arousal clean from his fingers.

With a sharp exhale from you, you planted your lips back onto him, tasting yourself on his tongue before moving your hips even faster. You were thankful that your boyfriend had forced you to ride his thighs so much that you had somehow gained the core strength to ride Yeosang like a champion. "Y-Yeosang, fuck- I'm close!" you whimpered against his mouth, your movements getting sloppy as the tension in your cunt increased, now trying its best to reach climax. Yeosang nodded at your admission, hands moving to hold you by your thighs so that you would still be wide open for him. "I'll make you cum, (y/n), don't worry," he pecked your lips before dropping his forehead on your shoulder, "I'll make sure you're satisfied."

Your hands found purchase on the armrest behind Yeosang and on his shoulder, trying to hold onto your sanity that was being torn apart by each thrust Yeosang delivered. Your head fell slack and your eyebrows furrowed as you felt your climax at the tip of your tongue. Yeosang was trying his best to get you to cum and with the way your walls were hugging him in a vice, he knew it wouldn't take long to push you over the edge. "Y-yeosang!" you whined, your hips now stilling as you reached your climax with a shake of your body from how intense it felt. Yeosang held your legs open for him and his hips never stopped, allowing you to ride out your high while also trying to reach his own.

Though you were induced into a pleasure state, you were still thinking about Yeosang and fuck if there was not one thing in your mind.

"In me, Yeosang, finish in me! I need to be filled!" You managed out, practically begging to be stuffed as how your boyfriend usually would. Though it was Yeosang fucking you, you couldn't help but let the thought of both he and Jongho filling you up with their cum flash through. The mere thought sent shivers down your spine and your hips to suddenly roll.

Yeosang was trying his best to not lose control because Jongho hadn't said anything about allowing him to cum inside you. "A-are you su-re, (y/n)? I can just- fuck, I can just jerk myself off," he assured you. But you whined and started peppering kisses along his jawline, "Please fill me up, Yeosang, you said you- ah! You had to please me, right?" you pouted.

A grunt rumbled through Yeosang's chest and without much complaint, he began thrusting into you in shorter but more precise movements. The overstimulation was trying to get you but you tried your best to hold on by distracting yourself. Your left hand found purchase on Yeosang's right peck and your fingers automatically squeeze the soft flesh and your fingers toy the stiff peaks with each movement.

As it turns out, that seemed to set off Yeosang because suddenly he held your body flush against him and you felt his cum filling you up in spurts as his cock twitched inside you. The sensation made you let out a low hum and your head rolled to nest on the crook of Yeosang's neck.

For a moment, you both could only lay there, resting on each other as you tried to catch your breath. Your haze was dwindling down into a daydream and your body was adjusting so you could rest after the session you just had. Though you had Yeosang under you, you couldn't help but think of your boyfriend and how after this, you're going to need to thank him. But when Yeosang readjusted his position so that his head was resting against the armrest and your head was on his pecks, your thoughts shifted. You propped your arms on Yeosang's chest and your chin on them, smiling up at him, "What got you grinning?" Yeosang asked but he was returning your smile with his. You shrugged, "Not sure, maybe it was post-orgasm bliss," and you wanted to add that it could also be the fact that he had just confessed that he liked you in the middle of sex but you didn't want to make things awkward so you kept that little jewel to yourself.

"So," Yeosang cleared his throat, "Are you feeling happy and satisfied now?" he asked, suddenly remembering the task his friend had given him. You pursed your lips, momentarily thinking of an answer before a mischievous glint past your eyes. "I think... Not quite," you replied, your legs suddenly caging Yeosang's hips which effectively rubbed his softened cock the right way as seen from the way it was starting to twitch back to life. Taking the hint, Yeosang's tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip in hunger.

"Well, I did promise your boyfriend that I would do anything to make you happy, didn't I? We'll just have to keep doing it until you're completely... Satisfied."

network :

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[antimony-medusa]

God, I need to not just dump all of it into atthebell's comments and make my own post, but like, the idea that people mischaracterize for the purposes of shipping is true and a feature of every fandom I've seen, but the idea that that is unique to shipping and gen is somehow protected from it is ludicrously untrue.

I have been in the TRENCHES looking for stuff of my guys that's even reasonably close to character, and at this point it's noteworthy when I run across gen stuff that lets Phil swear. Philza. Mr. "sorry if You're learning english from me I fuckin' swear a fuckton" minecraft. They don't even write Techno as funny. They don't even write Techno as sarcastic. You think platonic beeduo "bee boy" Tubbo on the verge of tears because someone was mean to Ranboo is somehow the peak of characterization?

There are five hundred and thirteen fics in the "baby tommyinnit" tag. There are two hundred and eleven platonic fics tagged both "Philza" and "Daddy Issues". You think gen fics are better at characterization and sticking to canon? Twelve thousand nine hundred and eighty fics in "sleepy boys inc as family", a dynamic that Technoblade actively didn't like and decanonized. LOOK AT ME STANDING HERE IN HELL AND TELL ME AGAIN THAT GEN DOES A BETTER JOB OF RESPECTING THE CHARACTERS.

deep breath

The gen characterization of the majority of DSMP fics is so so far from canon, like— it can still be fun, I can still be having a good time, but it is noteworthy when I hit someone who is characterizing in a way that's true to canon. If you rely on Gen to characterize properly just innately, you simply have only been reading the good stuff. Do you know how many fics are in the tag? Do you know? Do you think they're all the good stuff? Do you think everybody writing "[x] as found family" is paying close attention to character? Are they, perhaps, just writing the stuff that makes them feel happy and the cubitos are just vessels for that? This happens in gen fics and this happens in ship stuff. I feel like my brain is on fire here.

And I've read ship stuff that's really good character studies! The interaction of people's relationships and what that does to their charcter is not like, magically repelled by the presence of kissing. The problem is not "shipping", the problem is "bad writing", or simply just writing that isn't interested in characterization, and that shows up any time you get a mass of writers writing.

[angel---eater]

theres so much something to the tiaratop AI being a physical representation of how fascism spreads like a literal brain disease by way of taking over jane herself. i really do believe that jane is one of those kids who grew up more susceptible to stuff that leads into fascism bc of her circumstances (ie: being the heiress, an interest in capitalism and branding, being the most socially sheltered of her friend group, casual homophobia that also comes from growing up in a sheltered upper middle class suburb [not being able to parse that jake could be into guys]). all of her other friends are stranded alone with literally no money lol. and like thats one of the reasons the tiaratop works on her. not only is this thing probably literally tailored to her but her living situation leaves massive weak spots to it. so the thought of (1) her friends waking her up to her blind spots and (2) her forcefully distancing the tiaratop AI from herself and (3) the tiaratop AI not leaving and actually needing to be deprogramed - haha - HERSELF is really fuckin cool actually

which then makes me think of candy!jane. the alpha kids dont really hang out or really talk to e/o in the epilogues, like, at all. jane and jake notwithstanding and frought with issues. and im not surprised because homestuck operates on a very literal show dont tell rule. we dont actually get to see the alpha kids talk it out and thats since been used to forward their characters in beyond canon. which i think is REALLY cool

dirk dies in candy but before that his and janes relationship seems to get professional and largely stay that way. in candy jane does not get help and thats why shes written the way she is. shes the goddess of life with an insane amount of power and responsibility that she felt completely alone with and not one of her friends slowed her down bc i truly think they didnt know HOW. they have their hands full with their own problems. shes also the only kid who goes through the end-game door with a guardian. everyone else is 16-onward trying to navigate their trauma without their designated adult and holy shit does that show

the last time we saw jane in HSBC she said smth really cool and revealing abt all of this. genuinely even if you dont like whats happening in the eps and HSBC i think its good to read them bc the writing team DO know what theyre doing, and its also very apparent that they love these characters. hussie themself is on this too. meat and candy are canonically only two possible outcomes of a post-game setting after all, theyre the ones we just get to see

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

this might be a bit long, but i've always wondered about the fundamentals of W!Steven's gem. your X-ray of his head shows that it takes up roughly 80% of his head, causing some deformities. something i want to know, does his brain wrap around his head, or does his gem replace it all together, as Canon Stevens gem replaced his organs? and surely, whichever foster parent was there when he got x-rayed, wouldnt want to stick around a kid with a giant diamond in his head, or maybe they would plan to exploit him online (like asking for "surgery" donations) but he got pulled out of the home? lastly, the dumbest question, when Stevvonnie just.. exists, does connie ever be like "ohmigosh having a rock in my head is very strange" ^-^

From the FAQ:

He is largely unaware of it, and he’s largely unaffected by it.

No, he does not technically have a brain. His gem functions as a replacement to his brain. He’s alive because…… gem stuff.

Yes, he did have trouble breathing/swallowing food as a child. He has largely adjusted to this, though, and the condition has gotten better as he has grown older, so he isn’t bothered by it.

Yes, his neck is probably wicked strong.

whichever foster parent was there when he got x-rayed, wouldnt want to stick around a kid with a giant diamond in his head, or maybe they would plan to exploit him online (like asking for "surgery" donations) but he got pulled out of the home?

In terms of this... yes! It has been mentioned in the story (Season 1) that Steven had trouble being taken into homes because many families assumed that he came with a set of health issues. Naturally, the state would need to pay for it, but it's still a big investment of time and energy, even if the money isn't a part of the problem.

when Stevvonnie just.. exists, does connie ever be like "ohmigosh having a rock in my head is very strange"

Well, Connie is Connie and Stevonnie is Stevonnie.

Connie has not yet realized just how big Steven's gem is, so she only thinks it's set into their forehead. And Stevonnie has only ever existed with the gem as a part of their being so... they kinda think it's normal!

Good question though!

If you guys wanna learn more, might I entice you to read this little itty bitty post I have pinned at the top of my blog? 👀

[ddejavvu]

MEIII!!!! Hope you had a good day!!!!

I was thinking 🤔🤔🤔 an ex gf of Hotch comes to work w the BAU & they hadn’t told anyone abt it but the Bau girls help R unpack find photo albums old pictures of her and their boss (hot)

You had intended to be more careful when letting your new teammates dig through boxes in your apartment, but they had each brought over bottles of wine as housewarming gifts, and the first thing you'd come across were your glasses. So now that there's a healthy buzz over your brain, making it just a little bit hard to focus, you don't notice Penelope reaching into the box that says memories.

She squeals at a baby picture of you, an album full of your childhood memories in her hands. You think nothing of it, still slightly intoxicated to where you don't forsee the next album she'll pick up. Emily and JJ flock to her side, crooning and cooing over your past self, but when they shut the album and reach for the next, and your brain finally switches on, you're not fast enough to stop them.

"Woah, that guy- holy shit," Emily laughs, her own mind clouded as she points sloppily at the man kissing your cheek in the first photo, "That guy looks like Hotch."

JJ snorts, but Penelope falls silent.

Of course, you think, of course she's seen pictures of when he was younger. You'd expect nothing less from the BAU's resident snoop.

"That is Hotch," She breathes, alcohol be damned as she puts the puzzle pieces together, "Oh my god, you dated Hotch!"

"Oh," Emily laughs, eyes wide and giddy and dazed, "You dated Hotch!"

"I- I didn't date Hotch," You huff exasperatedly, wine forgotten on the counter, "I dated a man from law school. He was not the same person."

"You mean this was before someone shoved a stick up his ass?" JJ eyes you incredulously, "I thought it was placed there at birth."

"He doesn't have a stick up his ass!" You feel the inexplicable urge to defend your boss, despite him having left you reeling in college, "He's- he's got issues. Stuff you don't even know about. Everyone does, we've all- we've all got issues."

"What happened?" Penelope asks, her voice soft and worried, "He didn't cheat on you, did he?"

"No!" You let out a huffy laugh, "No, he didn't cheat on me. We just parted ways because- well, our schedules were tight. We never saw each other, when I had a day off he was working, and vice versa. He wanted someone with a more adjustable schedule."

"That's not fair," Penelope's eyes glaze over with tears, that you're sure are only partially from the wine she's consumed, "That's not fair, to stop loving someone because they're busy. He was busy too, what- why were you the problem?"

"It wasn't like that," You gush, but it was entirely like that, "Listen, we were both stressed all the time. I don't know if you've ever tried to be lawyers, but it sucks. And- and we never saw each other, and we were young, and stupid, and we hated our jobs but we couldn't quit, and- and it was a mess! And I'm glad," You peter off your emotional speech with a soft whimper, "I'm glad he found someone who had the time to love him. Because both of us deserved that, just-" You sniffle, your eyes stinging with tears, "Only one of us got it."

"Oh, honey," JJ laments, reaching for you with both hands now that her wine glass is set aside. You dodge her hands, though, excusing yourself with a shitty excuse and a hurried walk to the bathroom.

There's no tissues. Of course there's no tissues, you haven't had a moment to live in this apartment since you'd set foot in it. Work was always getting in the way, like it had for your entire life.

You're not angry at Aaron for leaving you. You weren't a good fit for each other, not with your careers taking off as they were. In all honesty, you might have broken up with him yourself if it had gone on any longer. But you're jealous in a way, that he found someone who had the time for him while you didn't. And that's not his fault, you shouldn't be resentful that he found love just because you didn't. Your feelings for him comes from loneliness, not anger. But they read the same, and you're sure your new teammates think you're silently raging at your new unit chief.

After a quick wash of your face in the sink and a makeshift toilet paper tissue, you step back out into the living room, three pairs of eyes trained immediately on you.

"I appreciate that you're taking my side here," You hum, a knot in your throat the size of a fist, "But it's a closed matter. We haven't spoken in years, and I feel like we still haven't. He's different now, he's not the man I dated, and I would like it if you would be able to forget that this happened."

Emily is the first to speak up, "Okay. Okay, honey, we understand. But- but please don't ignore your feelings if they're starting to resurface. At the very least, you deserve closure."

"And hey," JJ smiles, trying to look eager but looking mostly sad, "If you wanna give things another shot, he's single and you work with him. At least all the time you spend working now is with him, too."

"Yeah," You let out a light chuckle, still bogged down by the ghost of the tears you'd wiped away in the bathroom. Penelope can't take it anymore, and rushes in for a squeeze.

"Oh, sweetheart," She gushes, "It'll work out! I bet you're gonna have this crazy-sweet second chance romance kind of thing, and we'll all be at your wedding!"

"Slow down," You laugh, thankful that you have her shoulder to snuggle into, "We haven't even acknowledged that we used to date yet. Let's wait until the proposal to start talking about the wedding."

A good-natured laugh is shared throughout your small apartment, and the photo album is set back in its box for safekeeping. They give you the courtesy of unpacking it yourself, just in case any stray memories come to haunt you. You're grateful for it, and it's easy to slip back into your wine-fueled giggle fest while working on your bookshelf instead.

--

Mere miles away, Aaron is sitting on the floor of his bedroom. There's a photo album in his lap, one half of a pair, the other half of which he hopes isn't in a landfill somewhere. His eyes are trained on a photo you'd taken on winter break from your sophomore year of school, skis strapped to your feet and poles in your hands as Aaron hugged you from behind. You'd done the Titanic pose on the side of the ski hill, your arms outstretched and Aaron's face twisted over your shoulder to gaze endearingly at you. It's a blurry photo, because your friends had taken it from the bottom of the slope, but the memories of it are crisp in his head.

He hears the patter of little feet down the hallway, and doesn't have the energy to close the book before Jack sees it.

"Daddy?" His son's little voice asks, "Who's that?"

"Do you recognize," He hums, flipping to a clearer picture of the two of you, and pointing to himself, "Him?"

Jack's face scrunches, nose wrinkled and eyes squinted, "Is that you, daddy?"

"It is me," Aaron chuckles, "I looked younger, huh?"

"Yeah," Jack nods emphatically, poking at his dad's cheeks, 'Now you have wrinkles."

Aaron scoffs, "Thanks, bud. What'cha need?"

"I'm just bored," Jack huffs, looking back at the picture displayed in the book, "That's not Mommy. Why are you kissing her?"

"I met her before I met your mommy," Aaron hums, ghosting his pointer finger over the page, "But we broke up. Then your mommy and I got married."

"Why did you break up?" Jack cocks his head to the side, "You didn't love her as much as Mommy?"

"I loved her," Aaron muses, "But we both had really busy jobs. And we never saw each other, so it made us sad. So we broke up so that we wouldn't be so sad anymore."

"Oh." Jack frowns, "Okay. I'm sorry you were sad."

"It's okay, buddy," Aaron slings an arm around Jack's side, kissing his chubby cheek, "I'm not sad anymore. Well- sort of. Do you know why I'm looking at these pictures?"

Jack shakes his head, "Mm-mm. Why?"

"She joined my team," Aaron informs his son, watching the gears in his brain turn. "So I'm a little bit sad now, because seeing her makes me remember how sad I was when we broke up."

"But," Jack drags out the vowel, "If she's on your team now, then you see her all the time! And you were sad because you didn't get to see her, but now you can be happy again!"

"That's- uh, kind of." Aaron shuts the book, turning to face Jack fully, "I think I might be a little bit sad forever about us breaking up."

"Forever," Jack frowns, relying heavily on the fact that he's been told he'll never be sad forever, "Why?"

"Because we can't fix it." Aaron sighs, "We can't go back in time and stay together."

"But you can date her now," Jack prods, and wow, Aaron needs to give him more credit, "Why do you have to be sad forever?"

"You'd be okay with me dating someone else?" Aaron asks carefully, "Someone who isn't your Mommy?"

"It it makes you happy again," Jack nods, "I don't want you to be sad forever, Daddy."

Aaron's struck with tears that he tries to tamp down. His nose runs, and he sniffles shakily, "Thank you, bud. You're sweet, you know that?"

"Mm-hm," Jack nods, "Penny tells me."

"Yes she does," Aaron laughs, a watery sound as he pulls Jack in for a hug, "Every time she makes you cookies, she tells you you're sweeter. You should know by now."

"So," Jack gets right to the point, "Are you gonna date her again, Daddy?"

"I don't know," Aaron hums, "Maybe. I have to ask her, first. And I don't think I should ask her right away."

"You should share your lunch with her," Jack instructs, "I gave Ellie one of my oreos at lunch, and now she's my girlfriend."

Aaron's brows raise, "Wow. Do you like having a girlfriend?"

"Yeah." Jack nods simply, "She's nice to me. We take turns pushing each other on the swings."

"Well, maybe we'll both have girlfriends soon," Aaron grins at his son, "Do you think we should go out on a double date? Like, we both take our girlfriends out to eat together?"

"Yeah!" Jack shouts, enthused by the idea, "We should go to get ice cream, though. Ellie really likes chocolate."

"Okay," Aaron chuckles, letting Jack wander off to pick through his toy box, renewed hope in his chest at the thought of sitting side-by-side with you in an ice cream parlor, "Sounds like a plan, bud!"