#luminous butterfly

[massfabrications]

Transform your living room into a magical space with our Luminous Butterfly Wall Stickers! These beautiful stickers glow in the dark, adding a whimsical touch to your decor. Made from high-quality, non-toxic material, they are safe for your home. Easy to apply and remove, they won't damage your walls. Create a stunning focal point or scatter them across the room for a magical effect. Brighten up your living space with our Luminous Butterfly Wall Stickers!

[froppy-butterflyfan2000]

The princess stretch, she is still on her throne. Instead of curiosity and happiness in her eyes, it is dull and apathetic. Rose, Umbros-Quinn, Lamia, and Adrianna-Marie are worry, worry about what happens to Dream Mewni when they're gone, because now they are unable to access it now. That is why they are going to Azazel's Mewni to see what is going on. That is where they met someone calls himself, The Prince. The Mewni in Azazel's universe is deserted. It is not because there are no people, monsters, demons, pony heads, and mewmans are gone, they are here physically, they are just acting like literal zombies or a rusted robot. Maybe both because they are looking tired on the inside. What is really mysterious is that everyone is using magic. For everything!! It is true that magic is for everyone (that is what Elize and Luminous say) well not literally everyone, you can say magic belongs to some/most people. There are reasons that some people do not have magic. Like there are those who decide to not use magic, those who are incompatible to magic or born without magic, and there is magic allergy (that concept can exist in the multiverse!).

"Babe! You are here," said The Prince, embracing his beloved. Instead of feeling warmth and being so affectionate by hugging him back, the princess punch the prince in the face. The three Tomstar kids and Adrianne let out a gasp, bewildered by what happens.

"That really hurts Azazel!" whimpered the prince, rubbing his face, shock by his own beloved princess punched her in the face. “We’re lovers, we should discuss how we feels in order to deal with problems we each facing so it won’t affect our relationship.”

The princess just yawned? Well it is quite obvious that she have been in suspended animation for so long. It does make sense. However, there is one thing that does not add up. She would need support with walking for sleeping for 24/7 her whole life. The princess is disgust by what the prince have said.

“Ew, you are not THAT attractive. Plus being in a relationship is too much of an effort. Ugh….” Said The Lost Princess. Adrianne-Marie felt pity for the prince that now that their long-term relationship is now crumbling apart. Umbros-Quinn looks at ‘The Lost Princess’. Her face seem to be tired. She blink very slower and opening it at the same speed. A surge of paranoia hits her hard, as Umbros-Quinn search through her purse to get a certain glyph, she point her weapon, her wand at ‘The Lost Princess’. ‘The Lost Princess’ looks at Umbros-Quinn annoyed, anger, and tired as her brain is processing that this Tomstar figure it out. She let out a sigh.

“I think there’s been some confusion,” said The Princess of Life. She place her hand on her chest. “I am not the one in trouble here.”

“What?” Said the prince, in confusion, the same expression Lamia is feeling. The princess vaguely show emotion. “There is only four of you… Opps, I miscounted. Great groan. There is only five of you,” said The Lost Princess, glaring at Adrianna-Marie, familiar with her as if they just met before. "And you are one of the last people I wants to see right now." She said acidly.

“This is the third time I am meeting you….” said Adrianne-Marie.

"Oh come on? You don't remember what happened back in... The Citadel?"

Adrianne-Marie's eyes are widened in astonishment, how did Azazel know about The Citadel of Starco? Is she that omnipotence? No wonder why she is consider a goddess of The Magic Realm after Glossaryck's death.

"Wow, you truly are a goddess, Azazel." Adrianna-Marie complimented, unintentionally struck 'Azazel' hard. Her lips and eye twitched. Azazel, Azazel, Azazel!!! Why does everyone have to be praising her, and not her?!?

"Sister, that is not Azazel," said Umbros-Quinn, getting defensive for her half-sister, Adrianna-Marie. Adrianna-Marie is totally confuses about it. She found it. The wand touch the 'Gauntlet' glyph, and the wand transforms into an equipped gauntlet. Charging up with magic, Umbros-Quinn dash toward 'Azazel', then make an impactful punch across the face. 'Azazel' stares at Umbros-Quinn, not too unamused that it been a long time since her face get punched! 'Azazel' summons a keytar, confirming Umbros-Quinn's suspicious. "Azazel' raise her right arm then starting to play music at full blast, sending Umbros-Quinn flying. Rose fly and caught her interdimensional sister. The princess swipe herself, revealing that the body they are seeing right now is under a possession of someone they (Rose, Adrianna-Marie, and Umbros-Quinn) are very familiar off. Lamia, Adrianna, Rose, and Umbros-Quinn’s face are in horror. Suddenly their wands, except for Umbros-Quinn's, are taken away by a Leviato spell cast by a song playing in the background, and impenetrable trap cage is form, trapping them.

“You need more than that to rescue your princess. She is in another castle.”

Morphea.

“Morphea, you son of a bitch! Where did you take Azazel?!?” Said Umbros-Quinn, holding the bar rails. Lamia is shock to actually encounter one of the seven notorious criminals to ever attacked The Citadel of Starco and tried to kill almost all the Starco children who were in the citadel. With no remorse. Rose’s face shrouded in darkness. Adriana-Marie poke Umbros-Quinn in the shoulder, then pointing at Morphea. Adrianna-Marie, and now Umbros-Quinn can see how Morphea is able to change features to be exactly like Azazel and talk like her. The crystal around her neck. A droid walking up on Morphea's shoulder. The robots, Pride made. The droid then show a holographic projection of Azazel, her real body to be exact, in what appears to be the Realm of Magic (Morphea's Universe's Realm of Magic). "Here's your answer," Morphea said menacingly. "Arsehole!" said Umbros-Quinn. A couple of Pride's robots become one with the machine that Azazel's real body is hooked up to the monstrosity mechanical fusion. Lamia freeze and shiver, feeling cold and wet, beneath her feet. She looks down at the floor. The floor is covers in water. She see something swimming underneath them.

“NOT AGA-!!” Both the two Tomstars (Rose and Umbros-Quinn) screamed, and their scream cut short as they are pull under. The young prince knew he was naive, but he’d never consider himself a fool until now…. At the bottom of Morphea’s ocean floor. The Dreamy Siren watching the bubbles pop. One after another. Satisfied. “I finally taken care of those Tomstar kids and one Starco kid from foiling my plans,” said Morphea, letting out a small sigh of relief. Her shoulders lower to relax a bit. She stare at the holographic image of the Lost Princess in pain, glaring at Morphea through her avatar of The Spellbook since her eyes from her real body are now blind thanks to the army of robots. Her real body is struggling to be free from her possession. Morphea settle herself down on the empty throne. Morphea, picking up The Book of Spells, (not her Book of Spells, The Princess of Life's Book of Spells), placed on the arm of the throne chair, reading it, she close the book with a hard thump. Her fingers touching the smooth white keys from The Royal Keytar. Morphea plays a deep and electric simulating music to harmonize with the machinery, that the avatar's eyes turn blue. The Lost Princess, hook up to her machine, now fuse with Pride's bots sharing the same pain as her avatar. Her cheek marks shine brightly. The Lost Princess and the avatar cry out an anguished scream. Blood streaming down on her face, both avatar and her real body. Mewni's ground begins to shake, as the line between fictional and reality collided as the ocean border of The Dreamscape Waterfolk Kingdom and ocean border of The Waterfall Kingdom become one, a gigantic nightmarish leviathan emerged from the water, going on a rampage, capturing the civillains by swallowing them. The civilians, whose are inside the leviathan, are put to sleep in a form of a lullaby, and fuelling them with magic bestow upon them. Trapping them in an eternal nightmare in their sleep while their 'shells' are command by their captor.

Underneath the ocean floor in Dreamscape Mewni, Lamia, separated from her party, is slipping in and out of conscious, due to oxygen running out and hearing the song from the mermaid. It is relaxing. At the same time, giving her stress and absolutely angry.

"I am not going to let Mewni fall on my watch!"

Lamia opens her eyes wide.

Lamia use her symbiote to have her morph into her suit, able to breathe underwater. Lamia turns to face the mermaids, contoured with rage and shoulders tensing up. The spell have no effect on Morphea's mermaids at all. Lamia is contours in more rage. She change her wand into a harpoon. She locks on her target.

"MERMAID SKEWER!!!"

The skewer become large, impaling the mermaids in the abdomen and send them flying (She make sure not to slice of the tail from any of the mermaid. Under her ancestor, Crescenta the Eager's law, slicing off a mermaid's tail will prevent the chance if becoming the queen of her universe). Lamia replicate copies of her symbiote, forming an army to battle the army of mermaids.

Meanwhile Umbros-Quinn, Adrianna, and Rose are in a bubble, containing air, inside. Rose create noise-cancelling headphone for both herself, Umbros-Quinn, and the prince, whose is in a state of shock and remorse of being responsible for putting Mewni in danger. For the life of his beloved is now in danger by the hand of a evilest Ostar in history of the multiverse. Umbros-Quinn grabs onto his shoulder, gripping it tight. Her fingernails are piercing his skin, causing him to yelp. The prince looks at Umbros-Quinn. There is no anger in her eyes, just annoyance. The Prince wonders why is the princess is not talking, he does not like the silent treatment she is giving him.

The bubble burst open. Adrianna-Marie manipulate the water and form a bubbles for all of them to breathe easily. Umbros-Quinn start pummelling the mermaids, her eyes are lighten up in defensive and protective to Rose and Adrianna-Marie and silent rage for Morphea being the cause of this, and The Prince's failure to protect his home. Rose and Umbros-Quinn combine their forces to chanted an incantation, sealing the mermaids in a huge runic stone box. Adrianna-Marie trap the mermaids in a whirlpool. Entrapping the mermaids in a whirlpool and a giant runic stone box, girls and The Prince swim away to safety.

"Ok, we are safe for now," said The Prince, then he notice that one of the cambions is missing. "Where is the bloodsucker?"

"Bloodsucker?... Hey! Her names is Lamia!" Adrianna-Marie defend Lamia, then quickly realizes that she is not with them. "He's right, we been separated from Lamia."

The two other Tomstars grimaced that Lamia cannot survive the nightmares The Dreamy Sireen produced. They need to find her. Fast. Otherwise, she will become one of Morphea's magical experimental army. Or worse, become deficiency of blood and becomes a full bloodthirsty monster demon, then either capture to become a weapon or be slayed by Morphea, to show how benevolent she is. Umbros-Quinn and her sisters need to come up with a plan to stop Morphea. So far, Morphea is able be this powerful, thanks to the crystal, once from Aria's destroyed universe, as her shortcut to gain access to a more magic, allowing her to unlock powers inside of Morphea that she never know about. Powerful enough to defeat Azazel. But the downside is that it will take a heavy toll in her body, which is a big advantage for them because the crystal is rightfully wields by one of 'The Eight Crystal Sisters', eight of Star's daughters, each from a different universe, chosen by the crystal itself to be its wielder.... And Morphea is not one of them.

Azazel Lucitor/The Lost Princess/The Princess of Life, Adrianna-Marie Butterfly Diaz, Umbros-Quinn Diana Lucitor, and The Prince belong to @princekaistar and @princekaiofstars

Morphea Greason Butterfly and the mentioned of the other members of The Deadly Sins belong to @dangerpack

Lamia Etheria/Ash Butterfly Lucitor and Aria Butterfly Diaz (mentioned) belong to dreamy_artz (Instagram)

Rose Butterfly Lucitor belongs to me

Elize Butterfly (mentioned) belongs to @useless-cheese

Luminous Butterfly Diaz (mentioned) belongs to @darcel-luminous

Writing Prompt #2343

The young prince knew he was naive, but he'd never considered himself a fool until now.

[ask-morpho-knight]

Lumin: Heya, Morpho!^^ I've heard a lot about you from my brother!^^ I think you're really cool!^^ BTW, is it okay if I give you a hug, pls?

[glamboyl]

Butterflies Luminous by LitenLovely. Thanks for Sharing my Friend!

[imthepunchlord]

I've got a handful of design ideas for the butterfly animula (Dusa) and I'm struggling to decide on her design. So I wouldn't mind getting help from a majority to help decide.

Be aware that these are super early concept ideas, especially on wing details, they can change.

[froppy-butterflyfan2000]

"Give me back her soul, Tomstar!" Morphea growls, process everything what is going on after snapping out of her drowsy state of waking up. Though, technically Morphea is still sleeping it is just that they are in the dreamworld that is similar to the waking world/reality.

Morphea plays hardcore on her keytar, launching the musical notes at Rose.

Rose yelp and rolls over, dodging the floating musical notes heading toward her. Wait a second should Morphea’s eyes lighting with blue light? Or is it just a Mewberty thing? The color of the musical notes are golden colour, exactly like the essence of magic in The Magic Realm. Rose see the crystal necklace on Morphea's neck flickering, realizing that Morphea is draining the crystal's magic, a proportion of Aria's universe's Realm of Magic.

“Morphea! You need to stop this right now!” Said Rose. "I calls upon Black Widow Calamity Cobweb!"

Morphea is now trap in a spiderweb made of energy magic, however Morphea manage to rip it apart.

"Why?"said Morphea, snorting angrily.

“You’ll may repeat the same result as your crime!” Said Rose. Even though she does not knowingly the full details of her crime that obtain her title as the sin of Sloth.

“So? If my plan don’t works, I will go find another universe to conquer.”

The shock and horror plasters on Rose's face.

"Well you will have one less universe if you keep doing this! MEGA WALRUS BLAST!!" said Rose, firing a Mega Walrus Blast at her. The attack does little damage to Morphea. "One that may impact seven other universes! Including Harmony's!!!"

Morphea lazily stare at Rose.

Who? Who's Harmony?

"I calls upon... Glowworm Blast!"

Rose groan as she shoot pink glowworms at Morphea. They explode, damaging her clothes. Thanks goodness her ears are protected by her headphones, but the loud sound hurt her ears.

“I CAN'T BELIEVE SHE FORGOT ABOUT HER!!!" Rose thought. An aggressive growl linger and her teeth grit. Her upside down hearts on her cheeks turn black and a single vertical line on each cheek, stretch. Her eyes turning red. "What about your chance to see your father, or Harmony?!! Your inter-dimensional sister! AN OSTAR!” Said Rose, running up toward her and punch Morphea in the chest. The same action Morphea used, in her sleepwalking state, to immobilize Rose and retrieve Harmony, causing Morphea to react, surprising Rose. She never seen Morphea feel or act conflicted. The memory of the sad smile on Harmony's face as she vacant stare at Morphea and now cannot look at her at all, flash in Morphea's mind. Morphea's chest heaving and not being able to stand still.

Remember.

"I'm the only one who get to decide if someone deserves me, and I confidently say you are that someone does."

Then Morphea knew what happened next, Harmony walking away from her to be with four other girls, Aria, Lamia, Skylar, and Diana.

To Morphea, she wonders why does this Tomstar mentioning this Ostar? Remembering is now starting to be painful. Yeah, she is Harmony the Fallen Note because she has 0 magic. Thus, everyone abandoned her. She could have help Harmony by awakening her magic by given her the ability to use magic. Azazel looks at Rose in her grimoire, as she mentioned another one of her inter-dimensional half sister she never met. “She has been wondering what you are doing right now! She will be devastated to find out what you did!"

Remember... The Betrayal.

Morphea stomp her leg down hard, glaring at Rose venomously.

"STOP JOKING!"

Rose did not flinch.

“Do you thinks my heart will bleed when you mention family!! She is no Ostar because Harmony’s such a disappointment! Choosing you and the others over me!” Morphea shouted at Rose, one of the people who are obstacles of her goals, one of them being the Ostars superior and live long. Because she taken Harmony from her by convincing her to abandoned her and not become an Morpheanian soldier. Despite sharing common interests, music and wanting to relax, they are not powerful warriors just like her, except for Alaula. But... more importantly, she didn't want to remember this painful memory of being betrayed.

Rose bite her lips. There is nothing getting through to her. Worst of all, she never value her friendship and familial connection with Harmony? It is all just a manipulation to begin with.

Rose must be so stupid enough to get her through. Rose only wants Harmony to be safe. If she gains magic, there is a price that Morphea wants from her, to works for her and rule over universes where everyone use magic for everyday purposes but under her controls. Harmony have a good heart and wish for Morphea to make the right choices and take the path of good so that hopefully her dream will come true. If Harmony hears this, she will be crush.

“Wow, here you are going around proving that the Ostars are better…. When you abandon your own family for this.” Said Rose. The air grow tense.

Both Rose and Morphea punch each others in the chest.

“Oof, not the boob punches,” Azazel thought, wincing at the sight.

Both the two girls pull each others’ hair.

“Crybaby!” Said Morphea. "Trash!"

“You’re a kid!” Said Rose.

“I am a god~” She snarled, eyes lightning with golden light. She swing Rose by her hair, having her face make impact on the ground and then lift her up to land on the ground on her back repeatedly. A blue steams of magic came out of her body, and a pair of iridescent blue and black coloured fairy wings sprout out of her back. However the fairy wings are broad and the design of the wings appears to be wings of the crow. The sclera of her eyes are turn black. A G-Note is floating above her head. Morphea scream throwing Rose, and have her collide with multiple buildings, causing them to tumble and fall down, until Rose stop at the last one and fall down, along with the grimoire, landing on the ground.

The grimoire landed to the ground, with its contents open up, causing souls to escape, including Azazel's. The soul of Azazel goes toward Rose, whose is now unconscious, helping her to get up. The soul sense the presence of a powerful magic. Azazel is widen by this.

WHAT IS THAT?!? SHE NEVER SEEN A FORM LIKE THIS! SHE LOOKS LIKE... An embodiment of a nightmare.

~~

[At the Resistance Base in Luminous' Universe]

Luminous sitting down in her seat discussing some strategies with other Resistance members to carry out the next phrase of their plan. But her head is somewhere else as she look at the Tomstar, Topaz with her 'sister', Elize.

(Flashback Start)

“Please let me tell you how I feel! I am mad at you right now because of your decision over what Lamia had no control of! She is still carry this guilt to this day! Are you that judgemental?” Rose shouted at Luminous. "And the fact that you try to recruit Adrianne-Marie to fight in a war, despite she is inexperience-,"

"I am not!" Adrianne-Marie denied this.

"And another two reasons..... That you and your sister are responsible for..."

"Rose, please be logical right now," said Umbros-Quinn, knowing full well Rose will regrets it one day.

Luminous arrived at Umbros-Quinn and Adrianne-Marie's universe, negotiating with them and their moms in order to protect their dimension from Darcel and The Mewni Empire's attack-and-conquest by offering them their service. When Lumious offered Adrianne-Marie the opportunity to join her because of her high potency in using Light Magic. She was surprise to see Rose and Lamia there. However, Lamia quickly left the throne room to not want to stay longer of this confrontation. And while Rose barged in to defend Lamia

"What is the reason for you to be so upset at me?" Luminous asked, crossing her arms, looking at Rose with a determined expression on her snivelled state. Rose took a deep breath to take a pause for a few moments.

“I am so mad because you and Darcel are responsible for the rift between the Starcos and the Tomstars and the stigmatized of dark magic is increase! Just because we are part demons! Even though the we share the same great-great-great grandma, Selena the Shy," said Rose, heaving her chest and then the floodgates are open. "Worst of all, your sister brought in Dark Sisters to attack the medium! I saw what happened! Thanks goodness he defended himself. All and all, at least the medium have worked so hard to make them get along by working together, coming together as one!”

Luminous does not understand who is a medium, but if Rose say that Darcel send in some soldiers to attack an innocent bystander and put them in a crossfire, that is definitely her.

Rose held her grimoire in her arms tight, now in a different design - black cover with a Death's Head Moth at the centre and four purple roses on the matching purple coloured front cover. Umbros-Quinn pats Rose on her shoulder comforting her, Rose turns to Umbros-Quinn and cry on her shoulder. Umbros-Quinn looks at Luminous.

“Rose did not means to blame you, its just that Darcel is able to understand that us Tomstar kids may handle in withstanding the effect of dark magic because we are the concept of the wicked. Dark magic can corrupt magic and dead magic can contaminate magic and spread it to make the magic dead. That is why she chosen Lamia to attacked us for ulterior motive,” Said Umbros-Quinn. Then, she looks at Topaz. “Topaz, I do hope that the people in the Resistance treats you well. You are the advantage in defeating The Mewman Empire's Dark Magic, as you have the potential in wielding these two magic attributes.”

The two Tomstar kids leave the asteroid of the Tomstar HQ, currently under construction after Darcel mind controlled Lamia to attack this place.

(End of the Flashback)

Luminous groan as she put the paper on her face as she cannot help thinking about what the two girls just said to her. All she wants is to save all of her interdimensional Starco siblings and their dimension/universe. She did not means to start a rift between the Tomstar and Starco even further. Plus, dark magic that is used will corrupt the soul and turn to the dark side, no matter if it is used for good….

"Luminous, are you okay?" Atreus asked, snapping Luminous back to reality.

"Ah, yes, I am fine," said Luminous, dropping her paper and quickly caught it, Xilia Butterfly look at Luminous with a disappointment written all over her face. "I was distracted in making an observation. I have came up with an idea."

Luminous looks at Topaz. "I request Topaz to spar with Xillia with every magic attribute you got."

"SAY WHAT?!?" Topaz exclaimed.

Harmony Butterfly-Greason (mentioned) belongs to Dreamy_Artz (IG)

Atreus Ordonia Lucitor, Xillia Butterfly, Luminous Butterfly, Darcel Butterfly (mentioned) belong to @darcel-luminous

Morphea Butterfly Greason belongs to @dangerpack

Umbros-Quinn D. Lucitor, Adrianna-Marie Butterfly-Diaz, and Azazel Lucitor belong to @princekaistar

Rose Butterfly-Lucitor belongs to me

Elize Beth Butterfly and Topaz Butterfly-Lucitor belong to @useless-cheese

Alaula (mentioned) belongs to @ibinx

Aria Butterfly Diaz (mentioned), Lamia Etheria/Ash Butterfly Lucitor, Diana Butterfly Wong (mentioned), Skylar Butterfly Thomas (mentioned), Harmon Butterfly Greason, and The crystal that Morphea have acquire is a foundation to Dreamy_Artz’s Starco kid, Aria Butterfly Diaz’s Universe with the other seven crystals belong to dreamy_artz (Instagram)

Morphea Butterfly Greason belongs to @dangerpack

#333

“You’re a kid.” “I am a god.” She snarled, eyes lighting with golden light.

[luminousbright]

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

A.G Sherwood - Jubilee Procession in a Cornish Village, 1897.

* * * *

“It may be that you are not yourself luminous, but that you are a conductor of light. Some people without possessing genius have a remarkable power of stimulating it.” - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

[Ravenous Butterflies]

[misspink88]

[the-art-in-arthesia-is-loud]

i think this is the most stupidest idea i could think of but uh. lineless and shadeless versions of my art for the shits and giggles

[winterswhite]

A3! Play-Off: Tiebreaker Poll

[omicaelferreira]

A moth, disguised as a butterfly. Of good speaking, soaking the ears of the fragile and ignorant. Empty words, are sculpted, for your well-being. You wear the mask, that suits you best. You conduct your life with luminous rectangles. Of which, you make, who loves you, your slave. You remain attached to that which you cannot attain. You regret not being able to achieve, but you don't do it in order to achieve. You live in a world of your own, where brand is the priority. Where values and character, have no voice. False love of appearance, you only have yours, for yourself. You will deny all I say, but in me, truth and justice, are law. - @omicaeleao

[alexanderlightweight]

Also a mood… I would have picked the veggie drawer or laundry if it had been based on The House

But personal is the drinks

no multi option, agonize and choose, no results option, pick one to find out or scroll onward

[m0ch1gh0st1]

Went through an old art book, found these

Yep, this is an old art book of mine. Back in my Lobotomy Corporation × Mega Man hyperfixation (I still enjoy both)

So, Lumine's final move in Mega Man X8 is called Paradise Lost. Coincidentally, WhiteNight's E.G.O Suit is also called Paradise Lost

This fit too well. Prosecutor Ito in Judgement Bird's E.G.O Suit? Too perfect.

Uh, IDK why I gave Volnutt the Happy Teddy Bear E.G.O, but... whatever

I've seen Aile appear in much more content than Vent, so Adoration E.G.O it is!

I'm still questioning why I gave Vent the Funeral of Dead Butterflies E.G.O Suit???

Giving Giro Silent Orchestra's E.G.O Suit makes way less sense now that I look back

Lmk if I should post some art I did for a *lot* of the songs on my Spotify

[demonlordcosnime]

lets play genshim impact butterfly's dream part 1

[theetherealbloom]

Don't Stop Talking To Me, And Maybe Stay Here Forever

Summary: You join Pedro Pascal in Morocco while he’s filming Gladiator 2. Between the beauty of the Moroccan landscape, the two of you share intimate moments, from quiet rooftop dinners to playful photo-taking and teasing with the cast.

Or… “I'll hold you, I'll know you. I'll never leave out the back door. And I'd love to complete you, hope you get all you could ask for.”

I just read your latest pedro fic it was the BEST DAMN THING i’ve ever read, my heart is going to burst out of my chest from all the butterflies 🦋🫠❤️ will you write more for pedro? perhaps his gf could visit him in marocco or something while he’s filming gladiator and to meet everyone from set and maybe have some alone quality time? :3 just a suggestion 😌 anyways have a lovely dayyy ^^ — anon

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, Age-Gap(ish), TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Cuddling, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Social Media, Embarrassment, Teasing, Shower, Slight Nudity, Make Out Session, Celebrities

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Okay, so, we’ve all seen the photo dumps!??!! Yes! GREAT! I haven’t watched Gladiator 2 cause it isn’t out yet in my country, so there’ll be no spoilers here mhmhmhmhm. I’m just gonna make stuff up based on the pictures Pedro posted on his Instagram lol. And again, this is all made-up, fictional, self-indulgent vibes so pls no one come after me ahhhhhh T^T

Also lowkey, I can see multiple parts to this so… stay tuned.

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!

Songs: Packing It Up by Gracie Abrams, this is how you fall in love by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler

gif by @a7estrellas

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — DAY

The warm Moroccan breeze kissed your skin as you stepped onto the bustling set of Gladiator 2. Pedro’s laughter echoed from somewhere nearby, his distinct voice easy to pick out over the hum of activity. Your heart swelled just hearing it. He was always magnetic, but here—working, immersed in a world of creativity and camaraderie—he was luminous.  

You adjusted your sunglasses, feeling both excited and slightly anxious. Meeting Pedro’s castmates felt like stepping into his other life, one where you weren’t the center of his world but a welcome visitor orbiting it. He’d reassured you endlessly. “They’ll love you. I mean, how could they not?” But still, nerves lingered.  

“Mi amor!” Pedro’s voice cut through your thoughts. He emerged from behind a cluster of tents, his smile so wide it could eclipse the Moroccan sun.  

“Hey, stranger.” You grinned, letting him sweep you into a tight hug.  

He pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, his arms still firmly around your waist. “You made it,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple.  

“Of course, I made it,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “I missed you too much to stay away.”  

The day unfolded in bursts of joy.  

Pedro introduced you to Coco Ullrich, Paul Mescal, and the rest of the cast. Everyone was warm and welcoming, their teasing camaraderie quickly drawing you in. Pedro stayed close, his hand finding yours at every opportunity, like he couldn’t stand to be too far away.  

Later, you found yourself perched on a stool in the makeup trailer, Pedro sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you. “Hold still,” you said, trying to fix his disheveled hair.  

Coco stood nearby, laughing as Pedro playfully swatted at your hands. “I’m serious, guapo! You’ll go out there looking like you just rolled out of bed.”  

“Maybe I did roll out of bed,” he quipped, grinning.  

You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t, but if you keep squirming, I’m going to make sure you look like it.”  

Coco shook her head, still laughing. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”  

“I have my ways,” you said, giving Pedro a mock glare.  

Pedro leaned closer, his eyes softening. “You’re lucky I love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours before you could stop him.  

“Pedro!” you protested, laughing as he pulled you into a full kiss, distracting you from your task.  

“Hopeless,” Coco muttered, snapping a quick photo of the moment.  

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — SUNSET

The Moroccan sunset painted the sky in hues of gold and rose as you, Pedro, and the cast settled onto the soft blankets laid out for an impromptu picnic. The sprawling desert seemed to stretch infinitely, its serene stillness a striking contrast to the chaotic energy of the set. A light breeze rustled through the palm trees in the distance, carrying the faint sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses.

Pedro sat behind you, his arms comfortably wrapped around your waist as you leaned back into his chest. His fingertips absentmindedly traced small, lazy circles on your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. It was a touch that grounded you, soothing and sweet, and yet it made your heart ache with affection.

“This is perfect,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it louder might shatter the fragile beauty of the moment.

Pedro leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “No, you’re perfect,” he said softly, his voice laced with adoration.

You turned your head to look at him, catching the warmth in his gaze. He looked at you like you hung the very stars above, and your cheeks flushed. “Cheesy,” you teased, though you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“Honest,” he countered, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. His nose nudged yours affectionately, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you.

Paul Mescal, lounging nearby with a bottle of something cold in his hand, cleared his throat dramatically. “Alright, lovebirds, can you save the smoldering for the cameras? Some of us are trying to enjoy the sunset without third-wheeling your Notebook audition.”

Coco Ullrich snorted from her spot on the blanket, where she was busy assembling a makeshift charcuterie board. “Please, Paul, don’t act like you’re not taking notes for your own love scenes.”

Paul shot her a deadpan look. “What’s there to take notes on? I’m already perfect.”

“Debatable,” Coco quipped, popping a grape into her mouth and grinning.  

Pedro chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back. “Paul, don’t be jealous. You already found someone who tolerates you.”  

“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Paul said, gesturing between you and Pedro. “I’m inspired. The level of clinginess you two have achieved—it’s an art form.”  

“Clinginess?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.  

“Yes, clinginess,” Paul said, smirking. “He hasn’t let go of you since you got here. It’s like watching a koala in human form.”

Coco leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you think he’d survive a day without her?”  

“Doubtful,” Paul replied, his tone grave.  

Pedro shook his head, his arms tightening around you playfully. “Let them joke,” he said into your ear, his voice a low murmur. “They’re just bitter they don’t have their partners to hold them while they complain about the heat.”  

You turned your head slightly to whisper back, “I think they’re projecting.”  

Pedro laughed, loud and unabashed, and the sound sent warmth flooding through you.  

“Alright, enough roasting Pedro,” Coco said, waving her hands. “Let’s focus on the important stuff—like this cheese board I’m absolutely nailing.”

“Coco, you put a block of cheese next to some crackers,” Paul pointed out.  

“And yet, it’s still better than anything you’ve contributed,” she shot back.

You couldn’t help but laugh as they continued to bicker, the dynamic between the cast a perfect blend of teasing and genuine affection. It felt good to be a part of this world for a little while, to see Pedro in his element and to share these small, beautiful moments with the people who meant so much to him.  

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky with deeper hues of crimson and violet, Pedro shifted slightly behind you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You doing okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his voice meant just for you.

“I’m better than okay,” you said, turning your face to his. “This is one of those moments I’ll never forget.”

“Same,” he replied, his eyes searching yours. “But mostly because you’re here.”

Paul groaned from across the blanket. “Seriously, someone hand me a bucket. I can’t handle this level of sap.”

“You’re just missing Gracie,” Coco teased, tossing a cracker at Paul with a sly grin.  

Paul caught it mid-air with a dramatic flourish. “She’s the love of my life, thank you very much. I’m thriving, just long-distance thriving.” His wide smile softened slightly, a dreamy look crossing his face.  

Pedro chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder as he held you closer. “See, even Paul can be romantic. It’s not just us being disgustingly in love.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paul said, waving him off, though the grin never left his face. “But you two are setting the bar impossibly high. Stop making the rest of us look bad.”

Coco shook her head with mock exasperation. “Let’s face it, no one can compete with Pedro’s clingy koala act.”  

“Hey, it’s not clingy if it’s mutual,” you chimed in, leaning back into Pedro’s embrace.  

“Exactly!” Pedro said, kissing the side of your neck for emphasis. “This is just... efficient affection.”  

“Efficient affection?” Coco repeated, laughing so hard she nearly knocked over the cheese board. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Pedro shrugged, utterly unbothered, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured, “Don’t let them ruin this for us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you whispered back, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his jaw.  

The first stars began to dot the darkening sky, their glow faint but steady against the fading hues of gold and rose. The laughter of the group blended with the soothing whisper of the desert breeze, wrapping the evening in a cocoon of warmth and love.

You let out a contented sigh, your fingers intertwining with Pedro’s. These moments—filled with jokes, tenderness, and the quiet magic of a Moroccan sunset—were the kind you knew you’d carry with you forever.

THE NEXT DAY

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – AFTERNOON  

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting warm golden light over the sprawling desert set. The faint hum of activity outside the large tent provided a calming backdrop as you and Pedro sat together, stealing a moment away from the chaos of production.  

Pedro’s lap had become your designated resting place, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist as you leaned into him. You had been quietly chatting about the day—how stunning the desert looked on camera, how Paul had stolen one of Coco’s snacks during a break—when the warmth of the afternoon began to lull you both into sleep.  

His hand moved lazily up and down your back, the motion soothing as his voice grew quieter, more relaxed. “You know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, “this might be my favorite part of the day.”  

“Falling asleep during work?” you teased, your voice soft and playful.  

“Falling asleep with you,” he corrected, his smile audible in his words.  

It wasn’t long before exhaustion claimed you both, your head tucked under his chin and his cheek resting against your hair. The quiet hum of the tent became a comforting cocoon, and time seemed to stretch and blur.  

The sound of muffled laughter stirred you from sleep, pulling you out of the warm haze. You blinked against the light, realizing you were still tucked into Pedro’s chest, his arms holding you close even as he began to wake.  

“Don’t move,” a familiar voice called. You turned your head to see Paul Mescal standing a few feet away, phone in hand, his grin wide and mischievous.  

Next to him, Coco Ullrich smirked as she aimed her phone at the two of you. “We’re documenting history here. You’ll thank us later.”  

Pedro stirred, squinting at them through his grogginess. “Seriously?” His voice was raspy, a mix of sleep and disbelief.  

Paul shrugged, grinning even wider as he showed Pedro the photo. “We couldn’t resist. Look at this. It’s like a promo poster for the most annoyingly sweet rom-com ever.”  

Pedro glanced at the photo, then at you, and laughed softly. “We should use that for the holiday cards this year.”  

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. “This is so embarrassing. They’re never going to let us live this down.”  

Coco laughed, flipping through her photos. “Oh, it’s way too late for that. I’m sending this to the group chat and the PR team. They’ll love it.”  

“Please don’t,” you pleaded, your voice muffled against Pedro’s shirt.  

Paul tilted his head dramatically. “Why not? It’s just a little fun. Besides, you two are giving us all cavities with how sweet you are. We’re suffering.”  

Pedro smirked, holding you a little tighter. “You’re suffering? Sounds like a personal problem.”  

“Alright, alright, enough!” A gravelly voice interrupted, and you looked up to see Ridley Scott standing at the edge of the tent. His hands were on his hips, but the amused twinkle in his eye gave him away.  

“Ridley,” you started, your cheeks flushing with heat. “I’m so sorry—”  

He held up a hand to stop you, his smirk growing. “Don’t apologize. If anything, I should thank you. Pedro’s been suspiciously well-behaved since you arrived. But,” he added with a pointed glance at Pedro, “if this keeps up, we’ll have to rename the film The Gladiator and the Muse. Production’s going to take twice as long.”  

The crew burst into laughter, and you buried your face back in Pedro’s chest, groaning. “This is officially the most embarrassing moment of my life.”  

Pedro chuckled, his hand brushing gently over your back. “Embarrassing? Nah. You’re the best thing about being here.”  

You peeked up at him, your cheeks still warm, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You mean that?”  

“Every word,” he said, his voice soft. “You make everything easier, better… you make it all worth it.”  

Your heart swelled, and a small smile broke through your embarrassment. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll try to believe you.”  

“Believe me,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.  

Paul groaned, breaking the tender moment. “Someone get a camera crew. We’re turning this into a reality show. Lovebirds in the Desert.”  

Pedro laughed, finally standing and pulling you to your feet. “Careful, Paul. You might not survive the sequel.”  

Ridley clapped his hands, his voice carrying over the lingering laughter. “Alright, lovebirds, enough stalling. Let’s get back to work! Pedro, we’ve got a fight scene to shoot.”  

Pedro gave you one last reassuring smile before winking. “Don’t go far. I’ll need more luck soon.”  

You nodded, watching him head back to set, and felt a sense of warmth that no amount of teasing could dampen. As you stepped out of the tent, the desert sun shining overhead, you knew this moment—this strange, beautiful mix of chaos and love—was one you’d carry with you forever.

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – EVENING  

The rooftop restaurant was like something out of a dream. Lanterns hung delicately from wrought iron fixtures, casting warm, flickering light over the table as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was cool but pleasant, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from a nearby garden. Below, the city of Marrakech stretched out in an intricate maze of rooftops and twinkling lights, the hum of life soft and distant.  

Pedro had arranged everything, from the secluded corner table to the small vase of your favorite flowers waiting when you arrived. He always had a way of making even the simplest moments feel like magic.  

“Look at this view,” you murmured, leaning against the wrought iron railing as the sky turned from gold to a deep, dusky pink.  

Pedro stood close behind you, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. “The view’s got nothing on you,” he said softly, the teasing lilt in his voice balanced by the sincerity in his eyes.  

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned to face him. “That’s a terrible line.”  

“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning as he pulled out his phone. “But it’s true. Hold still.”  

Before you could protest, he snapped a photo, catching you mid-laugh as you tried to dodge the camera. “Pedro!” you groaned, your cheeks warming.  

He chuckled, looking at the photo with a self-satisfied smile. “Perfect. Might frame this one.”  

“Stop it,” you said, trying to grab the phone from him, but he held it out of reach, his grin only widening.  

“Never,” he replied, his free hand reaching across the table to take yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and his gaze softened. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”  

Your stomach fluttered at the way he said it—no teasing this time, just quiet, earnest affection.  

“Now you’re just being unfair,” you muttered, trying to hide your blush.  

Pedro leaned forward, his head tilting slightly as if to study you closer. “Not unfair. Just honest.”  

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart was pounding. In a bid to regain some ground, you grabbed your own phone and quickly snapped a picture of him just as he brought your hand to his lips. The resulting photo was unfairly good—his lashes long, the lantern light catching the gold in his eyes, the softness in his expression making your chest ache.  

“Got you,” you said triumphantly, holding up the phone.  

Pedro laughed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again as he met your gaze. “Now we’re even?”  

“Now we’re even,” you confirmed, though your grin gave away how smug you felt.  

The waiter arrived with dessert just then—a delicate plate of Moroccan pastries accompanied by a small bowl of honey and almonds. You both leaned forward at the same time, reaching for the same pastry, and burst into laughter when your fingers brushed.  

“Go ahead,” Pedro said, gesturing gallantly.  

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, breaking off a piece of the pastry and dipping it into the honey. You held it up to his lips, your pulse skipping when he leaned in without hesitation.  

“Delicious,” he said, his voice low and warm. “But I think it tastes better coming from you.”  

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, trying to suppress a smile as you took a bite yourself. The flaky pastry melted on your tongue, its sweetness perfectly balanced by the honey.  

As you shared the dessert, your conversation drifted from playful teasing to the little things that filled your days. Pedro told you about a funny moment on set earlier when Paul had forgotten his lines and improvised something so absurd even Ridley couldn’t stop laughing.  

“And then,” Pedro continued, his grin infectious, “he tried to blame me, saying my face was too distracting.”  

“Well, he’s not wrong,” you teased, earning a dramatic roll of Pedro’s eyes.  

“Oh, so now you’re on his side?”  

“I’m on the side of the truth,” you said, popping an almond into your mouth.  

Pedro chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  

Your smile softened, and you leaned your chin on your hand as you looked at him. “Probably still charming everyone who crosses your path.”  

“Not like this,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. He reached across the table again, his fingers lacing with yours. “You make everything better. You make me better.”  

Your throat tightened at the rawness in his voice, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, his words settling deep in your chest.  

“You do the same for me,” you said quietly.  

The soft music playing in the background faded into the hum of the city as the two of you sat there, the world narrowing to just this moment. Pedro brought your hand to his lips again, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before resting your joined hands on the table.  

As the night stretched on, the two of you continued to talk about everything and nothing—your favorite childhood memories, the places you wanted to visit together, the little quirks you loved about each other.  

When it was time to leave, Pedro stood and extended a hand to help you up. “One last picture before we go?” he asked, his phone already in hand.  

You nodded, letting him pull you into his side. The lanterns glowed softly behind you as he kissed your cheek just as the camera clicked.  

Looking at the photo, you smiled. It was perfect—just like this night, just like him. 

L’HÔTEL MARRAKECH, MOROCCO – EVENING

The golden hues of the evening sun had long faded, leaving the hotel suite illuminated only by the soft glow of warm, ambient lighting. Laughter filled the room, bubbling up between stolen glances and playful teasing. Pedro leaned against the edge of the plush sofa, his hand resting casually on his hip as you doubled over with giggles at another one of his overly dramatic impressions. 

“I’m just saying,” he said with a grin, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “If anyone here is getting an Oscar for Most Entertaining Human, it’s me.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting at him lightly. “You? Entertaining? Please. You’re just lucky I think you’re cute.”

“Just cute?” he teased, his voice dropping into a low, mock-hurt murmur. He stepped closer, tilting his head. “That’s disappointing.”

And just like that, with no warning, he took your hand and spun you gently into his arms. There was no music, no sound but the faint rustle of the curtains and the muted hum of life outside your window. But to Pedro, there was no need for anything more. 

“Dance with me,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, pulling you flush against him.

“Pedro,” you started to protest, but the way he was looking at you—so earnest, so unguarded—stole the words from your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid to let go. 

“You are the reason I can breathe,” he murmured. His voice cracked slightly, raw and unfiltered. “The reason I can survive.”

Your chest tightened, and your hands gripped the soft cotton of his shirt as you closed your eyes. Slowly, the two of you began to sway, side to side, as if the universe itself had orchestrated this silent melody just for you.

“Pedro,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill as the weight of his words sank deep into your soul. “You don’t have to—”

“Shh.” He cut you off gently, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “I want to. You’re my safe place.”

Together, you moved as one, the world outside forgotten. The phones were switched off, the curtains drawn, and for a moment, it felt like time had ceased to exist. All that mattered was this—his arms around you, your head resting on his chest, and the way his heartbeat felt steady and strong beneath your cheek.

“What’s easy is right,” you whispered suddenly, echoing words your mother had once said. The truth of it struck you in that moment, how being with Pedro never felt like a choice—it was instinct. Like breathing. Like coming home. 

Pedro smiled, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “What’s easy is right,” he repeated softly. “Then I guess it’s easy to know... I’m going to love you forever.”

You laughed softly, though the lump in your throat made it difficult. “Forever’s a long time.”

He tilted your chin up, his warm, brown eyes crinkling at the corners with a quiet joy. “Not nearly long enough,” he said, his voice a low promise. “You’ll be my best friend until we’re old and gray. And even then, I’ll still love you.”

There was something in the way he said it—so simple, so sure—that your knees nearly gave out. But as always, Pedro was there, holding you steady, keeping you close. 

This is how you fall in love, you realized. Not in a blaze of fireworks, but in the quiet moments where you let go and they hold you up. 

“Do you know what you’ve done to me?” Pedro said after a long silence, his voice filled with wonder. “You make my stomach ache with hope. You make my hands stop shaking. I wake up smiling now, and it’s because of you.”

You bit your lip, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his chest. “Pedro…”

“No, listen to me,” he insisted, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Love isn’t supposed to be heavy. It’s not supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to be this. Us. A safe place. A hand to hold through every storm.”

His words broke something open inside you, and you nodded, letting the tears spill over. “You’re my safe place too,” you whispered. “You make me believe I deserve this.”

Pedro pulled you closer, resting his chin on the top of your head as he swayed you gently. “You deserve everything,” he murmured. “Every laugh, every sunrise, every stupid little joke I’ll tell for the next fifty years.”

You both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the quiet hum of the room. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was this moment—this love that was soft, steady, and unshakable.

Right from your hips to your cuticles, you were everything to him, and he was everything to you. Wherever you both went, it was heaven. And neither of you ever wanted to leave. 

Steam filled the bathroom, the warmth clinging to the mirrors and wrapping around the two of you like a soft cocoon. Pedro stood under the cascade of water, droplets running down his broad shoulders and soaking his messy curls. His eyes flicked toward you, a tender smile tugging at his lips as you stepped closer, your fingers gently reaching for the shampoo bottle.  

“Turn around,” you said softly, motioning for him to face away from you.  

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, though there was a hint of shyness in his voice as he obeyed.  

You lathered the shampoo between your hands, your touch careful and affectionate as you worked it into his hair. His curls were soft and damp beneath your fingers, the grays glinting like silver in the dim light.  

“I love your hair,” you murmured, your voice reverent.  

Pedro let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, tilting his head back slightly. “The gray makes me look old.”  

You paused, your hands stilling in his hair as you leaned around to catch his gaze. “Stop that. It doesn’t make you look old; it makes you look distinguished. And I happen to love every single one of these.” You tugged playfully at a curl for emphasis.  

He gave you a sheepish look, his lips twitching as he fought back a pout. “You’re just saying that because you’re stuck with me.”  

“Stuck with you?” you repeated, feigning outrage. “Oh, no, Pedro. I chose you—gray hair and all. And I’d choose you again. Every single day.”  

His pout softened into a smile, one so genuine it made your chest ache. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple.  

“And you deserve it,” you countered firmly, finishing his hair with a rinse.  

When it was your turn, Pedro insisted on returning the favor, his hands gentle as he massaged the conditioner into your hair. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck as he marveled at you.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with sincerity.  

“Even covered in soap?” you teased, feeling heat creep up your cheeks.  

“Especially covered in soap,” he replied, leaning down to steal a kiss.  

The shower ended with a flurry of soft laughter and playful splashes, the two of you wrapped in towels as you padded into the bedroom. Pedro pulled on a pair of boxers while you slipped into one of his oversized shirts, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs.  

The two of you slipped into bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden light over the room. The air smelled faintly of the lavender lotion you’d rubbed on your hands, mingling with the subtle hint of Pedro’s cologne that still lingered on his skin. He had one arm draped lazily over your waist, his other hand holding a book he’d claimed to be interested in, though his wandering eyes betrayed him.

A book rested in your lap, too, but you’d long given up on reading. Instead, you could feel his gaze flickering to you, watching you more than the words on his page. It was endearing, the way he thought you wouldn’t notice, how he never grew tired of studying you like he’d never quite figure you out.  

“You’re not reading,” you finally accused, peeking at him over the edge of your book.  

Pedro grinned, unabashed. He set his book down on the nightstand and scooted closer, leaning his head on the pillow beside you. “Can you blame me?” he said, his voice soft and teasing. His hand reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “I’ve got the most beautiful view right here.”  

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the warmth rising in your cheeks, but the smile that stretched across your lips betrayed you. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, nudging him lightly with your elbow.  

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with mock arrogance, leaning back against the headboard with a self-satisfied smirk.  

“Unfortunately for me,” you quipped, though your tone was dripping with affection.  

Pedro’s laugh filled the room, low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket. You settled back into your spot, his arm tightening slightly around your waist, anchoring you to him. For a while, there was only the sound of pages turning and the occasional creak of the bed as one of you shifted.  

Eventually, the books were forgotten, abandoned on the nightstand as the room grew darker, the soft click of the lamp switch plunging you into the comforting glow of moonlight spilling through the curtains.  

Lying side by side, your head resting on Pedro’s chest, you let your fingers trace lazy patterns along the bare skin of his arm. But your mind wouldn’t quiet, and as the minutes stretched on, the thoughts bubbling inside you demanded to be voiced.  

“Okay, but really,” you began, your voice breaking the comfortable silence. “Why is ‘llama’ spelled with two L’s? Wouldn’t one be enough? It’s not like we say ‘Llama-la.’”  

Pedro let out a soft laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath your cheek. He tilted his head down to look at you, his lips quirking into a smile. “Mi amor, I adore you, but it’s almost midnight. Go to sleep.”  

“I can’t until I solve this mystery,” you said with mock determination, lifting your head to look at him.  

He sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. “Fine. Maybe the second ‘L’ is there to confuse aliens.”  

You gasped, sitting up slightly. “That makes so much sense! Like, imagine aliens judging us for eating cereal with milk.”  

Pedro chuckled again, his arm tightening around you to keep you close. “Cereal with milk is sacred,” he said, his voice heavy with playful conviction. “If aliens have an issue with that, I’ll fight them myself.”  

You grinned, turning to prop yourself up on your elbow so you could face him fully. “Okay, serious question. If you could ask someone anything and be guaranteed the truth, who would it be?”  

Pedro cracked one eye open, his other hand lazily resting on your hip. “I’d ask you why you’re so determined to keep me awake,” he deadpanned, his lips twitching with a suppressed smile.  

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “I’m serious!”  

“Alright, alright,” he relented, the mirth in his eyes softening as he considered your question. “I’d ask my third-grade teacher if she really lost my homework or if she just didn’t like me.”  

You burst out laughing, the sound muffled by the way you buried your face into his chest. “That’s what you’d waste your question on?”  

“Don’t judge me,” he said with mock indignation, his fingers trailing absent patterns on your back. “It’s haunted me for years.”  

Your laughter subsided into a warm giggle as you tilted your head up to look at him. “Fine. My turn. I’d ask my mom if she’s proud of me. Like… really proud. Not just the ‘I’m your mom, so I have to say it’ kind of proud.”  

Pedro’s hand stilled on your back, his gaze softening as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “She’s proud of you, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “And so am I. Always.”  

The weight of his words wrapped around your heart, a comforting balm that eased the ache of self-doubt. You nuzzled closer, your fingers curling around his as you let the quiet stretch between you for a moment.  

Moments later, you broke the silence again, your voice a whisper in the dark. “When I was little, I thought my toys came alive when I wasn’t looking. Like Toy Story. Honestly, I still kinda think they do.”  

Pedro let out a deep laugh, his chest shaking beneath you as he pulled you even closer. “I wouldn’t put it past them,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “Your stuffed bunny? Definitely a troublemaker.”  

You giggled, your heart feeling impossibly light as his hand returned to its slow, soothing patterns on your back.  

The conversation drifted into comfortable nonsense, the kind of midnight musings that didn’t need to make sense but brought a certain kind of intimacy only shared in the quiet hours of the night.  

Finally, as your eyelids grew heavy and your words faded into murmurs, Pedro pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Goodnight, mi amor,” he whispered, his voice soft and steady.  

In his arms, with the world outside forgotten, you felt safe. Loved. His heartbeat was the only rhythm you needed as you drifted into sleep, a love like no other holding you steady through the night.