#god they're both messes your honor

[minijenn]

Me: Lol idk man Stedip isn't canon or whatever

Also me, in literally the first actual chapter of the fic:

“What was that?” Steven glanced back at him, smiling. 

“Uh, n-nothing,” Dipper looked away, suddenly flustered for reasons he couldn’t quite place.

[dilf-docs]

Call It What You Want

husband!pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: you and pedro are married, but you've kept it a secret up to the point you sometimes forget there's supposed to be a golden band on your finger. but then you both get cast in your first movie together. the chemistry is off the charts, and it starts to catch upon you: will the lines between shipping and reality finally blur?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (ñom), smut, dry humping, oral (m. receiving) while pedro wears the skirt™️ (welcome to another episode of the writer's barely disguised fetish), p. in v., teeny bit of angst because i malfunction if i don't bring sad vibes to the function, the worst ever attempt of comedy witnessed by human kind, they're so down bad it hurts, jealous!reader, possesive!pedro, reader speaks spanish and may or may not have direct/indirect latino blood somewhere, use of spanglish but no translations ☹️ (boo go do your homework, citizens. that's what u get for making my dieter bravo fic flop BYE), i transcripted two real interviews for this so keep those likes, reblogs and comments up in the air where i can see 'em 🪓🪓

word count: 11,706 words

side note: hello! this is me, sliding my cv to become president of the pedro pascal fics. i'm kidding, just on duty to fulfill another request 🫡 believe it or not, i envisioned something like this but for myself IJBOL we have to keep the delusional levels UP!! i hope this meets ur expectations, it was fun to write :)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"Please welcome, the internet's newest darling, Y/n L/n!"

You walk into the set, cameras flashing bright and the band playing on the back. You hug Jimmy Fallon, and when he notices your body trembling he tells you everything will be alright. So did your manager before you stepped inside, but you can't help the nerves. You've never been this big before, and now it's all coming down together without letting you breath.

You take your seat and so does Jimmy.

"Hello, Y/n. This is your first time here, right?"

"Am I being too obvious?" you snort. The crowd laughs with you.

"Don't worry. It happens, especially when you're so young"

"Oh, please" you blush. "I can promise you there are kid actors who could handle this better than I am right now"

"Kid stars?" he lets out one of his famous cackles. "No need to be humble. You are great! Let's just talk about the year you've had: big breakout roles, ascend to fame, you're rocking it!" the crowd cheers, and you again turn into a flustered mess.

"Yeah, I suppose. It's hard to dimension when you've started as an extra for popular shows, to now being, you know, the main face of projects. But I could get used to it" you smile, "it's been a dream. I still can't believe it sometimes, look- I'm shaking"

The camera pans closer to the hand you're showing to Jimmy.

"Oh my God, even big stars like you get nervous"

"Big star? I wish I could feel like a constellation. I'm feeling more like a red dwarf star, baby"

The whole place bubbles in laughter. You feel better, your manager even giving you a thumbs up from behind the cameras.

"So, Y/n" Jimmy says once the laughter dies. "You just got casted in the upcoming Gladiator II movie, directed by Ridley Scott. How does it feel to be on your first big movie, alongside names like Paul Mescal, Denzel Washington and Pedro Pascal?"

You try to steady your heartbeat. "First of all, I have to say, it's such an honor to work with Scott. I grew up watching his movies. Like, Thelma and Louis is definitely my go-to movie. So, like, getting paired with such a talented cast is as awesome as terrifying" you answer with a laugh.

"Talking about that, you see" he leans closer, like he'll tell a secret. "I've heard things about you and a certain future co-star of yours"

You shift your position on the couch, your ring(less) finger itching. You have to avoid breathing in relief when Jimmy pulls out a picture.

"Oh. My. God"

He stiffles a laugh. No way. Has the room's temperature suddenly gotten hotter? Why is your face burning?

"Will you tell us the story behind this?" he asks, the camera focusing on the picture in question. The audience laughs, and you pray to God this is a nightmare, because it's too much embarrasment for a human to bear.

"Okay" you clear your throat, coughing awkwardly. "For my 25th birthday, I uploaded a bunch of pictures on Instagram, including ones where I was a teenager" you begin to giggle, "So. Um, there was this one, you see, that's, me, in my childhood home's bedroom, and my fans were quick to notice the poster above my bed"

"You mean, this one?" and Jimmy points it out. You cover your face with your palms. "It's a... Narcos poster" the audience laughs as you get redder. "A Pedro Pascal's Narcos poster"

"I know" you groan. "Picture this: me 18, and while my friends had posters of their favorite bands and artists, I was so different because I had a whole ass poster of a crime drama show about the world's most famous drug dealer on my bedroom" you recall with a laugh. "It was hard to explain to my mom. I believe she thought I wanted to sign for the DEA or something. When I told her I was going to be an actress, she was so relieved! She said: Oh, well. You'll die, but of hunger! Not a bullet in your head, at least"

"Oh. I'm so sorry. You proved her wrong though!"

"I did! Don't worry, Jimmy. She's my biggest fan now" you look at a specific camera before saying, "Te amo mami!"

"I see you speak spanish. I sometimes forget" he comments. "You've got one thing in common with Pedro, it seems. Think that'll make working with him less awkward?"

"I just hope he forgives me or I'm capable of moving out of the country and changing names" you giggle. "Pedro, lo siento!"

"Well, that's Y/n L/n, everyone! Pedro Pascal's number one fan" you burst out laughing in shame. "More on her lastest movie after the break"

mandoshoney: tell me i'm not the only one who started shipping pedro pascal and y/n l/n PLEASE can't wait to get content of them interacting ㅤㅤann-gell: mandoshoney y/n's pedro pascal's controversially young gf era starts now! i wonder how the press tour for #gladiatorII will go 🤔 unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they are dating ㅤㅤstarlightt180: unhing3dprincess ptwt can never tweet like normal ppl…wdym you're betting your grandma?!!!?

You were never a fan of secrets.

But then Pedro waltzed into your life with his charming smile and iconic mustache, and before you knew it, you had married him off in some church in California one random sunday morning ("I love you so much, can't wait to marry you, cariño" "If you can't wait any longer, why not now?")

Flash forward, four years later, and you'd think such event would be plastered all over the internet. But there is a reason why only you, family, a selected number of friends and your agents knew: you kept it a secret.

To the world, he was Chile's most elegible bachelor and you were a young rising star. The public loved both of you for the same reasons: charming persona and acting skills. Yet inside the privacy of your home, he was Pedro and you were y/n, wife and husband; he was yours as you were his.

And of course, no marriage is perfect, and your first real challenge is rather funny: you both get casted in your first movie together.

It shouldn't be hard, but it is. Being inside the Gladiator II set during seven months, so far away yet so close at the same time, was torture. You were Rome's empress and he's Marcus Acacius, yet behind the scenes, the actual married couple were you both.

It was hard to pretend you didn't know what he looked like without clothes when he wore his bathing suit, or that you didn't know his favorite food when Paul asked, or acting like you weren't interested in dating when a local in Malta during your trip at the beach asked you out (he didn't know who you were. You were flattered when he called you pretty in such a hot European accent, but then Pedro appeared from seemingly "nowhere" and you remembered what your real favorite accent was. He immediately called you bonita after that)

It was so hard to keep hands to yourself when he walked by you, covered in fake blood. To not think about licking it all over and under his armour. So was to pretend the thought of dry humping him with his Roman skirt on wasn't tempting. Or that the urge to kiss him got harder and harder to fight each passing day, even getting to a point where you would envy Connie for being able to kiss your husband in the open more, a privilege you didn't have.

You were loosing your mental health here. But Pedro was no better.

It was so hard to see you, the Moroccan sun shining over your features like you were an angel. Otherworldly. That he'd see red when you'd finish filming a scene with Joseph, forcing himself to interrupt the small chat you'd engage in after. He too couldn't keep pretending he didn't want to tear off those silk dresses out of your body, and kiss you out in the open like Joseph did.

He almost failed once, cornering you in the hallway of the hotel you were staying. His hot breath lingered on your neck. I miss you, he had said. You felt his hard brush the inner of your thigh. We can't, you whispered in a dragged out voice.

It was hard.

So you gave him your used panties, and you swear you could hear him jacking off in the bathroom of his room, next to yours. He'd screamed your name, and your hand had found it's way to your dripping cunt, doing what he was supposed to do; touching you the way he did. And you came, drowned out moans against your pillow. But it wasn't like when he did it.

But God has heard your prayers.

For the first time in weeks, you're lucky. You find Pedro sitting alone in the cafeteria, his phone in hand. He's still wearing his armour and skirt, not bothering to change for the break. You aren't God's strongest soldier, but you're trying not to go down on him so badly right here and now.

"Hey" he raises his head when he hears your voice, smile adoringly. It only grows wider when he notices you alone. "Thought you'd never get rid of Paul. He's like, stitched to you"

"Same can be said about you and Joseph" you sit across him, and despite most of his tone being playful, there are still hints of jealousy behind. It arouses you deeply, and with this hot summer day above you, your skin isn't the only thing that's getting sticky.

"In case you haven't read the script, I'm his wife" you wink. "Sorry this is how you find out"

He laughs loudly, and God, how have you missed that laugh. Sure, it's been there when you've been out with the cast together, but it doesn't tingle your chest as when you're the cause of it; it feels like it's for you only, and that's what makes it special.

"I miss you so much" he whispers, his hand sliding across the table, finding yours. His thumb carresses your soft palm, and you melt under Pedro's tender touch.

"I do too" you sigh, but it's instantly replaced by what could only be described as a smug face. You lean closer, whispering on his ear, the warm meeting cold. He shivers. "Wanna know something?"

"I'm all ears"

"I just came back from walking. Guess what?No one is 'round here" you lean back against your chair, shit-eating grin on your face as all his body tenses up. "Made sure of it. The trailer zone is empty too"

Pedro gulps, his adam's apple bobbing as his eyes look at you.

"Y/n" calling your name as a warning.

"What? Can't a girl find ways to have her husband all for herself?" you snort. "Please say yes" you let go of his hand, but the free fingers now travel across his broad chest, taunting him. "C'mon, we both deserve a break"

He can't say deny you anything, can he? You know it, he knows it.

Before you register, his big hand engulfs yours as you run across the set. You giggle at his rushed steps, even more when you stand before his trailer and he's fumbling his slippery hands with the doorknob, sloppy movements erratic.

"But you told me to stop" you tease, and he doesn't even let you add more because he's pushing you inside, forcing you with rough calloused hands to a chair and then you to sit over his lap.

"Fuck, babygirl. I've spoiled you way too much" he groans against your lips. "Lo sabes, ¿verdad? Just can't say no to you"

Your eyes darken dangerously, the hunger on them mirroring his own.

"How could you ever say no to this?"

You press your chest against his broad one as your lip bites into his lower one, teasing. Pedro feels his underwear getting tighter when your tongue finds its way inside his mouth, even getting a glimpse of the taste of the strawberries you had earlier before.

He deepens the kiss, and when you pull away to catch your breath, he doesn't waste his lonely mouth and busies himself with the task of kissing your sun-kissed neck, licking and pressing his lips under your jaw. Pedro goes even lower, down until he's reached your collarbone, making you groan a bit under his wet sloppy needy mouth. He's enjoying how putty you are under his intense kissing, fingers in his curls, that have begun to damp under the ablaze of the small space and pleasure that fills the air.

"Kiss me again in my lips" you whine after a while of him teasing you with kisses that get only rougher. "Pretty please, papi"

You cup his face in your hands, and Pedro's back to kissing you in the mouth, tasting all of your insides as he hasn't had in what feels like a lifetime.

"Of course, baby. Missed this pretty mouth" he mumbles in between hot kisses, his now growing boner pressing into you.

"Baby" you giggle. The skirt he's got on may hide it, but your fingers refused to wait, pulling it up. His bulge presses against the shorts he's got under the skirt, and you can feel your pussy and mouth drool. "We have to do something about this big boy" your hands pull down the short, leaving just his underwear on. He's about to remove the skirt, but your demanding hands stops him. "This stays"

His brown concerned eyes make you laugh, but you don't give him time to think about it, rather grinding against his erection. Pedro's breath hitches when he feels your daring movements, bucking his hips against yours.

The friction is addicting, and he captures your lips once again to make you feel what he can't with words: how fucking good this feels.

You keep moving over his aching dick. Your husband throws his head back, groaning in pleasure at the way your hips move against him, knowingly. His hands find their way to your ass under the flowy almost translucent skirt you chose to change in, gripping the rosy skin tightly, hands almost covering all of it.

"You wore this for me, right, cariño? Knew I couldn't say no" he groans, firm hands on your cheeks, the grinding meeting his hips now harsher. "Less with you walking around with this slutty skirt of yours"

You make little sounds he's obssesed with, dripping out of your filthy mouth.

"Fuck" Pedro groans after a while, "I need to have you, mami. Missed you so much" eager fingers make it to your top. He growls, deep within him―guttural, ready to pull it off as he mumbles naughty wife when he realizes you got no bra on, chastising you for a "rushed" plan that seemed planned all along, when a sound cuts through the air.

You both stop.

The sound gets clearer.

It's a knock. A knock at his door.

A knock in Pedro's trailer.

And you are inside. Both.

While you're grinding him.

With his skirt on.

(It's time to build a bomb and kill yourselves off and whoever is stading behind that door)

"Pedro!" a familiar accent calls. Peudrou. It's Paul. "Hey, man. Just wondering if you are here"

He's debating on speaking up when he sees your red face and rising-falling chest before him.

"Answer" you whisper breathlessly. He tries not to groan when he fills you slip out of the spot in his middle while also trying not to think about murdering Paul as soon as he gets out.

Aside from the order, you're unexpectedly quiet, and Pedro quirks an eyebrow at you. He knows you better―you're his wife after all, and if there's something he's aware of, is your inability to loose.

"I'm here" tone clipped and annoyed. But no footsteps backtracking are heard: the Irish man is still there.

You bite your lip, watching the skirt with his legs spread, a sight too tempting. Also, he was still hard, as hard as the task to not go and keep doing your job.

Oh, fuck this shit.

Your devilish hand equals the grin in your face, fingers making their way toward his unattended bulge.

"What are you doing here?" Paul asks, but Pedro's attention has completely deviated, now focused on how they land right over his clothed dick, skirt pulled up by your other hand. "I thought you were at the cafeteria"

"Yeah?" but it comes out strained, yet the younger man doesn't notice or comment.

His hips raise when your fingers press his member, massaging it.

"Yeah" he uses a tone that equals a duh. "You texted me yourself"

Pedro rolls his eyes, wishing desperately he would go away, annoying him just as much as a fly hovering above fresh food. Talking about food, fuck, weren't you hungry? He tried to warn you, holding your wrist, but all resolve was lost the moment you looked in his eyes: he immediately pulled down his briefs, dick sprouting hard.

"Well, changed my mind" his tone falters in between words, member now free from the confines of his tight underwear.

"Are you tired, man? You sound tired" Paul comments on his tone. "Came to rest?"

You spit on your hand, and he gulps.

"Somethin' like that"

You start to jerk him off, leaving little wet kisses and licks just above his dick. Pedro's eyes are hypnotized, glued to every lick of yours across his girth, the spit making your movements smoother. Sexier. Fuck.

"Well, sorry to break it to you but rest time is over. They want us back on set now"

Your tight needy lips are wrapped around his his length and it's so hard to keep the talk normal when he justs wants to yell at Paul to fuck off. Your hand is there too; you are as of help as much as you aren't.

"I'll be there, Paul, just―Fuck!"

But his attempt to cover a moan doesn't go unnoticed.

"Are you alright in there?" he tries to enter, but Pedro locked the door. He's yelling he's fine, but Mescal doesn't sound convinced. "I can't go inside; it's locked. Are you sure you are okay, mate?"

"Didn't want you to take a picture of me drooling on my sleep" he manages to get out in a monotone voice. A real win if you take into account you've gotten to a point where you squeeze under his cock, massaging his balls.

"Smart move!" he chuckles from outside. "I guess I'll see you there"

Pedro covers a moan with his palm as he's throwing his head back in pleasure. He can feel his orgams looming over, minstrations growing sloppier around his pulsating cock, the need to fill your greedy evil mouth with his seed making him sick. He's a simple man: he just wants his pretty wife to fuck his cock silly and come in her mouth in peace. Is that so hard to get this days?

Paul seems to be finally gone as Pedro can't keep containing his grunts anymore, steps moving: until said steps sound closer again.

"Oh, I almost forgot, have you seen Y/n? I can't find her anywhere" it's coming. His orgasm is coming in the absolute worst moment. He can feel you gagging at his hard rock cock, hitting the back of your throat now. Still, your hands don't loose their grip on his cock and skirt, determination filling that sexy little body of yours. It was rather admirable the effort you were putting in this. "Think she went to the beach? She said she loved it. God, that little rebel. Anyway, if you see her, tell her-"

He leans his head back once again, seeing stars. No one knows him like his wife, truly.

The sight of you drooling from your chin, the wet sounds of him fucking himself onto your mouth as your spit-coated fingers pump his girth, you gulping down the precum from his tip, his fingers holding your face roughly by the cheeks...

"Yes, Paul, yes!" Pedro barks, barely hiding the moan that erupts from his ribcage, thick shots of his hot cum hitting your tongue and deep of the throath. "Fuck off and let me get ready"

"Jesus, mate, chill. I'm sorry. See you there"

And Paul Mescal's hovering fly ass is finally gone.

"Poor Paul" you say as soon as you pull off his length, voice raspy as you huff for air. Pedro lovingly cleans rests of your saliva and his cum from your chin as he chuckles at how much audacity, courage and horniness could fit in such a small young body. "You've ruined the friendship"

"You think?" he licks off some as you sit on his lap again, tongue directly on your face. You feel aroused again, but time's up. "It's your fault. That and this"

He points down.

"Just as you used that pretty head of yours to think of the trouble you just made, think of an excuse for Mr. Ridley about the skirt"

at0michips: wait wdym paul is sick??? ㅤㅤl-u-n-a-m: at0michips he's died vnightx: i'm wondering who'll do now the do you even know me interview with pedro now :( i was so excited!!! hope they don't cancel it :( ㅤㅤunhing3dprincess: vnightx i bet my grandma it's y/n ㅤㅤat0michips: unhing3dprincess why do u keep betting ur grandma omg 😭😭😭

"You know what I think would be fun?" Pedro comments while you wait for the interview's set to be prepared.

Tour press has finally begun. That meant you could go home for a while after the filming wrapped, just to be back for the promotion of the film. You were excited of course, the experience new and thrilling. After much needed battery recharging and husband/wife time, you were ready to take over the world.

But then Paul got sick.

Today's interview was scheduled to be him and Pedro, but since he was unavailable, they paired him with you, since you both spoke Spanish (which felt slightly racist in your opinion), and because Fred and Joseph were already paired up for the other.

You leave your coffee, knowing he's about to say something stupid or endearing, perhaps both, brown liquid probably spilling out of your mouth. Or worst, nostrils.

"Tell me"

"What if we left little hints that we're together?" his smile is one of mischief. "Like you could wear my cap, or I could wear a chain with your initial around my neck, like Ryan Gosling did at the Barbie premiere"

"Or as Taylor Swift sang" you counter. "But Pedro, dear, you're underestimating our fans. You don't think they'll match it sooner than we think?"

"Maybe" he agrees. That's just what I want. "What's funny is we're about to do a type of interview where we could blow our cover"

"Maybe" you repeat, "or maybe you don't know all about me as much as you think, Mr. Pascal"

He fake gasps, feigning hurt. "Is this a dare, Mrs. Pascal?"

"No" you try to be mature for once, cutting the banter as much as you'd like to go on and kiss him right there. "Also, remember to answer incorrectly sometimes, you know..."

"There's no way I'm letting you win though"

"Pedro, no seas necio!"

The producers arrive just in time to let you know it's ready.

"After M'lady" he's back to being charming as he is, not as husband charming but just Pedro Pascal charming. The nerve of this guy to do it in front of the LADbible crew.

"Whatever" you grumble, the nerves getting the best of you as you realize this interview may or may not give away more than you've been allowed before.

"Hello, I am Y/n L/n" you present yourself. Wow, the camera is really close. This isn't going to end well.

"And I'm Pedro Pascal"

Hearing his voice soothes you. It's okay, y/n, you got this. "And this is Do You Really Know Me- No wait, it's do you even know me. Okay, let's start again: Hello, I'm Y/n and this is-"

"I don't even know anymore" Pedro jokes, making you laugh. "Do you even know me?" he asks while looking forward, now making the crew laugh.

"This is Pedro Pascal, that'll do" you sigh.

"This is gonna be sad, she's not going to know any of these" he says, but in reality, he's mocking you, the mischief in his eyes glowing as he only looks at you tauntingly.

"Same can be said about you" you tease, "we're like a million years away"

"That's not true!" he gasps, "I watch your every move" punctuating each word. God, you try not to make a face. "I have Google alerts on you"

If he was gonna play, so were you.

"Glad to know I have you alerted" with the sweetest voice ever, seeing how his friendly façade falters for a bit at the tone you've used. You laugh, and Pedro takes the chance to laugh it off too.

After the introduction, they ask one of you to keep score, and you offer yourself because, well, you don't trust Pedro.

"I'll go first" you say. "Which was my first ever role in the industry? As an extra during an episode of Stranger Things, as a voice actor in A dog's purpose" you can't help but laugh, "or as a back-up dancer in Hustlers?"

"In Hustlers?" Pedro inquires in disbelief. "You're telling me you were in Hustlers?! I didn't even know you could dance!"

Lies. You and Pedro sometimes put some bachata and dance in the kitchen. God bless Juan Luis Guerra.

"Jennifer Lopez and I are practically besties" you answer nonchalant.

You know the answer. He does too. But he chooses the last one for comedic purposes.

"I'll go with Hustlers. Now that I'm looking at you, you do have a... dancer face"

"It's okay, you can say the forbidden word. I'll take it as a compliment" you laugh, "you're wrong, though. The answer is Stranger Things"

"No way!" and it sounds as if he genuinely didn't know. Good lying son of a bitch; Jim Carrey on Liar, Liar would've been proud.

"Yes. If you look in the background of season two, on this one episode where Nancy and Steve appear to have broken up during a halloween party, you can see me drinking from a cup on a corner"

"That's so crazy"

"Yeah, I was twenty already, yet playing a highschooler" you giggle. "Wow, time flies by. Anyway, we're both at zero. Your turn"

"What film did my dad not let me see at the cinema when I was, uh, ten years old?" Pedro reads from his card. "Rambo: first blood, The Breakfast Club, Day of The Dead"

"I'm going to base this in the year you were born. Okay, so 1975. Let's see" one of the things Pedro loves about you is that you're like a film encyclopedia, but right now, that'll cost him a point. "They all came out the same year, and they were also R rated. Hmmh, I'll choose The Breakfast Club"

Your analysis was just mindless bragging really. You knew the answer the moment he started reading the question, because the anecdote came during a time he heard you listening to the movie's soundtrack ("Did you know that my dad...")

"You complain about Paul all the time, but you're just the same" he comments. "She's a real competitor, people!"

You flush in embarrasment. "Okay, that's one for me. Next question" you read the card in your hands. "What pet do I own? An orange cat named Louis after my favorite singer, a fish, or a Shih Tzu named after my brother"

The orange cat lives with you both. You're curious as to how he'll answer.

"You aren't naming a Shih Tzu frickin' Fernando" he laughs, so loud, it ends up catching up to you and the crew. "I'll go with the cat"

"That's correct" you lament. "How would you know?"

As if the damn cat doesn't love him more than he loves you.

"I follow you on Instagram" he defends himself. Clever. "We are, um, what do you call it-"

"Oomfs"

"I'm not gonna try to pronounce your made up language. Okay, my turn. Which of these characters I've played in Saturday Night Live? Naughty daddy, protective mom, or weird uncle who has a creepy sneeze" he reads out loud in a confused tone.

This is easy. It was all over your timeline.

"Protective mom" you answer on a beat.

"This isn't fair, that was really popular!" he complains.

"It's still two for me and one for you" you mock. "Now, what is the nickname the internet has given me? I won't give you clues because it's an easy one"

"Easy? You said we were million of years apart and now I'm supposed to know?"

"Well, you seem to manage Instagram so I think you'll be just fine" you tease, and Pedro just wants to rip that smirk off of you. So he caves in first.

"It's people's princess"

"What?!" your eyes grow comically large, shimmering with betrayal as you shout with an incredulous tone. "I can't believe you know" more like can't believe you said it.

"You're royalty! How am I supposed to not know that, internet darling? Besides, told you: I keep my eye on you" and he winks.

This motherfucker. Oh, he's totally sleeping on the couch tonight.

"Talk about internet darlings" your snarky tone comes out, and Pedro knows he's pissed his competitive wife off. "I guess we have a tie. Your turn"

"What are the initials of my full name?" his brows furrow. "I forget. JBPP, JPBP, JBPP"

"José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you recite. "B, of course"

"But that's too easy, everyone with Google knows it!" but then he's leaning into your ear, whispering in a very low voice to make sure only you hear. "I'll let it pass, though. Love hearing you pronounce my name, mami"

Your face grows obscenely red. "I'm back ahead. Let's see if you can keep up. Okay, here it goes" you read the card, "what is the director I've stated I want to work with? Greta Gerwig, Pedro Almodóvar, or Quentin Tarantino"

"Pedro Almodóvar, no? You said you were jealous I had already worked with him" he playfully nudges you. Too much contact, face hot again. Maybe in group interviews you'll do better, because right now, you're doing a rather poor job at controlling yourself, even as an actor; you can already picture your agent pulling her hair behind the cameras.

"It's Greta Gerwig, actually"

"What?! No way, you told me this!" he grumbles. "This game is rigged"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm still jealous. I just think working with Greta Gerwig is peak womanhood, and I gotta live that. So, Greta, if for some reason this silly video gets to you, call me. I promise I'm not that childish"

"She is" Pedro slips in, "don't call her. So unprofessional" in a mocking exaggerated tone.

"Whatever, you sore looser. Me three, you two. Next!"

"Fine. Which of these songs would I have played at my funeral? My Heart Will Go On, Purple Rain, Nothing Compares To You"

He looks at you, silently pleading you to not answer correctly. Your competitive side screams in agony.

"I have no idea. Why do I feel you've already said it somewhere, though? I'll go with Nothing Compares To You, because the first its too corny for you and the second too epic"

He scoffs, amused at the fact that you did obey, but at what cost? Pedro's well aware his princess can get as competitive, if not worse, than Paul.

"You're saying I'm not epic enough for Purple Rain? Too bad, because that's the answer" you grunt, crossing your arms. "That's right, I am cool enough to have it played. I guess we're tied again!"

"No, you don't loose a point. It's still three to two. This just gives you the opportunity to tie"

"W-wait a minute"

"Settle down" you pat his thigh, "you can still try, handsome"

He gulps when your hand meets his skin, despite the layer of clothes. It's still something that gets him on edge, no matter the years you've known each other. And handsome? You came here for blood.

"Okay, here's your chance: what image of me became trending topic on twitter? An image of me eating a typical dish from my country, an image of me watching Deadpool and Wolverine with glasses while Hugh Jackman's shirtless scene reflects on them or C, me meeting Taylor Swift at the backstage of the Eras Tour"

"The typical dish is tempting" he muses out loud, "but I'll go with the Taylor Swift one because that sounds like something that'd trend"

"You're right" you throw your card. "I'm not complaining though. Best day of my life"

"Does this mean I'm winning?" he beams excitedly. "Oh, in your face Paul! I will finally win something!"

"Slow down, cowboy. There's still some left"

He purses his lips. "Let me have this one thing, would you? Guess not. Here it comes" he starts to read his card, "At school I competed in state competitions, in which sport? Soccer, lacrosse, swimming"

"Swimming" you answer hastily, trying not to think on Pedro wearing tight little swimsuits, as you've only seen him wearing swim trunks.

"Okay, that's dissapointing. Please continue"

"I participated in which play while I was in highschool? Hamlet, The Iliad or Much Ado About Nothing"

You doubt he remembers. The only time it ever came up, was when you visited your parent's house and a photography of you during said play was showed to him by your dad.

"The Iliad, right?" you laugh. The answer is wrong: It's Hamlet. "What? I swear it was that one! It's just you have very..." beautiful is at the tip of his tongue but he refrains himself, "...very greek features"

You can't help but laugh.

"Why of course! This is a face people go to war for"

"I agree" your heart skips a beat, "but I don't think I'll make it that far, if we talk about a war"

"You big fat liar!" you slap his arm playfully. "You've played all sort of characters, from soldiers of all nationalities and places, and like, superheroes, f*****g Joel Miller, even a DEA agent. You at least learned something!"

"Wow, slow down, this isn't a filmography recount" he jokes. Liar, you mouth to the cameras. "Okay, last one: I became a viral sensation for eating what type of sandwhich in LADbible's snack wars: BLT, PB&J, grilled cheese"

You remember the video fondly. Even your brother had sent it to you, along a text that said: Isn´t this your husband?

"PB&J, I win!" you cheer, instantly getting off the chair to do a celebratory dance. Pedro doesn't say anything, just throwing the cards away while the fondness of his eyes betrays him.

pyramiidsf: i want someone to look at me the way pedro looks at y/n mybritishstyle: guys they're just friends 😭 he's like that with all his female co-stars ㅤㅤann-gell: mybritishstyle me when i'm delusional af mandoshoney: where's that girl that's always betting her grandma??? SHE WAS RIGHTFLKRGJ

"Hello, I'm Paul Mescal. I'm here with my friends from the cast of Gladiator II" Connie and you both raise your palms to greet the camera, laughing when you realized you'd done it at the same time, "and we are going to play a game about how well we know each other for Vanity Fair" the irish man introduces the interview you're filming today.

"Did they prompt you?" Pedro speaks up, "or did you just make that up on the fly?"

You laugh a bit too loud, hoping they cut it off in the editing process.

Paul goes first, taking up a card with the first question written on it.

"Okay. Question: What's my least favorite day of the week?"

"Tuesday" answers Joseph once Paul is done reading. "Oh, you're writing it down?"

"Yeah" he answers.

"You just wrote Tuesday" Connie points out, Paul's card on his legs. You laugh along the rest.

"Yeah" he repeats laughing. "I actually, when you said Tuesday" Yeah, he said Tuesday Pedro adds on the background of laughter. "I was like...I'm gonna give everybody a point for that"

"I think I deserve a point for being observant" Connie complains.

Everyone gets a point and Paul moves towards the next question.

"What was the name of my character in Normal People?"

"Connell" both you and Joseph answer, looking at each other before squinting your eyes playfully.

"Callum" Pedro answers out loud at the same time, and you laugh. He clearly had slept when you played it for a re-watch last summer.

"No, you're out" Paul pokes Pedro next to him.

"Connel" Joseph repeats, and Fred agrees to the same answer.

Paul then asks Connie what's hers after he confirms you three.

"Connor?" she asks, confused.

"Incorrect. Three points" while pointing you three.

"You got wrong" he tells Pedro, "Callum's a different character"

"See? You just don't pay attention when you watch things" you blurt out, stopping yourself before adding the with me. It would be harder to come back from that, but so is this as everyone looks at you, even your husband, subtle panic in his eyes. Where the cameras this close? How long had you been silent?

"It's just, quick funny story" you improvise. "Pedro didn't know much about Paul's career, and as I am a fan, I took the time to show him and recommend him your stuff" Paul smiles. "Clearly, my fanatism didn't rub on Pedro but a girl can try"

He laughs, before saying "So the answer is Connell" and you try so hard to remain normal like the energy hasn't shifted.

"He only plays characters with the letter C in the name" Pedro jokes, chewing on a toothstick he seemingly pulled out of nowhere. More laughs follow, and you are so grateful for how he's handling your little metida de patada.

"What's number one on my bucket list?" he asks next, "and don't look at my answer"

The marker is the only sound to be heard, and then Pedro jokingly tries to take a peek.

"No peeking" Connie berates as Pedro laughs.

"You're not gonna be able to see that" Paul replies in an anyways tone.

You repeat the same joke, before Fred blocks you. "Not you too!"

Paul finishes after a while, Connie commenting it was long. Joseph raises his hand.

"Yes, Joseph"

"Is it to see the Great Wall of China?" he asks.

"No, but it's in that-"

"It's close, isn't it?" you interrupt.

"...family of thought" he finishes.

"It's to go and see something" Pedro points out.

"Okay. Rajasthan" tries Connie. "Go to Rajasthan, for a tour"

"Travel to South America" Paul interrupts with the correct answer, "I've never been to South America"

"I'm from South America" Pedro comments, never missing a chance to shout out his dear Chile.

Paul jokes about him getting three points while the rest of you laugh.

"I was born in South America. 17 points for Pedro"

"I want points too" you jump on the joke. "I know Spanish, so I can take you there and avoid you getting lost, mi querido amigo"

"But who was born there?" Pedro counters, "you get no points"

"I think Joseph is the only person who gets a point there" Paul adds, "because everybody just jumped on the bandwagon"

"He said to visit the Great Wall of China" Pedro protests, "which is nowhere near South America"

"It really is not" Connie agrees.

"Qué gente tan tramposa" you complain. "That's unfair. I remove my offer"

"Think about bucket list, and he came up with travel to bit" he tries to reason Joseph's point.

"And by the way, where in South America?" Pedro questions.

"Don't fight, don't fight" pleads Joseph, the calm one. Fred just sits there, enjoying the chaos.

"I want, any, I want to do a big tour of everywhere" Mescal defends himself.

Pedro doesn't back down. "'Cause it's very different"

Paul starts to get angry too. Jesus, men. Competitive men of it all.

"I know it's very different" making an annoyed face.

"Well, different is nice" you intervene, a hand placing in Pedro's left shoulder. "If you stop giving points for free, I'll come with you to the big everywhere tour"

"Alright" Paul agrees. "When's my birthday?" is the next question.

"February" all of you say.

Joseph struggles with the date first, saying seventh, then fourth. Fred tries with ninth, Pedro with eight, and then Joseph starts counting from one to two. Fred counts from eleven to twelve.

"Second" Mescal reveals. "Point to Joseph"

"Oh my God, you guys are good" Connie mentions.

"That's all my questions" and it's time to move on the next one: which happens to be your dear husband, Pedro.

"Paul is like" he brings up while the toothpick dances on his teeth, "Paul is motivated to catch up on points. He's coming for you" to pick on his competitive side as Mescal looks deep in thought.

"He's coming. He's coming" Joseph repeats as Fred laughs.

"What is my full name?"

"Oh! Pedro-" Paul tries in a blink. "Something, J? Jose? Juan?"

"Pedro Pascal, something, something" says Joseph.

"Nope"

"No?"

"Pedro Maria, Jose Maria Pascal" Paul struggles.

Pedro is about to answer when your voice cuts through the air.

"It's José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you recite.

"It indeed is!" he says, smiling a bit too much. "She gets a point"

"Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" your husband repeats in a more english-friendly pronunciation, looking at the camera while toying with his toothpick.

"I said Jose, I said Jose" Paul protests.

Pedro shakes his head. "You said Jose, but then you put it-"

Connie takes Paul's side. "You did say Jose"

"But then you put it behind Pedro which eliminate- which disqualified you" he replies.

Paul gets angry. That sore looser.

"That's absolute bullshit"

"Don't worry mate, the game has just begun" you joke, making the man more irritated. "Think you can get ahead of me?"

"Joseph is still ahead, y/n" Paul counters, still irritated. "Besides, wouldn't it be cheating? You can speak Spanish!"

"So? Not like speaking a language allows you to know every person's name Paul" you mock. He just snorts, despite still being half angry. Pedro is allowed to continue, trying not to make a face at yours and Paul's banter.

"The question is, who is my favorite actor?" he reads. As the cast members laugh, he uncaps the marker with his mouth, and now you have to try not to make a face, thinking about those teeth sinking into your flesh.

Quinn raises his hand. "It's me"

"That you're my favorite actor?"

"Yeah. You said that to me once" the bald man sounds sure of it.

Paul tries to think in the background. So do you. How can you not know this? he must've brought it up at least once.

"Do you remember?" Joseph insists.

Pedro finally remembers. "I said you were- I said I thought you were special"

"Oh" he sounds rather dissapointed.

"And special can mean a lot of things" he jokes, laughing by himself. Fred laughs with you as Joseph makes a face, your laughter turning even louder when you notice Paul all moody, trying to get this point.

"Who's your favorite actor?" Paul asks, "I think we just have to shoot from the hip here guys"

"Marlon Brando?" Connie guesses.

"Is it Harrison Ford?" Fred guesses.

"Let's go with Harrison Ford just because he's my favorite actor..."

You can't believe you didn't know this. You've re-watched and watched so many Star Wars content together. He gives you a brief look, knowing you're embarrased at your lack of answer.

"As a kid?"

"He's most influent, yeah" Pedro agrees.

"What job did I have before I became a full-time actor?" is next.

"Dancer. You were a great dancer" Paul aswers. Both Fred and Joseph repeat it, adding he was specifically a go-go dancer.

"Oh, he is" you add. "Videos of you dancing are lovely. Ever thought of getting back in the bussiness?"

He laughs, what appears to be a light blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Sure, darling. When you ask me to dance, I'll be there"

Nobody comments on this, too busy waiting for Pedro to say yes or no to the answer they believe to be right. But he isn't saying it is. Now you remember why.

"Come on, come on, come on" Paul begs.

"Can any of you guys remember?" Pedro pleads.

They insist that he danced in Spain, then New York, then settle with Spain again, even Pedro confirming so. But it still isn't the answer written on the card, no matter how much the boys insist.

"Connie?" he tries. She just looks confused.

"The answer in the card is-"

"Waiter" you answer. "You were a waiter"

Now you have three points under your belt.

"Why do you always say the answer at last?!" Paul grumbles. "You are cheating!"

"I'm not" you laugh the accusation off. "You just can't accept I'm better"

"Si que lo eres" Pedro agrees. "Es divertido hacer que se enoje Paul"

"What did you say about me? It's not fair, you're probably sharing the answers!" he's still adamant on insisting with the supposed cheating issue, making you laugh.

Now it's Connie's turn, who starts with: "How many languages do I speak?"

You put a puzzled look.

"You speak seven, eight maybe" Joseph guesses. Pauls says she speaks french, "but most likely seven"

Pedro points his finger at him. "Once he gets going, he's on a roll"

"Joe's got it" Connie agrees.

"Paul, end this reign" Pedro jokes. He looks rather frustrated.

"And the bonus points" Connie offers. "Okay, bonus, what are they?"

"This is an emperor's reign" your husband adds.

Joseph answers: Italian. Danish. English. Swedish. French. Spanish. Norwegian.

Connie agrees she speaks Spanish, making you jump in excitement.

"Oh, I didn't know that!" you beam. "Wait, does that mean you did get what Pedro and I gossiped about you?"

"What?" Joseph asks.

"Nada" you quickly correct yourself. "Yo no dije nada"

"Not that much. I just speak a bit of Spanish. I mostly dominate my own language, German and English"

"You blew our cover!" Pedro nags, hitting your bare leg, yet its devoid of anger.

"He needs a bonus" comments Connie, surprised at Joseph.

"This is horrifying" Pedro says when Joseph gets another point and a fricking bonus on top of that. "This is a slaughter"

"Oh, for which film did I have a gym built in my garage?"

Both Joseph and Paul answer the question correctly, saying Wonder Woman. The latter is quick to state they both get that point.

"That's one for me" Paul says, then looks at you. "And none for you"

You stick out your tongue at him as Connie reads the next card.

"If I were to take this cast on a vacation where would I take you?"

"Ibiza" answers Joseph. Connie agrees in Spanish, with a cute and excited correcto.

Your husband feels the need to crack a joke at Quinn's expense.

"Somebody was paying attention to Connie Nielsen very closely during the shooting of this movie"

"Okay. What is my favorite curse word in Danish?"

"Fuck" Pedro tries.

"No"

"Nobody is going to get that, Connie" Paul bickers.

"Oh, I don't know any Danish" you lament.

"At least now you know how it feels" Mescal drops, making you snort. You playfully kick him on the ribs with your shoe.

"It's very simple" Connie gives as a clue. "It's the same word in every language"

"Shit" Paul tries.

"Satan" she reveals.

Everybody is laughing in confusion at that, saying there's no way you could use that.

"Vos Satan!" Connie curses.

Now it's Fred's turn.

"What is my weirdest on-set habit?"

"I haven't noticed you do anything weird on set" Paul tells.

"I have" Pedro interrupts.

They all get on a small briefing about what could it possibly be, that it was weird, and wasn't part of his character, as you ponder. It was funny before, but now Paul is behind you by a point. So think fast.

"Yeah. I would say being yourself" Pedro jokes, but surprisingly, it works.

"Me! Five points for Pedro" he celebrates as you all laugh. "Love Fred. Oh, Fred"

"Oh, oh, okay" he moves to the next question. "What is my favorite reality TV show?"

Joseph tries with Survivor and Paul with Alone. Truth is, you don't watch any show of said kind, only vagely hearing about Love Island.

"You and I have talked about reality TV" Pedro reveals, "It's just that we never identified one"

They keep guessing shows that sound like a foreign language to you.

"You know what's offensive? That I'm the second youngest of this cast and I have no idea what are you all talking about"

"She's not to be trusted" Pascal quips, "can't trust someone who doesn't appreciate the art of reality TV"

You huff, annoyed.

"Is it A&E stuff?" Pedro asks.

"Yeah, it's the competitive cheapskates" Fred answers. "It's people that really save money on everything"

Pedro gets the point because he mentioned the A&E bit.

"There's like this amazing guy that made a stew out of fish bones, and I just thought it was incredible" he shares. Then, moves to the next question. "What is my go-to crafty snack?"

Nobody remembers eating snacks on set, and Fred gives the clue that it's a drink. Joseph says it's a smoothie, and he does remember it but it isn't the answser.

"I'm thinking of something specific. That Emerge-C that you put in the water"

"Oh, that's very good" you agree, so does the rest, even discussing the best colors

"Who in the cast would I ask to bail me out of jail?"

Everyone even Pedro agree its him. Everyone gets a point, yet Joseph remains ahead.

It's Joseph's turn. "What is my favorite sport?"

"Skateboarding" Paul is so quick to answer, earning him two points for both being correct and time.

"What celebrity do I get mistaken for?"

"Daisy Edgar-Jones sometimes" says Mescal. Of course he had to bring her up.

"No, she gets mistaken for me" Joseph jokes. "Yeah, poor Daisy. But I'm writing it down"

"That was the two letters?" Pedro notices. Still, no one gets it.

It's fucking Justin Timberlake. You'd never guess that.

"What is my favorite film franchise?"

You've probaly named all the existing franchises to no avail. You think fo your dad, a huge geek, trying to remember if there is one missing.

"Oh- Lord of the Rings!" you both answer with Paul at the same time.

"C'mon!" his celebration is short lived when he realizes you tied to him.

"What is my favorite British slang word?"

Pedro says it can't be said, but Quinn insists they can, even adding it's his favorite one too.

"We can say bad words? We can say-?" but the camera beeps over it.

The answer is Bellend. What even is that? Joseph feigns sadness and Pedro keeps apologizing, even as you sit on the chair.

"Okay. I'm last"you wiggle your eyebrows with interest. "Let's see. Okay, first question: what did I take from the Gladiator II set?"

"You took something?" Joseph asks on disbelief.

"Why wouldn't I take something?"

"Is it like an item or memorabilia?" asks Connie.

"It's an item" you uncap the marker, scribbling down the answer.

"It's a short word" Fred points out, but still can't provide a guess.

"You took the rings home" Pedro answers. You snap your had on his way, probably obvious. "What? You told me" he says.

Of course Paul complains. "Hey, that isn't fair! He knew the answer before!"

"Well, if you payed more attention to me, you'd know it"

Lies. Pedro knows because it's sitting in the jewelry box inside your house.

"See? I do pay attention" Pedro playfully hits Mescal.

"I could pay you more attention" he looks at you.

"Alright, then do. Ready? Next question: what is my go-to movie? Oh, this is a good one. I'm always changing it, but most of the time I end up choosing the same one"

They all give you a puzzled look as you scribble.

"C'mon, guys! I've said it on interviews before too. Paul?" the man shrugs. "Thought you said you'd pay me more attention. Heads up, you're doing a terrible job so far!"

"Hey!" he protests. "It's not fair if the answer's changing. Give us a clue"

"You didn't give any clues to yours!" you giggle. "Besides, I don't want you to win"

"Hey, that's against the rules!"

"I'd say it depends on the season" Pedro speaks up. You quirk an eyebrow. "Like, if it's changing, I don't think your Christmas go-to movie is the same as your summer one"

"Actually" you smile fondly, "that is true. On summer, it's Mamma Mia. So I suppose, if you can't guess the one, that'll do"

"No" he smiles, cheeky. "I know it too"

"Yeah?" you challenge, "what is it, then?"

"It's Thelma and Louise" he answers, and your heart beats fast.

"How do you know?" Paul inquires. "Somebody was paying attention to Y/n L/n very closely during the shooting of this movie"

Ah, his joke from earlier. Joseph giggles behind him. Karma, he supposes.

"She said it on an interview, guys. C'mon, learn your sources!"

"Okay" you clear your throat. "What movie got me into acting?"

"Thelma and Louise" Joseph tries.

"No" you laugh, "you're just recycling the answer"

"Is it an old or modern movie?" Connie asks.

"Hmh, old" you pause, "just not... I don't know if you'll ever guess it"

"Is it a Pedro Almodóvar film?" you shake your head. "What? You're always mentioning him!"

Pedro looks into your eyes amid the others' discussion, and you can tell he remembers the conversation.

"There isn't one"

You smile, chest pounding at his soft tone.

"That's correct"

"A trick question?!" Paul yells. "I quit"

"When there's just one left?" you tease.

"Yes, because you've been hiding it all the time but no more" he counters, pointing both you and Pedro. You feel the space getting smaller, breaths going from even to noticeable. "You are sharing answers"

You try to make your breath of relief pass as a chuckle.

"I'm not even gonna win, relax. And drop the charges, please. Loose like a man"

"You didn't explain it though" Connie speaks. "What did Pedro mean?"

"While I have many movies that are inspiration to me, they aren't the reason I chose this path. I did it because I saw an Oscar's ceremony when I was 11" you explain fondly, feeling warm at the memories. "I still remember when they handed the award to Diablo Cody for best original screenplay. I don't know, man, it moved me. What it meant for young artists who came from nothing. I guess I wanted, one day, to be the one standing there, for other dreamers to see it's possible"

"Wow, that's beautiful" Connie says.

"Thank you" you get flustered. "Suppose it was worth it, you know, to do interviews about not really knowing my cast mates" and laugh.

"How does Pedro know, though?" Joseph asks.

"We talk a lot" you clear your throat. "Last one: what indie horror movie did I make a small appearence in? I'm feeling generous because it's the last so I'll give you a clue. It's a Stephen King adaptation"

Paul is the first to speak. "You where in a-"

"Yeah but it wasn't such a huge role. Don't make yourself any ideas"

"I have no idea" Connie surrenders. "Other clue, as in how many words?"

"It doesn't even have any words" you laugh. "You give up? It's 1922. Was an extra as well. Made me think Netflix had my name highlighted in the extra call sheet, because I did so many minor and background roles during that year. Grateful, though, because now I get to be Rome's empress and not fortune teller or highschool #6"

The interview ends, and the camera may or may have not captured the last seconds, Pedro's gaze fixated with you the entire time.

elysyannemimi: we all saw that right? GET PEDRO AND Y/N IN A ROMCOM ❗THEIR CHEMISTRY IS INSANE❗ at0michips: love paul and y/n so much 😭😭 gimme enemies to lovers RN ㅤㅤbobgirllll: at0michips wait what if paul and y/n are secretly dating 😳 ㅤㅤann-gell: bobgirllll quick question are u dumb unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they're married. it has to be. trust me ㅤㅤstarlightt180: unhing3dprincess BESTIE U ARE BACK

You arrived in London today. The premiere will be in a few days, and things have been, well, hectic.

Lux couldn't stop talking all the plane ride, but your mind kept going back at the email your manager had sent you before you had boarded the plane.

It's catching upon you, read the haunting message. Attached below, a TMZ article that claimed a regular church attendee had seen you both getting married. It also used a lot of the noise fans had been making on social media, connecting dots or just hyping up the undeniable chemistry. It ended with a little paragraph saying it was obvios, and they're just hoping you'd confirmed it.

You came to realize you didn't care about it anymore. Sure, the pushing around annoyed you, but the thought of still keeping your marriage under wraps feels pointless now. Why wouldn't you shout to the world how in love with your husband you are?

Yet, when you arrive at the hotel, you keep the same protocol of arriving after Pedro, who has already checked in with two keys, claiming its for him and his sister, while you ask for the key to Lux's actual room. After you swipe cards with her, you head over the room you'd be sharing with your husband.

His face appears in your frame, everything happening quickly.

"Get inside. Now"

Your body is dragged inside the hotel room, not even giving you time to swipe the key for yourself.

"Pedro!" you exclaim, between surprised and confused. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Did you read it?"

"What? The article?" your tone is filled with annoyance. "Yes, I did. Why?"

"What do you mean why?" he snaps, voice raising higher. "Don't play dumb with me. You know fans have fuelled the rumors, and tabloids have started digging every corner in fucking California"

"So, what? You're acting as if people finding out is the worst thing in the world" you roll your eyes.

"It is, yes!" Pedro bursts out, caving in to the stress.

It feels like you've been hit across your face.

"Excuse me?" you seethe, hurt etched all across your features. "Would it be the worst thing in the world to admit you're married to the person you supposedly love the most?"

"I love you, y/n. It's just-"

His voice softens, trying to reach for you, yet you pull back, his hand falling to his side in an akward manner. He sighs in frustration, running a hand through his hair as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"I love you" he repeats, sounding much more sure this time.

Your frame seems smaller as your voice comes out hoarse, filled with emotion, appearing to be in the brink of tears:

"Then why do you act like you're embarrassed of me?"

He hates himself for making you feel this way, making you think things that aren't true.

"I don't. Never" he emphasizes. Then, tries to reach once again when you move a little bit closer to him, recognizing that's your way of letting him know you're ready. "You're the most precious thing in the world to me, don't ever think the opposite" then he sighs, heavy. "I'm just scared"

You silently ask him to explain, rubbing his thumb soothingly across his tattoo.

"You're so young, and I'm, well- I know we're aware of it, but people are cruel and the press is ruthless. I don't want to see your name dragged across the mud because you decided to marry me. Your career is starting, and I'd never forgive myself is something happened to you because of me. Not trying to make this about me, yeah? But this industry is fucked up. You've work hard to get to where you are, and it'll be unfair if you'd loose it. I'm scared because us..." he wavers, words trailing off. "I want us to be. I wouldn't want to live in a world without you, i-it would kill me not to have you be my wife"

You desperately want to kiss off the worry on his face, but let him finish.

"N-not saying our love is weak, or anything! That a couple of opinions or tabloids will- you know? Just, I-I don't want them to break us apart. Mi vida, you're the light of my life. Please, forgive me, I-"

He feels his throat closing up, words failing to come out. You sense the grip on your hand to be stronger, immediately letting loose of it.

"Hey. C'mere" your voice is tender, allowing him to bury his face in your stomach as you comb his messy curls with your fingers. "It's okay, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere"

He lets himself melt under your touch, his mind loosing itself in the soft of your digits and your perfume up his nostrils. He's again breathing normaly, hands now hugging your waist.

"There you go. Better?" Pedro nods, still not being able to talk. "That's okay, take all the time you need. We have all day"

"Do we?" he raises his view, his eyes soft yet there is something else to the brown shade.

You hum as to nod. "We agreed to join Lux for dinner. It's barely 1pm"

"Tell me you're thinking it too" his voice cuts throughout the air, boucing off the tapestry on the walls.

You laugh, nervously. "I don't think I do"

"Hmmh, I see" he stands up, towering over you. "You sure you don't?"

"You sure you want this?"

Before you know it, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss, cutting off all words to be said. What a waste of air, anyway. You are quick to reciprocate, whimpering against his lips.

Pedro picks you up like you're as light as a feather, his arms flexing as he carries you and places you on the bed, frame hovering over yours. He breaks the kiss to breath, but you're pulling him back in, his hold on your hips tighter and the wet spot in your panties wetter.

"Look at you, pretty baby. So needy" he whispers against your face, hot breath lingering above your lips. "And mine. Mía. Only mine"

"I am, yes. Yours only. Need you so bad right now, papi" you answer in a rush. "Now shut up and fuck me"

"Con gusto" he chuckles darkly, "gotta keep the wife happy"

"Happy wife, happy life" you recite, stripping him off of his plain shirt, revealing his toned torso, bulging biceps defined by the movements. You gulp. "Fuck, papi. Gotta thank Marvel for this. I love all of your versions, but I can work with this too" you dreamily stare at him, your hands cupping his face.

He strips the rest of his clothing, but a cute blush adorns his cheeks.

"Yeah, well, it's Scott's fault too"

Your impatient fingers reach the middle of your panties to rub your clothed pussy, letting out a sound that darkens his hazel orbs.

"Fuck that guy" you mutter. Pedro laughs.

"Thought you said you loved the guy"

"Until I learned what he said about your body" you groan, still rubbing. "Connie told me"

His hands now travel to remove your clothes, almost ripping them off.

"Who cares? I just want to fuck you now" he breathes out, practically drooling at the sight of your damp panties. "Lemme take this off too"

He unhooks your bra, seeing the hard nipples. The urge to lick them is so bad, but his desire to fill you silly to the brim is stronger.

You see his hesitation, which is why you grab him by the neck to pull him in for a kiss. He kisses back fiercely, labored breaths as he struggles to focus on your lips, his wet mouth darting to your jaw, neck and collarbones. His hands roam all over your body, needy.

"Gotta be inside of you, mami. Can't wait any longer"

"Then stop waiting" you plead, tugging at his boxers with urgency.

Seeing you so cockhungry, lips parted and pupils blown wide makes his hard dick twitch with anticipation.

He mutters a labored fuck, aligning himself to enter your sticky folds. Pedro enters your tight pussy with a low groan, burying himself deep inside of you, used to his length by now. You're basically begging for it, nails digging and eyes supplicating.

He can't deny you anything, can he?

A messy whine leaves your widened mouth as you adjust, pleasure mixed with pain.

"Mhmm" you moan.

"Mhmm what?" he mocks. "You asked for it. Now take it, cariño"

He thrusts deeper into you, watching in awe how his dick enters your pussy; it was always perfectly, your pussy made for him.

"You're drippin' baby" his rough voice caresses your cheek. He kisses the are, giving a lick to the sweat starting to form. "S'fucking tight too"

You move your hips towards him, trying to augment the friction. The overstimulation starts to cloud your sense, reducing you to a whiny mess as you grip his steady arms.

"I can't think of anything but you, baby" he confesses between grunts, "filling up your pussy to the brim, you dripping with my seed for days"

You moan at the filthy words.

"Love how you take my dick, amor" stretching you as Pedro moves in and out. "S'made for me"

"Yes" you moan, skin slapping sounds bouncing off the walls. "Fuck, I love your dick..."

His pace picks up, and it comes to a point where he's just fucking you silly, his grip on your hips surely to leave a bruise as you keep spilling obscene sounds of pleasure from your lips.

"Your pussy's mine, yeah? No one else gets to have you like this"

"N-no, just you, Pedro. My h-husband" you manage to squeeze, more moans vocalizing the pleasure you felt with each thrust, his big dick inside of you moving in a a steady rhythm, making your eyes roll back further and orgasm closer.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust, and he finds impossible to resist the urge anymore, licking the sensible skin and hard nipples, your hands moving to his back, scratching him harshly, both chasing your release.

"Please!" you whine out loud, not caring how desperate you sound.

Harder. Faster. Rougher.

But your husband knows you, so he indeed starts to fuck you harder, heavy breaths and slippy kiss noises hanging in the spaces between each thrusts. He pants with every motion of his dick, a knot forming on his belly.

"Shit, baby. I think I'm gonna cum. Gonna come so hard"

"Do it. I'm on birth control, remember?" you groan, feeling your high approach as well. "Fill me up, please. Give me all your cum"

Your bodies move as one, precise thrusts hitting exactly that sweet spot of yours repeatedly, chasing your orgasm. For a brief moment, your eyes lock with his and then he's saying:

"I love you, y/n. So much"

Your heart skips a bit, his dick twitching inside as his gaze glimmers with adoration and possesiveness, teeth grazing your skin with marks for him to call you his.

"I love you too, Pedro. More than you know"

A final thrust is delivered. Fuck, feels so good you think you hear him say. Just like promised, he fills you with his release, shots of his thick, warm cum inside your sticky walls. You follow soon, back arching, toes curling, and both head and eyes rolling back. Pedro falls on top of you, his broad body collapsing over yours, as you both pant hard, trying to steady your pulse and breath. He then removes himself and positions you to be the one on top now, lazily throwing the covers over your bare bodies. We need to shower, you said, but he argued you'd do it later before going out.

"I needed that" and you happily hum in agreement at your husband's dragged out words.

Your head falls and rises, with the movement of his chest, silence settling on the previously filled with sex noises room. That until he speaks up:

"One day, I'm gonna fill you up so good until you have my babies, mami" he murmurs, just then realizing what he said. But you snuggle closer, hand and legs drapped over his bare body. You look at him closely, seeing nothing but certainty on his eyes.

I choose you. I'll always choose you.

"Whatever it is with you" your nose brushes his, a small sweet kiss on his lips, "I want"

His eyes shine, probably with tears or the glow of affection.

"Let's do it"

"What?" you look into his eyes for any sign of doubt, bull all you see is love. "Pedro, are you serious?"

He nods. "Wouldn't you want that?"

You feel the corner of your lips pull up.

"Never have I wanted anything more"

poppysplayground: Y/N AND PEDRO RED CARPET DEBUT AT THE LONDON PREMIER OF GLADIATOR II WTF I JUST WOKE UP ptwt is in SHAMBLES mostannoyingbillioner: UM HELLO pedro showing up with two hot women on his arms LUX GIMME A CHANCE pompeiianbollockr: WAIT WDYM THEY ARE MARRIED?!??! ALL THIS TIME?@?#? HOW???! NEED BIGGER CAPS TO SCREAM I'M GOING INSANE at0michips: that article better come out now or i'll burn the TMZ building ann-gell: not me thirsting for a married man 😭😭😭 how they kept this a secret for so long?? we should've noticed ㅤㅤunhing3dprincess: ann-gell i did. knew betting my grandma was the way all along ㅤㅤpyramiidsf: i'm gonna start betting my grandma too

[oddyseye]

What is Xenia?

Xenia is not just good manners. Xenia a test of character, and it's also a reflection of how the Greeks understood the relationship between humans and gods. Xenia was about more than offering food and shelter to travelers. It was a demonstration of how the gods governed human interactions and a reminder of the importance of hospitality as a virtue. The host was expected to offer protection, provisions, and shelter, often without asking the guest for any information or demanding any immediate return. The guest, in turn, was expected to be respectful, not to take advantage of the host's kindness, and to eventually offer something in return, though this could be more symbolic or reciprocal rather than transactional.

One of the key aspects of xenia was the idea that hosts could never know whether their guest might be a god in disguise. The gods were thought to frequently take on human forms to test mortals' hospitality. This divine oversight made it all the more important to treat every guest with respect, as any breach could bring dire consequences. This belief extended to travelers, strangers, and even those whose identities were unknown — showing hospitality was considered a moral obligation, an offering to the gods as much as to the human guest. While gifts were often involved, the true essence of xenia lay in the trust between the parties: the guest trusted the host to provide, and the host trusted the guest not to abuse their hospitality.

Violating xenia was one of the gravest offenses a person could commit. The punishment for such violations wasn’t just a matter of breaking a social norm; it was seen as a violation of divine order.

Xenia, in Homer's world, is a divine law.

The gods themselves are said to be the ultimate enforcers of xenia, so you'd better believe that disrespecting hospitality could get you in serious trouble. It's not just offering your guest a meal; it's offering protection, shelter, and a safe passage. If you don't uphold that, you're basically tempting the gods to mess with you, and they love doing that, trust me.

Remember when Telemachus first lands in Pylos? Nestor and his family treat him with the utmost respect, offering food, shelter, and stories (and Telemachus finds himself a boyfriend even LMFAOO). This hospitality isn't just a nice gesture; it's a social obligation that reinforces both the personal and communal ties within Greek society. Everyone's in this together, and they all have a part to play. Telemachus' growing appreciation for this custom reflects his coming-of-age journey, as he sees first-hand what it means to be both the host and the guest in the grand game of survival and honor.

For those who are yet to read the Odyssey, the scene basically goes like this:

“You’re the son of my old war buddy, Odysseus? Welcome! Come in, sit down, have food, have shelter, don’t ask questions- Here, my son is your age, share a bed with him :3 !!”

It's the perfect example of how xenia isn't just about being polite; it's about honor (excluding that last part lol). It's about building trust with someone you don't know based on a shared understanding that we're all part of this cosmic social contract. And Telemachus? He's learning that he's part of a much bigger world than just his little island. But he knew how to respect xenia even before he left Ithaca. We see this when he invites Mentor (Athena in disguise) into his home and offers him the munchies before even asking for the stranger's name. He's practically the golden boy of xenia.

And now let's talk about my favorite group of people — the suitors.

Honestly, they're just...the worst at xenia. Like, they didn't even try. Antinous? This guy is the poster child for everything you should NOT do in literally ALL of Ancient Greece. He straight-up mocks Odysseus, who's dressed as a beggar, by insulting him and telling him to leave, throwing a chair at him, and...shocker, he's the first to die. Who's surprised?

Xenia is a two-way street. It's not just what you get — it's what you give. You can't take all the food, drink all the wine, and then act like the host is just there for your enjoyment. You've got to offer something back. That's the whole point of xenia. And sure, you might not have gold and riches to give, but you can show gratitude. You can at least not insult the person whose house you're eating in.

Now, there's one suitor who stands out in the worst possible way, and I'm talking about Eurymachus. You know, this guy isn't just disrespectful, he's an outright traitor to Odysseus. Eurymachus was not just another arrogant man in Odysseus' hall; he was someone who, as a child, had been a guest in Odysseus' home. He was one of those who had been taken care of by Odysseus, fed and treated well. This relationship makes his betrayal all the more significant because it wasn't merely about a stranger dishonoring a host. It was about someone who should have known better, someone who had once been treated as part of the family, turning on Odysseus when the opportunity arose. Eurymachus' betrayal was far worse because it was not simply a violation of xenia; it was a betrayal of trust. He had been in Odysseus' house as a boy, and now he was trying to usurp everything Odysseus had built.

Then, of course, there's Amphinomus. The one suitor who has a tiny bit of decency. He's like, "Hey, maybe we shouldn't kill the beggar and the prince, maybe we should be decent human beings...Please??" And yet he's still part of the whole disgusting group. He doesn't even try to follow xenia; he just doesn't get as bad as the rest of them. So congrats, you're the “least bad” one. But that's like being the least offensive stain on a white shirt. You're still part of the mess. I still think he should have been spared and I would have kissed his cheek for it, but whatever.

The suitors were trash hosts because they didn't respect the rules of hospitality. They took, they didn't give back, and they thought they could get away with it because they were powerful. Well, guess what? No one's untouchable. Not even rich, entitled jerks like Antinous. There's a reason those guys met their end the way they did, and it's because they broke the most sacred rule in Greek society.

Because xenia is not just guarded by the gods, but by Zeus himself.

Zeus' disinterest in Odysseus' personal life is clear, but when it comes to the suitors? That's a whole different story. While he might not always be in Odysseus' corner, Zeus has no tolerance for anyone who dares to violate the divine laws of xenia — particularly when it involves the destruction of a sacred home. I will remind you, Odysseus was a KING. The suitors are not just disrespectful; they're an insult to the gods. And when Telemachus prays for their downfall, and Zeus takes notice, and he responds. His action is swift and dramatic, a sign to all that the gods are paying attention. The deadliest omen Zeus could send is unleashed — two eagles, fierce and fighting, tear at each other over the heads of the people. It's a promise that the suitors' time is running out. What's key here, though, is that Telemachus' prayers don't fall on deaf ears. Zeus doesn't just show his wrath through omens; he actively watches over Telemachus on his journey. When Telemachus sets sail, the sea itself is dangerous and unpredictable, but Zeus protects him, ensuring that he does not meet the same fate as many other men who venture into the vast unknown. In a way, Telemachus becomes the embodiment of the gods' will. He is protected, guided, and tested.

Zeus may be unpredictable, but when it comes to the suitors, he is clear. They've broken the divine laws of hospitality, and their fate is sealed. It's not just Odysseus who will return to Ithaca — it's Telemachus, now under the gods' protection, who will be key in restoring order. The suitors, as arrogant as they are, might have thought they could escape the laws of the gods. But when Zeus speaks, no mortal can escape divine justice. I would like to add that Penelope was not exactly the host. Penelope, despite being a queen, isn't really seen as the one holding the hospitality duties. It's Telemachus who's stepping up to do the job. He takes on the responsibility that comes with being the son of Odysseus. He is the man of the house, making him the proper host (no matter how unwanted these guests were). This is why Penelope is allowed to, you know, stay locked inside her room all day. Telemachus is not. As the host, he has to keep the suitors in check. Penelope's ability to host is muted because of the chaos the suitors bring, and because it's not her job in the grand scheme of things. She's playing a supporting role now, keeping the suitors entertained with her wit and tricks, maintaining the appearance of a woman in control, while Telemachus is out here actually doing the hosting duties. Had Penelope been the one to oversee the hospitality, Eurymachus could have been spared. Why? Because the suitors who gave Penelope gifts (and I'm talking about real, physical, valuable offerings) would have been seen as showing respect to Odysseus through her, and the gods would have intervened. If Penelope had shown Eurymachus even the slightest favor, Odysseus would've been in the position to forgive him. The gods might've even compelled him to spare Eurymachus for the sake of their bond. But nope. That's not what's going down here. The suitors aren't just disrespecting Penelope; they're disrespecting Telemachus, who is the true host of the household. So their fate is sealed the moment they disrespect him.

Amphinomus, for all his faults, wasn't totally awful. He had the sense to not join in on the worst of the disrespect. He even suggested that maybe they should go easy on Telemachus and the beggar. If Amphinomus had left, like, actually left, as per Odysseus' advice, he could have been spared. Why? Because his mistake was one of passive disrespect. He wasn't actively mocking Telemachus, but he wasn't doing enough to step up and stop the madness either. In the end, when he refused to leave, he sealed his fate. Because as long as he stayed in that house, violating xenia by staying after the laws were already broken, he was part of the problem. So yeah, the suitors had it coming. And if any of them had actually understood the sacredness of their role as guests, they might have seen the signs, repented, and avoided the mess they got themselves into. But as it is, none of them learned the lesson, and in the end, their disrespect for Telemachus (and Odysseus once he returned) led to their doom. At the heart of xenia was the idea of balance: a guest should not overstay their welcome, and a host should not neglect their duty to care for their guest. Both sides of the exchange were expected to uphold their part of the contract to ensure the social harmony that the concept of xenia represented. Whether it was a nobleman offering shelter to a wandering traveler or a stranger arriving at a city and receiving shelter from a local family, xenia was meant to bind individuals to a larger, sacred social order that ensured mutual respect and protection. Those who followed the rules of xenia were seen as civilized, as they respected the basic social contracts that allowed society to function. On the other hand, those who violated xenia were labeled barbaric, their behavior seen as a sign of moral decay. Xenia isn't just about food and shelter; it's about trust, honor, and not getting struck down by the gods. Offer respect or expect divine consequences. Hospitality isn't just a rule, it's a cosmic law. And the gods love enforcing it.

[alpinesmommy]

worship in decay (bucky barnes x reader)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, uses of feminine pronouns, jealous bucky, emotionally immature reader (not explicitly just to a degree), mentions of god, they're in love but they're broken your honor. no use of Y/N can't think of anything else, let me know if i miss a tag! Author’s note: i really enjoyed writing this little bit, just wanted to share, maybe someone somewhere wanted to read it! continuation of this MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY

You don't explicitly remember texting him, not right now anyways. You laugh, your head an airy mess as you try to maintain a sense of normalcy despite the unreadable look on Bucky’s face. 

You reach for the shot glass, the man next to you has turned shifty-eyed with the arrival of your big, menacing, glaring visitor. You can feel yourself become more skittish.

“I’m fine, Buck.” You say with a tight smile.

Bucky scoffs and rolls his eyes. Then he licks his teeth, then he looks toward the ground in contemplation for a moment.

“Yup.” He says, a beat skips, then he’s crouching down, his shoulder meeting the crux of your abdomen before he throws you over his shoulder.

“Bucky!” You squeal, the glass spills down the back of his leather jacket, soaks his hood and he shakes his head. “Bucky wait!” You try to fight, but only for a moment before the dizziness in your skull takes over and you hang in defeat because if you don't, you’re going to throw up all over his shoes and his ass.

There’s no interference from any other bar loungers as he heads toward the exit with you. He’s Captain America’s best friend, you are the safest you can be right there.

“Bucky put me down!” You finally say, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. Bucky’s metal fingers dig into your waist.

“No.” He says as he walks out into the cold, crisp night air. The wind gets sucked out of you for  a moment as you adjust to the temperature change. It’s sobering. 

Yet his grasp is firm as he carries you.

“I’m gonna hurl.” You threaten after a moment before Bucky relents, only a little.

Despite the barbarity of his actions of carrying you out, he places you down delicately, but his hands stay on your forearms as he holds you against him. The hard metal of his left causes you to shiver in his grasp.  He looks down at you, and there’s a fire in his eyes, one you haven’t seen before.

He’s angry.

“Who was that guy?” He asks, his eyes dart between your eyes to your mouth, his breathing is heavy as he leans in toward you. You feel like he’s taking all of your air, both with his proximity and the way he’s holding you.

You open your mouth, though no sound comes out, and Bucky’s patience snaps.

He shakes you once.

“Who was that?” He repeats.

“Nobody!” You automatically shouts back.

Bucky doesn’t like that answer, because you both know that was a lie. He releases you and lets out a low growl as he runs a hand through his hair. He’s muttering low beneath his breath as he paces away from you, you can hear him swearing.

“Why did you text me?” He says suddenly, wild and burning as he turns to you. You flinch, not expecting such ferocity in his voice, he’s never used that tone on you before.

“I-I don’t know…” You admit, your heart rate begins to pick up and your mouth feels dry.

“You’re lying.” He says, eyes narrowing as he moves to grab your chin, forces you to lock in on him as he glares you down. You whimper. 

“I said I don’t know!” You say as you try to wiggle out of his grasp, Bucky’s hands are firm on you, unrelenting.

“Try harder.” He growls.

In truth, you just wanted to see him.

And you can’t tell him that because then it shatters the illusion of whatever this was. You had missed him, and you wanted to see him, to touch him, to smell him. 

And you wanted to tell him you hated seeing him with another woman.

But you didn’t really think he’d come and track you down and haul you out of a damn bar like a neanderthal. You didn’t even think he’d read the damn text. Your head swirls.

When you don’t answer, Bucky looks down at your mouth, and he growls before he forces your chin forward and his mouth is on yours. It’s not sweet and romantic, it’s hungry and it’s intense and you gasp. 

Bucky doesn’t back down as he shoves his tongue in your open mouth and squeezes your ass so tight you whine.

When he pulls away, his expression is glowering and he’s still in your space. 

“Come on.” He says, his hand falling from your chin to hold your hand and guide you down the street. “I’m going to fuck you, Come on.” He says. And you follow, tail tucked firmly between your legs. 

-

“Say it.” Bucky says, his right hand pressed against your mid back, his metal hand tightens around your left hip.

Your head hangs, your hair provides the perfect shield of your face from his gaze.

Your face is scrunched, eyes closed and your teeth ground together as his cockhead strokes over your G-Spot before brutally plunging hard against your cervix.

The sensitivity of your cervix and the aggression he displays has you seeing stars as your mouth falls open.

Short, heavy grunts sound from your throat followed by gutted pants. Your body thrashes with each hard thrust, his hips knock against yours.

He means business, and you don’t say a word.

Bucky squeezes, before his hand lifts from your hip and claps against the fullness of your ass. You hiss from the sting and your pussy clenches around his shaft from the slap.

“You have to say it.” He says, his voice a low, gritted growl as he continues his savage thrusts. Though there’s an underlying softness, a desperation in his voice as he pants out.

A high-pitched whine sounds as you grip at the sheets, your manicured nails clawing into the fabric. You know what he wants from you.

You want to give it to him.

“I-I…can’t.” You whimper, your eyes opening as you continue to take his cock. You can’t tell him you love him when he fucks you like a bitch, like all the men you’ve had before. The brutal fucking isn’t what makes you love him.

It’s the fact he came to find you tonight, the fact that he takes you for coffee and still messages you after the two of you spend the night together. It’s the fact he isn’t scared of the fact that you're fragmented and broken. He takes you just as you are, and doesn’t want you to be anything else.

And that he’s told you he thinks you look pretty in pink.

Tears begin to form in your eyes as he drills into you, your back arches and you focus on that rather than the fact he’s trying to fuck you as a form of punishment. You like it anyway even though it’s wrong.

He knows how to love you, he’s shown you. But he’s just as bad, just as self-destructive and this is the only way you both can make a point across without causing permanent damage.

Bucky’s metal hand slides down your hip, past the apex of your thighs before he’s using the pads of his middle and forefinger to rub your clit with just the right amount of pressure. You gasp, both from the firmness of the metal and the pleasure that shoots from the base of your spine.

“Quit looking for dick everywhere.” Bucky suddenly says, his voice low and strained as his head falls back, he’s pussy and power drunk over you, and he can’t stop.

“If you need to be fucked, you have my number, sweetheart.” He grunts. “You know where I live.” He says, each word punctuated with a hard thrust straight into your drenched cunt. You whine, more tears produce, and you’re so close.

Bucky always fucks you just the way you need, just right.

“I’m gonna cum.” You whisper into the sheets, and suddenly he’s off of you. He’s pulling out, his fingers are gone and you nearly scream from the sudden loss. Your eyes open wide and you panic.

What did I do? What did I do?

The fear isn’t long-lived, Bucky grabs you by the waist and turns you over so you’re on your back. He grabs your knees and spreads them wide before he slots himself between your thighs again. His cock is already prodding at your folds.

You’re both panting, and for a moment his eyes dart up your body, and your gaze meets. He’s got that wild look in his eyes, but it’s muted, more tame than earlier in the evening.

He looks at you with softness, despite the brutal intensity that he set.

Bucky brings your legs over his shoulders, and he leans down at the same time as he breeches your pussy once more. He closes his eyes as he lets out a breath, his forehead rests against yours as he feels you throb around him.

“I can’t get this tight little pussy out of my head.” He whispers into you as he begins to move again. The reply is a needy whine as he picks up his pace. “It’s my favourite place to be.” He groans.

Bucky worships you like you’re the reincarnation of a God.

“Bucky.” You breathe, your hand comes down to play with your clit. You need it, you can’t hold it anymore, the way he’s whispering in your ear, the way his cock drags against your walls, you’re going to lose your mind.

“No.” He is quick to snake your hand away, his hand engulfing yours as he brings it above your head, his whole body presses into yours as he fucks into you, his hips grinding into yours now. He presses his lips into yours, taking full advantage that your mouth is hanging open as his tongue licks in it.

It’s like he’s trying to possess you.

“Come on, pretty girl, cum on my dick.” He urges hotly. “Let me feel you.” He pleads, soft, and that’s what does it for you.

You fall apart, completely shatter as your pussy rhythmically clenches around him. Your body wraps around his, clinging to him like a tether and you hold your breath. Bucky's cock is your favorite thing to cum on.

He groans, and suddenly you feel him tense against you.

He's cumming too, thick and warm cum straight into your womb as he bites down against your shoulder.

His eyes are closed and he swears he can see God. He can feel God. He never thought he’d find it after all these years.

After a moment, his head rests against your shoulder.

You're both panting, sated and more relaxed now as Bucky collapses on top of you. You feel like jelly.

You grunt, though you don't push him away.

[megsdoodletag]

@cardinalcanis YES HELLO THANK U strap in, ur getting both of them (they are a Pair, Not Sold Separately, Etc.)

Their names are Mercurius and Medea, and they're based on famous mothers! and i am putting this under a readmore for your own protection sorry in advance

We'll start with Medea since he's a straightforward adaptation of Euripides Emps probably should have seen coming. For those unfamiliar with one of my favorite plays, Medea is the wife of Jason of Argonaut fame, and they have two children. After Medea does a bunch of stuff for him (like helping him with that pesky golden fleece business) Jason leaves her to marry a princess, stating that the boys will have a better life if they come with him to be named his heirs, that Medea's wedding vows don't count as she is a foreigner, and also by the way she's being chased out of the city. Medea is so insulted, disrespected, and left without recourse she, even with the entire ensemble cast of the play attempting to talk her out of it, murders Jason's new princess and then also her own sons. She kills the boys with her own hands and then refuses to let Jason see the bodies, stating that, seeing as how Jason is so preoccupied with heirs and having a legacy, this was the only way she could hurt him in kind. It's an act she knows is terrible and she herself wrestles with her love for the children as she makes her decision, but the fact that, as a woman, she has no way of truly harming Jason's reputation in the way he's harmed her drives her to it. What makes Medea interesting to me, personally, is that, while unquestionably condemned by every mortal present on stage including herself, the boys' murder is framed as justified by the gods, because she gets to ride off in a golden chariot at the end of the play. Olympian gods play eye-for-an-eye rules and Medea has dealt herself in.

anyway. I'm sure you understand where this is going. Medea the primarch is one of the boys who does Not appreciate getting dragged into this Imperium of Man mess, but he is not one who hates his sons. He asks for certain concessions, largely regarding the rearing of his legion and cultural practices on compliance worlds, which are initially granted. The legion is perhaps literally the Emperor's Finest. They are efficient combatants but pride themselves largely on politics. Medea leaves marines on worlds he conquers, and they integrate into the populous as vaunted heroes and benevolent guardians, solidifying the compliance into permanency. Many of the higher-ranking marines are known by name by serfs and citizens, appearing as individuals in pop cultural creations and imperial propaganda alike, and many of those left on world have families and extensive communal networks. Medea's legion quickly receives new recruits to fill the absences after every compliance. His is a stable geneseed, and his rate of compliance never falters. Eventually, his is unquestionably the largest legion, rivaling even the eventual height of the Ultramarines, though it never appears this way because most of the vets are scattered, happily guarding their new home planets. Except to one who is paying attention to all the numbers. The Emperor orders Medea's legion to rendezvous with him. The entire legion. Any stationed marines are to take leave of their posts and return to Medea's command, just...for the time being. Ostensibly this is for a moment of recognition, a ceremony of honor to commemorate their incredible service. So incredible a service, it involves, in part, the Emperor joining them to personally direct the next leg of their crusade.

Realizing the emperor intends to command over him, use his precision tool as a sledgehammer, and otherwise does not intend to uphold the concessions initially granted to the legion in the process, Medea is left backed into a corner. Feeling as though something terrible will happen if he does not comply, he summons his scattered marines, and the massive fleet makes the trek to the rendezvous planet. The Emperor boards the flagship and finds the entire legion carefully, methodically executed, any geneseed and trainee of any level destroyed, and Medea alone, having single-handedly dismantled the pride of the Imperium over the course of the trip. Even if they spun it as an incident of primarch-gone-crazy, the total loss of what are essentially the early Imperium's posterboys is a bad look for Emps. Worse, he hesitates to destroy Medea and the primarch gets away, slipping into the warp. It's an embarrassment, and one best forgotten. Many of Medea's planets have to be re-conquered, as even with their minds wiped they fracture from the Imperium without the guidance of their beloved marines; not even the nicest legions seems to be able to fit themselves into the gaps Medea's veterans have left behind, to say nothing of those that draw unlucky and are met with unforgiving new overlords.

So. Mercurius is based on Hermione, from The Winter's Tale not [redacted], who's name is taken from Hermes/Mercury. Hermione is a queen whose jealous husband accuses her of infidelity, causing the death of her eldest son, the abandonment of her new (supposedly bastard) daughter, and her own death by broken heart. Despite all the drama, The Winter's Tale is, technically speaking, a comedy, (it's the one with the 'Exit. Pursued by bear' stage direction), and at the end of the story it's revealed that Hermione is not dead, but has been living in seclusion nearby, which she exits when the remorseful king has found and accepted his rejected daughter as his own.

Mercurius is a jovial fellow who likes to give gifts and make jokes. He grew up on a planet that had. well. absolutely nothing wrong with it actually. It's fine. He lived in a city called New^2 York and had access to the internet and regular therapy sessions. His mom sends him birthday cakes every year. Every conversation with his brothers feels like the 'that's rough buddy' exchange, but he's got a dual degree in liberal arts and psych so he generally makes it out ok. His geneseed isn't UNstable, but there's certainly something weird about it. Nobody can quite figure out what it is though, so they leave it alone; it certainly isn't smarts. His marines aren't exactly the sharpest crayons in the box. Instead, they mostly find work as communicators and messengers, running between legions.

Mercurius and Medea were close confidants, paired in an attempt to facilitate better standards in Mercurius' marines via proximity with Medea's perfect darlings, and when Medea's thing goes down, Mercurius has a hard time of it. He slept through his alarm that day and walks into the confrontation between E and Medea like

and is distracting enough that Medea gets out. He is accused of having known about Medea's intentions beforehand, though he insists if he had known he would have stopped his brother (true). Still seething, the emperor doesn't believe him and orders him stripped of his title. Mercurius' legions are separated and disseminated among the others, largely the Ultramarines, while his own presence is redacted from the records and memories of all in the imperium. Mercurius is sent out with a small remainder of his faction in a kind of deathwatch penance and, according to records destroyed as soon as Emps memorized their contents, he died during a warp-related incident, before the heresy.

My Totally 100% Ultramarine Successor Chapter They're Totally Blueberries I Promise, the Imperial Lares, have a high concentration of Merc's geneseed in circulation (they are not aware of this). They're terribly lucky, have mostly spent their time as a chapter chilling in a suspiciously quiet part of Ultima sector, and are generally just kind of. well. my friend started calling them The Emperor's Silliest for a reason. That's a whole nother discussion though please ask me about the Lares.

anyway that is the very long serious narrative version. Real talk, mercurius and medea are the comedy/tragedy twins. like in a narrative, genre-defining sense.

Medea, as Tragedy, basically cursed the imperium in its entirety but also mostly his dad, and is probably some kind of chaos god in his own right at this point. probably absolutely responsible for whatever kind of luck the lamenters have going on.

Mercurius is the fridged mom, the Comedy that's only allowed to shine because the Tragedy goes Too Far. he’s still not a great fighter, but he is good at saying what a down-on-his-luck space marine needs to hear. He appears as a blackshield deathwatch marine and is a sort of saint figure; things just end up ok if he’s around, in a kind of indirect way. Your reinforcements will make it on time. The cultist trips on a rock trying to shoot you. The guardsmen you’re camping with share their seasoned meat. things that are too small to be properly documented. nobody really knows where a lone blackshield marine goes when their missions are over. Nobody asks.

further notes:

-A lot of people think Medea is using warp equivalent jedi mind tricks to do the compliances the way he does. while he is most certainly a wytch, his strange ability to waltz into a place and declare imperial law without getting shot to hell is actually largely due to a quirk of his geneseed that involves the production of specific human-affecting pheremones. Whatever the opposite of transhuman dread is, that's what Medea's legion has. This is a part of why he leaves a few on every planet, and why those planets fall back into chaos so quickly after they leave

-Medea's legion was so good at peaceful compliance the marines had a culture of being proud of de-escalation, often boasted about limited combative deployments, and it was considered a status symbol to keep 'virgin' weapons - bolters that had never been fired, swords that had never seen blood, etc. They can definitely fight, don't misunderstand, they just pride themselves on not having to.

-Medea's thing going down the way it does provides the overarching plot for Juno's story; her returned uncles (largely Horus and Konrad) are now free of the spell that forces their minds not to think about their lost brothers and they immediately start digging. From their perspective, something just Went Wrong out there and Merc and Medea were never heard from again and dad immediately came home and handed off the reigns so he could retire. hello.

-like merc, medea is never directly responsible for any misfortune suffered by his proximity, it's mostly an aoe on such a narrative scale it usually can't be traced back directly to him, but he's also tucked a lot deeper into the warp than merc is and way more fucked up about things so. he probably could be directly responsible for things. if he wanted to be.

-medea and merc's situation is part of why horus is made warmaster (as opposed to emps continuing to handle things himself as a commander). He figured at least having the appearance of giving the boys autonomy would be better received.

-the psykic backlash from medea's sons' murder is responsible for an amount of warp entities, many of which go on to attach themselves to word bearers (it's very important to me that medea is not the cause of the heresy, because imperialistically inclined nation imploding badly under it's own weight is perfectly satisfying as is, but he's certainly not Not involved. the wb would have found other daemons to pact with but there is something about a selection of them being basically they're cousins. not that any of them are aware of this of course)

-merc is fully blind due to an accident during the scattering (the amount of ‘never saw it coming’ jokes is. not few.)

-merc is the one who taught tarik the bear joke.

-merc's faceclaim is Jared Padaleki but SPECIFICALLY season 1 sam winchester. bc that's exactly the vibe i want from him. ur estranged brother shows up and tells you u have to drop everything and jump in his junker of a car to go fight demons and ghosts and shit with shotguns full of salt and he's like we have to do this. we have to go live out of motels and stab people in alleys. to save the world. and ur like. dude i'm trying to get a 4 year degree. from like. college. like in real life. ????

-merc looks kind of intimidating in blackshield armor bc. well. it’s deathwatch blackshield armor. and he’s small for a primarch but that’s not saying a lot. and then he takes the helmet off and it’s like oh! friendly :))

-i think originally merc's deathwatch mission was to find and kill medea himself, but he decided he wasn't really feeling it tripped through a warp portal and got a little distracted. He wasn't lying, he would have tried to talk medea out of killing his own kids, but he isn't exactly a loyalist either. I think now he'd like to go find his brother and bring him back around, but again, he's not particularly competent and he keeps ending up involved in Various B-Plot Shenanigans so. that might take a bit.

-if they had ever fought, medea would not have killed mercurius. Like he wouldn’t have tried i mean. I’m not sure you can kill merc at all tbh, my man’s basically a loony toon, but i digress. medea held no ill will towards anyone except emps when he did his murder spree, and he definitely has no interest in trying to kill merc.

-following that: medea left all of the mortals (techpriests, serfs, guardsmen, etc.) alone when he killed his legion. His personal remembrancer actually followed him into the warp when he escaped, which is how there's unfinished art and shit of the event floating around on abandoned ghost ships for juno and pals to discover later

-are the Lares lucky because they're merc's, or because medea's grimdark shroud avoids them out of courtesy to his brother? who knows.

-ahriman is going to finally get into the good part of the black library and he's going to find merc reading calvin and hobbes strips with his feet on the coffee table and he's going to be so upset about it. (cegorach does get a kick out of the two of them, medea for giving emps what he deserved (he might have been involved with helping medea disappear after the incident, now that i think about it) and merc for just kind of existing as he is. merc thinks cegorach is a little mean, but because merc's kindness doesn't come from a place of pride, he generally isn't the target of whatever cegorach is pulling)

-recognizing either entity will drive the viewer insane because the spell (which is not a memory wipe per say, it's more like a blocker that won't let you linger on it, even if you are directly presented with knowledge of them) will try to erase the knowledge as fast as it appears. this is why neither of them have made a true reappearance. other than the fact that medea is sulking harder than anyone has sulked before, and merc is in Genre Containment for Plot Reasons.

-juno would not go insane if she saw either of them bc the spell malcador cast did not account for xenos primarch hybrids, so she’s fine, actually.

if u made it down this far ty!! hope u enjoy my guys, feel free to ask more about them. or juno's verse in general. I Just Think They're Neat etc. also if anything contradicts canon directly somewhere. it's my canon now it's literally fine. james workshop said so himself.

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Raiden x Reader: Grieve Together

(Fun fact: mk vs dc was my first mk game. Guess I am a lil young)

Context: After not preventing Kung Lao's death/accidentally killing Liu Kang, Reader has been avoiding Raiden. He teleports to their memorial wall at a convenient time.

Warning: plain angst... still running out of shit to write🤧 ~~~~~~~~~~~~ The candles crackled as they functioned as the only light in the room beneath the portraits they're lit for. Two giant frames mounted on the wall to honor the ones who fought for this realm.

Also known as the two close friends you had and loved to the very end. Kung Lao and Liu Kang.

How unfortunate you are to lose both of them in such little time. And unexpected. While some call it coping, you knew who to blame all along. That fucking Thunder god.

The very first time you were in his presence, you felt so little and anxious. Always scared to mess up even on something little. No matter how times Liu and Lao, and Raiden himself reassured you. All that aura from a god is scary.

And now, you think you hate him. You think so little of him. And no one can ever say you didn't try to give him the benefit of the doubt.

When Kung Lao got his neck snapped, it didn't first occur in your mind to blame Raiden. With you and Liu Kang, he was ready to put down Shao Kahn for that.

And then soon, when you didn't go with them the same time Shao Kahn attempted to conquer Earthrealm, you find out by the developing actor, Cage, that they got into a fight... Raiden killed Liu Kang.

Seeing his body absolutely tore you just like when the shock settled after Kung Lao. Covered in all those third degree burns that not even Raiden could've healed up... That's when it all started.

Raiden tried to speak with you. You were forced to hear him out. It was an accident. He was only defending himself. You believed him. Yet, you were unbelievably angry.

There could've had to been another way to stop Liu. And with all the "future sights" Raiden gets, how does he not see when Shao Kahn kills Lao like that? Everything was off with Raiden. And at that, you told him you didn't want him near you ever again. Later, you left a notice at the academy that you were dropping out.

Now, you were back here again. Only to visit your friends. "I'm sorry I don't ever visit you guys. Know I still love and miss you so much." You dip your head before the two beloved portraits.

A flash inside the room startles you and you flinched slightly before peeking over your shoulder.

Raiden.

When you see him lift his head up and those glowing eyes spot you from beneath his hat, you instantly decide it's time to leave. Respect has been paid already.

Sighing in vexation, you got up, ready to make your exit, until-

"Hello, Y/n. I hope you find yourself well."

Eye twitching, you give him a sharp look. He still looks as guilty as a kitten that torn up curtains.

The man gestures a hand back to the floor where you were kneeling and praying at. "May I join you in tributing?"

You shook your head and pushed past the tall being. "Thought I told you to stay the hell away from me.

Raiden doesn't say anything right away but watches you go to the door before commenting. "You're not alone, Y/n."

Your hand rested on the knob. You had to think. "Yes, I am. Those two were the only ones I had." You looked at him with pained eyes. You would not elaborate with him any further on that. He wouldn't understand.

Turning from you, the god kneels on the ground before the tribute. "I suffer every second of how their fates came, if that makes you feel better. I wish you were around more. That way, we could suffer together and not alone."

He pauses and looks at the beloveds on the wall.

"You have every right to be disgusted with me. Angry with me. Or hate me, even. I understand. Because sometimes, I conflict with myself that way."

"I don't want to hate you." You admit. "But... You couldn't have done more? Are you sure you didn't see anything that could've prevented Kung Lao's death? Or restrain Liu?"

The lord looks at you quietly and shakes his head. "I promise, I had no visions that foretold Kung Lao's death. I would've stopped it without doubt. And for Liu Kang..."

You could've sworn you saw shame in his face as he turned back forward.

"I was scared."

That's something you don't think Raiden would ever say. But he's being truthful with you.

"I'm only a demigod. Part of me is still a man. And men can feel fear. I shouldn't have used my powers to stop him. I'm not asking for forgiveness, but please trust me when I say I did not mean to hurt him."

The doorknob turns back into its regular position as you let go of it. Inhaling and exhaling, you walk back to the tributes and sit next to Raiden.

"I believe you." You tell him. "I just... I'm just so angry. I was a sad person before they came in my life. I thought I won. Now, just like that, they're gone. I don't want to be alone again. Especially now that I'm grieving." You frowned and looked at the two.

"I don't hate you. I'm just extremely upset and ended up putting it all up on you. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry." Raiden tells you. "And you don't need to be alone."

"I don't have anyone else."

"You have me."

You laughed ever so softly. "Right. You have priorities."

"I do." Raiden does not sugarcoat. "Earthrealm will always be my priority. But I won't leave you alone if thats what you need."

He rests a hand on your shoulder for reassurance. "Only if you're agreeable with it."

You knew you needed any supporting company. "Okay."

You didn't think too much on it but you were against his side as a strong, caring arm was wrapped around you as you both looked upon the deceased pair.

"We will grieve together for them." Raiden calmly mutters. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Rushed ending, sorry🤷🏿‍♀️

[bruciemilf]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE MORE REGENCY AU

I feel like Bruce would, once he fell for Clark, constantly blink his pretty eyes at him and look like this:

Or this would just be How He Looks and from the moment Clark laid his eyes on Bruce he was smitten. Well, until Bruce opened his mouth.

Clark would absolutely be able to handle Bruce's attitude, cuz as you said, he's patient. He would look at Bruce like this whenever he got to snooty:

And Bruce would immediately shut up or conclude his rant, crossing his arms and pouting.

Also because I wanted to imagine them more clearly, my pinterest girlie came out and I found THESE:

Clark:

Bruce:

Bruce would be SOO showy as Brucie and probably actually enjoy the slightly feminine look, while Clark is more into earthy/academic tones. Clark would prefer professional outfits, only going all out for particularly important events (like a wedding👀) and Bruce would actively schedule events where he could show off a new outfit.

I assume while this is a regency it's still Gotham, and there are still worldly evils like poverty and people seeking to do harm, so I was wondering your take how Bruce would combat this. And would Clark support and secretly send letters to printing presses to boost morale or spy on the waynes?

(also I am working on your hockey player au ask I did not abandon it)

BESTIE YOU'RE SPOILING ME.

God I love Bruce flashing his fawn eyes and expecting everything to fall into his lap. Picture this, if you will:

Bruce draped over Clark's lap, disarming smile on pretty pink lips, glistening with a touch of rogue, fluttering sharp eyelashes. " we don't need to be married to do what we want, my lord"

While Clark is amused, even a little endeared, he pushes Bruce off, watching the little lord fall with a squeak, " You're trying to get me to annule the marriage, and unfortunately, I have no interest in indulging you."

Bruce hissing, a cat-like sound, full of scorn, saying Clark wouldn't like him when he's NOT indulged.

From then on, Bruce's second plan sets in motion. Pranks. Mischief. Antics Clark chooses not to reprimand (because truly, he just doesn't care that much) because they're more playfully mean than harmful.

Bruce offering to help in the kitchen only to pour extra salt on Clark's favorite dessert--- which Clark eats with a blank face to Bruce's fury.

Bruce smiling so sweetly at Clark and saying he gave the kitchen staff a vacation. So he'll make meals from now on.

"Great."

" splendid."

"Wonderful."

"Fantastic."

Clark, chewing slowly, " Maybe more salt next time."

Your honor, they're both messes, they're both completely enamoured. Clark loves his sassy little husband, and Bruce throws a tantrum if Clark is gone for more than a few days due to military briefs.

And ooo I think it'd be cool if Bruce truly didn't care about class and just spent time with whoever while trying to repair the peasant's lifestyle. Clark fell for him when he cuddled a sickly kitten on his satin sheets bc he promised the cooks daughter he would

[duchessonfire]

Savior Carl!AU re-read Part 2 Chapter 4

Follow-up of my re-read of Part 2 Chapter 3. If you're not interested and don't want to have your dashboard spammed, you can block the tags Duchess reads and Savior Carl AU reread.

Commentary for Part 2, Ch 4 below the cut (spoilers for part 2 ahead):

Okay first of all, early 2024 Duchess, why are you writing "the man" everywhere?? I have had to edit over 15+ "the man"s in this chapter. WHY???? JUST SAY 'NEGAN' OR 'HE'!! I feel like as writers we tend to fear repetitions, but one thing I've learned over time is that the brain doesn't register stuff like the main characters' names or very common pronouns such as "he" or "she". If there's a repetition that appears glaring it's more "the man" or "the boy" because that's definitely not that common. Another thing I tend to fear is confusion, especially in mlm ships where both characters are refered to as "he", but honestly just looking at the context helps clear that up most of the time.

Alright, now that this is out of the way, let's talk about one of my fave chapters ever.

These scenes in the infirmary/parking lot were definitely supposed to be THE sexy moments of part 2 because, back when I was writing it, I didn't mean for part 2 to have any real smut, which I planned to hold off on until part 3. However, when I was writing the last chapter, it soon became clear that the smut was going to happen earlier than expected.

Now, let's start at the beginning, which is Carl becoming officially a member of the Saviors:

When Carl makes them stop for a fifth time, Big Richie growls, “He ain’t gonna be happy.” “Yeah? What’s he gonna do? Throw me back in the cell?” The Savior frowns at his acerbic tone. “Man, what crawled up your ass and died? You got a beating. Welcome to the fucking club. We’ve all been there. The Doc will patch you up and then it’s business as usual. Just be grateful you ain’t on the fence after the shit you pulled.” Carl huffs petulantly but he knows Richie is right. He’s caught a lucky break until now. Negan never disciplined him the way he did the rest of the guys, no matter how many times Carl stood up to him. If he had been any other soldier, he would have gotten an attitude-check the second he told Negan to go fuck himself that day in the mess hall, when he had humiliated Carl into making a sandwich. Instead, Negan had given him a pass, and then afterward, when he’d saved his life, he had let even more things slide, never doing more than playing fucked up mind games that sent Carl chasing after his own tail like a mad dog. He can’t complain, not after riding the gravy train for so long. He’s a Savior now, and that means following the same rules as everyone else. His shoulders deflate and he adjusts his grip on the wall to start climbing down again. Seeing his resignation, Big Richie tells him almost consolingly: “Hey. It ain’t so bad. At least you’ll get pain pills out of it. I’ll trade you some good shit for them. Just come to me first, ok?”

I've mentioned before that I really enjoy writing the background characters of Sanctuary and this is a good example of that. To me, the Saviors are this sort of frat house, this boys' club of adults that are basically reverting back to a teenage state because of the very high-school/college campus atmosphere that Negan is fostering. The Saviors know they're the jocks/cool kids, but they are also very much the first recipients of Negan's mercurial temper. Negan doesn't bother disciplining the workers himself, cultivating instead a sort of detached paternal/benevolent god attitude. With the Saviors, however, it's very much a rough coach-football players type of relationship. By getting punishment from Negan, Carl won a badge of honor that he didn't even know he was missing before. He's only realizing now that the preferential treatment that Negan had given him until now had further isolated him from the other Saviors, who kept their distance from this strange teacher's pet who spent so much time alone or with Negan himself. Carl becomes aware of this when Big Richie gives him a metaphorical clap on the back and tells him that becoming Negan's punching ball is part of the job. Now that Carl has received a beating, he's officially one of them.

Now, for the infirmary scene:

“Finally,” Negan exclaims when Big Richie leads Carl into a small medical room. He’s standing with his hip cocked against a brown exam table, rocking Lucille through the air back and forth. Next to him, Carson is busy doing his inventory, though Carl is pretty sure it’s just a front considering how the Doc keeps sending nervous glances at the baseball bat. “I was starting to think my favorite little serial killer had kicked the bucket during the night. Sure would have been a shame, after all the great progress we made yesterday.” He straightens up and takes a long look at Carl. “Jeez, you look worse than the shitbags of the fence. I gave you a whole damn day to yourself and you couldn’t even take a shower?” He rolls his eyes. “Big Richie, get him some clothes that don’t reek of piss. And close the door behind you. Let’s give the kid some privacy for fuck’s sake,” he calls out as Richie exits the room, his tone mockingly indignant. The door clicks shut and Carl becomes hyper aware of the fact that he’s trapped in a small room with Negan. Judging from the way Carson gulps nervously, he’s not the only one. “Well, come on, Doc. Do your thing. Can’t you see the state he’s in?” Negan tuts, but his rakish smile contradicts his feigned disapproval. He saunters to the other end of the cramped room and settles near a metal cabinet. There is a glass jar full of lollipops next to his elbow and he shoves his fingers inside, grabbing a handful of candies. He puts them in his pocket, save for one which he starts unwrapping.

All of this was inspired directly by canon. In The Cell episode, Negan has Daryl beaten up and when Dwight brings him to the room that Negan hopes will be Daryl's, he tuts disapprovingly when he realizes that Daryl's bruised lips prevent him from drinking a glass of water, and he then berates Dwight for not thinking of giving Daryl a straw in the first place - which is the summum of hypocrisy when Negan is the one responsible for Daryl's bruised face. This is one of those little cruelties that make Negan's character so delightful, turning sadism into a schoolyard game. The lollipops, of course, are from the Hostile and Calamities episode when Carson is fixing Dwight after a beating - ordered by Negan, again - and Dwight grabs a handful of lollipops from the jar in the exam room. Do I obsessively rewatch seasons 7 and 8 until they overtake my brain completely? Yes. Yes, I do.

“No painkiller,” Negan says suddenly, and they both turn toward him. He’s been silent until now, watching without a word while Carson probed Carl’s wounds and disinfected the occasional cut. He pops the candy out of his mouth, his eyes now deadly serious. Dr. Carson looks between Carl and Negan, conflicted. “The ribs will hurt a lot. I really think it’d be better if—” “He can take it. Right?” The question is aimed at him, a clear challenge, and Carl realizes then that just because he killed the worker like Negan wanted him to doesn’t mean the punishment is over. He knows it’s another test, but at least he knows the answer to this one. Shane made sure of it. “I can take it,” Carl says, his answer meant for Carson but the defiant tone aimed at Negan. Judging from the way his eyes twinkle, he gets the message. He puts the lollipop back into his mouth and Carl gets a glimpse at his pink tongue wrapping around it before his lips close on the white plastic stem.

One of my fave things about these two is how they get in their own little bubble and have this understanding between them that leaves the other people around completely puzzled. Carson doesn't understand why Negan would deny a Savior painkillers out of the blue. If a Savior is punished, he doesn't get medical care, period. But Carl knows what it's about. It's another test, another way Negan wants Carl to prove his worth. Because of course Negan's favorite boy isn't afraid of pain. I love writing Carl as a badass who takes pain without flinching so this scene was an absolute joy to write. These two are soulmates so someone as sadistic as Negan would inevitably fall for the one person in Sanctuary who isn't scared of pain.

A gloved hand appears in his field of vision and drops clean clothes on the table in front of him. Richie must have brought them at some point, Carl probably too busy biting back agonizing screams to notice. He slowly turns his head to look up at Negan who’s peering at him from under his lashes, his cheek bulging out from the lollipop still in his mouth. “Attaboy,” he murmurs. A dark and shameful thrill runs through Carl at the praise. Negan leans forward, the plastic stem of his candy grazing Carl’s sweaty temple. “Just between us, I got a lil’ bit hard watching you take it so well.” Carl’s face heats up, from degradation, or disgust, or something else he can’t hope to name. Negan chuckles and turns on his heels, walking out of the room. Carl knows he’s waiting for him outside the door when he hears him whistle another cheerful song. Negan isn’t done with him yet.

In case you were wondering, yes, Carson heard the whole exchange and, yes, he was deeply disturbed by it. Only a handful of people notice the growing sexual relationship between Carl and Negan, and Carson is one of them.

He just wants to leave, to go back to his room and sleep some more. Maybe have something to eat, considering he can’t even remember the last meal he’s had, but then Negan straightens from where he’s slouched against the wall and stands toe to toe with him. The side of his cheek goes round as he rolls the candy with his tongue. Never letting his eyes off Carl, he grabs the plastic stem between his fingers and takes the candy out with a wet and sucking sound, his lips wrapping around it one last time, leaving them pink and shiny. He offers the gleaming lollipop, the head of it an inch away from Carl’s mouth. “Open up,” Negan says. Carl’s breath catches in his throat and he freezes, a deer in headlights. His eyes dart from the lollipop to Negan’s unreadable expression. After a long second, he stomps a foot on the ground and roars with laughter. “Lighten up, kid, I’m just messing with you,” Negan cackles before popping the candy back into his own mouth. He wraps a lazy arm around Carl’s shoulders and leads him away from the infirmary, his mood shifting so swiftly that Carl gets whiplash. “C’me on. Let’s find you something to do.”

Negan is good at playing it cool, but the truth is: if Carl had indeed opened his mouth and taken the lollipop, there's nothing on God's green earth which could have stopped Negan from putting Carl down on his knees and shoving his dick in his mouth. Period.

“Now, you fucked up yesterday and everyone knows that, so I can’t just send you back to Dwight. The garden is prime real estate, and only boys who behave get to work there. We’ll just have to find you something else to do for a few days, until it looks like you’ve learned your lesson.” Carl’s heart skips a beat when Negan suddenly pulls him even closer, flush against his side. His breath rustles the long hair around Carl’s ear as he whispers conspirationally, “But you and I both know you’ve got a lot more fuck-ups coming. I’m getting your cell cleaned as we speak, so it’s all nice and ready for your next little rebellion. I’m even thinking of putting your name on the door. Really make it official.”

Little foreshadowing for part 3 right there ;)

Negan whistles, a long melodic note, and Carl drags his eyes back to him only to meet his devious smile. As much as he craves Negan’s attention, he can never decide if he’s more thrilled or terrified to have those gray eyes zeroing in on him, like a sniper’s bright red scope aimed directly at his head, a hair-trigger away from shooting him down. Negan twists Lucille’s handle, the way he always does when he’s thinking about some terrible trick to play on him, and Carl knows he’s coming, can feel it the way that mammals have learned to feel a predator’s eyes on them, a deep-seated instinct a million years in the making. Negan’s lips stretch into a feral grin, and he’s ready to pounce when Joey shifts and makes a small noise next to him, nervously expectant. Negan blinks, turning on his heels and breaking whatever tunnel vision tied him to Carl only a moment ago.

These two are so obsessed with each other, they keep forgetting they aren't the only ones left on Earth.

Carl scrambles back, narrowly avoiding getting stepped on. He looks up, glaring, but Negan’s eyes are full of laughter, obviously reveling in playing a game when he’s the only one who knows the rules. He keeps whistling, faster now, stepping forward again, making Carl step back in tandem, a twisted version of a dance. With a clang, his back hits the side of the white truck they use for the drops to other communities, and Carl realizes only too late he has been herded straight where Negan wanted him, in the shadow of the largest truck on the lot, far away from prying eyes. The cold surface of the truck is like ice between Carl’s shoulder blades, piercing through the layers of his shirt and t-shirt and chilling him to the bone. In front of him, Negan puts a gloved hand next to Carl’s head and leans forward. Out of nowhere, Carl is reminded of that time in sixth grade when he used his hall pass to sneak into the school gym, not wanting to listen to Miss Harnett drone on about geometry any longer. There, he had caught a glimpse of a couple of nine-graders under the bleachers, in the very same position he and Negan are now. Hazily, Carl wonders if the girl’s heartbeat was as loud as his, blood rushing in her ears and turning her cheeks flaming red like his surely are now. “So,” Negan says slowly, his pink tongue darting to wet his lips. “What did you think about Athena’s little show back there? That’s how you get a guy wrapped around your finger, by the way. Ain’t nothing better than a tease who leaves you wanting for more. She really knows how to get me all worked up,” Negan chuckles warmly. They’re so close, the husky sound of it sends shivers from the root of Carl’s hair down to the tip of his toes.

Negan just casually telling his 18 yo Savior that he should act toward him like a wife. Also one thing you need to know about me is that if I can make Negan herd Carl like a shepherd dog herding cattle, I will. It's one of my favorite dom/sub trope.

I'm not going to quote the entire parking lot scene but I absolutely love it, especially because Carl barely says a word. Negan is the one doing all the talking but, because he's so watchful of Carl, so obsessed with every little sign he displays (Carl has 0 poker face skills, which makes it easy for Negan), he can read Carl like a book. It's actually something I'm constantly surprised about in the Savior AU: how little Carl actually says. Because the story is told from Carl's pov and we have access to his every thought, it feels like Carl is constantly talking, when in fact he very rarely says anything out loud, preferring to watch from a distance instead. Carl is an extremely introverted character in the Savior AU, but that's no problem for Negan, who talks more than enough for two. However, it's always interesting to see the scenes when Carl does talk, because those are the scenes when Negan can get a good glimpse at what's happening inside Carl's head. And when you look at those scenes (the rooftop in part 1, the cell in part 2, etc.), you'll notice that, for all that Negan thinks he can read Carl like an open book, when Carl does talk to him, it's usually to say something Negan didn't expect. Every time that boy opens his mouth, Negan is in for a big surprise.

“You should touch yourself tonight,” Negan says, almost companionably, and Carl is so used to obeying his command that his hand twitches forward before stopping mid-motion. He tries to hide it by tightening his fingers into a fist but the way Negan’s lips stretch into a devilish smirk tells him he failed.

Carl is such a sub it's a miracle he doesn't just put himself on a leash and hands the end of it to Negan.

Also, while in the infirmary it's Carson who was the uncomfortable witness of Carl & Negan's increasingly disturbing relationship, in the parking lot it's Dwight. Those boys are not as discreet as they think they are, and the most observant members of Sanctuary are starting to pick up on it.

Now, for the masturbation scene. Honestly I hadn't planned to actually write it. It was inevitable for Carl to jerk off while thinking of Negan but I thought I'd leave that up for the readers to guess. As horny of a writer as I am, I tend to avoid smut unless it serves a purpose to the story, because smut is so difficult to write that I can't really afford to make it gratuitous. However, I ended up writing this one because I realized that Carl's sexual awakening (both in terms of the fact that he's attracted to a man and that he was so sexually repressed before) did serve an important role in the story. Re-reading this scene, I'm very happy with it, because it encapsulates what the whole fic is about: Carl's trauma, Negan's intoxicating personality (as in: both toxic and attractive), the fact that for all of his cruelty and perversity, Negan is the one person that makes Carl feel alive after years of being emotionally abused by Shane. I often think of Carl through a Pinocchio metaphor: he was a wooden puppet for Shane, but Negan is the one who breathed life into him and turned him into a real boy. And real boys are horny, sorry, Carl, I don't make the rules.

Conclusion; tldr: Negan spends the whole chapter sexually harassing Carl who is so into it he might as well be flopping down on the ground like a cat demanding to be pet. Negan is trying hard to be cool about this and not ravish Carl against various surfaces (the exam table in the infirmary, the truck in the parking lot...).

PS: did you spot Michonne and Tara in the Terminus flashback? ;D Rick and Carl almost met a few times in the Savior AU, being in the same location without realizing it.

You can find the commentary for Part 2, Ch 5 here.

[depravitycentral]

Lee this toooootally isnt inspired by your latest Oikawa post because I feel like he's a closet prude but who in HQ do you think holds on to their virginity the longest based on their canon characteristics? Glad to see you writing again, make sure to stay hydrated! <3

(Because I don't mention Oikawa in the rest of the post - I agree! I think he actually does lose his virginity fairly early on (it's a drunken night and he's a bit regretful after), but I think he likes the concept of keeping himself "clean" and his body count not high just because he is a bit prudish. He'd never admit that he hasn't slept with the number of women you'd guess based off of his status and personality, but he isn't a pure saint himself. A bit hypocritical, to be honest.)

Oooh!! Something about virgin men just feels right - that shuddering little gasp they make when you first take them in your mouth, their hands clenching at the sheets or edge of the chair so tightly their knuckles turn white because it feels so damn good and they can't quite figure out where to put their hands.

(They want to put them in your hair, maybe force your head down a bit like he sees in porn - he only watches videos with actresses that resemble you, of course - but he's not sure if that's a porn-only thing, and the last thing he wants to do is mess up this perfect moment.)

Men who've never fingered anyone before, and so their movements are clumsy and awkward but eager, almost palpably so, their eyes always darting between your cunt and your face. He's listening for each and every noise you make, hoping for any kind of direction of where to touch and how, because it's just sensory overload to be feeling you like this - and suddenly now he knows why most guys don't last long in bed.

(He doesn't want to think about how fast he'll come the first time he actually gets to fuck you.)

And of course, the men who immediately have to bury their face against your neck or back when the tip pops inside of you, every muscle in their body clenching up and this soft, whiny oh leaving their knees buckling. You just feel incredible - he's imaged you often, even going so far as to crafting some sort of stand-in for your own body, be it a toy or a homemade pocket pussy, but neither come even close to the real thing. He just can't get over how warm it all is - he wore the stupid condom like you'd requested, but even through the latex he can feel the wetness, the schlicking noise driving him mad as his hips buck and snap into yours without any real rhythm or aim. He'll push in as far as possible, his balls pressed as tightly against the cleft of your ass as possible, and then he'll just breath, these labored breaths that sound like a moan at the end while wide eyes stare down at you and his fingers grasp onto your hips and thighs and breasts and oh, god when you clench like that it's too much, he can't control himself and he can't stop it and oh, oh god, oh fuck he's coming inside of you just like he's been dreaming about for fucking months -

Of course, everyone's born a virgin, but some keep that status much longer than others. Let's discuss!!

Some men are in no rush to get between someone's legs - they're taking their time, whether for a specific reason or just as a byproduct of other circumstances. This is great news for them, though, because now you get to be their first - an honor that feels both fitting and somehow much, much too good to be real.

Kageyama and Ushijima aren't explicitly waiting, but careers and their lack of social graces haven't exactly made finding a girl a priority. Besides, they aren't ones for hookups, and it takes a long time for romantic feelings to form in the first place for them - they won't sleep with just anyone, it has to be you. (They're the one-and-only type - you're they're first partner, and likely their last. At least if they have any say.)

Sugawara and Kita aren't prudes, but they can't deny the slight allure of waiting until marriage, just because they buy a bit into the construct of virginity being something sacred you're giving away. They don't judge others for sleeping with someone out of wedlock, but it makes their cheeks turn a bit pink to think about giving that part of themselves to someone special - someone like you. (Both also have thinly veiled breeding kinks that make them subconsciously feel like they have to finish inside whoever they're fucking, and while the concept of knocking their sweetheart up gets their palms sweating and their throat bobbing, they're both realistic enough to know that an aversion to condoms equates to unwanted pregnancy.)

Kenma and Kunimi both want partners. Neither are especially sexually driven, and they'd both much rather less overt affection and contact in most situations. And frankly, neither is especially great with relationships - past girlfriends have never lasted long enough to get to the sex stage, so they're virgins by default. (Though both harbor a bit of a nasty addiction to porn, even if they'd rather die than admit it.)

Akaashi and Kuroo have both had ample opportunities to lose it - they're gorgeous, respectively sweet and funny, and every girl's dream, after all. But they're picky and secretly quite shy with their feelings and romance, so letting themselves be vulnerable to intimacy is a big step that they often chicken out of. It's just scary, and while neither is particularly insecure, there's something real and raw and terrifying about sharing themselves with another person like that. (They've each fingered a girl, though, so at least they've got a bit of experience. It makes Kuroo feel better, at least.)

Others are more eager to learn what all the hype is about, to see if sex is really as good as it's fabled to be - they lose their virginity pretty early on. They're sad when they realize you won't be their first (and likely they aren't your first either, though some are more fixated on that fact than others), but they don't mind too terribly much - plus, something about sex with you feels different from all the past times. It feels better, more intimate, more meaningful, like it's actually a way of expressing their love rather than just a fun perk of dating someone. Besides, they're so shocked and elated to be with you naked that they're practically virgins - their cocks aren't working correctly (performance anxiety driven by the yearning for you to approve of their bodies, of the pleasure they can give you), their rhythms are all off compared to their normal pace, some of them even forget how to kiss because they're so damn nervous.

Semi and Bokuto have had their fair share of partners, simply because their professions make adoring female fans a dime a dozen. Both make it a rule to not sleep with fans, but there's always one that manages to catch their eye, that tempts them into breaking that moral code because maybe this is that one in a million story of the fan and the star actually ending up together. But then you step into their lives and suddenly every other woman is nonexistent, every past partner erased from their mind because all that matters is you and that perfect body of yours. (Semi has a penchant for recording when he has sex, and while rewatching the tapes leaves a bit of a sour taste in his mouth because it just feels wrong to watch his cock pounding into a cunt that isn't yours, it's easy to imagine the girl's face is you, to imagine those moans are yours, to imagine the way she clutches onto him is how you'll clutch onto him, too. Bokuto just masturbates to you constantly, to the point where it's a wonder how his body can produce enough cum to have something coming out with his every orgasm.)

Tendou's early twenties brought with it a boost of confidence, and with that confidence came women. He's by no means a ladies' man, but he's slept with a small number of women and had a few girlfriends. His obsession takes a while to form but it affects him hard, to the point where he's certainly the most likely to suffer from serious anxiety and nervousness surrounding intimacy with you, even though he's never had a problem in the past. (He's convinced you'll think his cock is too small - it's not, the solid six inches is plenty - or that his cum tastes horrible - it's not great, sure, but there's a very faint aftertaste reminiscent of chocolate from all the test-tasting he has to do - or that you'll just think he's bad. The first time he makes you come he just sits there for a moment, staring with a dropped jaw, unable to believe that he just gave you an orgasm, all because of him and him alone.)

Hinata and Nishinoya don't purposefully plow through women, but they're the type to bring a girl home every night they go to the bar or club with some buddies. Often they'll reach out about a more permanent relationship rather than just a one-night stand, but often a good fuck is all the women are looking for, anyways. And so, while they have a good amount of experience, the vast majority of it is while being inebriated - and so, the first time they fuck you (stone cold sober, unwilling to not be fully present for possibly the best moment of their lives), it's almost like a new experience all over again, simply because there's all these details and parts they don't remember doing all those nights. (It's not that they don't remember - they just never cared enough to pay so much attention to their hookup's nipples or finger them with such precision.)

Osamu and Hanamaki don't have a huge amount of experience, but they've each had a very serious girlfriend before you, and so they have extensive experience with the same woman. But you - you're different. You're prettier, smarter, sweeter, softer, lovelier, just better in every way, and they feel this sort of pressure to make sure that the sex is better, too. They're the type to ask you every few minutes if everything is still feeling good, just because sex feels so damn good for them, and they want to make sure it feels good for you, too. (If only so that you'll keep doing it, keep letting them touch and kiss and fuck you - all with that lovesick look in their eye, a blush on their cheeks, and an insistence on making sure you're coming until you're literally crying.)

There's a large variety, but these are the ones that wait the longest or the least - but regardless, sex with you is still something that excites them like they're some horny teenage boy, their pants always feeling uncomfortably tight when you're around, no matter how hard they try to will it away. You're just too perfect and pretty and sexy, and can they really be blamed? Besides, isn't it nice to have a man so eager for you, so ready to get on their knees and beg you to just give them a single chance to please you?

If anything, the persistence is endearing.

You only mentioned haikyuu, lovely anon, but I feel compelled to at least mention some of the late and early bloomers for the other fandoms I write for!

Those that wait the longest:

Kny: most of the cast because of their occupation and the time period, but especially Giyuu, Shinobu, Sanemi, Kokushibou, Akaza

Hxh: Kurapika, Knuckle, Machi, Feitan, Franklin, Illumi

Bnha: Aizawa, Enji, Stain, Shigaraki, Spinner, Hawks, All Might

Those that lose it pretty early on:

Kny: Uzui, Douma, Muzan

Hxh: Phinks, Uvogin, Morel, Shizuku, Nobunaga, Shalnark

Bnha: Hizashi, Dabi, Fatgum, Midnight

[ananke-xiii]

Okay, I think I can finally share this now.

In my version of "Moriah" Chuck orders Jack to kill Castiel with the promise of bringing things back to how they were before all the mess they're in now, Mary included. Jack starts panicking and crying and is clearly being played but he's in no state to rationalize things so he starts blurting out all kinds of stuff and eventually resolves to actually do it. Sam and Dean are forced to watch by Chuck and are totally incapacitated just like us, hypothetical viewers, are made to watch Jack's tragedy as it unfolds.

But Castiel is okay with that and actually plans to do the deed himself in order to avoid at least this one pain in Jack's life so he comes close to Jack and holds his face in one hand while the other is ready for the blade. He needs to tell him one last thing before the end. They're both crying but somehow Cas find the courage to recite a different type of blessing over the children, one that of course doesn't involve God and it goes something like this:

Jack, don't cry. It's okay, it's okay.

I need to tell you something, Jack and I need you to listen carefully, okay? Okay, good.

Being elected as your father has been the greatest joy and honor of my life. Hey, it's okay, shhh, it's okay, listen to me.

It was a joy so great that I got scared, Jack. I'm sorry Jack but I got so scared. I didn't know it then but it was this gnawing fear of losing it all, of losing you, that made me make... many mistakes. It was this fear that prevented me from understanding who you really are, from seeing the truth. So here it is.

Jack, you were, are and always will be such a luminous, beautiful and important presence in this world. Ah, as a matter of fact, in any world. Because you're... you. And you are... amazing.

No, no, no listen to me now, please, shhh, it's okay: You have to know that whatever happens in your life, I will be there for you. No matter what, I will be by your side. If things will go wrong, I'll be there to give you my energy. If things will go right, I'll also be there to give you even more energy.

You must never forget that you're loved, Jack. Oh, look at you: my son...my son... I love you. So much.

Cas, in an instant, is ready with his angel blade but it's in this moment that the Shadow erupts into the world to take Castiel away: no reasoning, no strategic plan, nothing. The moment of happiness is the moment of unconditional love.

Chuck's frantic because this "unconditional love" thing wasn't in his script and yells that it was not supposed to happen this way, that he gave them the possibility to access everything they ever wanted, the price was just one self-loathing, doomed-anyway angel but it still wasn't enough for them, was it?

It's also the moment where Sam, briefly freed from Chuck's powers, gets his lucidity back and decides to pull the trigger on Chuck (and himself). In the background, Jack's screaming and crying so much that the mere force of his screams is enough to resurrect the whole cemetery but Cas is not coming back to him.

Chuck is wounded by Sam (who's also hurting in return) and is forced to flee. Dean is also wounded beyond repair and is like turned to stone and almost can't breathe because he's living, again, one of the worst moments of his life as we go back to a distorted, more messed-up version of s12 finale and to the beginning of Jack's tragic story.

Jack is spiralling and he's out of control and out of himself as he starts opening woundsrifts after rifts through dimensions and worlds looking for Chuck, looking for the Empty, looking for whatever comes first at this point because he's moved by the dangerous, unpredictable and explosive bomb that is revenge spurred by love. Until Billie finds him.

[mamawasatesttube]

first, I just wanna say the Kon agonies are making me lose my freaking mind!!!! oh my GOD I’m devouring your writing every single time!!!

second, for my actual ask!! I was wondering how you think timkon’s proposal would be like? If you haven’t already told us, I feel like you have but I’m not sure!

thank you thank you!! i love kon and his issues. he has so many of them. (shameless plug for the kon agonies here again <3)

i love to think abt timkon proposal ideas. many possible ways it could go but i FIRMLY believe the one way it Can't go is "traditionally perfect and cliché and romantic". it has to go sideways at least a little. they're both weirdos with an insane general lifestyle. i have several ideas that i think are all really fun, but the baseline is just that there's no way it goes off without a hitch. therefore, i present:

how DO tim and kon get engaged? (one possibility!)

on a very casual chill date night in, while sharing a pizza while hanging out on the couch in their pajamas and watching star trek, they agree they want to get married. they also both agree it'll still be fun to do a proposal.

yeah each of them is now going "hehehe. i'm gonna surprise him with a nice date and i'll romance him as he deserves and then ask him to marry me and he will be swept off his feet!!!"

so. you know. now it's a race.

one weekend, kon takes tim on a lovely romantic date. by the point kon's got him sitting in his lap way up in the sky, twirling wispy clouds around them both into hearts while he points up at stars way overhead, tim is INCREDIBLY suspicious of what's coming (a proposal) and is SO mad because he was going to propose NEXT WEEKEND.

kon's sappy speech gets interrupted by toyman attacking metropolis and tim is like. oh thank god. i mean uhh... wow... FUCK toyman! i'm SO mad about this! meanwhile kon pouts the entire time he's decimating a small army of toy soldiers with real guns. tim finds this adorable.

kon almost still pops the question anyway, but his vanity stops him. his hair got a little singed by a giant firebomb and he's upset about it. he can't propose like this.

next weekend, tim takes kon on a lovely romantic date. when he goes down on one knee in front of a park fountain under a canopy of string lights (very romantic, kon deserves it), kon starts HOLLERING and pulls his ring box out like NO!!! I DID SO GOOD LAST WEEK IM PROPOSING TO YOU!!!!!

tim: NOT IF I GET THERE FIRST. CONNER KENT YOURE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE—

kon: YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!! TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE YOURE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE AND IM GONNA PUNT YOU INTO THIS FOUNTAIN IF YOU DONT LET ME PROPOSE TO YOU FIRST—

tim, yelling over him: —AND I'D BE HONORED TO SPEND THE REST OF MY LIFE WITH YOU—

kon tackles him.

they both fall into the fountain.

they both have to hunt for their ring boxes in the fountain.

passerby are staring.

they are in their nice fancy date clothes. on their hands and knees. crawling around in a big ol park fountain. it's cold. they're a mess. please send help

kon finds his ring box first (tim swears up and down that he cheated by ttking tim's box away every time he almost grabbed it) and tackles tim a second time, sits on him in the fountain, and grabs his face.

tim licks him. kon is, shockingly, undeterred.

"TIM," he says, and squishes tim's cheeks. "you're a STUBBORN ASSHOLE. WILL YOU MARRY ME?"

"I'M a stubborn asshole?!" tim demands. it's muffled because his cheeks are still very squished. "god, obviously yes, but you're the jackass, i planned tonight out so well and you hijacked it—"

kon kisses him. tim kisses him back.

tim's ring box mysteriously happens to brush his fingers then. very convenient, thank you, kon.

they exchange rings still sitting there in the cold water under all the lights. tim's teeth are starting to chatter.

passerby are still staring.

they don't care. they're engaged!

and that's the story of how tim drake gets mild hypothermia and kon fusses and frets over him for the rest of the weekend—uhhh I MEAN, the story of how tim and kon get engaged. yippee!!

[k9punkout]

Ofc now I need to ask Mizi for the ask game-

MIZI MY BABE MY GIRL MY EVERYTHING

1. Why I like them

the thing i love most about mizi is her resilience.

imagine you were told that the sky is blue your entire life, and all you've ever seen was a blue sky, and you're looking forward to something you've wanted all your life... and then that thing finally comes and it's nothing like what they told you it was going to be and all of a sudden the sky is neon orange and all your friends are dead. me personally i would never get back up.

but SHE did. she kept going, she found strength in her pain and anger in her grief... but most of all she didn't let that anger consume her. that's what makes her the most admirable character in the show. not only did she find it in her to FIGHT, but she did so with hope and with love. with the intention to save, not to destroy.

i also loved the way she displayed optimism in anakt garden. she was so cheerful it became a flaw.

she was overly nice and smiley towards everyone because she was afraid of being judged, her guardian was always kind to her, she was well liked and never hurt by the segyein. there's no need to focus on anything bad when you have a life like that. especially if you want people to view you as a happy, funny, lovable girl.

so naturally, deliberately, she looked to the bright side. brushed off the subtle signs, the dead pixels in the corner of the screen, the small hints that something may be wrong. and oh, how she suffered for it. oh, how her loved ones suffered for it.

it's so tragic it's so perfect it's just.

2. Why I don't

i don't like how despite all this, she doesn't succeed in saving anyone. how she's probably blaming herself for getting herself and hyuna recaptured. how she has to lose EVERYTHING before she can actually change ANYTHING.

she deserves sm better why would you do this to that sweet girl

3. Favorite lyric

"Hope withered in the abyss."

4. Favorite frame/screenshot

THESE TWO. god we dont talk about mizi's breakdown ENOUGH and like. UGHHH the loss of reason in her eyes, the way she's drooling like a crazed animal, the way she was forced down like a rabid dog. the fact that she never cowered, not even with the gun to her head.

5. Favorite outfit

probably her rebellion outfit. it's badass but she makes it look so cute

6. Favorite official art

there are many way to interpret this one but no matter how you see it, i find it so awesome how flawed and human mizi looks in contrast to her perception of sua.

(personally, i view this as a moment of utter weakness for mizi in which she pleasures herself and thinks of sua (hence the positions, her expression, and the accentuated curves in comparison to many other arts), and i think that raw desire paired with guilt and grief is such a perfect portrayal of the mess mizi was left in after sua's death)

honorable mention to this one:

love the "drunk on love" expression on her face. the way she's pushing back her hair to reveal her cracks, almost as if she's saying: "this is me in my entirety. this is what you've done to me. look at the shambles that i am in and return to me, love me like this, love my pain just as i have loved yours."

7. Favorite canon fact

probably that she wanted to be till's friend and was admiring him from afar. like wdym these two IDIOTS were both staring at each other like "man, they're so cool.... i wish i could get closer to them, but they probably don't have enough time for me..."

8. Favorite straight-up-not-canon headcanon

it happens rarely, but not never: mizi sometimes feels hatred for sua because she lied to her. because they were never truly on the same page, and she was unaware of this until it was too late.

9. Favorite song/cover

the mizisua cure cover actually has me dying every time i hear it like the PAIN IN HER VOICE THE FACT THAT SHE SINGS ALL ALONE OH MY GODDDD.

10. Song I want them to cover

all in mizi cover guys please please hear me out guys ple

[friend-of-giants]

Sujamma Sundas!

Late, but I was tagged last night by @theoneandonlysemla and I've been at work all day today.

Today, Sujamma wants to know about your OC's moral compass. What God do they worship and why? Do they engage in any illicit activities (drugs, etc?) Any holy activities, like healing in the name of a certain divine? Have they committed any crimes, or are there any crimes they actively despise? Feel free to talk about anything and everything along these lines.

Tagging.. @sheirukitriesfandom @vervayyn @juniperberries-canisroot idk who else to tag honestly lol

Morally, Wren is a mess. She spent a good sixty years living as a bandit, so that should give you all an idea of how she feels about morals and crimes and lawfulness. Murder, assault, theft, breaking and entering, she's probably done it all during those years, and has no regrets. To her, it was just part of being an outlaw. And she joined them at a very young and impressionable age (roughly 11 to 12, she doesn't know exactly) so to her, that was normal.

Once she decided to leave that lifestyle and join society, she had to learn to behave. She spent her first free year trying to earn a living as a mercenary in Windhelm, but not many would hire her for such work, so she turned to prostitution. Not the most honorable way to make an income, but she made a lot, enough to leave for Whiterun and truly start a new life.

Of course with her background, she's tempted to commit crimes and generally beat the shit out of people when she's angry, but knows well enough to let it be, as she really doesn't want to end up on the chopping block. Though she does kill a certain Windhelm resident in chapter 10 of my fic... does she get away with it? Perhaps 😏

She isn't a fan of crimes committed against children, for the obvious reason of They're Innocent, and also for reasons I can't get into at the moment.

Gods? Wren believes in them, but doesn't actively worship any. She feels that they've never listened to her prayers, and in turn she tends to ignore them. Although since meeting Teldryn (who is the Nerevarine in my canon and therefore very close with the Dunmer pantheon), she has given Azura a fair shot.

And as far as illicit substances are concerned, she's had a lifelong struggle with alcoholism, and is still dealing with it. In her heyday among the bandits, drugs were a routine indulgence, but are off the table now - mainly because obtaining them is more difficult within the city, but also because she's well aware of how the years of abuse damaged her both physically and mentally.

[002yb]

Royalty Royalty royalltyyyyy

It’s been years since a kiss made Jason weak in the knees, since a man made his heart skip a beat and butterflies tickle his stomach. That it's Dick only makes sense—he was the last to steal Jason's breath; it's about damn time he came to give it back.

Three years and it felt like a lifetime; three years and it's like no time at all because Dick still kisses the same.

It makes Jason want to tease him, but the implication that Dick hasn't kissed anyone since Jason leaves his cheeks flushing hot; a pink stain that burns even the tips of his ears. That besides, what would it say about Jason that he remembers Dick's affections so well?

“To think an honorable knight would want to spend their homecoming with a common street whore.” Jason jokes, so breathless he feels lightheaded.

Through the press of their lips Jason feels Dick smile—feels the breath from his laughter, filled with wonder and awe.  It’s contagious; Jason can feel himself smiling, too.  Just as wonder struck, just as awed.

“Nothing honorable about me.” Dick says, not missing a beat as he kisses the corner of Jason’s mouth, the cut of his jaw and the line of his neck.  Pulling down the hood of Jason's cloak to expose the hickeys that line Jason's throat and leaving his claim over them—suck marks, bruises; a disparately chaste and tender peck to Jason's fluttering pulse before Dick is smiling again, "Nothing common about you."

Jason tries and fails to still his heart at the praise, distracted by Dick's sinful mouth and all of his languid, open-mouthed kisses. He'll make a mess of Jason; he always did. His other patrons always hated it, but to hell with them. It's been three years. Jason wants to walk away from this encounter wrecked; he wants to be leaking for the next man to see—wants everyone that has him after to know that Dick had him first and fucked him better.

In a broken, gasping voice, Jason teases, “So you say, but you’re the one who 'single-handedly' ended a war.  Marched dead men out from a slaughter and back to their home and families.”

“Is that what they’re saying?” Dick asks, distracted as he gets Jason off on nothing but the low pitch of his voice and the span of his hands along Jason's hips.

“Mhm.” Jason hums. “Rumor has it you even brought the gods to their knees.”

“I’d much rather bring you to yours.” Dick quips, pulling back just enough to smirk at Jason, and it's here that Jason sees how three years have changed Dick. Three years of fighting a war not his own, made to bleed in the colors of the Court -a prisoner to king and country- and Dick's once steady hands tremble, that persisting light in his eyes a flickering, fading thing.

======

This AU is a mess because it's a little grand for where my skills are. Also, this is actually a fantasy story with magic and yet there's no mention of it anywhere yet because this was also a rough draft of a more intimate scene and I was supposed to go back and edit but whoops ahhhhhahaha. But let it be known, Dick + gravity magic!! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ And I haven't written it properly, but:

While these two are making out and fooling around? They're actually tucked away in an alcove. And the 'Court' is partially flooded (because Dick's gravity magic drew the ocean closer over the years he was kept there), so they're standing in shallow water and because Dick is all happy there's supposed to be water pulled up around them and water drops being all pretty and ahhhhhhhh

In the same happy vibes as above, Dick making them both weightless because he's so at peace ;U;

Like Jason actually startling a bit and snickering because Dick's magic gives away how happy he is. Jason finding some relief in that - that it's not just him.

Also, during the war: monstrous!Dick Grayson who bore down on everything and devastated entire cities ///u///

Another detail - the excessive use of magic staining Dick's fingers/hands black because idc what anyone says that's peak character design ahhhhhhhhhhhhh

WIP Game

[hairstevington]

flowers and ink (part 3)

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary: Eddie makes up an excuse to get closer to Steve, and it works...eventually! Part one, part two

Word count: 2.5K

Warnings: Tattoo Artist!Eddie/Florist!Steve, platonic soulmates Robin and Steve, Eddie thinks they're dating, miscommunication trope but it's resolved by the end, THEY ARE IDIOTS YOUR HONOR, Steve is a sweetheart, the fluffiest of fluff

A/N: This was originally supposed to be the "ending," but I might end up continuing it if people are interested in seeing where it goes - either here or on Ao3! Otherwise, I do have more Steddie content coming soon no matter what. At this point I'm in too deep to quit. Thanks all!

Eddie scanned the room in search of any sort of inspiration. 

“Sure, what’s up?” Steve asked, nonchalant. 

Flowers. There were just flowers everywhere. That’s all Eddie had to go on. Okay, flowers it is.

“So, this woman came by the other day and she wants this whole sleeve of flowers, right? But, like, I don’t do flowers very often. So I’m gonna practice drawing flowers a lot these next few weeks while I’m nailing down the design, and I guess I, uhhhh, was thinking maybe I could look around here and take some notes or something?”

Lies. All of it. LIES. 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Steve said. “You can hang around here as long as you want. Or, until we close, anyway.”

“Which is in fifteen minutes,” Robin reminded her coworker. 

“Oh. Shit, yeah,” Steve chuckled. “You can hang around for fifteen minutes, then.” Eddie smiled and nodded. 

“I’ll take it.”

Then, of course, Eddie had to walk around and examine the flowers as if he actually gave a shit about them, which he didn’t. He was far more interested in the man behind the counter, but whatever. This would do. 

He had fifteen minutes to figure out what he was going to do at closing time. Maybe, if he played his cards right, he could get an invite to hang out with them after. Although, did he really want to be a third wheel? Was all of this just pathetic?

Probably. 

“Hold on, your hair is still a little messed up,” Steve said to Robin. They both giggled softly, and Eddie rolled his eyes. 

Definitely pathetic. Eddie drifted farther into the back so he couldn’t hear them whispering to each other anymore. 

Flowers were nice. Eddie didn’t have anything against them, he just wasn’t drawn to them like a lot of people seemed to be. They were a bit too pretty for his taste. Too delicate. He took a couple pictures (to really sell his bullshit cover story), and before he knew it, it was closing time. 

Eddie walked back up to the front to join Steve and Robin, ready to say the line he’d been preparing the last fourteen and a half minutes. Is it cool if I drop by tomorrow to keep looking around?

Steve spoke before Eddie could ask his question, stunning him momentarily. 

“Hey, so I was thinking if any more questions come up, you could just text me. You know, if you want.”

-

“Hold on, your hair is still a little messed up.”

“Oh my god, fix it!”

“I’m trying! Stay still!” 

Steve brushed through Robin’s hair with his fingers, smoothing down the strands that were sticking out. He caught her looking at him, then glancing in Eddie’s direction, then back at him. 

“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t,” Steve warned. 

“He came here for you,” she whispered to Steve. “With lotion!”

“We were just talking about it at the shop earlier,” Steve dismissed. “He probably is just making fun of me for using the wrong kind.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Robin muttered. “He likes you.”

“Shh!” Steve’s eyes went wide. Eddie wasn’t that far away, even though they were speaking quietly. Suddenly, Steve remembered what he’d learned about Eddie, and that he hadn’t told Robin yet. “Okay, look. Maybe you’re right.”

“I am,” she insisted.

“Fine,” Steve conceded. “So, he told me that -” Steve stopped himself and looked around the room to double check that Eddie was as far from them as possible. He went the charade route anyway. 

Steve looked at her intensely until she was completely focused. He pointed vaguely in the direction of where Eddie went, and then used the same hand to flip his wrist downwards with an emphatic nod. Robin’s eyes went wide. 

“Shut up,” she said. “Confirmed?”

“Out, proud, and mentoring the youth,” Steve replied. “Oh, and Will Byers was there.”

“What?!” 

“Shh!” 

Robin collected herself again so she could resume whispering. 

“You need to ask him out.” Her voice was barely audible now. 

“I don’t know how.”

“You’ve done it a bazillion times, Dingus,” she reminded him. “What makes this any different?”

“I don’t know!” Steve admitted with a shrug. “He’s so much cooler and smarter than me, and it’s, like, really intimidating.”

“Steve, we have to work on your self confidence,” Robin sighed. 

“You tease me all the goddamn time, Buckley.”

“I’m allowed,” she said. “You’re not.” Steve rolled his eyes but accepted the feedback. 

“I’ll do it, okay?”

He knew he needed to sound casual about it, in case he was reading it wrong. Just because Eddie was gay didn’t mean he was interested. But! If they talked more, Steve could flirt a little and then know for sure. 

So, when Eddie came back at 5pm, Steve took the leap. 

“Hey, so I was thinking if any more questions come up, you could just text me.” Steve watched Eddie freeze, and Steve had no idea what to do with that. He backtracked immediately. “You know, if you want.”

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie responded after a few moments. Steve wasn’t sure how to read Eddie’s hesitation.

“Cool,” Steve responded. He could practically feel Robin’s judgment from a few feet away, even without looking at her. He snapped himself out of his trance and grabbed a pen and one of the Flowers for All business cards, then flipped it over on the counter to the blank side. 

“You could just -” Eddie said, holding his phone up. “Use this, you know.”

“Oh, duh,” Steve said, mentally kicking himself. He took Eddie’s phone and put his number in, then handed it back. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” Eddie responded. Steve figured if Eddie wasn’t interested, he just wouldn’t reach out. No harm done. “Have a good rest of your night, guys.”

“We will,” Robin answered, knowing that Steve was obviously incapable of acting normal. “Stop by any time, okay?”

“Okay, thanks,” Eddie repeated. He did a small wave and then left the store with nothing but the residual jingle from the bell above the door. 

Steve immediately slunk to the floor and sat against the wall. 

“Not one word,” he said. 

“That was painful.”

“That was three words.”

“You didn’t ask him out!”

“Yeah, well I’m getting there! I got his number, didn’t I?”

“Barely!” she replied with a laugh. “But he’s totally into you. I can tell.”

“Oh yeah? How?”

“Because he came here with lotion and then stuck around to look at flowers when the internet exists,” Robin explained. 

Huh. She has a point.

“Fair enough,” Steve sighed. “I guess now we just wait and see if you’re right.”

-

Eddie was obviously going to text Steve, but he had no idea what to say. He really dug himself into a hole with the flower research thing. 

Also, what the fuck was that about? What flower-related questions could Eddie possibly have? Why would Eddie text Steve for flower advice when the internet exists? What does flower advice even mean? He typed out his first draft -

Hi, it’s Eddie. Thanks for helping me out :) 

Ok, boring. He tried again. 

Hi, it’s Eddie. Texting so you have my number too

Could be better. 

What’s your favorite flower?

Oh god! No! Delete! Delete!

This was hopeless.

-

“He hasn’t texted yet,” Steve whined.

“It’s only been three hours,” Robin replied. 

They were doing their post-shift hang out, like usual. They had some stupid reality TV show on in the background that both of them hated but for some reason loved watching together. 

“It’s felt like twelve,” Steve groaned, throwing his head back against the couch. 

“It’s felt like a hundred for me, with you constantly complaining about it,” Robin responded, shoving him lightly. 

“Hey, this was your doing, alright?” Steve shot back, smirking. “He’s not interested, and that’s okay.” He was trying to convince himself more than anything. 

“Patience, grasshopper,” Robin assured him. “Don’t lose hope yet.”

Steve’s phone buzzed on the table. They both lunged for it, desperately checking the notification. 

A text from an unknown number. 

Am I allowed to ask you questions that aren’t about flowers?

“Robin, I love you.”

-

Sure, what do you wanna know? 🙂

Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. Eddie sat down and pondered what question he should ask first. 

Why frog and toad?

Eddie was far more comfortable talking about tattoos. Steve responded -

Just seemed right, I guess.

Ugh, okay. Eddie forgot he sucked at texting. 

Do you regret it?

He waited a minute or two until his phone lit up again. 

No, not at all. We love it. 

Eddie sighed. He didn’t know what to say next. 

I’m not good at the text thing

Steve’s response showed up moments later. 

Guess you’ll have to come visit us again then ;) 

Okay, well that works.

-

Eddie showed up the next day on one of his breaks, pretended to look at some more flowers as if they’d changed from the day before, and then struck up a conversation with Steve about tattoos. Then, he dropped by on another break a few days later, skipping the flower part completely and jumping straight into talking about music. 

“So, how’s the flower design going?” Steve asked after their discussion died down. 

“It’s good,” Eddie said. “I’m just not really a flowers guy, is all.” Steve gasped and pretended to be shocked. 

“You? Not into flowers??” Eddie chuckled. “I didn’t think I was either, but I actually love it here. Maybe if you keep coming by you’ll change your tune.”

“Yeahhhh, I’m not so sure about that,” Eddie replied. 

“Oh, I am,” Steve challenged playfully. “There’s a flower for everyone - that’s literally why this place is called Flowers for All.”

“Oh god,” Eddie teased. “This isn’t gonna become a thing where you try to get me to like flowers, is it?” Steve smirked and bent down so his forearms rested on the counter. 

“Hey, man. You got me into tattoos, I’m just returning the favor.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. Yeah, it was cute, but he knew that it was a doomed mission. 

Steve tried anyway. Each day, when Eddie showed up for work, a new flower was left at the front door. 

First, it was a daisy. 

Steve: Well?

Eddie: It's pretty. I'm not a huge fan of yellow tho

Steve: Noted

On day two, a carnation.

Eddie: are you trying to take me to prom?

Steve: maybe (just kidding we missed it)

Eddie: lmao

Then, there was a succulent. 

Eddie: I actually really like this one

Steve: Success!

Eddie thought that would be the end of it. But then, on the fourth day, a gardenia was at the door. 

Eddie: more???

Steve: are you a flower guy yet?

Eddie: No, but I’m running out of room on my desk

Steve: Better get another desk then

At this point, Eddie thought for sure Steve was messing with him. Maybe that’s all this ever was. Robin kept saying over and over how bored they were at work, and Eddie was their current source of entertainment. 

He gave the flowers to Bob - except the succulent, for obvious reasons. Eddie named him Sonic.

On day 5, Eddie found a red rose dipped in black ink on his desk. Bob had apparently already let Steve in to set it up. Eddie would have groaned in frustration, except the stupid thing was actually extremely badass. Like, he thought it was so cool he was sad it was going to wilt eventually.

Fuck. This had to stop. 

Eddie marched into Flowers for All, rose in hand, ready to tell Steve that he didn’t just want to be some project for the happy couple. 

“Heyyy, look who’s here!” Steve greeted him as he walked in. Steve’s face fell when he noticed Eddie holding the rose. “Uh-oh, you hated this one so much you’re returning it? I really thought -”

“I didn’t hate it, I love it. It's - I mean, it's perfect.”

“Okay,” Steve said, hopping off the counter. “So, why do you look angry at me?”

“Are you guys making fun of me or something?” Eddie asked. No time for small talk. No beating around the bush. They’d been tip-toeing around this for over a week now. 

“What?” Steve asked, genuinely shocked. “Dude, no. I - shit, okay. No, I’m not making fun of you, I’m trying to flirt with you. Guess I’ve lost my touch.” Steve put a hand to the back of his neck and grimaced nervously. 

“Flirt with me?” Now Eddie was the shocked one. “So, you’re not dating Robin?”

Steve burst out laughing.

“Robin? My platonic lesbian best friend Robin?”

Eddie’s head was spinning. 

“Platonic?” he echoed. “After the way you two tumbled out of the back room all flustered and shit the first time I came in?”

“That’s absolutely not what you think it was,” Steve said. 

“Then what was it?”

“It was - okay, well first of all, I was flustered because you came in. And Robin and I were back there because her hair somehow got tangled in a watering can and she needed my help.”

It sounded like a lie, but it would have been the most random lie ever created.

“Jesus, how did that even happen?” Eddie wondered, amused.

“Robin has zero coordination,” Steve responded. “It’s part of her charm.” Eddie nodded, processing all of this.

“Okay, so you’re not dating Robin,” he said.

“No.”

“And you’ve been flirting with me.”

“Yes.”

“Completely genuinely, like not as a joke?” Steve chuckled.

“Eddie, I tipped you like a full day's worth of pay for our tattoo,” he reminded him. “If I was joking, I’d have to be stupidly committed to the bit.”

Okay, well that was…fair.

“Oh,” Eddie replied. Wow. I really am an idiot.

“Yeah,” Steve said. There was a moment where they both just kinda stared at each other, and then Eddie broke the silence.

“You do realize I’ve been flirting with you too, right?” he asked. Steve just stared at him blankly. “Okay, from the way you’re looking at me I’m gonna go with no on that one.”

“I mean, I was hoping you were-”

“I am.”

“Great.”

“Cool.”

“So, we should go out then.”

“Yeah, that seems like a logical next step.”

They smiled at each other, basking in the absurdity, and then suddenly a piercing voice came from Steve’s phone on the counter.

“FINALLY.”

“Wait, is that Robin?” Eddie asked, pointing at the phone.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve responded. “I was talking to her when you came in.”

Eddie shook his head and laughed.

Well, at least they were both idiots.

(part 4)

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[shallowseeker]

Barriers to deserving happiness

Dean's survivors' guilt re: John's deal is getting to me today. I mean, it was SO powerful and so intrinsic to understanding early-seasons Dean. Like, it's THE thing that eats Dean and it's one of THE biggest things that feeds into his deal for Sam. I don't think it's not not discussed, but I'd love to see it discussed more.

Dean RE: the deal —

...

Bobby:  What is it with you Winchesters, huh? You, your dad, you’re both just itching to throw yourselves down the pit! Dean:  That’s my point. Dad brought me back Bobby. I’m not even supposed to be here. At least this way something good can come out of it. You know, like my life can mean something.

.... and....

Dean:  Which is why we gotta find this yellow eyed son of a bitch! That’s why I’m gonna kill him myself. I mean I got nothing to lose now, right? Bobby:  I could throttle you!

2x22

And there's Cas, trying desperately to figure out a broader meaning for why GOD* and later Jack brought him back, searching for a way to make it meaningful:

CASTIEL: And if Michael really is coming, maybe I was brought back to help prepare. DEAN: Prepare for what? CASTIEL: War.

13x14

Survivor’s guilt in the context of a soldier is a profound and deeply personal experience, often shaped by the unique bonds of camaraderie and shared risk in military service. F or soldiers, the guilt of surviving when comrades do not can be magnified by the intense loyalty and sense of responsibility they feel toward their unit. This guilt can create significant barriers to emotional recovery and accepting happiness, as it becomes intertwined with their identity and values.

I think... Survivor’s guilt can make Dean Winchester or Castiel feel unworthy of happiness, especially when their choices led to others dying. Loving each other might feel like a betrayal, as if finding solace together means ignoring the lives they couldn’t save—or the ones they took.

Purgatory is tempting because it respectively offers Dean and Castiel an escape from the burden of guilt. (And at first, Dean wants to get them out! A bit like how SPNWIN John wants to get Mary out of hunting but struggles to get himself out of it.)

Eternal war and constant punishment can feel like justice—a way to pay for what they've done. It’s a place where they can reject happiness, where the relentless struggle numbs the ache of loss and absolves them of the need to move forward. In purgatory, there’s no room for joy or love, only survival, and that feels easier than facing the guilt of living and the potential fear of finding solace in the other.

Overall, I think they're over-aware of each others' feelings of guilt too... and it magnifies their own respective guilt. They try to soothe the other's guilt because they want better for the other. BUT they also empathize with and shoulder each other's guilt, too. It’s a friggin mess. But survival wasn’t a simple choice they made; it was simply what happened. And embracing love doesn’t erase their losses—it honors them, proving those sacrifices weren’t meaningless. They both struggle to learn that happiness isn’t earned; it’s something they’re allowed, even with the weight they carry.

...

EDIT: Maybe Dean and Cas begin to realize their love isn’t just the quiet camaraderie or distant longing that can be kept contentedly at arm's length. It’s something deeper, more immediate, like learning to live together, sharing meals and quiet moments in a way they’ve never dared before. And so... They try to find a way to be close without fully giving in—coming up with a balance that lets them be near each other without facing the guilt of overindulgence. But it’s hard, because the love between them is powerful, the kind of love that feels almost selfish, like something they’ve never allowed themselves to need before. And maybe, the closer they get, the harder it becomes to deny the weight of it, and the fear creeps in—that to fully embrace it would be the most selfish thing either of them has ever done. ... Musings: For Dean, this love with Cas is complicated. It’s not a relationship where he can control the coming and going, or where he can hide behind the idea of being needed just enough to keep the distance he’s comfortable with. It’s a terrifying leap into something that doesn’t fit his usual rules, a vulnerability he’s never been willing to face before—a vulnerability marked by needing someone so badly. it's surrender, acceptance, and forgiveness. For Cas, it’s equally daunting, though in a different way. This love isn’t about duty or obligation—it’s about wanting, about being seen for who he truly is, flaws and all. It’s a surrender he’s never fully allowed, a willingness to be vulnerable in ways he doesn’t know if he can handle. The fear for him lies in the unknown—letting go of the armor he’s carried for so long and trusting that this love, however powerful, won’t break him.