#like I know that's partly just how he is and he was probably trying not to raise his voice at Ros but it's funny

[bigmoon-is-bigwife]

I didn't even notice earlier, Sneeg was collecting stuff for the faction quests but upon seeing Ros had switched out of Yellow he stopped and asked to talk Ros. He wanted to be sure that Yellow faction was worth contributing to or if they had done something bad. Before Ros had even said anything to him he was already on her side and suspicious that something had happened. Ros was so worried that he would be upset at her for leaving the faction but he was immediately ready to watch the faction burn if it had wronged Ros. LOSA is definitely sticking together with or without Yellow faction.

[headfullof-ideas]

Ahgnngh @tenebrius-excellium I’M SO GLAD YOU LOVE ITTTT!!! You and another person, i don’t remember their handle, both were so nice about the twenty minute doodles i spat out, I’m so glad you loved them!! I’m so geeked out that you caught on to Hiccup’s expressions, I thought that he would for sure not immediately be for this giant fire-breathing lizard who just so happens to be the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself just moseying up into his space. Toothless doesn’t know boundaries right now, lol, even in the forbidden friendship scene. Even in the movie! As soon as he’d been fed he just pushed himself into Hiccups space and backed him against a rock. His boundaries are firm, as in Hiccup’s not allowed to touch him, but as far as Hiccup’s space? It’s free real estate in Toothless’s eyes.

Oh no, yeah, Toothless is definitely just as observant as Hiccup. But I like to think that because he was a long range attacker, he never actually got up and close and personal with a human until Hiccup, and so only has a very basic idea of what Hiccup might need. His initial impressions probably aren’t great, Ala trying to stuff a bunch of fish down Hiccup’s throat. But like Hiccup he’d probably start going around observing Hiccup and other humans to get a better idea on how to take care of this squishy little twig of a human he’s found himself taking care of. Which in my head (and please tell me if this isn’t what you envisioned) leads to him somewhat officially partaking in the raids, but in the sense that he’s just breaking into peoples houses when their backs are turned and making off with whatever random stuff he can fit into his mouth and take off with, hoping that Hiccup knows what to do with it. It’s in their houses, surely that means that the humans need and use it often?

And that berry idea?? OH MY GOSH THAT’S HILARIOUS!! Yes, of course, I immediately scrambled to draw it. It took me a bit longer than the last one, partly because it’s a longer one, partly because i gave myself a little more time with it (still rushed, but eh), and partly because every other panel or so I had to sit and laugh my butt off for about ten minutes. The sixth panel especially had me cackling, I hope you like this!

Oi. so

Reverse Httyd where Toothless bites/rips off Hiccup's leg at the start of the movie. Hiccup then falls into the cove and is trapped there, or maybe he already was in the cove from the struggle during the dragon attack, but... he can't get out. And he is like actively dying from the blood loss, the pain, possible infection, exposure.

He hasn't got long. No one finds him, it's so deeply in the woods.

It's Toothless who has to decide to nurse Hiccup back to health/bring him back to his people, but it's Hiccup so he'll somehow still put up a fight against his deadly dragon enemy. Toothless is gonna have to earn this scrawny and injured human's trust.

[somegrumpynerd]

Horror's nightmare

Horror doesn't think much on his past anymore, but his nightmares often resurface the guilt he's buried about the idea that he could have prevented it all somehow, even if it came at the cost of his own life.

Thankfully, Nightmare is here to make him a hot drink to calm his nerves and promise him a visit to his brother when the sun is up, because Papyrus will always be very glad to see his brother alive and visiting (and as sleepy as ever).

[581ism]

begging lando norris to stop airing out his personal confidence issues infront of everyone and the world. it's making you look sooo bad bro and i say this with as much understanding as is possible and only a little bit of contempt

[thedarklyblue]

not in a good mood rn..... god give me the strength to not cry in front of the director when we chat privately

[always---wrong]

Sorry, hijacking a post here. I wanted to add my own thoughts to this too. As some one who is largely a Dean fan but also as someone who also loves Sam.

I agree partly. I agree that Sam not looking for Dean or cas hurt him. I don't think he was upset with Sam because he decided to stop being a hunter but rather cause he expected Sam to look for him, to try to save him no matter what because that's kinda what they do for each other.

Despite their flaws, these brothers will go to hell and back for each other. That's what we know as an audience ever since Season 1 and that's what Dean knows too.

They can always be sure that if the other was in danger, or dead that the other will fight tooth and nail to bring them back. Even if they aren't comfortable talking with each other, or having conversations without their walls and shields. (Mostly Dean because he doesn't like putting his feelings on Sam. 1. Because he was taught to help/take care of Sam. 2. Because his trauma made him believe that his feelings don't matter and he is there to help others. Which of course isn't true but John sucks)

The reason why I really dislike Season 8 Sam is because his decisions and actions don't match up with any other season of Sam. I was blind sighted. Completely baffled when I watched it.

Because the Sam we know WOULD of looked for Dean and Cas. From everything we know, he would of. There's so many examples of him desperately looking for ways to save Dean. From Season 1 to 5, then again in season 10 and on. Season 1 episode 12. All of season 3. Flashbacks in season 4 to when Dean was dead are all examples of this.

My favorite trait of Sam's, other than his snarkiness of course, is his stubborness and the things he's willing to do to get what he wants. It reminds me of John but not, because while John will push until he dies to get revenge even if it hurts his kids, even if HE hurts his kids in the process, Sam cares about Dean and those around him. He will hold back if it means itll hurt Dean. Exp: Season 1 finale. The exception being, if Dean is dying. The things he's willing to do to save his big brother is insane and I would do the same thing if I were him.

In Season 8, Sam was weirdly apathetic about Dean being gone. I was very confused. I thought he was possessed or something.

So I'm with Dean. I would be hurt too. Simply because saving each other from death is their love language. Really. Its how they show their love--- by protecting and saving each other. When Sam didn't do that it was odd. Even I as a viewer had to wonder if Sam still cared about Dean, even if it should be obvious he does. Cause Sam, as we know, cares about Dean alot. However, season 8 didn't feel like Sam so I didn't know what to expect.

If Sam just looked for Dean, even for a week I would of been totally fine. Dean probably too. I would literally give not two shits that he started a life with Amelia, because I too, if I was sure my brother was dead and I was still hurt by my time in hell, would also look for some simple peaceful times. Do I think Sam, as characterized previously would settle down? Um, actually maybe. With season 7 basically being the 'sam suffers' season I do think he might of wanted a break.

I also have opinions on Sam not looking for Kevin but it doesn't really have much to do about this discussion and it's so out of character I can't even-

Now, my opinion is quite different from yours later in your post. I do not think Dean is controlling. like at all. He's not upset about Sam's independent thinking. And it's not like Sam cares about Dean's opinion on the healthy food he eats. Dean calls the salads he eats 'rabbit food' but Sam also comments on the junk food Dean eats. Its just these brothers teasing each other. It doesn't really mean anything. They aren't deeply insecure about their food.

Sam is also a VERY independent thinker. Hes constantly doing what he wants to do. He went with Dean in season 1 because he wanted to get revenge on the demon. He wanted to do hunts in season 2 (at least in the second episode) because he thinks it's what his dad would want, sure it's because of someone's (his stupid father) opinion but ultimately it's what he wanted to do. John isn't even there. In Season 3 he wants to save Dean, even if Dean doesn't want him too. Season 4 is literally Sam just doing what he wants despite Dean's warnings (which were correct of course. 😌 I'm proud of my boy) In season 5 he wants to stop the apocalypse. It was even his choice to let Lucifer take over his body in the end. Then it was his choice to sacrifice himself.

Most of the time Dean is encouraging Sam to do normal things. Hes actually quite upset that Sam didn't get a normal life. Like in Season 1 in the Shtriga episode when he admits that he wanted Sam to have kept his innocence as a child.

Dean WANTS Sam to have a normal life. So that's not what he was upset about in season 8. It was cause Sam didn't even bother to look. Even for a bit. Even with the amount of energy and time it takes to do a simple hunt. He just decided that Dean was dead i guess and moved on.

However, Dean isn't insecure about Sam's independent thinking.

Man, season 8 Sam makes me mad.

I’m on S8 of my rewatch and man, Sam not looking for Dean after he disappeared into Purgatory really triggered Dean’s abandonment issues. 

I mean, yeah, Dean was pissed off because Sam didn’t even bother looking for him, and just kind of started a new life for himself, which is understandable. But it just clicked for me how much that would have exacerbated Dean’s abandonment issues.

Dean’s abandonment issues are so severe, that he even has difficulty with Sam having independent thought. Sam thinking about things differently or viewing things differently set Dean off. So many times, Sam expresses his independent thought, and Dean takes it as a personal attack on his own views and quickly snaps at him.

I mean it even trickles down to the choices Sam makes about the food he eats or the fact that he likes jogging to stay fit. 

Man…. that’s some serious shit right there.

[lexalovesbooks]

Yesterday my dad told me he was glad to see me reading adult books, and when I was like… yeah i usually do, he nodded and said ‘sure :)’ in a distinct i don’t believe you tone or perhaps an i know what adult books are and you haven’t been reading them tone which irritated me so much I spent thirty minutes going through my goodreads instead of sleeping to confirm that yes, I have as a matter of fact been reading a majority adult books for the past four years now. I can’t actually tell him this though because he’ll think I’m insane for even bothering to check

[cielospeaks]

aime tachi plot: everything has to make sense, there are rules for the story even tho its self indulgent, yadda yadda, character development, progression consistency

dreamdom hearts plot: anyways the dream works au versions of fe characters and my oc recruit enjoyable single dw villains to go have slightly creepypasta shenanigans with a presumably dead oc

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

I love to get 2 on

Tags: Satoru x fem!Reader, Toji x fem!Reader, mmf, polyamory, cursing, smut (fighting over who gets to breed you), dumbification, finger sucking, breeding kink duh, implied size kink, daddy kink, mdni.

An: this is so self indulgent of me to write but idc nothing else is intriguing me besides this thought. this will likely end up being a small series because i have sooooo many ideas about these two nasty fucks.

Having both Toji and Satoru as boyfriends was not for the weak willed because these two men are constantly at each other’s throats when it comes to your attention.

“Don’t look at him. Look at me. ‘m the one givin this pussy what she wants.” Toji’s husky voice growls into your ear, breath fanning across your skin before he grunts.

His hips are slapping against yours — fucking you deep into the mattress while his heavy cock slides in and out of your sloppy hole. Pornographic squelches are coming straight from your pussy, making you cringe, but both of your boyfriends seem to be going feral from it.

Satoru’s pale blue eyes roll as Toji once again steals the show away from him. His palm cups your chin, and he drags your focus right back to his swollen cock. His tip is a pretty shade of pink, and it’s sweltering — leaking beads of precum over and over while he leisurely drags his hand up and down his length .

“Don’t listen to him. Look at Toru.” He coos with a grin, loving how fucked out your face gets when Toji absolutely ruins you. “He’s just a placeholder, riiight~? You’re still going to let me breed you after.”

You’re so pliant for them, nodding your head like a dumb slut. Nothing else in the world is better than when they both take turns breeding you again and again.

“This placeholders ‘bout to make her cum again.” Toji taunts, gripping your hips with bruising strength as he rolls his hips just the way you like. His tip presses kisses of precum so deep inside you. You can barely breathe much less think.

“You better not, princess. Suppose to wait for Toru, remember?” Satoru’s voice grows stern, and his eyes bore into yours in an almost eerie fashion.

“C’mon, doll. Cum for daddy. I can feel you tightening around me. I know ya want to.”

It’s all so much. Watching Satoru fuck into his wrist while Toji’s tip is practically massaging your g-spot. You give Satoru a sorrowful glance before letting out a pleasured cry. Your hands fist at the sheets, and your toes literally curl as juices gush out around the base of Toji’s cock.

“Yeeaah, not bad for a placeholder, right?” Toji’s lips quirk up into a smirk before he presses a kiss to your lips, drinking down your moans just to rub it in Satoru’s face even more.

All it takes is one look from Satoru, and Toji slides out of you with a grin. “I got ‘er warmed up for ya.” Toji laughs as he and Satoru switch positions. You lazily part your thighs for Satoru, still trying to catch your breath from the soul shattering orgasm Toji just gave you.

“Nuh uh. You wanted to be a slut on his cock. ‘m gonna treat you like one.” His hands grab your waist, and he rolls you onto your stomach forcefully.

From the outside, everyone would probably guess that brooding Toji’s the mean one in these scenarios, but they’d be dead wrong.

Satoru, after a life of being spoilt, gets so rude and aggressive when he doesn’t get what he wants. Toji purposefully pushes him to that point — partly so he can watch you get railed deeply into the mattress until tears fall from your eyes.

The heel of Satoru’s palm connects with your back, and he forces your face and shoulders down into the sheets while his other hands guides his cock to your weeping entrance.

You grip at the sheets immediately, letting out a hiss as he buries himself all the way to the hilt in one fluid thrust.

“Fuck.” Satoru groans as if he’s genuinely mad at how wet you are — frustrated that Toji could get you this messy.

Toji brushes your hair away from your face, and his large palm rubs at your cheek gently — a tender reminder to keep your eyes on him while he jerks his cock right in front of your face.

“Just couldn’t wait, could you? I was- ngh.. gonna be nice to you tonight… since hah~ I’m trying to put a baby in you.” Satoru’s hips are forcefully slamming into your backside. He’s not moving fast, but his pace is punishing. “Toji’s already got a kid. It’s my turn.”

Your juices are seeping around his cock, forming a thin white line right around the base that makes Satoru’s cock twitch in delight. His hand slaps at the fat of your ass smack! before he’s pulling on your hips, making you meet him halfway just so he can make his thrusts count.

“Takin’ him so well. Keep it up for, daddy, yeah?” Toji murmurs before pressing a loving kiss to your temple.

Your mouth opens for Toji, and he gives you an affectionate chuckle before placing his thumb against your tongue to soothe that oral fixation you have. He knows that if he fucks your face, Satoru will have even more of a hissy fit and probably fuck you out of commission for a few days.

“Focus on him, doll. Looks like he’s making ya feel real good.” You nod, sucking on Toji’s thumb in between breathless whines and moans.

Satoru’s balls are so heavy, brutally slapping against your puffy clit with each thrust. Thwak! Thwak! Thwak! He’s been saving up for you, adamant that he needs to breed you. He’s the upcoming Gojo clan head after all; it’s natural that those old hags want a baby with his blessed genes.

All it takes is feeling your spongy walls clench around him like a vice, and Satoru’s jerking you up by your arms, forcing your back in to an arch to where the imprint of his dick bulges through your belly.

Both of you are so noisy when you cum, Toji thinks. He watches in slight awe as Satoru pumps you full with his sticky seed. He can tell by the look on Satoru’s face that you’re milking him for all he’s worth too, and it’s so fucking hot.

Toji pushes you back down into the bed. Both men aren’t good with words. They’re good at doing. He arches his hips out before rope after rope of white hot cum spurt from his tip all over your face, marking his territory.

After a moment of cleaning up and giving you small tokens of affection through praises and kisses, the men are right back at each other’s throats.

“Ya know, if you’re not able to keep up, I can breed her cunt, and let ya pass off my kid as yours.” Toji taunts with a smirk.

“Yeah, as if your first kid didn’t look like he came from your ass. Fat chance. Sweets and I are gonna make a pretty blue-eyed baby with white hair.” Satoru hums as he affectionately ruffles your hair. “Isn’t that right, pretty~?”

[singmyaubade]

the greatest heist

james potter x female!reader

summary: when james's girlfriend decides to fuck with you, your only other choice is to fuck with her.

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ heavy angst, cursing, wearing, jealousy

a/n: my bad for taking so long.. enjoy & as always, i apologize if you hate this!

part 1 | part 2

SITTING in the Hospital Wing for the rest of your glamorous night was certainly not on your bucket list for the year.

You couldn't believe that while your friends were most likely on their next shot of Firewhiskey, there you were, sitting with an ice pack on your ankle and a yellow, now turning purple, bruise resting below it.

The scowl on your face couldn’t be more defined before a gentle squeeze on your forearm snapped you out of your angered thoughts.

A sweet, warm James sat beside you, his comforting smile as kind as ever. You gave him a shy smile in return, reluctant to admit that his presence made you feel just a little bit better.

"You know, you don’t have to stay here," You said, voice soft but sincere. "You don’t have to stay out of pity for me while the rest of our friends are probably on their fourth round of Truth or Dare." You snorted, trying to make light of it.

James lightly laughed, the sound warm and comforting. "I wanna be here," He replied sweetly, making your heart swell despite yourself. "I mean, I am partly to blame for your injury."

You snickered, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, your vicious twirling of me is definitely what did it."

He yawned dramatically. "Yeah, I’m so strong," He flexed one arm with exaggerated pride, earning a laugh from you as you playfully swatted at him.

"Well, dearie!" Madame Pomfrey exclaimed, appearing suddenly from the patient beside you. "It seems it’s just a deep bruise—nothing a bit of Bruisewart Balm won’t fix," She stated, handing you the small jar of balm. "I’d recommend taking it easy on your feet for a day or two, but nothing too strenuous."

"Thank you, Madame Pomfrey," You smiled as she nodded and moved on to her next patient.

"And to prevent more bruising," Pomfrey added with a sly smile, "I’d recommend staying away from Mr. Potter over here."

James frowned. "Oh Pops, how you wound me!" He said dramatically, making Pomfrey roll her eyes and walk away.

The tension in the room lifted, but as James turned back to you, the air between you two shifted. You met his gaze, and for the first time, you noticed the way his eyes seemed to sparkle, how the dim light of the Hospital Wing made them look even more intense. You felt your heart race in your chest as he cleared his throat.

"Well, it seems like you won’t need to stay overnight," James said, a little too casually, his voice softer than usual. "May I help you hop back to your dorm m'lady?" His hand extended out for you.

You blinked at him, a little surprised at his suggestion. "What a gentleman," You mocked, though your voice was lighthearted as he helped you carefully get to your feet, his hand steady at your waist and the small of your back.

You both started down the hallway, his support a comforting presence as you tried to regain your balance on your injured ankle.

"You know Emma’s going to kill me, right?" You said with a dry chuckle.

James huffed in response, his arm still around you. "She’s really not as deadly as you all make her out to be," he said lightly.

You scoffed, shaking your head. "I think there’s a reason all the girls in sixth year have stayed away from you, and it isn’t because of your looks or personality."

James laughed, but there was a tinge of embarrassment in his eyes. "Well, she’s just really protective, you know?" He helped you adjust your step as you hopped slightly, trying to stay balanced. "She cares about me."

You raised an eyebrow. 'Protective doesn’t mean bat-shit crazy,' You thought to yourself.

"But I am sorry for how she’s been treating you," James continued, his voice turning a little more serious. "We broke up over it, you know?"

You didn’t know how to respond. You’d heard they’d had a fight, but you hadn’t realized it had escalated to that point.

"Over me?" you asked, a little surprised.

"Yeah," He nodded, his voice almost sheepish. "I know we haven’t talked much in the last couple of years, but you’ve always meant a lot to me, you know? So, when she gave me that choice—you or her—I thought it was a load of bollocks, but in the end, I think it was what we both needed. To take a step back, I mean."

You felt your stomach twist at his words. You knew their relationship had always been complicated, but hearing it from him like this was not what you had expected.

"And how did she take that?" You asked, trying to keep your voice even.

James’s face softened, but there was a faint trace of sadness in his expression. "She yelled. Cursed me out for a bit, slammed the door, and I haven’t seen her since."

You nodded, processing his words. You hoped to feel happy and to be excited, but you only felt sadness for James. Despite your dislike for Emma, he had seemed to actually enjoy her presence.

And all you ever wanted for James was for him to be happy even if it meant the literal Anti-christ being his girlfriend.

"Well," You said quietly, "I'm sorry to hear that."

James looked over at you, his lips curling into a soft smile. "Thanks."

The silence stretched between you two as you hobbled along the corridor. You could feel the weight of his words hanging in the air, and something about it made your heart beat a little faster.

"Can I ask you something?" You ventured, glancing up at him.

"Anything," James replied, his voice sincere.

"Why didn’t you ever... you know, talk to me about this before? You’ve been kind of distant, and—" You cut yourself off, not wanting to sound too accusatory.

James gave a small, rueful chuckle. "Guess I was just stupid, huh?" He looked over at you, his expression thoughtful. "I always figured things would work themselves out, and we would get closer in the future. But maybe I was wrong or just scared of Emma." He lightly laughed.

You didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so you stayed quiet for a moment, your mind racing. The conversation felt like it was drifting toward a place you weren’t sure you were ready for, but at the same time, a part of you felt like you needed the conversation.

As you approached the Gryffindor Tower entrance, you could see the Fat Lady’s portrait in the distance, and the familiar weight of the evening was starting to settle back into place.

"This is me," You said, trying to keep your tone light as you stopped in front of the portrait.

"Yeah," James replied softly, a bit quieter now like he didn’t want the moment to end. "But, you know, if you ever need anything—"

"I know where to find you," You said, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

James looked at you for a long moment, and for just a beat, it felt like everything between you two shifted again. His eyes were intense, but there was something more in them now, something that made your heart flutter.

"Yeah," he said, voice barely above a whisper, "You do."

You turned toward the Fat Lady, trying to mask the sudden rush of emotions coursing through you. You gave her the password, and as the portrait swung open, you took a last glance at James.

"Night, James," You said, your voice soft.

"Goodnight," he replied, his gaze lingering on you as you stepped inside.

And for a brief moment, you couldn’t help but wonder, maybe there was more to your friendship than you’d ever realized.

--

"He said what?!" Dorcas yelled excitedly, her voice carrying across the otherwise quiet Great Hall. You quickly shushed her, eyes darting around the room to make sure no one was watching. It was way too early for this kind of drama.

You had both decided to wake up an hour earlier than all the other girls for two very important reasons: 1) You didn’t trust Emma, and 2) You really didn’t trust Emma.

A few third-years glanced up from their breakfast, clearly curious about the outburst. You snorted, trying to hide your smile as you took another bite of toast.

"And what did you say?" Dorcas asked, her eyes practically sparkling with curiosity.

"Nothing," You muttered, refusing to meet her gaze as you stared off into the distance.

"What do you mean you said nothing?!" She questioned loudly, banging her hand against the table with enough force to rattle your plate.

You grabbed her hands quickly, trying to calm her down. "Stop doing that!" You whispered, sending apologetic glances to the third-years who were now staring openly at you.

"I just mean you had a perfect opportunity to get back at Emma, get Potter on your side, and you said nothing?!" Dorcas exclaimed, her voice rising with the excitement of her accusation.

You sighed, guilt twisting in your stomach. "I can’t do that to him, Dorc," You said quietly.

She stared at you for a long moment, clearly processing your words. There was a flash of realization in her eyes before she grinned, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "You like him!"

You felt your face heat up as you rolled your eyes. "I do not."

"You do," She sang, drawing out the words like she was taunting a child.

"I do not," You said firmly, refusing to let her win.

"But you do—"

"I do not!" You interrupted, suddenly shouting, not even bothering to care about the third years who were now openly staring at you.

Dorcas smirked in victory. "Yeah, sure you don’t."

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. "This can’t be happening to me. It’s been one day since the plan was made!" You whined, half-exasperated, half-amused.

Dorcas gently pried your hands away from your face, her fingers rubbing soothing circles into your knuckles. "You can’t just hold your feelings in. If you like Potter, then so what?" She said gently, trying to comfort you. "Better than that evil witch."

You snorted at that. "I can't, Dorcas. I refuse to like someone who has the craziest ex-girlfriend in all of girlfriend history."

She sighed dramatically, looking at you as if you were the most difficult person in the world. "So what’s your master plan now, huh? Avoid him forever?"

You put on a fake, thoughtful face. "Avoid him," You pondered with a smile. "It’s the only option. Great idea, Dorc!"

Dorcas huffed, shaking her head as she took her hands away from yours. "Yeah, maybe just avoid him," She muttered, clearly not sold on your brilliant plan.

You laughed and stabbed a fork into your eggs. "Exactly."

Before Dorcas could reply, a voice slid in beside her, smooth and familiar. "Isn’t it the prettiest ladies I’ve had the honor of seeing as I awake?" Sirius Black drawled, grinning widely. Dorcas immediately shot him a disgusted look, scooting a few inches away from him.

"What do you want, Black?" You asked, already annoyed before he could even open his mouth again.

"Why do you treat me so horribly when I just want your love?" Sirius exclaimed dramatically, clutching his chest as if you had wounded him deeply.

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his antics.

"Are all of the Marauders this dramatic?" Dorcas asked, still eyeing Sirius in distaste.

"Believe it or not, yes," You confirmed, just as someone slid into the seat beside you.

"Good morning," James Potter greeted, flashing you that same sweet smile you had trouble getting out of your head.

You immediately felt a flutter in your chest. Your throat seemed to dry up as you turned to look at him. He looked radiant this morning—like the sun itself had decided to take residence in his smile.

You gulped, your brain scrambling for words. You quickly glanced at Dorcas, who gave you a subtle shake of her head, silently telling you not to do anything rash.

"Morning!" you rushed out, way too eager. You quickly gathered your things, mentally panicking. "I actually have to go study in the library for a while, so I’m just gonna go ahead." You stood quickly, trying to make your escape.

James stood up with you, looking at you with those shining eyes. "I can come with," He offered cheerfully, clearly not reading the room at all.

You shook your head rapidly, desperate to escape the conversation. "No, no! I’ll be fine!" you said a little too quickly, almost tripping over your own feet as you backed away. "I’ll just see you later."

James and Sirius exchanged a curious glance as you rushed off. You breathed a sigh of relief the moment you stepped out of the Great Hall and into the corridor.

Finally, peace and quiet.

But then you heard footsteps behind you. You glanced over your shoulder and saw James Potter jogging to catch up.

"Hey!" He called out, clearly not bothered by your earlier panic. "I decided to come with you since I’ve got nothing to do. Figured we could walk to class together after studying." He said it so cheerfully as if you hadn’t just escaped from his company a few moments ago.

You blinked, speechless. You hadn’t expected him to follow you. You didn’t think it would be this hard to get James Potter off your back.

He matched your pace, the two of you walking side by side in the silence that felt anything but comfortable.

And you couldn’t help but wonder, just for a moment, if your life had just become infinitely more complicated than you had planned.

"So, what did you need to study?" James asked, his hands casually tucked into his pockets as he looked at you with that easygoing grin of his.

You quickly scrambled for an answer, the pressure of his gaze making your mind race. "Astronomy!" You replied a bit too quickly, the excitement in your voice betraying your nerves.

"But you've always been good at Astronomy," James raised an eyebrow, his gaze skeptical as he studied you closely.

You tried to shrug it off, but your voice betrayed you. "I'm afraid the subject's been slowly slipping from me," You said, forcing a smile.

His face softened, the skepticism fading into a more understanding look. "Yeah, Professor Sinistra does tend to move quickly," He said, nodding in agreement. "I even tried to cast a time-slowing spell on her once just to get down all my notes."

You laughed, the image of James trying (and likely failing) to slow down the Professor amusing. "And what did you get in return?" you asked, a teasing grin playing on your lips.

"Two weeks of detention," He said, smirking as if the whole thing was just a funny memory. "Totally worth it though."

You giggled, the sound feeling lighter in your chest. "Of course it was."

You both walked in silence next to each other, making your way towards the library. You were glad that the silence was comfortable but a part of you still thought avoiding James was the best plan.

You went to sit at a table before James rushed over to you, pulling your chair out for you as you rolled your eyes, "Do you just want me to keep calling you a gentleman?"

"A bit," He shrugged as he sat down across from you.

You opened your textbook for Astronomy, actually deciding to do work since you were there anyways.

You noticed James making paper planes and attempting to get them to fly over your head. By the fourth one, it hit you square in the forehead, and you let out a dramatic sigh.

"Do you need me to give you a task?" You asked, eyeing him with a look that could only be described as 'toddler supervision.'

James rested his head on his palm, his gaze staring off into space. "I just think there are more exciting things we could be doing right now," He replied with a bored sigh.

"Like what?" You asked, raising an eyebrow and offering him a light smile.

He thought for a moment, then his eyes lit up with mischief. "I could teach you how to play Quidditch!"

You almost felt sick just hearing the words. You shook your head furiously. "I don't know about that," You said, looking back down at your textbook as if you could will the conversation away.

James grabbed your hand in an exaggerated plea. "Come on, it'll be fun!" He cheered, his enthusiasm making you laugh, but before you could say anything else, the librarian shushed him with a fierce look.

You giggled quietly, "Sorry, James, no," You said firmly, scribbling some notes in your textbook.

James pouted dramatically, laying his head down on the desk in defeat. You studied him for a few moments as he huffed, like a child who hadn't gotten his way.

You rolled your eyes, unable to resist the pull of his antics. "I'm not falling for this."

He continued to pout, his face scrunched in exaggerated misery. He pretended to sniffle dramatically, looking up at you with his big hazel eyes.

"No, James, I mean it," You said, trying to keep your tone firm, but the warmth in your voice betrayed you.

--

And next thing you knew, you were on the Quidditch field.

You yelped loudly as you clung to James’s waist, the wind rushing in your face as he zoomed higher into the sky. "We haven't even made it into the air yet!" James laughed excitedly, clearly having the time of his life as you panicked.

"This is still really high!" You cried out, your grip tightening around him. You dared a glance down and saw the ground growing smaller and more distant by the second.

"Close your eyes, I’ve got you!" James shouted reassuringly, though it still sounded somehow delicate, soothing you.

With a deep breath, you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped him even tighter. The wind whipped around you, but James’s steady hold kept you grounded—physically, at least. When you opened your eyes, the sensation of rising fast into the air filled you with a mix of excitement and dread.

James cheered as you both soared, flipping through the air and spiraling in wide, dizzying motions. You screamed, the wind filling your lungs with cold, sharp air.

But then, as if sensing your panic, James calmed things down, steering the broom to glide slowly over the Black Lake.

You exhaled a long breath, your heart rate slowing as you took in the view. From this height, the lake looked more beautiful than you'd ever seen it before, its surface sparkling in the early morning light.

You rested your cheek against his back, staring down at the glistening water below. "This is really pretty," You murmured, surprised at how peaceful it felt up here.

James chuckled lightly. "It's one of my favorite things to look at when I ride." He smiled, but you could feel his warmth, even through the rush of wind. When you lifted your head to look at him, he glanced back with a grin that seemed to make your heart skip a beat.

"Is this where you disappear to during Quidditch games when you're supposed to be looking for the snitch?" You joked, a teasing lilt in your voice.

James's eyes widened dramatically. "You've figured me out!" he yelled, a laugh bursting from him before he abruptly swerved the broom again, causing you both to spiral upward with another whoosh of wind.

You screamed as you were whipped through the air, but James’s laughter was all you could hear. He cheered as the wind carried you higher, and you couldn’t help but laugh, even as you felt the thrill and panic collide inside you.

Seeing James so excited, gliding through the air, eased most of your fear. His laughter, the way he moved so effortlessly—it was impossible not to feel lighter in his presence.

You hadn’t realized until now how much you wanted to see someone smile like that, so carefree and alive. His joy was infectious, and it made you feel like maybe you were starting to enjoy this too.

James’s grin widened when he saw the way you were watching him. “See? Told you it’s fun up here,” he said, his voice full of that same infectious enthusiasm. He spun the broom gently, making you feel the rush of wind again, and for the first time, you didn’t mind it.

You met his gaze, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, it’s amazing up here,” You admitted.

James’s smile softened as he gently lowered both of you to the ground. You carefully dismounted the broom, your legs still a little shaky from the ride.

As James went to put the broom back in its rightful place, you glanced at your watch—(yes, you had actually bought one)—and your heart dropped. "Shit! James, we’re going to be late!" You yelled, rushing toward him.

He immediately sprinted over as you tossed his bag at him with a hurried "Sorry!" You grabbed yours, slinging it over your shoulder before running up the stairs.

After what felt like an eternity of climbing, you stopped at the first landing to catch your breath.

James huffed, leaning on the railing. "Maybe we should just skip," He suggested, looking at you with a mischievous glint.

You shot him a death glare as the stairs shifted back into place, urging him to hurry. "Not an option, Potter!"

You both barely made it to class, arriving two minutes late. Professor Adair gave you both a disappointed look and gestured to the empty seats in the front. The entire class seemed to turn toward you, exchanging curious glances.

James leaned over and whispered, "Hey, you did great today."

You flushed, feeling a little flustered. "Thanks," You mumbled, half of you still recovering from the flying.

"Think I can have a spot on the team?" You asked, grinning at him.

James grinned back. "Oh, for sure. Your flying skills are impeccable," He said, his tone light and teasing.

"Be careful, Potter. I might take your spot as Seeker." You nudged him, half-joking, but his hand squeezed your thigh lightly in response.

You were about to respond when you saw your friends walking toward you, with Emma trailing behind them. The glare she shot you could've melted stone, and you couldn't help but feel a bit of unease.

"And why were you two late?" Lily asked, her voice mock-stern.

"Well, Mom, we were out flying," James said with a dramatic pout, making you laugh.

Lily looked at you, wide-eyed. "You went flying?"

"How did you make her do that?" Remus asked, half-sitting on his chair in front of you as Sirius snored, head resting on his shoulder.

"I don’t think I’ve ever even seen Y/N jump ," Marlene chimed in, snickering.

You shot her a look, but the corner of your lips twitched. "It was a one-time thing."

"Oh, yeah?" James smirked, nudging you with his shoulder. "I think there’s still more flying to do," He teased, and you giggled.

Your friends exchanged suspicious glances, but Emma’s sour expression cut through the moment. She stepped forward, eyes fixed on James, her voice syrupy sweet. "Well, we’re thinking about going to Hogsmeade tonight," she said, ignoring you completely.

"Sounds fun," You said casually, but Emma’s smile faltered slightly.

Sirius yawned, not looking up from where he was practically asleep on Remus’s shoulder. "So, are you two in?"

James looked at you with a grin. "If M’lady is."

"Sure, why not?" You responded lightly.

Emma looked like she was about to cast the Killing Curse right there, but she held it together, forcing a fake smile. "Great, it’s a date," She said, her eyes burning into you.

You had a feeling that tonight was going to be very interesting.

[screampied]

your writing is so amazing I’m begging you to write anything for nanami

❤︎ ໋𓈒 ex husband nanami who fucks like he can’t live without you

warnings. fem! reader, ex husband nanami, mating press, breeding kink, praise kink, slight whiney nanami. mdni.

an. thank u bb!! xo i want him so bad

ex husband nanami that’s completely infatuated with you. he’s never stopped fully loving you—you probably never stopped him either. his touch against you was gentle, he’d watch as you’d try to cover your face with your hand. beneath him, nanami lets off a grunt with a idle hand pressing against your tummy.

“nono, don’t do that,” he whispers, the feeling of his wedding ring he’d never take off skims against your skin. “i wanna see my wife before she makes another mess on me.”

wife.

a term he’d always call you, despite the two of you not exactly being together. yet you’d always find yourself back in nanami’s arms, in his bed.. vice versa.

“k-kento,” you’d gasp, each thrust he creates has the bed creaking and creaking. you gawk as nanami once he grabs your hand to kiss it. twice, the softness of his lips that ran against your skin made your heart swoon. “fuck, you’re so—big.”

“perfect size for you, sweetheart,” he sighs, and he picks the position specifically just to see your face…purely to study your facial expressions, planting a plethora of kisses all over your face. “god, you don’t know how much i’ve missed you.”

he was so thick, stretching you out with such ease like an elastic band—your walls forevermore clamped against him and you bit the inside of your cheek with your eyes rolling back. “so just let me show you, sweetheart.”

as nanami maintained a thorough pace, he was visibly sweating a bit.. not much to your surprise.

beads of it ran down the side of his partly arched eyebrows, his jawline was perfectly sharp each time he clenched his jaw and it was unintentionally sexy.

“w-woman, whenever you look at me like that…” he groans.

the way your walls gripped him oh so tight, it left him speechless. nanami had your legs just dangling in the air as he’s hitting against your cunt with such sloppy erotic thrusts.

your ears ring vividly as your lip trembles in pleasure. “makes me wanna give you another baby.”

“do it then, kento.” you moaned, and for a second the two of you make direct eye contact. his heart pounds and nanami gives you a soft glance.

a sheepish grin going across his pink lips. he lets off a moan right against your ear, “…baby, i just might. ‘m so pent up ‘n full for you. should give you triplets this time. i always adored how you looked with a pretty rounded tummy.”

his brutal hits against you, the way he pivots his hips each time, you’re left with your mouth dumbly dangling open, nails carving into his skin. “oh my g-god, kento. keep hitting me right there, pleasepleaseee.”

he’s plugging into you with such soft force, your legs nearly give out. nanami’s low husky grunts against your ear makes you throb for more.

“i will,” he mutters, grabbing your hand to give it another kiss. “you’re so pretty like this. am i making you feel good? speak to me, my love.”

all that escaped from your lips was a soft, “mhm.”

“that’s all you can give me?” he teases, leaning in to plant a soft kiss near your mouth. nanami’s fingers graciously ghosts against the middle part of your neck. he swipes a thumb against it, smothering you with kisses until he left you gasping for air. his dick reached the deepest parts of you, the curve he had fully expanding into you and you’re just a whiney mess. “my wife’s never been this soft spoken.”

“i— i’m gonna cummm,” you babbled, a sensitive cluster of nerves brewing up from the inside. “kento. ‘s gonna—”

as he’s buried into you, he lets off a soft whine at the way your cunt tugged against him. the filthy wet sounds between your legs created reverberated across the room.

“look at me, look at me.” your eyes dart towards him and his smile was so warm and gentle. you feel the way every few seconds his cock was disappear inside your folds, in and out and your eyes just rolled and rolled. “you drive me insane,” he grumbles, his thrusts began to become more unkept and dirty. his fingers intertwine with yours before he whispers in a broken voice. “marry me again.”

“kento,” you moaned, and he stares deeply into your eyes, bringing a few more kisses towards the center of your mouth. you found yourself speechless, forever being coddled with his warmth from how he’s just so gentle with you. his weight gingerly hovered against you before he lets off a sigh, stroking your cheek. “re-marry?”

he lets off a grunt once he feels your droopy legs just brush all against his back. you’re constantly moving all because of him and it makes him smile. “i’d give anything just to see you in a pretty white dress a-again.”

for a split second, his words gets cut off and he laments lowly at how your pussy gripped him tightly with much needed force. “sweetheart, ‘m gonna fill you…you want that?”

“please,” you whined, practically hugging his back. this position was so lewd — nanami always expressed his love for mating press, it was so affectionate not to mention intimate. he’d always have a good enough excuse just to see your cute expressions right when you were about to orgasm.

“anything for my girl,” he murmurs into your neck, and his voice gets a bit pitchy — whiney even. forlorn and almost desperate, he was trembling on his words from how sensitive you had him, a nanami you don’t think you’ve ever experienced this version with. “so full for you,” he whispers, licking a strick up your neck before claiming your hands against with his.

you feel his ring graze against your palm as he’s quickening his pace just a tad bit. “just for you though, j-just for you.”

once nanami cums, it’s so thick. lengthy ropes spew into your cunt and your legs were left twitching, just clinging onto his waist. nanami’s softly panting against your ear, murmuring how gorgeous you were, how pretty you looked, and most importantly….how charming you’d look with your tummy plump for him again.

“come here,” you’d moan, picking up nanami’s head so he could face you directly. you’d hastily bring him into a warm kiss and he returns in, swabbing a thumb across your cheek before he groans into your mouth.

nanami’s heart raced—you were forever perfect in his eyes, each second the kiss lasted, he craved more of you. still buried inside of you, you feel his palm softly press down against your tummy and you moan. the moment he pulls away, nanami takes off his ring before placing it inside of your hand, kissing your hand afterwards.

“think about it, for me?”

[maidenvault]

During my last rewatch of the prequels I was actually shocked by how much I've misremembered or decontextualized certain moments in my mind because of how they're often talked about in fandom as showing the Jedi as too arrogant, too bureaucratic, generally just burying their heads in the sand while everything goes bad etc. So I'm gonna try to address every individual scene that typically gets brought up to argue that this is an actual theme in Lucas's portrayal of the Order.

The Council doesn't take Qui-Gon's account of meeting a Sith seriously.

Mace and Ki Adi Mundi do both express doubt this guy could be a Sith. (Understandably! Historically they've never known Sith to be able to hide their existence, and for them to have survived totally in secret for a thousand years is a pretty wild thing for Qui-Gon to be so sure of.)

BUT Yoda admits that the dark side is hard to see, and Mace assures Qui-Gon they'll do everything to find out the identity of the attacker. Later he's ordered to go back to Naboo and try to draw out Maul to discover more. Qui-Gon accepts this and doesn't ask for backup. Why should he? He held his own against Maul before, and Maul's probably not gonna show himself again to face a ton of Jedi. They end up missing the chance to learn who trained Maul because of how things go down, but Qui-Gon's death isn't the result of the Council mishandling the situation.

At the funeral, Yoda says the presence of one Sith means there's another out there. They know they've got to be on guard now and will be, but they've got no more leads for now.

2. Qui-Gon's not here to free slaves.

There's this idea that slavery existing on Tatooine shows the Order is apparently too tied up doing shady things for self-interested politicians (footage not found) to help the people who really need it. But Padme's shocked to know the Skywalkers are slaves for a reason. The truth is there isn't a lot of slavery in the galaxy at this time because the Jedi have helped keep it that way for centuries only by working with the Republic. In TCW we see that Zygerrian slavers have a particular hatred of Jedi because they're literally The Anti Slavery People and did so much of the work to crack down on their trade. But Tatooine is controlled by the Hutts and they simply don't have the resources to start a war with them.

(And honestly, it's crazy how people talk like Qui-Gon's a monster for honestly and apologetically telling Anakin no, that's not why he's here. This is a child he's already indebted to and who has a hero-worshipping idea of Jedi, it would be fucked up for him not to be clear about how he can't help him and his mom.)

3. They doubt Dooku could be behind the assassination attempt.

This I understand shows the Jedi to be a little naive. But they knew Dooku as a good man, and at this point he and his followers are still putting on a show of wanting to secede for idealistic reasons (and a few of them, manipulated by Dooku, actually do have good intentions). Only later do the Jedi learn they're illegally building an army before they've even officially left the Republic and clearly have no interest in the peaceful resolution Padme's been advocating for. And they only find this out because they have Obi-Wan investigate the assassin and this very quickly leads him to Dooku.

4. "Arrogance, yes. A trait more and more common among Jedi. Even the older, more experienced ones."

In context, this line from Yoda is clearly not meant to be taken so seriously. Obi-Wan says he fears Anakin is too arrogant, and this is Yoda's light-hearted way of telling him not to be so hard on him. Part of training a Padawan is learning to trust them so they can grow, and Obi-Wan perhaps needs the reminder that he isn't done learning himself.

Of course Yoda saying this could be partly motivated by them having been caught off guard before by the existence of Darth Maul and the dark side clouding their awareness, as we're told repeatedly throughout the PT they know is a problem. But it's kind of contradictory to take this as confirmation that this is a serious fatal flaw of theirs. If someone acknowledges their own arrogance then they're aware of their ability to be wrong, which means they can't actually be that arrogant. If truly meant in a general sense and not just as a gentle reproof of Obi-Wan, it's a pretty self-deprecating comment coming from Yoda.

5. "If an item does not appear in our records, it does not exist."

Chief Librarian Jocasta Nu gives this haughty response to Obi-Wan looking for Kamino, a system that's not in the Jedi Archives. So being so overly confident in the infallible knowledge of the Jedi, he takes her word for it and totally drops this lead.

Except no, he goes to someone older and wiser to figure out what this actually means. And he and Yoda are forced to conclude that the unthinkable - a trusted person among them somehow had reason to erase information from the archive - must nonetheless be what happened. This is honestly an exception that proves the rule: Kamino, and we can assume only Kamino, is missing from the archive only because it was removed, which is so suspicious it just shows he must be on the right track to discovering something. Jocasta is kind of snooty about it but theirs obviously is supposed to be one of the most accurate and complete databases in the galaxy.

6. Obi-Wan doesn't believe what Dooku tells him about the Senate.

For one thing, in this conversation Dooku's lying about basically everything but this. And I can't ever stress enough that Palpatine is a threat unlike anything the Jedi have ever dealt with before, who's already taken control of so much before they even know they're fighting anything, so the idea that a Sith is controlling the Senate would be really hard for anyone to believe.

Still, we know Obi-Wan reports this to the Council anyway. But it's a vague statement and they still don't have any information to act on. Palpatine soon has them very busy putting out fires in the war, and naturally fighting the Separatists who are led by Sith seems the best way for them to get to the bottom of what exactly is going on with the dark side. And they do finally turn their attention to how power-hungry Palpatine is getting once the war is nearly over and they've got the bandwidth for it, and think about what they might have to do if he's the threat to their democracy they fear, but of course he's too many steps ahead of them all the time.

---

So basically, what we see the Jedi being so guilty of in these examples are thought crimes. When confronted with the crazy explanation that happens to be true, their instinctive reaction is "No, I don't think that's possible." And then they do their due diligence to uncover as much of the truth as they can anyway. And Yoda, the Grand Master of them all, is often the first to admit that their first assumptions could be wrong. But Palpatine wouldn't be a good villain if his moves were predictable and he couldn't get an advantage over the good guys - that's just how storytelling works sometimes and it's not that deep.

It honestly felt stupid typing so much of this out because it's 90% just describing what actually happens in these scenes. But I guess it's a lot to ask that people actually carefully watch the films they discuss. 😒

[nativegirltapes]

pairing: toxic!rafe x sweetheart!reader

you and rafe always took 'breaks', but they never lasted. when he asked you to meet him in the middle of the night you could never say no.

you and rafe had been on your longest break yet, going on 3 weeks. and you couldn't lie, you'd been doing really good without him. but you missed him, a lot.

you didn't know why you missed him so much, it was almost like a drug you just couldn't live without despite knowing you're better off without it.

2AM, sitting in your room, music blasting through your earbuds, paging through your favorite clothing catalog; you felt your phone vibrate right next to you. thinking it was pope; the cute pogue you had recently befriended and been texting, you had a slight smile on your face.

that smile faded when you realized it was indeed not pope, but rafe. of course from some random number because you blocked him on his own.

252-###-### - It's me. Can we talk? Meet at tanneyhill in 15? PLS. I love you.

you sighed, partly of self disappointment because you knew you were going to do exactly what he wanted. but also partly from relief, this being you and rafe's longest break, you wondered what had been keeping him so busy from trying to reach out to you. on previous breaks he'd be begging to see you a few days in.

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ 🍰 . .

rafe was sat on the front steps of tanneyhill, he looked stressed and upset, but really when wasn't he?

"hey," you said softly, standing in front of him, not wanting to get too close.

"hey." he looked up at you. "thanks for coming."

"yeah." your voice was full of shame. it was embarrassing how you couldn't say no to rafe. you liked to rationalize your embarrassment by convincing yourself that you were doing this for him, that he needed you and how could you say no to someone who needed you? but no, you knew deep down your relationship with rafe was self-inflicted and self indulgent. if you tried hard enough you could say no, but the thing was that you just really didn't want to. and that was the most embarrassing part.

you liked getting treated like you were everything one day, and nothing the next. the feelings rafe made you feel were ones close enough to addiction. the highs were so high, but the lows were low.

rafe patted his lap, signaling for you to come take a seat on his lap. of course you did. "i missed you," rafe placed his hand on your inner thigh.

"missed you too rafe." you were basically now bridal style in his lap, ass on one of his thighs, your legs propped up on the other, and your ams wrapped around his neck. you missed being held like this.

"yeah? how much you miss me?" he had a smirk on his face while looking at you. god he looked so good. you hated how good he always looked.

"i dont know," you giggled softly, "a lot."

"heard you been talking to that pogue," rafe looked into the distance, you could tell he was trying his best to remain calm. "what's his name? pope."

you were confused as to how he would even know that, but to be honest it was probably best you didn't know. "just texting." you immediately defend yourself. "just friendly."

"friendly huh?" rafe scoffs. "do y'know how many guys would love to be 'just friendly' with you?"

"really rafe?" you dropped your legs from his lap. only rafe would invite you over to resolve things just to start another argument.

just as you were about to get up from his lap, he pulled you back down onto it. "cmon don't leave now," rafe moved your hair to the side, leaving the side of your neck that was closest to him on full display. "was just teasin'." his hot breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine.

“i don’t want to be teased.” you sighed under your breath.

“what do you want?”

“i want you to love me.” a singular tear fell down your face, rafe immediately wiping it.

“i do love you,” rafe’s voice was soft in a way you’d never heard before. “i love you more than,” you could tell he was really trying to pick his next words wisely. “i love you more than everything.” rafe kissed you on the cheek, his wet lips colliding with your wet tears.

and maybe that was also half the reason you couldn’t leave rafe. you knew that deep down aside from all the bad things he’s done to you; he has real love in his heart, he just doesn’t know how to show it.

[loregoddess]

day three of attempting Octo2's optional superboss, still no luck. the wild strategy I found and decided to test works...sorta. Since I've already used all my nuts (rip) I can't quite get the stats needed to make the strategy work 1:1, but I'm at least getting past the first phase...usually. The strategy relies SO much on good rng the second phase that I decided to go ahead and level grind all the damage-dealing characters to try and make up for my questionable use of nuts (rip).

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.1

Chapter One: Hide Your Heart From Sight

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Celebrities, Starstruck,

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Welcome to this disaster of a fic that I have constantly daydreamed about. Logistically, yes, it is so improbable and unrealistic— but there’s a 0.001% chance that it could happen… to you. It’s nice to wonder and dream. I like wondering. Granted, I’ve never worked in production ever… I am studying advertising and arts soooo that’s as much knowledge I have tehe. 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: It Could Happen To You by Laufey

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

The hum of the plane’s engines filled the air as you settled into your seat, trying not to fidget. You glanced at your boarding pass again, as if to double-check you weren’t hallucinating. Seat 3B—business class. Marvel had spared no expense for the production team’s travel, but you still couldn’t quite believe you’d be flying so comfortably.

What shocked you even more, though, was the man lowering himself into the seat next to yours: Pedro Pascal. Yes, that Pedro Pascal. The man whose movies you’d watched obsessively before joining this production, the actor who somehow seemed both unattainably larger-than-life and heartbreakingly down-to-earth.

“Hi,” he said with a warm smile, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Looks like we’re seatmates.”

You froze for a moment, then managed a weak, “Hi.” Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you mentally scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete idiot.

“You’re with the crew, right?” Pedro asked, adjusting the scarf around his neck. “What do you do?”

“Oh, um,” you stammered, “I’m just a production assistant. It’s my first big project.”

“No kidding? That’s awesome,” he said, genuinely sounding impressed. “First time working on a Marvel movie? How’s it going so far?”

“It’s… surreal,” you admitted, relaxing slightly under his easygoing demeanor. “I mean, it’s been amazing, but also kind of overwhelming. There’s so much to do, and everyone’s so talented. I…” You trailed off, realizing you were rambling.

“I get it,” Pedro said, nodding. “First big gig can be a lot. But hey, you’re here. That means someone saw something in you, right?”

The sincerity in his voice made your cheeks flush. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. Pedro asked you about your favorite movies, your hobbies, and how you’d gotten into production work. You told him about your love for art direction and set design, your dream of one day being a production designer, and your side passion for writing and music. When you mentioned you played guitar and sang, he raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll have to play something for us on set sometime,” he said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You laughed nervously. “I don’t know about that. I’d probably die of embarrassment.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he replied, his tone light but mischievous.

By the time the plane landed, you were buzzing—partly from the conversation and partly from the fact that you’d just spent hours talking to Pedro Pascal as if he were an old friend.

The buzz quickly faded when you arrived at the hotel. You stood in the lobby with the rest of the crew, listening as the location manager, Duncan, argued with the front desk staff. Apparently, there’d been a mix-up with the bookings. The hotel was overbooked due to a telecommunications conference, and somehow, you’d been assigned to share a suite… with Pedro Pascal.

“This has to be a mistake,” you muttered to yourself, your anxiety spiking as Duncan tried to sort things out. But no matter how much back-and-forth there was, the conclusion remained the same: there were no other rooms available.

“Look,” Pedro said finally, stepping in with his usual calm demeanor. “It’s fine. I don’t mind sharing if she’s okay with it.”

You blinked up at him, your mind racing. “I…”

“Hey,” he said gently, noticing your hesitation. He leaned in slightly, his voice soft but steady. “Look at me. I’m okay with it if you’re okay with it. No pressure.”

You swallowed hard, glancing over at Duncan, who looked as stressed as you felt. Finally, you nodded. “I’m fine with it if everyone else is.”

“Great,” Pedro said, flashing you a reassuring smile. “It’s settled, then.”

Duncan pulled you aside before you headed to the elevators. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, his tone fatherly.

“Yes,” you said, forcing a smile. “Is there any kind of form I need to sign, or…?”

“No, it all falls under the NDA from your employment,” he assured you. “But seriously, if you need anything, just text me.”

You thanked him and joined Pedro in the elevator. The ride up to the suite was silent, save for the soft dinging of the floors passing by. When you finally stepped into the room, you couldn’t help but gape. It was a spacious suite with two bedrooms on opposite sides, a small kitchenette, and a cozy living area.

“This isn’t so bad,” Pedro said, dropping his bag by the door. He turned to you, his expression kind. “Do you have a preference for which room?”

You fidgeted with the strap of your bag. “Um, no, you can pick.”

“Ladies’ choice,” he insisted, his tone playful.

“Okay,” you said, gesturing to the room on the right. “I’ll take that one.”

“Perfect,” he said with a grin. “Let me know if you need anything, alright?”

As you unpacked in your room, the reality of the situation began to sink in. You were sharing a suite with Pedro Pascal. For at least a week. And somehow, you had to act like a normal, functioning human being the entire time.

You took a deep breath and flopped over on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Letting out a huff of air in disbelief, you muttered to yourself, “This has to be some sort of dream… or prank, right?”

Placing both hands over your face, you rubbed it in exasperation. “Get your shit together, girl. No screwing things up, no more internal freakouts. He’s a person, like you. Mhm, sure. Yup. Totally fine.”

You sighed deeply, trying to convince yourself of your own words. The suite was spacious and nicely furnished, with plenty of room to keep your distance—but that didn’t stop your overactive imagination from running wild. Every interaction felt loaded with the possibility of embarrassing yourself, but you swore you’d keep it together.

To say people around the production crew had heard about your new roomie was an understatement.

The day before shooting began, you attended a pre-production meeting that covered everything: call sheet details, blocking and camera movement, technical requirements, and a bunch of safety protocols. It was standard procedure but felt ten times more overwhelming knowing your friends would tease you mercilessly.

You sat with your friends from the art department, trying to focus, but they weren’t making it easy. Archie, one of the lead set designers, leaned over with a smirk. “So, how’s life as Pedro Pascal’s roomie?”

You felt your face heat up instantly. “I—it’s not… it’s just temporary,” you stammered, fiddling with the edge of your notebook.

Stephanie, a costume designer with an endless supply of sass, raised an eyebrow. “Temporary or not, it’s the stuff of rom-coms, babe. Don’t tell me you haven’t imagined a meet-cute scenario in that suite.”

“I have not!” you protested, though your flaming cheeks betrayed you. 

Will, an art director with a love for stirring the pot, chuckled. “Come on, you’ve gotta admit it’s a little… serendipitous? You, a huge fan, sharing a suite with the guy? Sounds like fate to me.”

“It’s not fate,” you insisted, trying to deflect. “It’s a logistical mistake, that’s all.”

Max, the trainee set dresser, chimed in with a grin. “Yeah, but a logistical mistake that’s got everyone talking. Even Steve heard about it, and he’s usually the last to know anything.”

Steve, the lighting technician, shrugged. “What can I say? Word travels fast. I’m just here to see how long it takes for Pedro to find out about your… fandom.”

“Oh my god, can we not?” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “He’s going to think I’m a weirdo.”

Rebecca, a fellow production assistant and one of your closest friends, patted your shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry, he seems like the kind of guy who’d find it endearing. Besides, you’ve been professional so far, right?”

You nodded hesitantly. “I think so. I mean, I haven’t said anything stupid yet.”

“Yet being the keyword,” Sophie teased, earning a laugh from the group.

Patricia, always the voice of reason, smiled warmly. “Just be yourself. You’re great at your job, and Pedro’s just another actor. A very charming actor, sure, but still just a person.”

“Thanks, Patricia,” you said, feeling slightly more grounded. But the anxiety still lingered, especially with everyone’s teasing reminders of your not-so-secret crush.

As the meeting wrapped up and you headed back to your tasks, you couldn’t shake the nervous excitement bubbling inside you. Sharing a suite with Pedro Pascal might’ve been a logistical mistake, but it was quickly turning into one of the most unreal experiences of your life.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL, LONDON — NIGHT

Dinner with the cast and crew had been lively, filled with laughter, and far too many knowing glances sent your way by your friends. The teasing hadn’t stopped, even over plates of pasta and glasses of wine.

Archie had leaned over at one point, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when Pedro walks out of the bathroom shirtless? Swoon or faint?”

You nearly choked on your drink. “Archie!”

“I’m just saying,” he said with a laugh. “It’s a valid question.”

Stephanie smirked. “She’s probably rehearsing her ‘I’m totally cool and unaffected’ face right now.”

You groaned. “I hate all of you.”

Rebecca grinned. “No, you don’t. But seriously, just enjoy the moment. How many people can say they’ve shared a hotel room with Pedro Pascal?”

By the time the group had wandered back to the shuttle, your cheeks were sore from laughing, and your nerves were only slightly calmed. But as the cold London air nipped at your skin, you found yourself longing for the warmth of the hotel.

Your teeth chattered as you stepped off the shuttle, clutching your coat tighter around you. You didn’t like the cold very much, and London was very, very cold.

The moment you entered the hotel lobby, the warmth began to seep into your body, and you let out a sigh of relief. The elevator ride to your floor was quiet, your mind finally shutting down after a long evening of socializing. By the time you reached your room, you were operating on autopilot.

Tapping your keycard to the door, you quietly pushed it open, careful not to disturb Pedro if he was already asleep. It was just past 9:30 p.m., and you knew the early call time tomorrow would have him resting early.

You shut the door softly behind you, locking the deadbolt before shuffling into the room. You removed your coat, scarf, and shoes, swapping them for the fuzzy slippers you’d packed. The room was dimly lit, and you moved quietly, hoping not to make too much noise.

“Oh, you’re back.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, clutching your chest as your heart tried to escape it. Whipping around, you found Pedro lounging on the sofa, a book in his hands and a soft, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He was wearing a plain white tee and gray sweatpants, his square-framed glasses perched on his nose, and he looked entirely too comfortable—like he belonged there. Like this was normal.

“Oh my god, I didn’t know you were still awake,” you said, voice breathless as you tried to recover from the scare.

He chuckled, his laugh low and warm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. You were so quiet coming in, I thought maybe you were sneaking around.”

You set your things on the small table by the door, giving him an exasperated look. “I wasn’t sneaking around. I was trying not to wake you.”

“Well, mission accomplished.” He tilted his head, watching you with that relaxed air that somehow made you feel completely exposed. “How was dinner?”

“It was good,” you said, shrugging as you moved toward the kitchenette to grab a bottle of water. “Everyone was in high spirits, and the food was great. We took a little walk around the city before heading back.”

Pedro closed his book, setting it on the coffee table. “Sounds nice. London at night can be magical.”

“Yeah, it was.” You paused, feeling the weight of his gaze. “Though, I think I underestimated just how cold it gets here. My teeth were chattering the whole way back.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile softening. “Didn’t bring a warm enough coat?”

“I thought I did, but apparently not. I’m not built for this kind of weather,” you admitted with a laugh, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to stave off the lingering chill.

Pedro stood, crossing the room with an easy grace that made your breath hitch. “Well, we can’t have you freezing, can we?” He grabbed the throw blanket draped over the back of the sofa and held it out to you. “Here.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the simple gesture. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I just get cold really easily. Besides, I’ll warm up eventually.”

“Take it,” he insisted, his tone gentle but firm. “It’s not a big deal.”

Reluctantly, you took the blanket, your fingers brushing his for the briefest moment. It sent a jolt of warmth through you that had nothing to do with the fabric now wrapped around your shoulders. “Thanks,” you murmured, pulling it tighter around you.

“Better?” he asked, stepping back to give you space but still watching you with that disarmingly kind expression.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding. “Much. Thanks, Pedro.”

He smiled again, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged, like something unspoken was hanging there. But then he broke the silence, his voice light. “So, did they give you a hard time at dinner?”

Your face heated instantly. “What do you mean?”

He smirked, leaning casually against the back of the sofa. “I heard some of the cast talking earlier. Apparently, your friends in the art department have been… teasing you about the room situation.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh no. What exactly did you hear?”

“Nothing incriminating,” he said with a laugh. “Just that they’re convinced this is some kind of meet-cute scenario straight out of a rom-com.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, mortified. “I’m so sorry. They’re ridiculous.”

“I don’t mind,” he said, his tone easy, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “It’s kind of flattering, actually.”

Your hands dropped to your sides, your eyes wide. “Flattering?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s nice to know someone thinks sharing a room with me is worth all that excitement.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to process the fact that Pedro Pascal—Pedro Pascal—was standing in front of you, teasing you in the most charming way possible.

“Well, I’ll let you get some rest,” he said after a beat, his voice softer now. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Big day.”

He gave you one last smile before retreating to his side of the suite, leaving you standing there with a racing heart and a head full of thoughts you were too scared to unpack.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — DAY  

You woke to the soft chime of your alarm, the faint glow of early morning light creeping through the curtains. Shuffling into the bathroom with a yawn, you turned on the shower, letting the warm water coax you into wakefulness. You placed your phone on the counter, tapping on a playlist to fill the small space with soft, melodic tunes—comforting background noise that kept your mind from spiraling too early in the day.  

After your shower, you toweled off and began your morning routine. Skincare applied with practiced ease, makeup brushed on with care, you avoided the mirror for too long, focusing instead on the growing anticipation of the day ahead. Pinning your ID to your lanyard, you glanced at your phone again.  

The group chat with your team was buzzing:  

Archie: "We’re fifteen minutes out. Don’t keep us waiting, queen 👑."  

Rebecca: "Text when you’re coming down!"  

Max: "Coffee run? Pls? 🙏"  

A small smile tugged at your lips as you tapped out a quick reply, your fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment before you switched apps.  

Your heart did a little stutter as you opened your browser—a Joel Miller fanfic you’d been obsessing over still lingering on your screen. You skimmed the most recent chapter, your thumb pausing to scroll as you half-laughed at the absurdity of sneaking in a few paragraphs before a full day on set. You switched to the chat thread with your online friends, who were deep in a heated discussion about whether Joel would be the type to cook breakfast for his partner. You couldn’t help but chuckle, throwing in a quick, “He’d definitely make pancakes and act like it’s no big deal,” before locking your phone and setting it on the counter.  

Moving on autopilot, you padded into the small kitchenette, barefoot and still humming softly to the tune stuck in your head. You set the coffee machine to brew, pulling out a couple of mugs, a jar of Nutella, and some bread. Your hands moved with muscle memory, spreading the hazelnut spread on toast and slicing up a handful of fruit without a second thought. It wasn’t until the scent of coffee filled the air that you realized you’d made two plates of toast—one for you and one for Pedro.  

The realization struck at the same moment you heard the faint shuffle of footsteps behind you.  

“Morning.”  

His voice was low and warm, still carrying the huskiness of sleep. You froze, phone in one hand, butter knife in the other, as you turned to see Pedro leaning against the doorframe. His hair was adorably tousled, and he was dressed in a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants that somehow made him look effortlessly put together. His eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled at you, and you nearly dropped your phone in a panic.  

“Good morning,” you managed, your voice a little too high-pitched as you fumbled to lock your screen. The thought of him catching even a glimpse of what you’d been reading was enough to make your cheeks burn.  

Pedro glanced at the counter, taking in the toast, coffee, and neatly sliced fruit. “You made breakfast?”  

“Oh, uh—yeah.” You set your phone down and gestured awkwardly toward the spread. “I made you some coffee and toast with Nutella. I wasn’t sure if you’d want that, and there’s fruit, too. I was just about to cut some more, but obviously, you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to, and—”  

“Hey.” Pedro’s soft chuckle cut through your rambling, and when you met his gaze, he was looking at you with a mix of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”  

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned by the sincerity in his voice. “Oh. Yeah. No problem. It’s nothing, really.”  

He moved past you to grab a mug of coffee, the proximity sending your pulse into overdrive. As he poured himself a cup, you noticed his shoulders relaxed and his movements unhurried. He took a sip and let out a small, contented sigh.  

“Perfect,” he said, glancing over at you with a grin. “You’re spoiling me, you know that?”  

Your laugh came out nervous and breathy. “I’m pretty sure this doesn’t count as spoiling. It’s just toast.”  

“Yeah, but it’s good toast,” he teased, holding up a slice as if to emphasize his point.  

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the tension in your chest easing slightly. The moment felt impossibly domestic—like a scene out of one of those fanfics you’d been reading. Only this time, it wasn’t Joel Miller standing in the kitchen with you. It was Pedro.  

And that was somehow even more surreal.  

Pedro leaned against the counter, his mug cradled in both hands. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. “So,” he started, his voice warm and casual, “what were you so engrossed in on your phone earlier? You looked ready to throw it out the window when I walked in.”  

Your stomach flipped, and you tried to play it cool, even though you were fairly certain your face was now several shades of red. “Oh, nothing,” you lied, brushing a crumb off the counter. “Just the group chat. You know how chaotic they are.”  

Pedro tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Mm-hmm. Sure it wasn’t something more... intriguing?”  

You swallowed hard, gripping your coffee cup a little tighter. “Intriguing?”  

He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes twinkling with mischief over the rim of his mug. “You tell me.”  

“It’s nothing!” you blurted out, a little too defensively. “Just—just boring stuff. Work stuff.”  

“Work stuff,” he repeated slowly, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Because people laugh at boring work stuff while making toast.”  

You groaned, setting your mug down as you ran a hand over your face. “Can we not? Please? I’m already mortified enough.”  

Pedro chuckled, the sound low and teasing but not unkind. “Alright, alright. I’ll let it go... for now.” He set his mug on the counter and raised his hands in mock surrender. “But you owe me a story later. Deal?”  

You hesitated, narrowing your eyes at him. “Depends on how much coffee you’ve had by then. I might need you slightly less smug for that conversation.”  

His grin widened, and he leaned closer, just enough to make your heart stutter. “Smug? I prefer charming. But I’ll take it under advisement.”  

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. The playful banter made the room feel lighter, warmer.  

By the time you both finished your coffee, the atmosphere had shifted into something comfortable and easy. You quickly rinsed the dishes, your hands moving on autopilot as Pedro lingered nearby, chatting about everything and nothing.  

As you dried your hands, your phone buzzed on the counter, and you glanced at the screen.  

Rebecca: “Bus is almost there. Better get your cute butt down here!”  

You shot back a quick reply: “On my way.” Turning to Pedro, you grabbed your bag and gestured toward the door. “I’ve got to head down. My shuttle’s waiting.”  

Pedro grabbed his own bag and trailed after you. “I’ll walk down with you. I’ve got my own ride coming, but they’re always late.”  

The two of you stepped into the elevator, the hum of its descent filling the silence. The confined space suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier with unspoken tension.  

Pedro stood close—too close. You could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint hint of his cologne. Your heart thudded in your chest, and you pressed the strap of your bag tighter against your shoulder, hoping it would anchor you somehow.  

“So,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost intimate in the stillness of the elevator. “What’s the plan for today?”  

You glanced at him, his brown eyes watching you closely, the curve of his smile softer now. “Same as usual, I guess,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Make sure everything runs smoothly while you and everyone else look good on camera.”  

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “You make it sound so simple, but I know you’re the one holding it all together.”  

His words caught you off guard, and you looked away, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “I just do my job.”  

“And you do it damn well,” he said, his tone sincere now, no teasing edge in sight.  

The elevator dinged as it reached the lobby, breaking the moment. Pedro gestured for you to step out first, and you did, your pulse still racing.  

“Thanks,” you murmured, not entirely sure if you were thanking him for his compliment or just for letting you escape the charged space of the elevator.  

As you spotted your shuttle waiting outside, you turned to him, suddenly aware of how reluctant you were to leave. “I’ll see you on set?”  

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for just a beat longer than necessary. “Yeah. See you soon.”  

You stepped outside, the crisp morning air hitting your face as you walked toward the shuttle. But even as you climbed aboard and found a seat, your mind was still back in that elevator, replaying every glance, every word, every spark.

End Notes:

Oh hi! I missed doing these silly bits; I thought to bring ‘em back. But, don’t worry, I’ll try to yap less haha

Yes, it’s super cliche, cheesy, unrealistic, and practically a hallmark movie in the making. But that’s the fun part in fanfiction and writing, it’s all made up and no one here is allowed to “yuck” each other’s “yum” if you know what I mean. ;)

Also, I have no idea how production for film works so I’m researching stuff and making stuff up along the way pls no one come after me T^T

Weirdly enough, I saw a reddit post from someone who works at the front of the hotel desk and they say the one-bed trope/one-room trope; it actually happens pretty frequently lol so who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca

[manikas-whims]

Skincare with the LADS Men

inspired by THIS recent text with Xavier where he said we left our pack of face masks in his fridge 🥺

SYLUS

🐦‍⬛ He maintains good skincare and overall hygiene. He's the type who's like “if i’m going out to commit some illegal deeds or kill an enemy, might as well look good doing it. His healing ability helps maintain a better skin as well.

🐦‍⬛ When you find out, you're kind of surprised that he's so well-maintained. And he takes offense that you'd have such low opinion of him just because of his profession. He scoffs. “Your assumptions wound me, kitten. Even the leader of Onichynus cares a little for his appearances.”

🐦‍⬛ Luke and Keiran later on giggle and reveal to you how their boss makes an extra effort to look better whenever you are coming to see him.

ZAYNE

❄️ There's a difference between hygiene and skincare. So just because he's a doctor, doesn't necessarily mean he's good at taking care of himself. Yeah he might take a bath and always put on clean suits but he doesn't really bother much with skincare itself.

❄️ It's not that he cannot do it but he simply doesn't have the time for it due to his packed schedule at the hospital. Almost twice or thrice when you surprise-visit him during his late night shifts, you've found him shaving his stubble at his office’s washroom lol. There are some faint cuts on his jaw and you fuss over them much to his delight.

❄️ His skin and body suffer mostly due to his eating habits. More often than not you've caught him sneaking way more macarons than good for his teeth. Not to mention, he doesn't eat proper meals due to his work.

❄️ “It’s not what it looks like. I'm a doctor. Obviously I know how to manage my health.” He laughs sheepishly because it's not often that he's on the receiving end of scolding, especially from you. You end up having to pay regular visits and watch over him for a while, bringing in full meals as is needed for him.

RAFAYEL

🌊 Thanks to him working at odd hours, eating at odd times, passing out on the couch every now and then that it's expected he'd be careless but he does in fact take proper care of his skin. And it's better than yours. (well ofc his Lemurian genes are partly to thank but he's a fish out of water so he does need to take care).

🌊 He knows his skin is amazing and he'll make a show of it in front of you. Not to make you jealous but because he wants you to praise him for it, call him pretty and handsome. “Come onnn!!” He drawls out. “Admit that I’m way prettier than those idols you're a fan of.”

🌊 Definitely enjoys doing skincare routines with you. Will indulge in manicures and pedicures if you ask, chatting with you all the while. Even recommends certain products that would benefit your skin. And offers to do your facial and massage.

XAVIER

⭐ Canonically isn't concerned with skincare. Even MC is shocked at the fact that his skin is doing so good despite any proper care. Probably the type who uses those “5 in 1” products 😭. Or grabs just any product without much care for the actual ingredients involved. How his skin and hair are doing alright? You have no idea..

⭐ You offer to do his skincare and he agrees because that just means he gets to spend more time with you. Enjoys the sensation of your hands on his face. Melts into a puddle if you wash his hair. You also try fixing some of his eating habits because alternating between cup noodles and meat ain't it. And though it takes a while, you figure out his skin type and help him get his own products.

⭐ You both develop a habit of putting on sheet masks while watching late night movies or playing video games. Sometimes you two just end up lazying around and talking about mundane stuff.

⭐ But even if you set up a whole routine for him, if he stays over at your place, then he's definitely using your shampoo. And if you ask him why, then he smiles innocently and answers, “Oh..it’s not that I am particularly biased to the product. It’s just that I like it when I smell like you.”

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