#like the idea that he actually has stuff that Fits him now too

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

— TOM GLYNN-CARNEY INTERVIEW FOR VOGUE SINGAPORE MAGAZINE.

OBVIOUSLY HE'S AT A VASTLY DIFFERENT POINT OF HIS LIFE RIGHT NOW. HOW DID YOU GOING ABOUT APPROACHING THIS CHANGE WITH AEGON?

"He’s finding his footing as king and working out what kind of king he wants to be. From an acting perspective, I’m working it out with him and trying not to make too many decisions about how it’s going to unfold, or how he’s going to deal with certain situations. I’m kind of just taking it as it comes because that’s what he does. He doesn’t think things through very much. He’s very impulsive. So I’m trying to approach the work in a similar way."

I THINK IT'S THIS IMPULSIVENESS OF HIS THAT MAKES AEGON REALLY FUN TO WATCH AS A VIEWER. WHAT HAS IT BEEN LIKE PLAYING SOMEONE LIKE HIM, A CHARACTER THAT'S VERY MUCH LIKE A VULNERABLE VILLAIN?

"That’s good way of putting it, bit of both sides. It’s great. It’s a tiring thing playing someone like Aegon. His rhythm is very different to mine, he’s quick and frantic. And I feel like my usual default rhythm is a lot slower than his. So yeah it’s physically and emotionally quite challenging. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? That’s the aim of the game, to push yourselves out of your comfort zone as actors and and take on things that make you feel out of your safety net."

HAVE YOU LEARNED TO EMPATHISE WITH HIN IN SOME WAY WHILE PLAYING THIS CHARACTER?

"Totally. I love him to pieces. I think he’s an absolute tragedy. You know, people call him a villain and all sorts of stuff. And yeah, he has been villainous in the past, but I think he’s desperately sad and clawing for any scrap of validation or love or acknowledgement from anyone. Yeah, he’s desperately sad actually [laughs]."

CAN VIEWERS EXPECT TO SEE A DIFFERENT SIDE OF AEGON IN S2?

"I think so. I think we see a fragility to him this time. We see the broken little boy in him. We see the tragedy in him. For me, it kind of explains and informs why he behaves and why he has behaved the way he has behaved in previous episodes. The idea is that he is not just a cold, dark character. It spawns from something and that’s what I’ve tried to bring to him. I think in episode one of Season 2, we see a levity and some humour from him. We see some joie de vivre, but you know it all comes crashing down."

WHAT HAS THE TRAINING AND PREPARATION BEEN LIKE FOR S2?

"The pre-production stuff is always useful, even just to make sure that you’re feeling fit and strong and able to physically keep up with the requirements. I got to be careful, I don’t want to give anything away but yeah, it’s always very thorough and very beneficial to anyone who needs it. For me, it’s been more of maintaining a healthy baseline of where my body is at. I just made sure that I was eating as healthy as possible and getting as much sleep as I could. Doing a lot of yoga and stretching. Aegon puts a lot of tension in my body and I found myself getting very stiff. He walks different from me and moves different from me. It was important for me to stay loose, stay centred and flexible as best I can."

[thekatastrophy]

Post apotheosis Peter Sqloint....... my beloved.

[crybabydraws]

Doodles of my Dreamtale AU (first mentioned here but I have lots more updated art posted) because it has a hold on me again and I just scrapped practically the entire story lol.

Also here's a possible adult Papyrus design. If Sans gets extra appendages and a fucked up eye, so does Papyrus. I don't make the rules lmao.

This au's story got so big and so messy and I really haven't been able to find a way to put it all together in a way I'm satisfied with, so the story is going to be much closer to the og undertale story with a lot of stuff reworked in the setting and with certain characters' stories and whatnot.

[luveline]

also didn’t realise that amanda was their little baby but here’s an idea if ur up for it. amanda inherits like spencer’s smartness i guess and so when she starts spewing facts about the random-est stuff spencer’s overjoyed and then bombshells just staring at them with adoration in her eyes?? idk something really fluffy

“Shoes?” Amanda asks. 

“Yeah, babe.” 

“No thanks.” 

You hold Amanda’s socked feet in your hands. “You need shoes to keep your feet warm.” 

“I’ll have socks.” 

You look past her tiny face to her father for some assistance. Spencer scratches his neck, looking absolutely exhausted, though he’s dressed sharply. You’d spent a few minutes finger curling his hair this morning before it dried, and he’s brushed them out gently, giving him a windblown look. You pretend to take a photo of him. He rolls his eyes. 

“Amy,” he says lovingly, baby-voice in play as he leans over the back of the couch, “you know why you have to wear shoes?” 

“Why?” 

“Because growing up, your feet are very small, and very fragile. They need time to grow in proper structures, and they can’t do that if you don’t wear shoes when you’re walking a lot.” He gives her shoulder a rub. “Don’t you wanna match me and mommy?” 

“You wear shoes… different. Mom has heels,” she insists. 

“What if I wear flats?” you ask, eager to leave the house before afternoon. 

She shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest with a Spencer style pout. 

Spencer sits down next to her with a sigh. You’re both aware of how smart she is for her age, and while it can be interesting, it’s also made some stuff so, so hard. Like explaining shoes. “I’m not want to wear them. It’s good for my skin to breathe.” All her r’s sound soft, like w’s.

You rub your eyes. Spencer sucks in an excited breath. “Yes! Skin can’t really breathe, but it’s good to have it uncovered sometimes to help your circulation and your pores.” 

“‘Xactly,” Amy says. 

“And, you know, shoes that don’t fit right force your feet into narrow positions, which can cause a whole bunch of problems.” 

“No shoes,” Amy says. 

“But…” Spencer backtracks, thumbing under her eyelashes gently. “If you don’t wear your shoes, we can’t go out to the store for groceries and we can’t go to the bakery on the way home. Which means you won’t get your sugar donuts, mommy won’t get her slice of cake, and that’s gonna make me so sad.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I love when your mom is happy. It makes me happy when she’s happy. She doesn’t look very happy now, does she?” 

In all honesty, you’re much too pretty to be sitting on the floor, tights to the carpeting and your cute black dress bunching up your thighs. You refuse to close yourself into the ‘mom’ box some may expect of you, dressing as you had before you became a mom, but you’ve allowed Amanda the opportunity to choose your necklace; a gold pendant ring with green and pink sapphires. It’s gorgeous, colourful, and doesn’t even slightly go with your outfit. Spencer reaches for it now, tugging it straight carefully against your neck. 

You frown deeply, pulling your widest, softest doe eyes. “Please, lovely girl, put your shoes on. Or I’m gonna have to be strict, and I hate being strict.” 

“Don’t fw-own, mommy,” she says, listing into Spencer’s side, “you’ll get wrinkles. Worse wrinkles, ‘cos your muscles remember.” 

And again, all her r’s are w’s, her pronunciation lispy and sweet despite her amazing expertise. Spencer laughs and takes her face into two hands, kissing “Wow, smarty pants,” into her crown. “You’re so smart! I can’t believe it!” 

You feel your annoyance softening. Fine, she’s a smarty pants, and you secretly love it so so much. You’ll just have to carry her to the car. Or her genius dad can carry her. Actually, that could be great, Spencer’s never looked so handsome as he does carrying around your little baby, especially now he’s started working out every now and then. 

“Better role your sleeves up, Spence,” you say, standing up off of your knees. “I’m keeping my heels on. Daddy’s gonna carry you, and you’re gonna get wonky feet.” 

“That’s fine,” Spencer says to her in a whisper, “I’ll carry you forever if you want me to, even if you do get all wonky, bubby.”  

Amy preens as she wraps her arms around him and he picks her up. He takes her shoes from your hand without her seeing. 

“Isn’t she amazing?” he mouths, and he means it, his eyes wide with it. 

“She’s gonna protest socks, next, Spencer Reid, and then what are you gonna do?” you ask. You aren’t half as concerned as you’re pretending to be. Amy’s a baby. She’ll learn how important shoes are soon enough. 

“I’m gonna hold her in my coat, like this,” he says, pulling his coat over her legs. 

“Like that,” you say to yourself, grinning. “Okay, you two do what you want. Can we go now? We really need to get some groceries.” 

[theemporium]

SAW THE OCTOBER PROMPTS AND KNEW I HAD TO SUBMIT ONE IN

could i do 💰 with my fav boyfriend max verstappen who has just slowly creating a list of everything reader has looked at a little too long or talked about for a couple of minutes. It ranges from tiffany jewelry to chanel dresses to la perla lingerie to gucci perfume to louboutin red bottoms, he knows everything that the reader wants and just one day surprises reader with everything

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“What…the…fuck.”

Max stood in the middle of your living room—your once empty living room that was now flooded with boxes and bags everywhere you looked—with his hands on his hips and a proud look on his face. And he looked completely unashamed with the scene around him.

“Surprise!” He said it so simply like he had just placed a home cooked meal in front of you, or maybe ran a few errands for you that he knew were a hassle. He was acting like the designer brand labels littering the living room of your apartment were normal, like an everyday occurrence. Though, maybe for Max Verstappen, they were.

“You…what….huh?” You looked at him, confused and baffled and desperate for answers. “What is all this?”

“It’s for you,” he said as he picked up a random bag nearby and handed it towards you, the Chanel logo making you feel a little nauseous. “Though I think people usually call them gifts.”

“This is too much,” you breathed out, your head spinning at the idea of just how much he could have possibly spent on you. At the mere idea of how much money was technically sitting in your far-too-small living room. “This is way too much, Max. I can’t.”

His brows furrowed together. “Why not?”

Your eyes widened. “Is that really a question you’re asking?” 

“But it’s all stuff you want,” he pointed out to you. 

“You can’t possibly—” Except the boy cut you off as he reached into the Chanel bag he was still holding, taking out a shoe box. And before you could even say anything, he was opening it to show you a pair of black platform heels you remembered vaguely showing him a few weeks back. “Max.”

“You said you wanted them.” 

“I said I liked the look of them.”

“Same thing.”

It seemed like every possible object or item you had spent longer than three seconds staring at were currently sitting in your living room at that moment, and Max didn’t see an issue with it. And you knew you shouldn’t be mad at him. Even before everything changed between you and Max, you had made the deal to be the person he splurged on. You agreed to it. You accepted the terms.

But you thought things would change once your relationship changed, when it went from financially beneficial to an actual romance. You thought he knew he didn’t need to do any of this anymore.

“Max,” you started as you tried to step over a pile of boxes, your foot getting caught in the handle of a bag. But before you could stumble, he was reaching out to grab your arms. “Babe, you don’t have to do this.”

“You are making it seem like someone is making me do it against my will,” Max mused, a hint of amusement on his face as his arms wound around your waist.

“I’m your girlfriend, you don’t have to spend money on me like this,” you said to him, your hands interlocking behind his head. 

“It’s exactly why I should,” Max scoffed. “You’re my girl. Mine to take care of and spoil and keep happy.” 

“Max—”

“Stop saying my name like that, you sound like a school teacher scolding me,” he groaned as he rested his head against your shoulder. Though, something in his chest tightened when he heard you laugh. 

“It’s just a lot,” you admitted in a whisper. 

“It’s everything you deserve and everything I want to give you,” Max retorted before he slowly lifted his head, his nose brushing against yours. “I’ll calm down but don’t make me give any of it back.”

You sighed, smiling. “Fine.”

“Good, because I don’t know where the receipts are and I’m pretty sure half of it wouldn’t even fit in my car.” 

His grin widened as your laugh bounced off the walls of your far-too-small living room.

.

[dcxdpdabbles]

hello hello! After a few posts of this premise I just had to say something and because you just make them come to life I just had to ask :) anyway, Danny let’s say in seriously injured by the giw or even his parents but he is reverting to his core and he goes to Clockwork to help since he’s the one he’s the most closest ghost to and kinda his guardian ghost, Clockwork sees that he himself will not be able to help forever and finds a different solution. He takes Danny’s core and makes a magic safe guard and puts his core inside in the guise of a doll like this one:

But with Danny’s coloration! He sends Danny to Gotham and ends up being picked up by Robin!Jason who thinks he’s cute and gets attached, Danny is weak but trying to gather ectoplasm but sends a sense of gratefulness to Jason who feels it but is a bit confused but happy he saved a doll. He brings it with him everywhere and takes it with him everywhere but when Jason dies and buried Danny is sat at his grave and he wakes up a little earlier with Danny and brings with him. He gets a strange attachment and feeling of safety with the doll and then is able to talk to it and Danny and him become closer and when he eventually reunites with everyone and things smooth over he feels it’s fine to bring Danny the doll to the mansion and the others realize that Jason has a haunted fucking doll and with the already thin trust they can’t do hair when Danny messes with them with moving their stuff, appearing out of nowhere, and being all around creepy but he helps Alfred so Jason has no issues and finds it funny. There are probably times where they try to dispose of it anyways but comes back completely fine and they become even warier but Danny is just having the time of his life while eating his ectoplasm while helping them with cases and finding things and such and Alfred even defends him when they try to talk Jason around about the creepy doll and is like “Did you stay at my grave 24/7 in all weather? That’s what I thought.” When Tim tries to get evidence he takes a picture of the doll all he sees is a boy around the age Jason died with pale soft blue eyes staring back with a soft smile that even if it wasn’t really creepy he still felt a chill down his spine

First of all, the photo almost gave me a heart attack. Haunted dolls terrify me (ironically, I fear ghosts.) But honestly, I love the prompt, so here you go!

Jason moves back into the manor- sort of. He's still in the middle of his hostile takeover of Crime Alley, but things are a little less stressful between the family. Maybe it was because Jason's Pit Madness was slowly disappearing, thanks to his friend Danny.

Danny was a great listener and always willing to help Jason sort through his feelings and thoughts. He was the reason that Jason chose to try to talk things out with Bruce before going through his insane idea of attacking Tim at the Titian Tower.

Which, you know, Tim was grateful he didn't actually go through with it after finding the plans in some of Jason's stuff while helping him move. The fact he wanted to wear his old Robin outfit- which would not fit on his body now- would have been beyond traumatizing enough, thank you very much.

"I know." Jason laughed as the rest of the family crowded around the plans. Even Damian seemed a bit disturbed by what was written. "Danny made me realize I didn't have the skinny legs to pull off the outfit."

Tim has never met Danny, but he has heard about him. Jason spoke about him when he followed Bruce and Jason around with his camera, which was enough for him to know Danny was likely a childhood friend.

Of course, Danny went by the code "Doll" in those days. Personally, Tim had always assumed that Jason and Danny shared a relationship that went beyond friends.

It had been another reason that Jason was his favorite Robin. If Robin could like boys, then Tim could too, and the knowledge that one of his literal heroes was like him helped Tim accept himself faster.

He never brought it up, even as Jason slowly gained control over Crime Alley as a Crime Lord- one that didn't kill because it would make Danny sad, which was another point in his secret boyfriend checkbox list.

Everything was fine- until Bruce found out about Danny.

"Jason, I thought you outgrew Danny," Bruce uttered hesitantly as Jason explained how Danny had fallen over himself when describing his Titain Tower plan.

Jason's eyes flashed green at once, and everyone in the cave grew tense.

"I will never outgrow Danny!" The second oldest barked, his neck muscles straining.

Now Tim knew that Danny was a secret, so he never brought him up despite the burning need to ask every question under the sun about him. Jason wasn't out to the rest of the family- detectives or not- that was up to Jason to decide when they would know.

He just always assumed Bruce knew since, you know, his son called his best friend Doll back when he was fourteen and running around in green spandex.

How could he not know? Did he want Jason to change his cape out for a rainbow and sing musicals at the top of his lungs on Wayne Tower?

Actually.....Jason did sing in musicals at his drama club. Honestly, Bruce was in denial.

Jason may not be out, but Tim wouldn't let Bruce bully him about his lover!

"Jason can have whatever friends he wants! And feel whatever he feels about them!" Tim snares, and that causes Dick, Damian, and Steph to bristle. They stand beside a huffing Jason, slowly coming down from his rage at the sight of support.

Cass and Alfred watch from the Batcomputer, a tension around their eyes the only sign that they, too. Bruce intelligently raises his hands in a placating manner.

"I did not mean anything wrong by that, Jason. I'm just surprised Danny still has such a strong hold on you." Bruce starts, his eyes never leaving his boy's face, even with all his other children flocking around him. "I thought Danny was lost when you died."

There is a long pause where Tim considers the words. It's a fair assumption. After all, Danny thought Jason had died and been buried. Why would he wait around after that?

Even the Bats still didn't know what caused Jason to come back. How would a civilian possibly begin to consider his boyfriend returning from the grave- or Tim assumes to be a civilian since Danny had never joined them on the field? He had to be in the know for Jason to tell him the plans comfortably.

"He waited every day, twenty-four seven at my grave," Jason tells Bruce, puffing up his chest. "He was with me when I was in a coma and when I was practically brain-dead on the streets. Hell, he was even there when the League of Assiasns brainwashed me!"

Damian jerks in surprise. He always gets taken aback by how casually Jason admits being part of the organization of his upbringing, no matter how briefly. Not even Bruce does that. "I....was unaware Daniel had been with you. I never saw him."

"Talia allowed me to have him with me just as long as I kept him tied up in my closet so he wouldn't be spotted."

Everyone but Alfred and Bruce step back, staring in horror at Jason. Tim can figure out by their reactions alone that everyone in the Bats had come to the same conclusion as he did about Danny being Jason's lover then.

After all, it's hard to hide that kind of thing from the family of detectives.

How could I have missed this? Tim thinks in dismay. Quickly, his brain runs through every time Jason has so much as hinted at Danny, trying to spot the signs that apparently his brother was abusive and honestly psychotic towards his boyfriend.

"Jason," Dick began in the same casual tone he usually used on hostile witnesses. "Where is Danny now?"

" Upstairs in my closet. He kept trying to escape, so I had to switch to chains." The responses are as easy as they are casual. Tim's stomach drops.

Quickly, he makes eye contact with Steph, who very quickly lowers her chin at him, and then his eyes flicker to the others. Damian's hands have curled, while Dick moves casually to stand behind Jason, which will make it easier to restrain him.

How long had Danny been up there? How many days and nights did he spend held against his will in the one place that should have been the safest of Gotham?

They all tense their muscles, ready to strike-

"Danny is a doll," Bruce suddenly speaks up, his eyes flickering to all of the gathered children with a wild, alarmed look. Ah, he caught on to the fact they were about to take Jason down. "A doll that Jason found in Crime Alley. Made of porcelain and fabric. Not a person."

The Bats are still eyeing their father with sharp, trained eyes, but Alfred's agreeing nod has them relaxing. Oh, thank the gods!

"Of course, Danny isn't a person," Jason replies mystified. He is unaware of how close he came to being jumped. As it were, the Bats stepped away from him as he looked around, confused. "Why would I have a person chained up in my closet?"

Bruce gets a strange, sad smile on his face. "Yes, Chum, why would you."

Tim isn't following. "If Danny is a toy-"

"A doll." Jason cuts in with a hard edge to his voice.

"Right, sorry, if Danny is a doll, why must you chain him up?"

Jason smiles. "Cause Danny runs the first chance he gets."

What?

"Danny is a haunted doll," Bruce starts, only to have Jason huff.

"No, he isn't! Danny is not haunted; he's just curious." Jason rolls his eyes. "Yeah, he never stays still, and okay, sometimes things disappear around the house, but that doesn't necessarily mean a haunting!"

"Master Jason, might I remind you that while you and Mister Danny were first living here, I caught the vacuum moving by itself?" Alfred calls. "I also remember that Mister Danny's head turned to me and followed my movement as I dusted."

"He just wanted to help you clean," Jason defends in a rather childish manner that Tim never thought he would see from someone his age. Maybe that's why Bruce was worried Danny was still around. "He's not a ghost."

"Chum, I hear laughter from your room even when you are not home." Bruce starts. "The laughing started the day you brought Danny home."

"He can tell great jokes!"

"Wait, tells jokes? Jason, does Danny talk to you? " Steph questioned, looking a tiny bit spooked. Oh yeah, she hates ghosts. Tim forgot her fear of them after living so close to the Gotham cemetery and all the nasty ghost stories surrounding it.

Jason blinks down at her, likely forgetting they were present, before considering the question. He moves his hand in a so-and-son motion. "He tries, but it sounds like fast past whispers. I have to strain to hear him."

"Jason," Dick says with an easy-going smile that belies the worry in his eyes. "That's haunting one-oh-one. You're haunted."

"No, a haunting implies that Danny is dead, which he is not. Danny is just resting until his body can reform. I think he's an alien." Jason taps his chin. "He told me before that his species are the conscious manifestation of ectoplasm but that their souls are within a small core, they can retreat to when badly injured. Danny was really hurt, so he's taking a while to reform."

Bruce's strained smile becomes tighter. "We can have Zatanna or Consitine take a look at him. They might-"

"I'll blow your fucking head off if you try it, old man" Jason's eyes were a bright green, an animistic sneer at his lips, and bloodlust was thick in the air. The abrupt change makes Tim wonder if he has passed out and missed the trigger.

Bruce sighs. "Of course, Jason. Why don't you show everyone, Danny? I think it's time they meet him."

Jason beams, shooting up the stairs to go get his doll. Everyone watches him go, and until they are sure he can not hear them, they burst into conversation.

"Jason is definitely haunted!" Dick despairs, throwing himself dramatically on a nearby chair. "We need to do something! Get it away from him."

"We will do no such thing," Alfred huffs. "Mister Danny is a fine young ghost who helps Master Jason. It would be unwise to separate them."

"As much as I hate to admit it, even Dinah claims that the two are good for each other." Bruce says, likely unhappy that Black Canary used her therapy license against him, "Apparently, Danny is Jason's support doll."

Before anyone can say anything else, Jason races down the stairs with a broad smile. In his hands is a beautiful porcelain doll with black fabric hair, a fine little king suit made from expensive material, and a pretty painted face.

Its green glass eyes- colored to seem almost watery- seemed to stare into everyone's soul as Jason held him up for the room to see. Danny had no facial expression- not even a smile, just a soft, relaxed neural set of features that were popular in the era he was likely made in, but the eyes held emotions.

There was definitely something intelligent and aware in them.

Tim shuddered.

"Oh, Tim, can you take our picture? It's Danny's first time in the cave, and I want to commemorate the date!" Jason suddenly asks, rocking on his heels like he used to do as Robin. Tim wonders if Danny was doing that to him- reverting him to a child-like mind.

If so, was that a good thing? Should he let it keep happening?

"Sure, Jason," He says, instead picking up his camera that he had taken on patrol. He aims his lends, trying to find the perfect lighting as his older brother quickly holds the doll up in his arms, allowing it' head to be at the same level as his face.

Tim snaps the picture, but when he looks at the screen, a shiver runs down his spine, and it takes all his training not to scream.

Jason's smirk is not out of place for his hulky form. He takes up most of the frame, but where Danny the doll is, there is a faint outline of another person. A teenager, maybe a year younger than Jason, with pretty features, a copy of the beauty in Jason's arms, but much more human, yet not human, is smiling at the camera.

He's about a head shorter than Jason, but even with the softness of his smile, Tim has never been more creeped out in his life.

Jason is definitely haunted.

"How did it come out?" Jason asks as Danny's doll head turns to look at Damian. The younger boy imminently moved back, hiding behind Bruce. The doll's eyes followed him, almost amused by the boy's actions.

"G-good." Tim stammers. Steph is already racing for the safety of Bruce's cape, joining Damian. "Danny is beautiful."

Jason pauses, tilting his head as if hearing something, eyes flickering down to his right where the teenager ghost stood for the picture, and then grins.

"Of course he means it." Jason's ears turn pink as he admits, "I also think you're the most gorgeous person I've ever met."

Okay, Jason is definitely being haunted by someone he might have a crush on. That's....something Bruce has to deal with because Tim is the younger brother, not the dad, and thank god for that.

He might be wrong, but he gets the sense that the doll is blushing even though nothing changes.

It's not my circus and will never be my monkies. Tim thinks racing to Bruce's cape is a good idea as well. He is scared to be out here in the open like Dick and Cass.

Those two might be okay with being haunted, but Tim isn't. Just in case, he'll have to steer clear of the manor for a few days.

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

after the events of season 4, steve just wanting SO BADLY to be friends with eddie. just LOVING the idea of them getting closer and having eddie as a friend because hell yeah! a close male friendship with someone that is actually my age, and who i don’t have a weird history with involving bruised eyes and love triangles? count me IN! and eddie is FUN, he is actually hilarious! the way they share the same glances of understanding when dustin is being an absolute shit head, rambling on and on about some obscure topic, expecting everyone to always be on the exact same page as him. of course. and, although steve suspects that eddie actually probably is keeping up with everything dustin says, much better than he ever could, he knows that above it all eddie can appreciate the antics for what they are, and roll his eyes with steve at dustin, i concur, you dustin henderson, are a total butthead.

steve just about junps RIGHT IN to being friends with eddie. hey man, what’cha up to tonight? wanna watch a movie? get drunk, smoke a bit? hey eddie, how have you been, man? he starts calling eddie up on the phone regularly just to check in, shoot the shit, he loves it! he loves having this new friendship with eddie munson and he loves how much the other boy has surprised him with how much he actually enjoys being around him. he’s not a freak, really, well ok maybe he is a little bit, but only in the best ways. he’s kind, thoughtful, and is always looking out for the people he cares about, which is something steve can really respect in a dude. but he’s also so funny? steve never could’ve anticipated just how much eddie has managed to make him genuinely LAUGH over their short amount of time spent together. and he’s really, out there? with the way he presents himself, the way he takes up space with these big THEATRICAL movements, leaving no room for regret or shame or god forbid embarrassment. steve isn’t even sure munson is capable of feeling it at all.

eddie munson is a good dude, and steve could use a bit more of that kind of person around him. he loves all of his friends, the weird little bonded family he’s found himself apart of, and they are all good people, but it never hurts to have afew more added in here and there. it never hurts to know there are more good people out there to find.

so steve is all over eddie, it seems.

at least, from where eddie is standing. nobody else seems as phased as eddie does at this sudden change in steve’s demeanour, in his interest in what eddie munson spends his time doing these days. it seems like, to everyone else, to steve, it’s just a natural progression in their relationship, after being sort of role model figures to the same group of kids, both being the two single dudes, who fought the same monsters together last spring, it seems nobody questions too much that they’d start casually hanging around eachother more. especially since eddie has found himself to fit into his own special spot as one of the group now after it all, after he unwillingly became tangled in this whole upsidedown-superpowers-supernatural-monsters and demons debacle, and tangled quite dramatically at that, the rest of the group that’s been with this since the beginning seemed to find no trouble in taking him in and seeing him as “one of them” now.

so, steve asking eddie to smoke, to watch movies, to go for a drive with no real end destination, it’s not really something that earns them too many double takes. dustin makes a comment or two in the beginning, because steve since when did you like hanging out with eddie? you guys are like so opposite, you don’t like any of the same stuff he does? and steve barely gives a shrug and a dismissive yeah yeah whatever man in response, with a signature eye roll, and dustin had said it seemingly also not too seriously, poking fun at steve wherever he can, not really meaning anything by it, as he fidgets around and rambles in the backseat of steve’s car, eddie riding up front. after that, though, he’s dropped it. it’s never brought up again. part of eddie thinks, too, that dustin would actually be enjoying that his two older friends are becoming friends themselves.

robin seems to be the only other person to look a bit harder at their situation, lingering stares at their interactions, all squinted eyes and eyebrows raised, though from her all this seems to be almost always and only ever directed at steve. eddie’s not sure what to make of that. isn’t he the weird one? i mean, he’s the one that stands out, right? he’s the odd denominator that makes their friendship strange. why would steve harrington want to hang out with Him? HIM? but robin doesn’t spend her time studying eddie to try and search for what about him could possibly have piqued the interest of cherished steven harrington, no, shes always looking at steve. like she’s seeing him differently, almost. eddie doesn’t even think that steve notices it, either, because he doesn’t seem to be questioning or doubting anything odd or strange or out of the ordinary with their newfound time spent together. and maybe, maybe robin is seeing him differently. eddie knows he definitely has been. seeing him more, intensely. deeply. human. seeing the person that steve is, as just steve, not this idealised version of a boy that eddies starting to question ever really even existed at all, or if everyone around him just needed to believe that he did, and who was steve if not happy to comply to the wants of the people around him for who he should be?

eddie likes having steve as his friend, too. don’t get it twisted. he loves how unexpectedly expressive steve is about everything, even really small things. steve LOVES to raise his voice, rest a hand on his popped hip, scolding the kids for something stupid with no real heat or malice behind it. and steve is, like, kinda bitchy too. eddie knew he had the capacity to be a real asshole when he wanted to be, that’s all he knew steve for back in the day, when he was back in high school, hanging around tommy h and the basketball boys, the jocks. eddie would spend his days hearing only whispers and gossip in the hallways of the parties at king steve’s house and the fights king steve had started and won on the court or out in the fields, only ever getting as close as a shove into a locker with the guy at the time, but eddie knew how it could go. he knew all about what steve had done to jonathan, what he’d said to him, the words he’d used. eddie knew it all. he’d seen enough, and been through enough himself, to know how these guys acted in response to guys like him, like jonathan, people who were lower on the social food chain. so, eddie knew about steve’s “mean streak”, if you will, but this kind of snarky bitchiness was something new to him. harrington was almost, sassy, when he wanted to be. it was less so cruel and more just, just sass. if he’s being completely honest it kind of blew eddie away, at first. he thought steve was one of those dull headed jocks who thought with their fists more than their actual brains, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. steve’s insults were well thought out, they were FUNNY, he was smart with his words. and silly. oh my god steve harrington could be so fucking silly, real honest to god goofball when the moment called for it, when he felt comfortable enough. eddie had caught on multiple occasions steve mimicking lightsabers to play fight with dustin, or the stupid fucking shit he would do or say just to make robin laugh, singing along to a song playing on the radio with a funny voice.

it was all a little, intoxicating, to watch. eddie didn’t know what gave him the right to be in on this now, to get to see this side of steve and better yet to be at the other end of some of his best qualities. it was fun, all the time they spent together, but there was always something else tugging inside eddie everytime they spent close time together, too. something, he knew steve wasn’t aware of. something he knew steve wasn’t equipped to deal with. something he knew, was him. was him, making things something more than they should be, because, nobody seemed to be questioning that they could become friends, so why ruin that? why disrupt it?

- robin and steve

“Steve.”

“-but then like, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to watch it I just thought, hey, y’know, let’s try something different for a change, but then he- oh my god he honest to god TACKLED ME Robin — I mean, it was so fucking funny and it happened so quick — and all over a fucking Tom Cruise movie-“

“STEVE.” Robin lightly slammed a hand onto the counter. She had been standing behind it for no short of 20 minutes, watching Steve as he paced around, supposed to be stacking tapes onto shelves, but ended up spending the whole time going on and on, and ON, about how movie night went with Eddie last night. She thought she was bad…

Steve jumped, almost running into a shelf and knocking down his hard work, and seemed to snap out of whatever trance he had found himself in after starting to tell Robin a story about something funny Eddie had done last night.

“Shit, sorry. Sorry, what were you saying? Were you- were you saying something?”

To this, Robin just rolls her eyes and let’s out a laugh, “You, sir, are goddamn hopeless.”

“Sorry. How long was I talking for?” Steve wandered his way over to lean his arms onto the counter from the opposite side.

“Oh, I dunno Steve, just about half an HOUR?”

“That is an over exaggeration Robin, it’s only been like-“

“Honestly, man, i’m concerned for you. You are like next level OBSESSED with Eddie. Eddie Munson. You do realise this right??? You are obsessed with him, Steve.”

To this Steve sputters, lazily waving his hands back and forth.

“No, Robin, what the hell are you talking about? I am not OBSESSED. No need to be jealous, alright, Stevie-Boy here can have more than one friend. Your spot in my heart isn’t any less special now that it’s beginning to be shared by another.” He bats his eyelashes up at her, holding both hands over his chest as if to cradle his heart.

“Oh my GOD! You even SOUND LIKE HIM!”, she playfully slaps his shoulder. “Steve. You are obsessed.”

“I am not obsessed! He’s just a really great guy, alright-“

“Blah blah, yep whatever you say, lover boy.” Robin quips, plopping down onto the chair chair infront of their staff computer, turning herself to face it.

“Wha- what? Lover boy? What the hell Robin, that is not- that doesn’t even make any sense!”

She is just smiling at him now, enjoying seeing him spiral like this. Steve let’s out a sigh as he puts his hands on his hips, and shakes his head, looking at her right back.

He opens and closes his mouth afew times, like he’s really thinking about what he wants to say next. Or like he has no idea what to say next, and his brain is not moving fast enough to formulate the next sentence his mouth knows he wants to say. He wasn’t obsessed. That’s not- that’s like- no. No he was not, Robin was just playing around with him, she knew how to get on his nerves. Get him all wound up over little things just to see him react like this.

After a minute or two, Robin realises Steve was not going to reply anytime soon, so she turns fully back toward him. Saving him from his spiral.

“So, what are you’re plans for tonight Steve-O?”

He lets out a chuckle and walks around the counter till he’s behind it with Robin, leaning his back against it so he can stand across from her and face her.

“Well, not really sure. Parents aren’t home, no early shift tomorrow, might drink afew beers, listen to some music, —“

“See what Eddie’s doin?” Robin finishes for him, quirking her eyebrows up and down as she does it.

“Oh shut up!” Steve just laughs and softly throws a tape from the counter at her chest. “As a matter of fact, yeah I will see what he’s up to. Because we are friends now, Robin. Is that a problem? Actually I was also gonna ask you what you were up to after work, too, but you know what after this I’m having second thoughts, I mean, the way you’ve been treating me lately-“

“Oh my god, you are the worst. Yes, I’m free, of course I’ll hang out with you dingus. You and your tweedle dee.”

Steve laughs at this, then tilts his head.

“Wait, does that make me dumb? Tweedle dumb?! That’s how you see me?”

“Yeah it is actually, got a problem?”

“Oh wow, she’s feisty today. Can’t believe you think I’m dumb, Rob’s. When you come knockin’ tonight, do not expect a warm greeting at my front door.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take my chances.”

- later. steve’s house. to be continued?

[freyadragonlord]

Stolas and Blitz’s relationship is a really well written misunderstanding plot, and here’s why 

I didn’t exactly have bad expectations about the Full Moon episode, yet I find myself pleasantly surprised by just how well the show handled the final confrontation between Stolas and Blitz. It was perfectly tragic and, most importantly, it perfectly fits how their relationship was built up to this point.

But how did Stolas get to this point?

Stolas has been starved for love since he was a child. His father only knew how to buy Stolas’ stuff to distract him from his distress (whenever Paimon bothered to even be around). Stolas’ wife – whom he did not choose – disdained him and did not miss a chance to humiliate him. He used to have a good relationship with his daughter, even though things got more complicated as she grew up and started to realize that her parents hate each other; but having your own child love you isn’t the same as having someone love you because you are you.

And then, out of nowhere, This Guy whom he considers his first friend - someone who was at the center of one of the best memories from his childhood - sneaks into his house and tries to seduce him!! Needless to say, Stolas is taken by surprise!

He even tries to talk to Blitz at first, and asks him about his life. He wants a connection, but Blitz just kinda pushes Stolas on his bed and starts doing sexy things to him, while dodging his questions. And, well, Stolas has never had good sex before that moment! His only experience is with a woman who does not like him and whom he doesn’t like. He gets swept away! Turns out, kinky sex really does it for him, and Blitz just Keeps Going all night!

Now, we don’t get to see how Stolas reacted when he figured out that Blitz was there to steal his book. The next thing we know (which is actually the first time the audience is introduced to Stolas) is that he is determined not to let that night with Blitz be the last. And who knows, even if Blitz had an ulterior motive for that first night, Stolas could still have a chance to seduce him! But how to do that? Well, the only thing Stolas knows about Blitz is that he really seemed to be into kinky sex and dirty talk…. So, Stolas goes for that!

After a while, though, he realizes it isn’t working. Plus, as much as the sex is good, what he really wants from Blitz is romance! So, he tries changing his approach, he introduces the idea of dates, of staying at home without fucking… But every time Stolas tries to change things, Blitz is resistant.

Stolas has many flaws. He is unaware of his privilege, he can be entitled, too self-centered… but one thing he is not, at least, is clueless about his own feelings. Stolas knows he loves Blitz, he knows he wants them to be together, and so he spends a long time trying to figure out how to confess, how to convince Blitz that his feelings are sincere…

In a way, it’s all that planning that dooms him. He spends so much time thinking things over, finding the perfect words, the perfect selfless act to confess to Blitz and set him free, that he does not realize that his confession will come out of nowhere for Blitz. And that Blitz will not have had hours and hours to rehearse his own reaction!

To be fair to him, Blitz truly is spectacularly clueless – to the level that it’s difficult to understand, without knowing his history - when it comes to his own feelings…

Right, how did Blitz get to this point?

The first time Blitz met Stolas, as a child, Blitz’s father had literally sold him as entertainment, and then ordered Blitz to steal from Stolas' house. “Go make yourself useful for once.” “It’s what those rich privileged fuckers deserve.”

Blitz grows up in an environment where his own father prefers another child to him. His only worth to his dad is to be a trading card, and to be an instrument to get rich.

Blitz doesn’t grow completely without love, tho! He knows what it is like to be loved. He has a best friend, his twin sister, his mother… And then he manages to lose all three of them in one single, spectacular accident. And it was an accident! But it was also his fault. And that’s the night Blitz learns that nobody can love him for long, because he does not deserve it. Even if someone did care for him, eventually they will realize he is worthless and dangerous.

Blitz hates himself.

Still, he does what he has to do to survive, and he goes on.

Years pass, and Blitz is trying to achieve his oldest dream, the dream to be his own boss, to lead a successful business, to prove that he can do something right. He needs Stolas’ book to achieve his dream, so what? It’s what those rich privileged fuckers deserve. He can make himself useful for once.

Does Blitz understand that it’s not Stolas himself who bought him all those years ago, but rather his father? It doesn’t really matter in the end, the only thing that’s important is that he knows that if he distracts Stolas enough, it’s not that hard to steal from him. If he sells himself, he can get anything out of Stolas.

The sex an accident, in the end. Stolas suggests Blitz is there to seduce him (Stolas is joking, but Blitz doesn't realize that), so Blitz goes for that. He bites Stolas’ neck to distract him from the theft, and Stolas reacts to that! Blitz can use this! He just happens to encourage Stolas when Stolas talks dirty to him, he doesn’t know he’s the one planting the idea in Stolas’ brain.

And Blitz could leave Stolas tied up and flee with the book, but at the end he feels bad. He decides to fuck Stolas after all, and well… That wasn’t so bad. He was supposed to do it “real fast”, but ends up spending the whole night!

Still, what if the sex was good? Stolas is still an entitled and powerful prince. And Stolas’ behavior in the following months only confirms that the other demon is just using him! And when Stolas’ actions start to change, well, surely that’s just some new kink, some new game…

Blitz constantly confirms his own biases, and he is incapable of seeing beyond them. He expects to be used because he has been used so many times, ever since he was a child. He doesn’t expect to be loved, because he doesn’t believe anyone can love him.

And if he starts to enjoy the time he spends with Stolas, at least sometimes, well….. That’s just the good sex. Plus, he feels powerful, when he’s fucking Stolas. Not only because Blitz dominates him in bed, but also because this is an arrangement he entered of his own free will, and he’s the one directly benefiting from it.

And! Isn’t it easier this way??? Relationships are messy! This arrangement, tho, no feelings involved, at all! He can push Stolas around as much as he wants, and Stolas will let him.

(Stolas cannot get hurt, after all.)

(He can get hurt??)

Blitz has many flaws. Being clueless about his feelings, and other people’s feelings, is maybe his biggest flaw. Stolas’ confession comes out of nowhere from him. He is confused. Nobody can love him, so it is a game, right?

It’s not a game. Where did this “confession” come from? He’s mad now. Stolas broke the rules, Stolas is using him again, somehow, Stolas… Stolas is crying.

It’s not a trick.

Their whole relationship has been a huge misunderstanding since day 1, and Blitz only just realized.

And Stolas sent Blitz away before he had time to realize, as well.

[privitivium]

how about a really creepy bottom yandere?

fuck yeah. my random thoughts on this idea... roommates. cw;; perverted creepy ass freak, stalking, noncon - dubcon, ur drunk

actually imagining this mf leaving you creepy voicemails of him masturbating and whining out your name - muffled, sobbing as he cums and havjng no way to block him because you couldnt see his number. he so boldly applying to be your ... lil roommate,,, an introverted guy who you saw as a mere background dude who always dressed in dark colors - always wearing zip-up jackets too big for his tiny frame... must .. not think... him sabotaging everyone else somehow and managing to be the only one left. youre desperate - and somehow couldnt figure out where you recognized him from. his voice...

you, unwilling to actually make friends even though you knew he probably needed someone... but you just figured some creep like that would have a plethora of internet friends. no way you would be seen with someone like that. someone... who you catch staring at you in the corner of your eye., always fucking lurking!?!?! until, you were on the market for some help. a roommate... grumbling to yourself yet accepting him??? dude you must be fucking in love with him then...

dude immediately taking advantage of being your roommate bro. ,,, when ur gone and hes home, rooting through your things and being a mess with a throbbing aching cock with a huge smile and flushed face that burned with excitement. fucking freak.

ㅡcreepy yan roommate who shoves his fucking underwear in your pillowcase and you have to feel around wondering what the fuck is it and disturbing ur sleep and you pull it out just to see its a pair of fitted boxers damp with... you didnt want to think about it. merely throwing them away and not wanting to wonder who put them - it's fine, it's fineㅡseriously! no need to dwell on it; as you throw your pillowcase and ... pillow that was now dirty into a hamper.

you didnt know how the fuck to confront him and he abused that fact. acting so normal and nonchalant around him - knowing that its him. you must like it, huh?? you must if you're not making a big deal about it... giggling to himself, all giddy and shit...

ㅡburying his tearful, flushed visage into his pillow that had your shirt as the pillowcase; face down ass up,,, in nothing but his hoodie he's always seen wearing. fingering himself desperately; imagining you coming into his room and seeing the sight of his hole presented and mounting him wordlessly,,, filling him up with that thick cock he knows you has - catching a glimpse as you exited the shower dripping wet despite your clear attempts to dry yourself off...

nearly sobbing and whimpering please over and over again, mumbling your name so pitifully and trying hard to control his breathing as he edges his poor sensitive prick,,, fantasizing about you making him wear girl clothes and introduce him as your girlfriend to your other jock friends. yes,,, yessss,,, embarrass him and show him off that he's yours, he wants everyone to know that youre his t-too,,,. make him cum over n over again for your pleasure wherever you want - stuff a fucking vibrator in him and have it on full blast and laugh at him while he tries to walk in public,,,, gasping for air as he finally shoots his load onto a pair of your already dirty boxers he grabbed from the hamper...

then sleeping soundly. and waking up with a flushed prick waiting to be jerked off in the morning just because of his lovely dream of riding you in your bedroom,, he was so grateful for that dream,,, high pitched little noises leaving his saliva-slick plump lips as he grinds against his bedㅡ

ㅡand, at a party. you being invited - and inviting your introverted roommate who was more than happy to come along. you were really hoping he'd decline, but it is a courtesy to ask after telling him your plans you feel... he was a little out of place - a new face is all. his plain black hoodie and black skinny jeans matching the other aesthetics of other people - telling him that he can hold onto your shirt and let you lead him around to a little denser part of the frat house. fuck you just know you're gonna get taunted for bringing him... it's best to stay clear of those fucking blockheads instead. hanging out in the kitchen, surprising that it was the less populated area and taking advatange of that - merely hanging out before your thoughts seem to spring from your lips without permission-

ㅡ"y-ou know... y-you're just... so weird, man..." trying to keep your tone leveled with a humorous airy wisp to it - trying hard not to grimace or express any kind of repulsion by pressing your lips to the beer bottle you were nursingㅡbut he knew exactly what you were trying to say! getting all squirmy and fidgety as he tugs his hoodie down.

was he? was he a disgusting fucking freak? yes, tell him... tell him just how fucking awful he is, please. his smiling lips trembling, lifting his fingertips to his cheek that was burning to the touch - "am i? what... what do you mean weird?" he frowned, tilting his head slightly, playing innocent to your tipsy frame pressing against the doorway coolly... ugh, you didnt mean for it to come out cruelly... just - "weird in a good way, man. dont worry." you try to reassure... "you're weird in a cool way." you didnt want to deal with him crying. He seems the sensitive type... dont fucking look at me with those huge ass eyes you fucking creep look AWAY.

ㅡ"you're fucking gross, dude." yes, yes he is.. hes so icky-!! so horrible and awful!! his smaller frame pressed against the sink of the bathroom, your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck and he nearly cums right then and there - what has come over you? the scent of beer on your breath... it's ... gross but... it makes him ache. your lips so close to his - fuck just- please kiss him- shove your fucking tongue down his throat and make him chokeㅡ

ㅡhim trying to... take advantage of your drunken mind in a way... to get what he wants. hes so awful isnt he??? after asking you to go elsewhere, you mindlessly drag him along through the crowds by his sleeve making his poor lil heart flutter ... being pressed against each other and him delibrately pressing his plump ass into your groin and nearly whining as he feels the imprint of your soft cock against him - you stiffened, instinctively wrapping an arm around him to pull him to your side and he nearly whines.

before ... you were dragging him up the stairs and mumbling - he couldnt make it out but he was jittery - ecstatic for whatever reason. you were dragging him some place quieter and he couldnt help but think dirty,,,...

your thick arms wrapped around his body and caging him in,,, he can f-feel the poking of your erection against his front - and hes sure you feel his..,,,, turning him around and shucking his pants down - him squealing in shock but so willing?!? ruthlessly gliding your lazily slobbered over fingers around his rim - fingering him before shoving your dick where your fingers lay and ignoring his soft yelps of surprise after he makes no move to get away; only bending over and trying to spread himself...

fucking him in thr bathroom, rocking into his taut hole that was surprisingly easily to worm your way in - and muttering you know everything while pumping your slick fingers into his mouth dirty with his pre - muttering harshly about those dirty fucking voicemails and how creepy he is to leave his dirty boxers where you rest your head and making him fucking cry and shake his head in denial - he likes this sort of thing.,,, hes so in bliss, so fucking happy and rocking back into you bro,,, yes let him be as creepy as he pleads for you,,, whining on your digits after you pull his hands away from his cock with your free hand. fuck he'll take anything ,,,, freak.

[shankschewtoy]

had this random thought and thought I'd request. what if a random kid just comes over and confesses their love for you (a fully grown adult.) and the one piece men are just standing there like 'wtf is this kid on'

a/n - OML 💀💀💀 I’m laughing so hard right now 😭 anon this idea is hilarious how do you guys think of such funny stuff

Warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, it’s a random kid not kidd himself- just wanted to clarify that bec i thought it was kidd, major crack

- If it wasn’t already apparent, Luffy has made it quite clear that he loves you VERY much

- let’s say you’ve been on this island for maybe about a month, and you love it there! The weather’s nice and cool, there’s a nice ocean breeze, and the sun is always out but not too strong

- you were sitting down on a bench with nami and robin, waiting for Sanji and Luffy to come back from their shopping spree

- suddenly, a kid appeared in front of you, holding a bouquet of flowers and a little hand made present

- “Um-! You’re super cool and pretty/handsome! And- I love you! Please take this gift and these roses!”

- the shock that just froze the three of you

- robin raised an eyebrow while nami burst out laughing, unable to breathe

- “BAHAHAHAHSUBDIDBD- YOU’RE LIKE 22 AND THIS IS A LITTLE ASS KID-“

- “Nami! Be nice! Um… Thanks kid- I like the flowers. But like Nami said- I’m a lot… Older than you.”

- The kid looked like they were about to start sobbing, so you quickly took the flowers and present to make the kid happy

- the present was a little origami heart and a butterfly, it was actually quite adorable

- All of the sudden, Luffy fucking tackled the poor child, flying across the sidewalk

- “Y/N’S MINEEEEEEEEEE!!”

- bro was hissing and growling like a feral monkey at the poor kid wtf 💀

- Sanji had to rip Luffy off the poor child and this grown man was throwing a fit, yelling at this kid

- “Y/N’S MINE! I LOVE THEM!” -luffy

- “I LOVE THEM TOO!” -kid

- “I LOVE THEM MORE!” -luffy

- “NO I DO!” -kid

- this argument continued for about 20 minutes. 20 minutes

- you had to drag Luffy and I mean DRAGGG him back to the sunny while he kept yelling at the kid about how he loved you more

- “Hmph! I bet i could take him in a fight!” -luffy (please keep in mind that this child is like 6)

- “Yeah ok luffy, don’t beat up a child.”

- “I’m a pirate! I’m already a criminal! HEY KID! GET OVER HERE IMMA BEAT YOUR ASS!” *feral screeching*

- “LUFFY NO-!”

- (rewatched marineford, I promise and swear I did not cry)

- ace is a bit more mature (not a lot) but he’s more mature than Luffy

- it was such a nice day! You and ace were hanging out on an island as a tiny vacation for the crew

- the crew got some ice cream, went shopping, and stocked up on food for the day

- ace, being the gentleman he is, carried all the bags for you, and even bought you THREE scoops of ice cream (y/n pls give me some this weather is ridiculous💀)

- ace was telling you about a story when he was younger, it was mainly about how Luffy was really stupid and loved to eat random mushrooms from the forest

- “He was SO dumb- it was really bad. He hallucinated for like- 2 days, and almost ate Dadan.”

- “HE ALMOST ATE HER?”

- “HIS TEETH WERE AROUND HER ENTIRE ARM.”

- bro Luffy is wild

- all of the sudden, something tapped you on the shoulder, and you turned around, not seeing anybody behind you

- “Um.. Excuse me?”

- The voice was coming from below, and it sounded like a kid’s voice! As you looked down, you saw this cute little child with brown hair and green eyes, their cheeks were bright pink, and they were holding something behind their back

- “Uh hi there! Did you need something from me?”

- “Um… I- I wanted to give these to you.. I picked them myself.”

- this kid was adorable, they were handing you a hand picked bouquet of flowers!! How adorable is that?! You smiled and pat the kid’s head softly, thanking him for the flowers

- ace had a big grin on his face, he found this kid absolutely adorable too

- “Uh- I think you’re super pretty/handsome! And- I think I really love you!”

- now this is where you both froze and stared at the kid with wide eyes, what did this child just tell you?..

- “I’m sorry what?” -you

- “I love you.” -kid

- “What?” -you

- this poor kid was about to cry, this was his first rejection after all 😭 and you could tell if this kid started crying, holy shit this kid’s going to SCREAM

- “Ok- sorry! I was just confused for a sec.. Are you sure you mean me? Not that little kid over there with the pig tails?”

- this kid was determined, shaking their head as they took your hands in theirs

- Ace was struggling, struggling not to just start cackling, the only thing keeping him from laughing was you pinching his arm

- “Ace don’t even think about laughing.”

- “I’m sorry- *wheeze* this is hilarious.”

- Ace’s face was turning red, bro looked like he was choking on food. But you really didn’t know what to say to this kid- I mean- you’re an adult and this is a literal child. Secondly- ace was your boyfriend already

- “Hey kid, how about I buy you some ice cream and we can talk about y/n together eh?” -ace

- The kid smiled and took Ace’s hand. How cute, your boyfriend was talking to this little kid about all the great aspects of you

- You heard about 1009 compliments today, and it warmed your heart 💜💜

- ace is awesome, 100% husband material

- doesn’t matter if it’s a child, girl, or animal, he’ll cut them up into pieces if they hurt you or his friends

- but outside of his tough demeanor, zoro was actually pretty loving, especially when the sunny was docked on an island and it was just a day to hang out

- he liked taking naps on you, literally anywhere (he sleeps the best on your ass 💀💀)

- today was not a nap day sadly, but as long as he was with you, today would be a great day

- you had dragged him along to stock up on cola and things for the ship, the whole crew was hanging out on this summery island too

- you weren’t sure why you hadn’t invested some berries into getting a leash for your boyfriend because oh my god

- this bitch keeps getting lost

- you could be looking at some cute shoes for two seconds. TWO SECONDS. And this man disappears, and he somehow ends up on the island next to the one you were on 💀💀

- but anyways, you were now holding him by his collar, keeping this dumbass marimo from running off 👍

- “Y/n are we almost done? I’m kinda tired.”

- “In a second.”

- “you’ve been saying that the past hour.”

- zoro’s feet are about to die

- all of the sudden, a kid tapped your shoulder, looking up at you with wide eyes

- “Oh hello! Did you need something?”

- “Um… I have some flowers for you!”

- The kid handed you a nice bouquet of red, white, and pink roses that were all tied together with a lovely ribbon

- Aw- this little kid was so cute! How nice of them to give you some flowers, right?

- “I- I think I really like you!”

- *pause*

- Maybe this wasn’t so nice 😭

- “Sorry what?” -you

- “I like you!”

- “But- you’re a kid!”

- this kid started sobbing, clinging onto your waist like a baby, crying about how they thought you were so pretty/handsome

- “Hey! It’s ok! Can you let go??”

- zoro was getting pissed, he didn’t like it when kids whined and wailed about stuff, especially about you

- zoro pried the kid off, setting him down with a glare, “Get off y/n, they’re mine, get lost kid.”

- “Hey zoro be nicer! It’s just a kid.”

- “NO! I LOVE Y/N” -kid

- basically this is what happened

- zoro and this literal child were pulling you back and forth, giving you severe whiplash 💀

- “Omg Robin come over here this is hilarious!!” -nami

- “NAMI PLS HELP ME.” -you

- “I think you’re fine y/n! Just wait until robin gets here!!” -nami

- wow what help you are nami 😭😭

a/n - Luffy hisses at people and growls 💀

[royalarchivist]

Tubbo: I swear to God, Chat - I promise you, if it's the last thing I do, I am going to break up Fit and Pac.

Mike passed the crown of #1 Hideduo hater to Tubbo, and Tubbo took that title very seriously.

[ Full Subtitle Transcript ↓ ]

-

Pac: I have a date with Fit tomorrow! You know the news, Tubbo?

[ Tubbo's Homophobic Arc ]

Pac: I got a date with Fit tomorrow!

Tubbo: You're - no... You're kidding..

Pac: Yeah, for real! Look - Mike shaved my hair you know, and gave me a new outfit so I can be like, sharp for tomorrow. ...You guys like it? You like it, Sunny?

[Judgemental silence]

Tubbo: That's so cool man, what he hell. That's fckin' sick.

Pac: Yeah, thank you! I knew it, I knew you'd- Oh, thank you, Sunny! I knew you guys were gonna love it, you know? I knew it.

-

Tubbo: I swear to God- I swear to God- We need to add homophobia to the QSMP, I swear to God- I swear to God-

-

Tubbo: Guys, I have to do everything in my power to break them up. What do you mean "no"?! This is awful, Sunny! This is awful!

Sunny: But why Pa?

Tubbo: THEY WERE NEVER MEANT TO GET TOGETHER! The stars told me so! They were never meant to actually get together!

Sunny: WHY PA

Tubbo: It's just wrong, Sunny! It's just wrong! I dunno how to explain it to you. It's just wrong!

Sunny: But it's loveeeee

Tubbo: ...If that's what you want to call it.

-

Tubbo: HOW IS THERE GONNA BE ENOUGH SPACE BETWEEN THEM FOR ME NOW, SUNNY?!

Sunny: You're telling me you've never been in love Pa?

Tubbo: Listen, it's just not right.

Sunny: But I like bodyguard Fit and driver Pac :(

Tubbo: I like them too! They're my best friends! But they can't be together.

Sunny: I think you are projecting

Tubbo: PROJECTING WHAT? HUH!?

Sunny: I will find you someone, Pa.

Tubbo: I DON'T WANT SOMEONE! I DON'T WANT SOMEONE IT ONLY SERVES TO DISAPPOINT ME AND GET MY HOPES UP AND LEAVE ME- LEAVE ME NOTHING BUT A SHELL! A SHELL OF A MAN!

-

Tubbo: Sunny - They're gonna hurt each other, Sunny- they're gonna hurt each other! And how will there be enough space between them for me now?

Sunny: Why would they do that if they care for each other?

Tubbo: People that care about each other, Sunny, hurt each other all the time! ALL THE TIME!

Sunny: But I care about you, and I don't hurt you.

Tubbo: No, that's different! That's different! The love that we have for each other is unconditional. Ok?

Sunny: Pa, I think you're just scared.

Tubbo: I'm not scared, I'm logical. All flags look red when you're wearing rose-tinted glasses.

-

Tubbo: [In response to Sunny talking about Aypierre's agreement to build her a statue] You already have a statue! [Sunny hits him] Ow!

Tubbo: What about the one Fit and Ramon made you for your birthday? [Tubbo has an idea] See? Do you think Fit would have time to do stuff like that if he's too- if he's too preoccupied with his little shag buddy? I don't think so! I don't think so!

Sunny: Wait.

Tubbo: See? You see what I'm saying? You see what I'm saying!

Sunny: You have a good point now

Tubbo: See? You under- yes, exactly! We HAVE to break them up! They can still be friends! Fck it, friends with benefits! But they cannot be together. We cannot let them.

Sunny: OK I'M IN

Tubbo: [Claps] I KNEW I COULD COUNT ON YOU! I knew I could count on you!

-

[Looking at fanart of Pac, Fit, and himself]

Tubbo: We- we have to split them up. We have to fckin' split them up. Oh, but I'm in this one! Oh, that's so-[Realizes it's him crying as a third-wheel] SEE?! SEE?! THEY KNEW! THEY KNEW! THEY FCKIN' KNEW! THEY FCKIN' KNEW!

-

Tubbo: [In a thick "red-blooded American" accent] Wha- I just don't understand why they have 'ta keep shoving it down our throats! Goddamnit! I JUST WISH IT WASN'T MY SMP! [He hits his desk and laughs]

-

Dono: Streamer becomes homophobic 'cause he can't get any

Tubbo:

Tubbo: Sunny, I'm just gonna need to brb for a moment.

Tubbo: [Stands up from his desk, walks away, and screams]

-

Tubbo: I swear to God, Chat - I promise you - if it's the last thing I do, I am going to break up Fit and Pac.

[saphronethaleph]

“There are… rumours, in the Senate, about Master Kenobi,” Palpatine confided. “Many believe he is not fit for this assignment.”

“Not fit?” Anakin repeated. “Why would anyone think that?”

Palpatine spread his hands slightly. “They say his mind has become fogged by the influence of a certain female Senator.”

Anakin blinked.

“That’s ridiculous,” he said. “Who?”

“No one knows who she is,” Palpatine said, slyly. “Only that she is a Senator.”

“Oh, okay then,” Anakin replied. “It’s complete nonsense.”

Palpatine frowned.

“You seem very certain about that, Anakin,” he noted.

“Yeah, but rumours are usually pretty specific about details like that,” Anakin shrugged. “It’s a rumour in the Senate, right? So it’s a rumour about a Senator, too.”

Palpatine began to object, then paused.

“Well, yes, but not specifically-” he began.

“Are there rumours about a Senator whose judgement has been impaired because she’s sleeping with a Jedi?” Anakin went on. “Because if there is then we just line them up and that explains who it is. Or who it’s supposed to be.”

He frowned, minutely. “My money’s on Mon Mothma, honestly. Or Bail Organa. Are we sure the rumour said female?”

Palpatine raised a hand.

“Well-” he began, but Anakin was already standing up.

“Actually, I’m going to ask someone else about this,” he said. “See you later, Chancellor!”

“Anakin, I’m trying to-” Palpatine said, but he was talking to an empty office.

“Really?” Padme asked, then shook her head. “No, that’s not one I’ve heard.”

“You’re sure it’s not one that’s passed you by?” Anakin asked. “I don’t know how much Senators talk to one another.”

“We do it a lot,” Padme told him dryly. “It’s the main thing we have time to do. Are you sure the rumour said female? Because I’m getting a lot of my information from Bail Organa, and he’d be my first guess.”

“He was my second,” Anakin told his wife. “But, no, Palpatine was sure it was a female senator.”

“Then I’m out of ideas,” Padme said. “I’d have thought Mon Mothma, but she’s happily married to Perrin Fertha and he looks more like Qui-Gon Jinn than Obi-Wan.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Anakin said. “And, honestly, I don’t really believe it myself… he didn’t shack up with Satine even when it would have been a net benefit to the Order and the Galaxy and stuff.”

He frowned. “Unless…”

“Unless?” Padme asked. “That sounds like you’ve had an idea, Ani.”

“What about if the rumour was trying to throw me off?” Anakin asked. “I heard it from the Chancellor, but maybe he has another reason to say it. He is a politician… maybe Obi-Wan is seeing Palpatine, and the female senator bit was to throw me off?”

Padme blinked.

“I’m fairly sure they don’t like one another very much?” she tried.

“That’s just what they want us to think, right?” Anakin asked. “Think about it! That’s actually a way better way to disguise a relationship than what we’ve been doing.”

He glanced at Padme. “What have we been doing to disguise our relationship, actually? I’m sure there’s something.”

“We don’t tell anyone that we’re married?” Padme said. “It’s worked so far.”

“True,” Anakin agreed, relieved. “I’m glad we’re doing something.”

Padme smiled, then her smile turned into a frown. “Now I think about it, I can’t remember a time when Palpatine was interested in women – as a Senator or as a Chancellor. So it’s not immediately wrong… I just can’t think of a time he was interested in men either.”

Anakin looked thoughtful. “I think… I’m trying to think of a time he’s looked at Obi-Wan that way, but the only person I can think of he looked at that way is me…”

Obi-Wan’s commlink rang, and he nearly crashed his starfighter into the raw matter of hyperspace itself.

“What is it?” he asked, picking up the commlink in one hand.

“Master!” Anakin said. “I think Palpatine is just using you to get to me!”

Obi-Wan, who had no context whatsoever, just sort of stared for several seconds.

“What?” he said, then noticed that the nav computer was giving him urgent warnings and yanked back on the hyperdrive lever. His Actis fighter dropped out of hyperspace, and he disengaged from the hyperspace ring with the practised motion of someone who had become very, very good at a thing they fundamentally didn’t like doing very much.

“I thought about how he’s been looking at me,” Anakin explained. “Whatever he’s told you, I don’t think it’s real.”

“Anakin, what are you-” Obi-Wan began, then paused. “Actually… wait.”

“What?” Anakin asked. “You don’t believe me?”

“I am trying to think,” Obi-Wan answered. “And fly a ship, as well. I have a job to do before Cody gets here.”

“All right, Master, I’ll wait,” Anakin said. “But this is important. I don’t want your heart to be broken.”

“My – no, this is important, Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied. “You killed Dooku, correct?”

“This seems completely irrelevant, but yes,” Anakin answered. “Why?”

“I was thinking about something Dooku told me once,” Obi-Wan told Anakin. “He said that Darth Sidious had control of a lot of Senators.”

“Still not seeing the connection, unless you think those Senators have been seducing you,” Anakin replied.

“I think the Chancellor is Sidious,” Obi-Wan declared. “And, Anakin, you’re going to have to tell the Council and get help sorting it out, I am landing in less than two minutes.”

Anakin was silent for several seconds of those less than two minutes.

“If you want to break up with him, Master, you don’t need the whole Jedi Council to do it for you,” he said. “And if you think he’s hideous, why did you start sleeping with him in the first place?”

“Put Padme on the line,” Obi-Wan suggested. “No, wait.”

“Waiting, Master,” Anakin replied.

Obi-Wan took a deep, calming breath.

“Put your wife on the line,” he resumed. “Or, if she’s not there, tell her that I’m fairly sure Chancellor Palpatine is the other Sith we’ve been looking for. And get her to call a vote of no confidence, she’s good at those.”

Satisfied that that would buy him the time he needed, he began making his final landing approach.

It was only a shame he wouldn’t get to see their faces, really. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

[planetwaynez]

bad ideia right?

Jason x Roy x Fem!Reader

Notes: I've been cooking this JayRoy x Fem!Reader for some time now, the only thing is... I got excited and ended up writing waaaay too much so this will be separeted in two parts. This is part one, if you guys like it lemme know if you want part two, pls!!!

PART 2!!!!

WARNINGS: Talks about stalking, nearly death experince, violence, murderer, being socialy secluded, a lot of complicated feelings. This is part 1!

Words: 4,7k

Synopsis: It never crossed Roy's mind that his cute civilian ex would be knocking at his apartmant door asking for help. Jason never tought that he would've to help his boyfriend with his ex, but he is, especially because she might die if they don't help her out.

Things are not so great at the moment. And she knows it, that's why she stands in front of her ex boyfriend's apartment door, picking at her nails and looking everywhere but the door. She knows she shouldn't be looking for him, but in the situation that she finds herself, Roy may be the only person that can help her out. Rationality, she knows it's no biggie, showing up and asking for her ex boyfriend, who is a very known vigilante, to save her skin. However, emotionally, she knows it's fucked up. 

Taking a deep breath, she knows it's a bad idea, but she reaches for the door and knocks. Taking a step back, y/n can feel her muscles starting to shake in a nervous fit.

It's been two years since she saw Roy for the last time, and she wonders how much has changed since then. 

The door is open and y/n looks up, to find a tall brunette looking at her with an arched eyebrow. She smiles, trying to be polite. He doesn't smile back.

“Hi! Is this Roy Harper's apartment?” She asks, still picking at her nails and the man in front of her notices.

“Yes” he answers, his voice deep and intimidating and for the first time she knows for a fact that this is more than a bad idea, it's a terrible one. But then again, it's better than dying. 

“Is he home?” The man crosses his big arms over his chest, taking in a more intimidating stance than before.

“Yes” 

He is not the most polite ever, and it's starting to make y/n panic turn into frustration very quickly. 

“Can I talk to him?” the man clicks his tongue, obviously not liking her request. Well, what can she do, a girl needs to try her shot.

“Who is at the door, love?” a familiar voice asks and now she understands. The huge guy in front of her is acting up in a jealous fit. Does he know who she is? Probably. 

“Your ex” he says, and yeah, he knows who she is. 

They can hear steps coming in the direction of the door and a very confused Roy shows up, wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants and his hair is longer, long enough to be put up in a man bun. Cute.

“Y/n?” He is pale and it seems like he just saw a ghost in front of him. She smiles and gives a tiny wave, not knowing how to act. When she decided to ask Roy for help, she knew that there was the chance for this to happen. A chance to find out about his new partner, a chance that he would look terrified, a chance that he would say no and let her die. Simple stuff.

“Hi, Roy” things are awkward, the three of them looking at each other like idiots.

“What are you doing here?” Roy seems offended that she ever had the guts to show up like this and honestly, she understands him and would deal with this situation in a more aggressive way if it was her in his place. 

“I need your help” she can feel her cheeks burning and her heart rate increase, she feels the sting of a broken nail and her palms are sweating. 

“With what?” Who asks the question is the brunette man, and y/n finally looks at him. He is wearing the same attire as Roy, paired up with a long sleeve black compression shirt, and she realizes how big he actually is. If he wanted to, he could throw her through the stairs of the building with ease. He is scary. 

Instead of actually answering the brunette, she started rambling all of her thoughts to them, feeling her chest tight. 

“I know you told me not to go, I know you said my brain would put me in danger one day and that my smart mouth would kill me and honestly I never believed you, but I fucked up. I fucked up real bad, Roy.” Desperation seeps through her voice, making her look ridiculous but the amount of panic in the woman in front of Roy only sparks his worry. 

“What the fuck did you do?” He asks, taking her wrist and pulling her inside the apartment, practically throwing her in their living room.

“I stumbled across files I should have not stumbled across.” Roy Harper is not a man to worry, unless it's his daughter, Jason or Dinah. Or Y/n.

She was always one to worry about. Always too smart for her own good, always too clever to her own safety, always too curious. She found out way too easily his identity as Arsenal when they were dating. He knew that one day she would have a price over her head.

“What does that mean, y/n?” He is basically yelling at her now, frustrated that she doesn't give him the information he needs. She pouts, hating the fact that Roy is yelling at her.

“It means you were right, ok? I am too curious for my own good and now some rich people want me dead.” 

Fuck it.

Jason didn't see this one coming, not even a thousand miles away. When he woke up this morning, sore from their last mission, he wouldn't have guessed that Roy's most recent ex and only civilian ex, would show up at their doorstep asking for Roy to save her skin from rich people. 

Jason sighs, drawing the attention to him. He closes his eyes, hoping this is some weird dream, but when he opens them again, two pairs of eyes are staring at him. He thanks the gods that Lian is with Alfred. 

“And how could Roy help you?” Jason asks, wondering what is going through this stranger woman's head. 

“As Arsenal, obviously” she says, as if Jason is one dumb fucker, and he can't believe that this is happening. 

“She knows?” Roy shrugs, as if saying ‘I have no control over that’. 

“She found out when we were three months into the relationship” Jason looks at her again, shocked with this new piece of information. He knew they dated for over a year, and also knew how heartbroken Roy was when she left to live in Ireland because of a job opportunity. He didn't know she knew about Arsenal, though. 

“It was actually quite easy to figure it out” she says, her eyes roaming over him, not in a ‘I am attracted to you’ way but in ‘who are you?’ type of way, and that made an uneasy feeling set in Jason's stomach.

“How?” He needs to know how she found out, how her brain works. Jason knows a lot of people, for fucks sake, he knows Tim and Tim found out Robin's identity at the age of nine, not many things shook him, but it's eight in the morning and this woman is definitely weird. 

“I noticed they have the same scar on the left arm” 

Jason's eyes bulge just a little and he looks at his boyfriend, who is looking at the floor, probably embarrassed with how easily a civilian found out his identity. 

“I know” the read head says, clicking his tongue “she is a freak with that brain of hers” 

It's y/n's turn to sigh, rolling her eyes. She looks at Jason again and says, very calmly.

“I knew I could say Roy is Arsenal near you because I firmly believe you already knew. Not because he told you, but because you are like him” the nervous and anxious girl from before is gone and she looks more confident and comfortable, and that uneasy feeling of having someone with a bigger brain than yours in the room comes back to Jason's stomach. 

“And why's that?” Roy chuckles, and Jason looks at him with a quizzical look but the redhead says nothing, just smiles.

“You keep analyzing me, noticing every single move I make. For a guy your size you are very quiet and silent” she point out, numbering everything she says in her manicured fingers “Also, you keep reaching for your thigh, as if you keep looking for a gun in a holster” Y/n points to his hand, resting in his left thigh, and he wants to curse himself. 

“I will make an educated guess and say you are Red Hood, the guy that is always with Arsenal” She says and smiles, tilting her head to the side, exposing her neck that has a hand imprint on it. “You are him, aren't you?” 

Jason nods, not verbally answering her, but he knows there is no use lying since she knows about Roy's identity. What actually sparks his interest is the marks in her neck. She notices him looking and she once again hides her skin from them. Jason looks at Roy, to see if he saw the same as him, and his boyfriend's gaze is focused on y/n neck as well. There is more to this story than she is truly telling, and they know.

“She found out about Dinah in forty minutes in the same room as her.” Roy says, instead of saying something about the purple marks, walking to the kitchen to get a water bottle for himself. 

Jason looks at her, doing exactly what she said he was doing before, but now he takes his time. Analyzing her. Meanwhile, she keeps an eye on Roy, who is not caring at all about the exchange behind him.

Roy turns around, holding his water bottle and looks at the two of them. He drinks all the water with a few gulps, feeling the cold water calm him down to the conversation he will soon have. He really wants to know who is the fucker that tried to choke her to death and left those marks on her smooth skin.

“Come with me” he says, pointing at a very shocked Jason and a very smug y/n to follow him. 

The three of them get in a room decorated to be a study, Roy sits on a couch in the corner of the room and Jason sits next to him, his big arm going around Roy's shoulders.

“Explain yourself, pookie” Roy says and y/n takes a deep breath, collecting her thoughts to start explaining herself to the two vigilantes in front of her.

“It all started a few months ago when Campbell Enterprises, the place I worked at, developed a new project. One that was secretive and only a few would participate, the HR did a whole campaign to encourage us to participate in the selective process to choose the ones that would be a part of this new project. I was hoping I was not chosen, honestly, I was fine with the workload I already had at my lab at the time, but it was mandatory to participate” she pauses, taking a deep breath and looking at the window, watching the sun come through. 

“They chose me and a few others to be a part of it, but it was all too secretive, even for us that were working on it. It was tiring, since my regular workload kept coming” she clicks her tongue and blinks, as if she was transported back to the moment that she is telling them about. “One night I stayed later than usual, it was just me in the laboratory, I was tired and annoyed with a few things so I started digging around, just so see if I could see the development of the others that I worked with.”

She blinks again, swallowing tears and looks at them. Roy and Jason are looking at her very attentively, waiting patiently for her to continue. There is no pressure, no tension in the room, just two men looking at her as if she was made of glass and that, for some reason, soothed the pain inside. Y/N is too used to not allowing herself to be fragile, but right now, with Jason and Roy, she feels that she can allow herself to be a little bit vulnerable. 

“That's how I ended up coming across the real motivation of the project. They told us that we were developing a new medicine for kids with cancer, when in fact, we were developing a new drug so they could kidnap children and teenagers with more ease.” There is silence in the room and inevitably, they all thought about Lian, that is safely with Alfred, but she could not be, like many others are not. 

“And they found out you came across those files and that's how you got five fingers in your neck?” Roy asks, arms crossed and a frown between his eyebrows, looking irritated. 

“Not exactly” she says, her right hand going instinctively to her neck, gulping just to remember the touch of that man on her skin. “They found out I knew, but they didn't make it obvious. I knew they would find out eventually and come after me, but until then I thought I could keep living my life.”

Silence reigns the room, the three of them knowing she was just living an illusion until reality came knocking on her door.

“I went out on a date” she says, and that sparks even more their interest. Jason scoffs, not believing what he just heard.

“You knew you had a target on your back and you went on a date?” He asks sarcasm in every word that he says. She nods and Roy looks at her with disbelief in his green eyes.

“I was needy” she simply states, shrugging as if it was not a big of a deal, except it was. “He was a hitman” 

Jason and Roy look at each other, not knowing how to actually react to her words. It all seems so out of this world, especially with the way she tells things, so calmly.

“We were kissing, he grabbed my neck and said that I was too curious, he had a good grip but I had a pocket knife” she is smiling and Jason knows for a fact now that she is crazy.

“So you stabbed him” Roy says, a smirk forming in the corner of his red lips. She nods.

“Didn't kill though, just enough to run away” she looks again at the window and takes a deep breath, “that's how I ended up in an airplane to Gotham. I called Dinah and asked where you lived, she told me you moved to Gotham, gave me your address and that's how I ended up here.”

She looks at them again and they can see in her eyes that she is lost. Desperate. In panic and disbelief of herself. What Jason can't see but Roy can is that Y/n truly believes she is going to die if they don't help her out.

Roy is not happy to have his ex, who broke his heart even if their break up was mutual and mature, standing in front of him. Roy is not happy that Dinah just gave information on him so easily. But he is less happy with the idea of y/n dying. No, he gets angry just with the idea of her not existing anymore. 

And Jason may not know y/n, but he knows his boyfriend. He knows Roy just as well he knows himself and Jason can see it in the redhead's eyes that they will help her out, even if it fails, they will try their best. Jason can also see the care and admiration in Roy's eyes every time he looks at her, it's the same way Roy looks at him. 

Jason will have to swallow his pride and jealousy, because he is going to help his boyfriend's ex to not die.

“We will help you” Roy says, looking at Jason for support and he finds everything he needs in his lover's eyes.

“But with a few conditions” Jason says, now looking at the younger woman. He knows she is younger than them, but now she truly looks like it. The sun is bathing her from her side, making her eyes shine and seem bigger, her lips are painted a glossy red and her cheekbones are chubby and pink. He can't deny, she is adorable and pretty.

“Anything” she says, her lips quivering just slightly. Jason smirks, he knows he is an asshole, but he also gets the job done.

“You will be staying at one of your monitored safe houses, and you won't leave the house, unless one of us is with you.” Roy nods, his gaze focused on her. The redhead forgot how beautiful she looks with her hair down and a turtleneck and he can't stop staring at her now that he noticed. 

“We will make the groceries for you, just give a list. Also only burner phones and not social media” Roy says, and y/n was expecting nothing less than that. She is asking for them to keep her alive and she knows they will do it, even if it means keeping her away from society for a while. 

“And we need all the information that you have” Jason finishes, reclining himself against the couch, relaxing his muscles. 

Y/n stares. She was always curious and when she thinks something - or someone - is pretty, she stares. She didn't look at Jason until she did, and now that she sees what Roy sees, she can't stop looking. 

They are both attractive men, she can't decide which she will take a look at longer, her brain working faster than normal to keep up with everything that she is thinking, from the information that they need to Jason's muscles and Roy's pretty lips.

She knows it's going to be a long ride with those two around her.

4 MONTHS LATER

It  was comfortable to stay hidden from society while Roy and Jason were dealing with the issue she put herself in. It is comfortable to stay in and watch movies, read books and cook whatever she feels like cooking. It is comfortable not having to go out to do her own grocery shopping, since Jason did that for her in the last four months, and he never forgot anything from the list. It is comfortable to have them around all the time, it is comfortable to have Lian over on the weekends to play with dolls and paint ceramics with her.

However she knows it's not going to last any longer. Actually, all this comfortable scenario is over as she stares at Roy and listens to him talk.

“It’s all over, we fixed everything up, you can go back to living your life, pookie” he says, his green eyes shining with something she can’t quite comprehend, but she knows the feeling that is attached to her chest. He is sitting in a chair in front of her, only a table stopping Y/N to reach out and hug him until her heart stops growing with pain.

She got comfortable, she created an illusion for herself once again. They were there almost everyday, talking, making jokes and eating homemade food made by her, she even got to befriend Jason in the first month, just to develop feelings for him in the third. In the second month she already knew she still loved Roy with her whole soul, and seeing him so dedicated to see her safe again only intensified that. 

She can’t explain, really, how she feels. She just knows its different but she loves them both. Roy is like a ray of sunshine that comes through the window, always warm and welcoming, always making her feel important and cared about. He was always good at making her feel like she is the only girl in the world, like she is actually important and easy to love. It's hard to let those feelings for him go, since she can’t get enough of his smile, his green eyes and his stupid jokes. She thinks that deep down, she never stopped loving him. It was like coming home from a long trip, the feeling of having Roy around again was that. His hugs became frequent again and she thinks she can’t let him go, the warmth and the intimacy are just too good and keeps her sane in the difficult days. 

Jason was a surprise. Y/N never thought it was possible to love two people at the same time and in the same intensity, but so differently from each other. At first, she thought she was going crazy with guilt because she still loves Roy, and Jason is his boyfriend. But then, slowly, she realized she fell for him just as hard as she had fallen for Roy. Jason is attentive, caring and even though he is more introverted, he understands her on a deep level. He knows when she is upset before she even acknowledges herself, he always has a good book recommendation and he always helped her in the kitchen when he could.  Lian loves him and he is good with kids just as much as Roy is. He is calm and collected and somehow, he soothes her mind. 

She loves them.

But she is sure they don’t love her back.

“Really?” she questions it, not believing that she can once again live in society without risking herself. 

“Yes” Jason says, he is behind Roy, his arms crossed and he doesn't look at her for longer than what's enough.

“Everything is clean, then?” She questions it once again, fear creeping inside her head, telling that they couldn’t do anything and that she will die if she leaves their embrace.

“Yes, pookie, everything is clean” Y/N nods, pressing her lips together and looking away from them, not knowing how to actually feel. She is happy that she is once again safe, that she can walk around without risking being murdered, that she can talk longer to her parents. But she can feel that pain in her chest, the one telling her this is the last time she will ever talk to them, see them and feel their presence. She is free to go anywhere, but the only place that she wants is not available for her. 

While she sits in sorrow, she doesn’t realize that both men are devastated as well as she is. Roy knew it was possible to love two people at the same time, to want to be romantically with two people at the same time, but it never crossed his mind that he would be living this feeling so intensely. He loves Jason with his soul, he would die for his boyfriend and kill just anyone Jason asked him to kill. But he can’t deny that he also loves Y/N, she is everything he could possibly want and not deserving to have. Her smile, her scent, her eyes, her lips, her body, her hair, everything in her was an invitation to his heart. Roy loves her with his heart, he would do anything for her too, he just did. He killed for her last night just to be sure she would be fine. He doesn’t want to let go, but if that's what she wants, he will do it. 

Jason was always skeptical about feelings until he fell for Roy, and he fell hard. He loves Roy more than he could ever be possible, he would take Roy in his worst days just as much as he would take Roy in his good days, and he would go against the world to see his boyfriend happy and calm. Jason stopped drug dealing because he thought it was disrespectful with Roy since he is clean and healthy after a long period of darkness. He takes care of all the things Roy doesn’t want to and he is nice to people that once hurt him because he wants to be good for his boyfriend and to Lian. It never occurred to him that he could possibly fall for Y/N during this time working for her safety. But he did.  And it was embarrassing. He could not look at her longer than a few minutes or his mind would drift to scenarios they would never live, and then he would feel guilt eating him up. Jason was going crazy over his feelings for this woman, she was diabolical with the way she made him feel. The way she would make him blush with a brush of fingers while cooking, the way she would make his chest warm with happiness when she smiled at him and the way she would make him feel euphoric when she complimented something about him. She was diabolical, and that's why in the last month he told Roy about his feelings.

Jason remembers how long the talk was, and he was not shocked to know that Roy still loves her and he truly understands the readhad, it's easy to love Y/N. Her ramblings about things she likes, the way she walks on the tip of her toes when happy, the way her hair falls over her eyes when she is focused. Jason feels like he is not some monster around her, she makes him feel light and makes him forget about all the vigilante stuff, he feels normal around her and good, he feels good. She makes it seem it's easy to be around him. 

They agreed to let her go if it was truly what she wanted, but if she decided to stay, they already talked about asking her out on a date, with both of them. If she didn’t want them both, they agreed that they would move on. It was the three of them together or nothing.

“What are you going to do now?” Roy asks, voice hoarse trying to keep the tears away. The young woman shrugs, her gaze on the wall next to her, deep in thoughts Roy couldn’t imagine what is about.

“A penny for your thoughts, sweets” Jason says, once again looking at her, he can feel the dread polling at his stomach and he just wants to hold her until she gets tired of him and Roy. 

“Thinking about my mom and my dad” she says, finally looking at them with tears stuck in her bottom lashes, making her look like a crying angel in the dim light of the kitchen. 

“Are you going to stay with them until you find another job?” the redhead questions, his fingers tapping lightly at the table, a clear sign of anxiety. 

“Yeah, I think I will,” she says softly, her shoulders drooping and her head falling, somehow hiding her face from the vigilantes in front of her. 

“Nice” Jason says, his voice thick with something not even him can say what it is, but he knows it’s not a good feeling. He feels like he is losing her without trying to actually have her in the first place. “They must miss you”

“They do,” she answers Jason quickly, trying to stop the conversation in its tracks, but it looks like he won’t bite the bullet.

“Where do they live, again?” the brunette asks, not wanting to stop because if they stop talking he won’t be listening to her voice. 

“New York City” 

Jason clicks his tongue not knowing what to say anymore so he looks at Roy, expecting to see the redhead formulating a plan to keep her around longer, but there is only acceptance in this eyes and Jason knows he lost the battle, he knows she would be leaving soon to NYC and if he tries to stop her, Roy wouldn’t help. Not because he doesn’t love her, but because he isn’t the type to hold people where they don’t want to be. 

Roy gets up and smiles fondly at Y/N, hiding his true feelings behind a mask. “If you need anything, just call us.”

She smiles, a tiny one, and nods again understanding that she is not wanted around when in fact what they wanted more is for her to stay with them.

“See you around, boys” she says, leaving for the bedroom that will no longer be hers in the morning.

[emchant3d]

the aftermath of Steve downplaying his injuries from the bats, a steddie thread 🧵 (also on twt here)

Eddie didn’t get it at first.

Sure, he’d seen Steve after the bat attack. He’d been bloody and a little loopy and bruised to hell, but they’d had priorities.

And Eddie was a little preoccupied, what with the whole being wanted for murder thing. Sue him if he was too self-involved to worry about Harrington’s injuries past shoving the gay panic down when he watched him bite a bat and then rend it in half with his bare hands.

And then he’d known nothing but pain, and then he hadn’t known anything at all, until he’d finally woken in the hospital, his name cleared, his nipple gone, and Steve Harrington sleeping at his bedside.

Several people - Robin most of all, pushy and panicked - tried to get Steve to let the doctors look him over, but he shrugged them all off each time. According to him they’d cleaned him up on the way in, disinfected the bites and slapped some stitches in place.

He insisted that since he hadn’t been admitted, he was fine - shook the orange bottle of antibiotics he’d been prescribed and everything. “Guys, come on,” he’d said, rolling his eyes. “Eddie just got out of a coma. Let’s focus on people who actually need medical attention, yeah?” 

It had worked. Everyone had swarmed around Eddie to fawn over him instead, and while Eddie had glared at Steve tiredly at the time, he’d admit that he’d enjoyed it.

 It was nice to be worried over. Stifling, sure, and he felt a bit guilty, but mostly he was just happy to be fucking alive and happy to have other people also be happy about it. 

So he’ll confess - he let himself be used as a distraction. He let Steve deflect. In his defense, it worked on him too. He had no idea how bad Steve’s injuries had really been. Had no context at the time to guess how much Steve would downplay them.

So yeah, Eddie didn’t get it at first. But now, months later, now that they’ve saved the world and they’ve gotten closer and they’re friends, they’re more, he’s starting to understand.

Steve is self-sacrificing. Thank fuck it’s small-scale stuff now, watching him bitch but still drop everything to be there for the kids in a heartbeat, hearing the phone ring and Steve answer with a low “hey, Robbie–” and knowing he’s lost him for the rest of the day.

But then they’re hanging out one day, just the two of them, and it’s late and they're going to bed and they don't discuss it first just like they never do, but they're sharing the bed. 

Somehow Steve's avoided changing in front of Eddie, not that Eddie's been waiting for it - he just realizes it when he turns and sees that Steve's dropped his pants.

It's funny. They've held one another and whispered back and forth and traded soft, careful kisses that they don't talk about much, but he's never seen Steve bare. It's an odd thing to realize. 

Then Steve pulls his shirt off, and Eddie's stomach lurches.

“Holy fuck,” he says, strangled, unable to hold it back, and Steve looks over at him, immediately on edge.

“What?” he asks, dropping his shirt, hand twitching to the side like he’s going to grab the nearest blunt object - the nail bat is below the bed, Eddie sees Steve’s eyes dart towards it - to use as a weapon. Eddie ignores him, walking instead to him and grabbing his shoulders.

“Stevie,” he says, soft, bodily turning Steve so he can see his back.

The scars are fucking brutal. The skin is rough and discolored, pockmarked with pinkish new flesh that doesn’t blend in with the tan freckled expanse. They stretch down the length of his back on both sides, gnarly and uneven. Eddie swallows hard.

“Honey,” he says, and watches the spine in front of him stiffen. “What the fuck happened here?” He knows it has to be some sort of upside down bullshit, and he tries to fit it in with the horror stories he’s heard, but he’s coming up blank.

Steve is silent. His shoulders hunch a little, making his back bend, stretching the taut skin tighter. Eddie raises a hand and lays the gentlest touch he can to the scars. Steve still flinches. Eddie stills, but he doesn’t pull away.

He lets the quiet sit for a few beats, then steps a little closer, free hand fitting around the jut of Steve’s hip bone to pull his back to his chest. He ducks his head and brushes his lips in the space between Steve’s shoulder blades. Feels the edges of the scars with his mouth.

It’s more intimate than they’ve ever been, but something in Eddie is pulling at his heart, telling him it’s okay. That he doesn’t need to be scared of it, not here. Not now. 

Steve has trouble talking sometimes. Eddie’s getting better about waiting him out. It’s always worth it and now is no exception. “Do you remember–” he starts, halting and quiet, then cuts himself off. “Of course you remember, sorry - the bats - my bats, not - not yours.”

Eddie just nods. “I remember,” he says. He rubs at Steve’s hip with his thumb, a soft, repetitive motion, the same kind of touch he likes to give the nape of Steve’s neck when the other boy curls up on his chest at night. 

It soothes them both, and some tension leaves Steve. “Before, uh. Before you guys got down there - well, you saw them grab me and, uh, pull me down. They kinda…dragged me.” Eddie frowns. 

“Dragged you,” he says, soft, and Steve nods. Eddie leans back just enough to see the scars again. They look like fucking road rash - and that’s essentially what they are, Eddie realizes, thinking of the dried-up lakebed, the stone and debris Steve would have been raked over. 

He thinks of the distance between the gate and where they found Steve, tries to imagine how far Steve was dragged, and he feels a little sick. “Sweetheart,” he says, soft, and Steve makes a small, pained noise. 

Eddie shifts closer again, wraps both arms tight around Steve’s middle, pulls him in close and tucks his nose into his throat. “Musta hurt like a bitch,” he says quietly, and Steve gives a tiny shrug. He lays his arms over Eddie’s, hands over hands, fingers lacing together. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Steve just shakes his head. 

“Too much was going on. We barely had time to wrap up the bites, I wasn’t gonna stop us just to patch up the rest.” Eddie gives a frustrated sound.

“We could have spared a few minutes–” Steve interrupts him before he can get a good rant going. 

“We couldn’t. You know we couldn’t.” Eddie grits his teeth.

“Fine. Fine, but what about after? When we saved the world and you were sooo adamant you didn’t need a doctor?”

“Other people needed it more than me. You, Max, fuck - Eddie the whole town was in pieces.” Eddie doesn’t give a fuck about the whole town. Never has. Especially doesn’t now, knowing Steve never got the care he really needed. 

He’s gearing up for a whole rant about it, but Steve keeps talking. “Besides,” he says, “I didn’t want anyone to worry.” And oh.

Suddenly, Eddie understands with perfect clarity and hates that he kind of wishes he still didn’t get it.

This was Steve at his self-sacrificing best - or worst. This was the aftermath of Steve putting himself last. Sure, these days it means he’s a little worn out from looking after the kids, or he’s drained from allowing Robin to change their plans on a dime.

But not long ago, the aftermath was this. Bruises, aches and pains and injuries that still bother him now, will bother him for the rest of his life. Repeated concussions and head trauma. Chronic migraines. Blurry vision and weak hearing on his left side.

And scars. Scars that he downplays and hides and does his best to not acknowledge. Something close to rage coils in Eddie, but he tamps it down. There’s nothing to rage against here. There’s only a beautiful boy in his arms who has seen enough anger to last a lifetime.

Eddie takes a deep breath, then turns his head to brush a kiss to the jagged silvery band wrapped around Steve’s throat and gets to feel and hear the soft, surprised sound he makes.

“I hate to break it to you, Stevie,” Eddie says, soft and gentle against his neck, “but people are gonna worry regardless.”

“But–”

“I’m gonna worry regardless,” he interrupts, kisses his neck again, and pulls a hand free to skate his fingertips along Steve’s bare stomach to feel the way he trembles beneath his touch.

“Eds,” Steve whispers, and Eddie hums quietly.

“D’you know why?” Eddie asks him. Steve gives a shaky little sigh.

“...Why?” he croaks, and Eddie can’t help it - he smiles, a little sad, a little fond, and so, so in love. 

“Because I care about you, sweetheart,” he tells him, and Steve squeezes his hand so hard it hurts.

“Eddie–”

“I care about you,” he says again. “I worry because I care. And I’m always going to care, so I’m always going to worry.

So if you ever downplay an injury like this again, if you ever hide a hurt like this just because you don’t want someone to worry - well. We’re gonna need to have words, honey.” Steve manages a weak laugh.

“That a threat, Munson?” he asks, and Eddie hums. He moves his hands quick as lightning, grabbing Steve’s hips and spinning him around until he’s facing him, letting him brace himself on his chest so he doesn’t lose his balance.

It startles a laugh from Steve, and the heavy tension surrounding them gives way to something softer, gentler. Steve meets his gaze, teeth sinking into that pretty lower lip, and Eddie just barely manages to keep from getting distracted.

“Oh yeah,” he confirms, grinning softly at the look on Steve’s face, cautious and reluctant but so, so hopeful. “Don’t you know I’m dangerous, Harrington? I’m definitely capable of threatening and following through.” 

Steve rolls his eyes and slides his hands up until he can lay his arms over Eddie’s shoulders. 

“You’re so full of shit,” he says, and it’s the fondest insult Eddie’s ever gotten. 

“Maybe,” Eddie allows, and he walks backward, pulling Steve along with him toward the bed.

“We can discuss how scary and threatening I am in the morning, huh?” They climb into the bed together and curl up tight. Eddie’s hand finds the nape of Steve’s neck, and Steve’s hands find Eddie’s chest, fingertips picking out the familiar patterns of Eddie's own scars.

They lay in silence for long enough that Eddie thinks Steve may have fallen asleep before he hears him speak again.

“I care about you too,” Steve says, and Eddie’s breath catches.

“Yeah?” Steve hums, nodding where his head’s resting on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” he breathes, and Eddie looks down to find dark eyes already fixed on his face. He’s got this intense look to him, and he leans in, pressing their lips together.

It’s not their first kiss, but it feels special all the same. It feels significant, feels charged, slow and deep with Steve’s tongue swiping at Eddie’s mouth until he allows him entrance, teeth giving gentle nips and tugs.

Steve’s hand comes up to rest on Eddie’s scarred chest. Eddie’s touch slips down, traces over the scars along his back. 

They’re like wings, he thinks a little deliriously. Like someone took this sweet boy and ripped his wings from him.

“Angel,” Eddie breathes when they finally break apart, lips spit-slick and kiss-swollen. Steve flushes at the name. He tilts his head and presses his mouth soft and sweet to the marred skin that snakes along Eddie’s jaw and cheek.

“Just for you,” he whispers into the kiss, and Eddie swears he feels his heart grow larger, trying to contain all the love he feels for this impossible creature. 

In the morning, they’ll talk. They’ll define things. But for now, they have this, the soft, gentle exploration of each other, slow movements that drag even slower as sleep comes to claim them.

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART III

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

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 13.5k

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

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

"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)

[karoochui]

What im hearing is:

Little crow feet outside my window bcs im feeding them- that’s besides the point!

Is there magic??? His shovel looks magic and they look magic

And do give me every detail you are thinking of for the series even if its in the distant future or not that relevant but you want to share

Crows!! Cute!! Also sorry i didnt get to this sooner my laptop BROKE (still broken but usable) and my mom and i have been looking for someone to fix it. Ive been drawing with it sparingly to be careful.

YES there is magic. Of course im still working on this storywise but im getting characters designs n whatnot done right now. Dynamics n stuff. BUT i do have some refs i made before my laptop broke.

I like to draw out certain stuff so that it helps with descriptions in the future; i have the worst memory so it helps to be able to do so. (More beneath cut)

Im so excited for moon's shadow form. Oh my god. Its probably my favorite thing right now.

Fun thing about it is that in this form he can touch you but you cant touch him. Something something you can be cast in shadow but you cant take it off yk? He's still light sensitive like this though, so if the area hes in isn't dark enough or he's hit with anything too bright he just reverts back. At that point he'd just have to rely on normal hand to hand stuff and his sand lol. The shadow form is just better for sneaking and speed. Really, he's some amalgamative idea of the sandman and boogieman. I thought it fit well with his whole "naptime attendant gone wrong" thing.

Sun's design, however, is more like if you mixed a cowboy, wizard, and gravedigger together. I made it a while ago on a whim with no intention behind it but then i ended up thinking "ykw would be so awesome".

The hat dips to cover the crescent side of his face (not intentional on his part) to symbolize his resentment towards moon and how he basically damned him to an hourglass. His eyes are easier to see bc of this which could seem more trusting (eyes are the window to the soul or whatever), but the thing is thats not normal for him (as we know) so it's meant to make him look suspicious and looming to 4th wall viewers. There's also the fact that i just thought it was cool too.

He also doesn't get a second form. Moon's sneaky and weird so i thought it would fit to give him some freaky thing iykwim. Sun, however, is a pretty "in your face" kinda guy, so his look and fight style is more extravagant and boisterous. Lots of swinging amd yelling and boom bang zap! Despite the showiness he's actually a longer range fighter. Mainly because unlike moon, thousands of years ago, he wasn't often one to get violent with his hands. His weapon is just obnoxiously large too though.

They are still one animatronic and their transformation is still triggered by light. Instead of an AI chip though (which is still in there but long dead), they live through the work of a soul. They're still physically inorganic but as far as spiritually they're as close as they're gonna get to being human. Their life and functionailty is derived from the magic itself, not the machinery. Like if for some reason they lost all their magic they'd just drop dead from a battery life long since drained.

The hourglass has a carousel-like design to it purely as reference to moon's level in Help Wanted 2.

Sorry for rambling so much but this is what i've got for you so far! I have a general idea for the plot but im tryna to make it more than what it is rn, so i dont wanna share too much of that just yet in case i change or completely toss away an idea.