#pedro pascal can voice an older dog

[imliterallyjustablackgirl]

What if I said a remake voices by theses two or or or

What if I said parallel universe

What if I said AU

What if

I said.

....

[theetherealbloom]

NORMAL THING

Summary: It's a normal thing to fall in love with movie stars.  

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader  

Warnings: Age-Gap(ish), Huge Crush, kind of Power Imbalance (cause you’re a fan but nothing absolutely weird), Hurt-to-Comfort, Infatuation, Fluff, ANGST, Dog, Older Sister, COVID-19, Pandemic Era, Cheesy, Awkward, Hallmark-ish Vibes, Whirlwind, Work, 

Word Count: 3k

A/N: That mf voice note-turned-song has me sobbing and dying every time I listen to it. Then I was also listening to "Normal Thing" and was like, “ohhhh this song is for me… help.” I wrote this fic in a place of just… feeling sorry…? Like apologetic that Pedro had to go through that kind of feeling all alone for a while. Anyways, there's a few sentimental moments here inspired by poetry and things I've read and learned, hope you enjoy!

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: "Normal Thing" by Gracie Abrams, "Pedro" by Omar Apollo

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

| Main Masterlist |

You had gone to visit your sister during your last summer break before graduating. Then, the second wave of COVID struck Europe, making it uncertain when you could return home. However, since all classes had shifted to online learning, the timing wasn't as critical.

Your older sister calls your name, snapping you out of the book you were absorbed in. "Hey, I’ll be out later getting groceries… do you mind taking Hershey for a walk after dinner?”

Her chocolate brown Labrador retriever, Hershey, a retired service dog, perks up at the mention of his name. You can't help but smile at his eager expression. “Yup, I can take him out later.”

She reminds you, “Don’t forget your mask!”

You playfully roll your eyes at her. “I won’t.”

Your sister thanks you and leaves for the store, leaving you alone with Hershey. You decide to take a short break from studying and take the dog for a walk around the neighborhood.

As you make your way down the quiet streets, Hershey happily sniffing at everything in sight, your thoughts drift to Pedro Pascal. Ever since watching him in The Mandalorian, you couldn't help but develop a bit of a crush on him. His charm and charisma on screen had captured your heart, making it hard for you to focus on anything else.

But it was just a normal thing, right? To have a celebrity crush? You reassure yourself as you continue walking.

You've always been drawn to movie stars and actors. Growing up, you had posters of your favorite celebrities plastered all over your bedroom walls. It was just harmless admiration, nothing more.

But with Pedro, it felt different. You found yourself constantly daydreaming about meeting him or even just catching a glimpse of him in person. You even shamefully admit that you've watched his interviews multiple times just to hear his voice.

It's ridiculous, really. You were fully aware that it was just a fantasy and that nothing would ever come out of it. And even if by some miracle you did meet him, what then? He would never be interested in someone like you - an ordinary college student from a small town.

You sigh and shake your head, trying to push away these silly thoughts as Hershey tugs at his leash to sniff at yet another tree.

But then something catches your eye - a poster for an upcoming film starring none other than Pedro Pascal himself. Your heart flutters at the sight before reality comes crashing down on you once again.

You shake your head and continue walking with Hershey, wondering when this infatuation will finally fade away.

Your older sister had always been supportive, albeit a bit concerned about your celebrity crush. "It's sweet, really," she would say with a soft smile, "but just don't lose yourself in the fantasy, okay?"

Your friends, on the other hand, found your crush hilarious. During your video calls, they would tease you mercilessly. "Come on, you'll never meet him!" one friend would laugh. "It's just a harmless crush, right?" another would add, their tone light but the message clear.

In the privacy of your room, you sometimes found yourself talking to the mirror, practicing speeches you would never give. "Hi, I'm a huge fan… and I just wanted to say..." you'd trail off, feeling foolish. You even practiced smiling and having conversations with yourself, hoping to perfect that effortless charm you admired so much in Pedro.

Yet, your self-awareness kept you grounded. You knew it was just a fantasy, a way to escape the stress of your real life. With a sigh, you would push those daydreams aside and focus on finishing your papers and remaining projects.

You wished one day to work in production, to be a part of the magic that created the worlds you loved to escape into. As you typed away on your laptop, you allowed yourself a small smile. Maybe one day, you would be behind the scenes of a film or a series. But for now, you had work to do, and dreams to turn into reality.

The sun sets late in Switzerland, casting a warm, golden glow over the tranquil residential area. You enjoy these walks, the peacefulness a stark contrast to the bustling city life you're used to.

Right after dinner, you take a stroll with Hershey, you notice a man sitting on a park bench, his shoulders slightly shaking.

Frowning, you glance down at Hershey, who looks up at you with curious eyes. Adjusting your mask, you make your way down the sidewalk, intending to walk past the stranger. But Hershey has other ideas, pulling you towards the bench with a wagging tail.

Instinctively, the man begins to pat Hershey, his touch gentle yet shaky. “Oh, Hershey, wait—” you start to say, but then you notice the tears streaming down the man's face.

You pause, feeling a pang of sympathy. “Do you mind if I sit down?” you ask, gesturing to the far end of the bench.

He looks up, eyes red and puffy, and nods. “It’s fine.”

You sit down, giving him space but staying close enough to offer comfort. You give him your name then look over to your adorably friend-shaped labrador, “And this is Hershey.”

“Pedro,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

There’s a moment of silence, broken only by the soft sounds of Hershey sniffing around. Then, gently, you ask, “So… what’s on your mind?”

Pedro hesitates, struggling to find the words. “I… I don’t even know where to start.”

“I know it might seem a bit strange, but sometimes it's easier to talk to someone you don't know. No judgment, just listening,” you say, offering a reassuring smile.

He chuckles softly, a small spark of warmth in his eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Besides,” you add with a playful grin, “I promise I’m a great listener. I even have a certificate in listening from my sister's dog.”

He laughs – a genuine, heartfelt laugh that seems to lift a weight off his shoulders. Your laugh follows, a sound so infectious and bright that it makes people around you feel lighter, happier.

“Your laugh,” he says, a hint of wonder in his voice. “It’s... special.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread throughout your face and chest. “Thanks. So, Pedro, what’s been going on? Are you visiting family or…?”

“Oh, no, no. I just… I finished a job.”

“That’s nice. What do you do if you don’t mind me asking?”

He looks a little uncomfortable admitting it but he settles, “I’m um… an actor.”

You smile, your eyes crinkling as you do, “Do you like it?”

“Like what?” He asks in confusion.

“Y’know, acting?”

He takes a deep breath and begins to talk, the words spilling out in a rush. He speaks of the pressures of fame, the loneliness that comes with it, and the crushing weight of expectations. You listen intently, offering empathy and understanding.

“You know…?” he asks, surprised. “You know who I am?”

You nod and shrug. “I… I figured it out after you mentioned some of your projects.”

“You didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

Pedro looks confused for a minute, and you offer a simple smile. “I’m not famous or anything extraordinary like you. But I can only imagine how exhausting it must be, constantly looking over your shoulder. Not wanting to mess up or upset people must make you feel like you’re always on the edge, always holding your breath.”

He nods, his expression softening. “That’s exactly it.”

“I've done my fair share of pacing and reeling,” you say with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I even thought it looked cute at times. But I know there's more to life than just this feeling of uncertainty. Even though right now, it feels like there isn't any moment past this one.”

You sigh as your eyes get misty. “In the end, if any of us are going to make it, we simply have to believe. We have to believe that we aren’t alone, that people see us for who we are and what we can be. You have to visualize it; cling to whatever fills you with courage, because the world needs you here. It needs you.”

As the night wears on, you both share stories and laughter, the conversation flowing naturally. By the time you part ways, Pedro looks visibly lighter, as if a burden has been lifted from his shoulders.

Beauty no longer has an effect on Pedro. It takes more than physical appearance to impress him. Instead, it's the ability to intrigue his mind and provoke his thoughts that truly captivates him. That is what he considers someone as magic.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

“Anytime,” you reply. “Had a good time, but I guess I'll see ya. Take care, Pedro.”

Years later, when the world isn’t as plagued by the pandemic, you’re working in New York, living your own life but occasionally checking in on Pedro’s career through social media. He’s become a prominent figure, his face everywhere. Yet, you can’t forget the vulnerable man you met on that bench.

One night, you’re at a bar in the Bowery Hotel with friends. The atmosphere is lively, filled with laughter and chatter. As you share a joke, your laugh rings out, catching the attention of someone across the room.

Pedro looks up, his heart skipping a beat. That laugh – he knows that laugh. His eyes scan the room until they land on you, and for a moment, everything else fades away. He feels an uncanny sense of familiarity, a powerful pull towards you that he can’t quite place.

Your friends laugh at a joke you made, but your mind is already miles away. Tomorrow, you’re heading to Glendale, California, to work as a sound engineer on an upcoming project at DreamWorks Animation. The excitement and nerves flutter in your chest as you excuse yourself to start packing.

Pedro starts to make his way towards you, determined to find out if his instincts are right. Just as he’s halfway across the room, a fan stops him, asking for a picture. He smiles warmly, grateful for the support, and agrees. 

“Thank you so much, Pedro! This means the world to me!” the fan gushes, snapping a quick selfie.

“No problem at all,” he replies, his gaze drifting back to where you were sitting. He quickly wraps up the conversation, eager to see you again. But when he looks back, you’re gone, as if you vanished into thin air.

Pedro’s heart sinks. He scans the room, hoping to catch another glimpse of you, but you’re nowhere to be seen. 

Meanwhile, you’re outside, heading towards the subway station and waving goodbye to your friends. “I have to pack and get some sleep. My flight is early tomorrow morning,” you explain, your excitement barely contained.

Your friends hug you, wishing you luck on your new endeavor. As you descend down the stairs and board the subway train, your thoughts drift back to all those years ago, on the little bench, and now the bar, to the man whose presence had stirred something deep within you. You shake your head, putting on your headphones, distracting yourself with your favorite songs on your playlist.

Inside the bar, Pedro stands in the exact spot where he last caught a glimpse of you. A strange mix of disappointment and determination fills him, knowing he must find you again. The connection he felt was too strong to ignore – he needs to see if it was genuine or just a fleeting moment between two strangers on a park bench all those years ago.

The next day, you arrive at the DreamWorks Animation campus in Glendale, California. The excitement and nervousness intertwine as you step into the studio, ready to start your new role as a sound engineer. 

Your supervisor gives you a brief overview of the project, "The Wild Robot," an animated film in production. "We need you to record and mix the voice actors' takes for each character," he explains. "Attention to detail is crucial – the right sound can bring the characters to life."

You nod, absorbing the requirements of your new role. "Got it. I'll make sure every line is perfect."

As you glance at the cast sheet for the voice actors, you notice that a few roles are still being finalized. Your mind drifts back to the previous night, to the man in the bar who looked so familiar. Shaking off the distraction, you focus on the task at hand. 

Your days are filled with recording sessions and mixing tracks, immersing yourself in the world of "The Wild Robot." The work is demanding but rewarding, and you throw yourself into it with everything you have. 

Despite your busy schedule, thoughts of the bench in Lucerne and the glimpse of him at the bar keep creeping back into your mind. The way Pedro had looked at you, the sense of connection you felt—it all seems so surreal now. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again. The story you want is the story you get. Are you special, or was this all scripted in his head?

Back in his home in LA, Pedro can't shake the feeling that he needs to find you. He starts making discreet inquiries, hoping to track you down without drawing too much attention. The memory of your laughter and the warmth in your eyes keeps him going. He knows he needs to see you again, to see if what he felt was real.

As you finish another recording session, you glance at the cast sheet again. A new name catches your eye—Pedro Pascal as Fink the fox. Your heart skips a beat. Could it be him? The thought is both thrilling and terrifying.

Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on your work, but your mind keeps drifting back to the possibility. What if it really is him? What if fate has brought you together again? The anticipation builds as you wait for the next recording session, hoping that your paths will cross once more.

When the day finally arrives, you’re setting up the recording equipment, your hands trembling slightly with nervous energy. The door opens, and you hear footsteps approaching. You look up, and there he is—Pedro Pascal, standing in the doorway, looking just as surprised to see you.

“Hi,” he says, his voice soft yet filled with emotion. “It’s you.”

You smile, trying to steady your racing heart. “Yeah, it’s me. I didn’t expect to see you here. Well, I mean,” you start to fidget with your fingers, stumbling over your words, “I read the call sheet and I—”

“I didn’t expect to find you either,” he admits, taking a step closer. “But I’m glad I did.”

There’s a moment of silence, both of you taking in the significance of this unexpected reunion. Then, with a gentle smile, Pedro says, “Do you have time to catch up after this?”

You nod, feeling a rush of warmth and excitement. “I’d like that.”

As the recording session progresses, you can’t help but steal glances at Pedro, who seems equally distracted. When it’s finally over, you pack up your equipment, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Outside the studio, the two of you find a quiet corner to talk. Pedro takes your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’ve thought about you a lot,” he admits. “Ever since that night in Lucerne, and then seeing you again at the bar… I knew I had to find you.”

“I’ve thought about you too,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know if it was real or I just made it all up in my head.”

“It’s real,” Pedro says, his gaze intense and sincere. “And I want to see where this goes, if you do too.”

You smile, feeling a sense of hope and possibility. “I’d like that very much.”

The air between you and Pedro is charged with electric energy as you talk and laugh, baring your souls to each other like old friends. Time seems to stand still as you swap stories and reveal your deepest desires, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. This is more than just a chance encounter; and the both of you can feel the spark of something new and thrilling forming between you.

[afictionaladventure16]

Reader being Pedro’s co-star (maybe along Bella in TLOU or if not in another show/film) and him basically taking her in after finding out she’s not being well taken care of in her home, so he becomes her surrogate dad

It's Gonna Be Okay (Pedro Pascal x Teen!Reader)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Word Count: 5,091

A/N: I may have took this request and ran with it.... but uhhhh I hope this is somewhat what you least expected... enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of neglect and abuse.

If it were up to you, you wouldn’t have taken up acting when you were younger. You were forced into it at a young age, it was so you could help pay bills because your father was on disability and your mother didn’t want to give up her position as a housewife. You eventually fell in love with acting, being able to just escape your life and family and just be someone completely different. 

You’d had been getting bigger roles now that you were older. At only age fourteen, you had gotten many roles in shows and movies. You were proud of yourself. Someone had to be. You were currently working on another film after just finished working on the Prospect, which starred Pedro Pascal as Ezra. You played Cee, a girl who is traveling planets with her father. This film you were starring in now was a small indie film, which had been something different than what you usually worked on. That didn’t mean that you didn’t like it, you liked the challenge. 

You walked into your trailer after shooting a couple of scenes. Your mom was on the phone with god only knows who. For the longest, you wished your relationship with your parents was better. You wished they could be proud of you and that maybe they did this because they wanted a better life for you. But that wasn’t the case, they were only thinking for themselves. 

Your mom hung up the phone, “your father and I were thinking about buying a new house.” 

“We just bought a house,” you stated as you began to undress from your wardrobe for your character and into some regular clothes. 

“Well, I think we could use something new. Plus with the money you made from your previous role, we can afford it?” 

You let out a deep sigh, “but that’s my money, shouldn’t I have a say?” 

“Your money? Sweetie, it’s our money.” 

“I was the one who did all the work, my name is on the checks!” 

“Don’t raise your voice at me, you know the money goes to an account that has me and your father as the trustees.” You couldn’t take it anymore. You’ve taken it for years and years, them using you to get money and you knew eventually you would be left with nothing. 

“It’s my money, that money is supposed to be left untouched.” 

Your mom let out a deep breath, “Well, it’s the least you could do for all we do for you.” 

“All you do for me? What? Sit around and not do anything!?”

She began to rub her temples, “sometimes I wish I never had you,” she spat. 

“If you hate me so much then why did you ever have me?” You asked, tears beginning to well up in your eyes.

“We had you because we thought you could fix us!” 

“So what I’m just some kid you have when your marriage is falling apart? So if that doesn’t work you can blame the kid? You were better off getting a dog!” 

“Maybe we were better getting a dog! At least the dog would listen and be more appreciative! And you know what? You shouldn’t even be talking to me like that, I am your mother!” 

“Barely! I only see you when it’s convenient! All I am to you is an ATM!” 

“You are so ungrateful, you have no idea what we do so you could be some superstar!” 

“You didn’t do shit! I did this! I walked myself to auditions! I took the bus to film locations! I did it!” You yelled, allowing yourself to finally yell out everything you had been holding back. 

“Fuck this,” she said as she walked away to grab her bag. 

“I’m not going home,” you said. 

“Ni te quiero ahi de todos modos,” (I don’t want you there anyway) she hissed as she walked out of the trailer. You didn’t know where you could go if you couldn’t go home. If you could even call that place home. 

You felt the warm tears make their way down your cheeks, and you were quick to wipe them away, “I don’t need them,” you said to yourself. You grabbed your backpack of essentials, you usually carried it around because it was stuff you needed for before and after shoots and now it was convenient because you couldn’t go home. 

When you walked out of your trailer, almost everyone had gone home for the night. Most of the shooting took place in Los Angeles which was where more than half the cast and crew lived. The others rented places to live in until the end of the shoot. 

You didn’t know where to go, but your feet seemed to lead you the way to the bus stop. It was almost like you were on autopilot to the only place you knew you’d welcomed. 

Once you had gotten on the bus, you noticed dark clouds beginning to cover the sunset sky. Usually, you would be happy to see that it was about to rain, but since you were stuck in a bus and would eventually have to walk the rest of the way to your destination, you were feeling the opposite to see the clouds. 

You had ridden the bus for a good twenty minutes, this was one of the routes you got to know over the past couple of months since filming. You’d ride the bus for twenty minutes and then walk the rest of the way, which was another twenty minutes. 

It only sprinkled during the walk to your destination. But it didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. The whole walk to the neighborhood, you couldn’t help but wonder what life could have been if maybe your parents actually cared. What will life become if this continued? You couldn’t handle the way they treated you as if you were just an employee, you yearned for that feeling of being loved by your parents. 

You couldn’t quite remember when exactly it started, you thought it could’ve been when your dad got injured at work, but even then you felt it was before that. You admit, that the words your mother said hurt. You were only created to fix their marriage and even that couldn’t fix it because it was obvious to everyone that it was falling apart day by day. 

Once you had gotten to the neighborhood, you were glad that they didn’t live in a gated community or else this walk would’ve been for nothing. You ran the rest of the way to the house, running up the steps, and knocking on the door. 

You stood in silence for a few seconds until the door opened, “Y/N? What are you doing here?” Pedro asked in shock, “Mija, you’re all soaked, get in.” Pedro pulled you into the house, before running off to grab you a towel. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve called,” you began to say. 

He chuckled, “Yeah, I could’ve gotten you a ride.” 

That was true, but part of you just wanted to be left alone. “Sorry,” you said again. 

Pedro wrapped the towel around you, “Take your shoes off, make yourself at home.” You never understood that phrase, maybe because you never knew what a home should feel like. You cleared your throat as you took your shoes off, placing them by the door. You followed Pedro into the living room, “You came just in time, I was gonna start a movie marathon…” Pedro looked over at you standing by the couch. “Pues, mija sit down.” 

“I don’t want to ruin the couch,” you gestured to your wet clothes. Pedro could care less if you got his couch a little wet, but he probably thought you felt uncomfortable in wet clothes. 

“Hold on,” he said as he ran up to one of the rooms. He came down a few minutes later, “I remembered one of my little cousins left some of their clothes here the last time they came to visit. These pajama pants should fit and I have one of my old Fleetwood mac tees here.” He handed you the clothes, giving you a grin. 

“Thanks,” you said with a smile. 

“You know where the bathroom is,” he gestured towards the hallway. This wasn’t your first time in Pedro’s house, in fact, you came over to his house pretty often. Since being in the Prospect together, you have developed a strong bond with Pedro. You still hung out with him whenever he was in town and you even went to visit him in New York a few times. This house has become like a home to you, a true home. One in which you could actually be yourself, when you came here you never wanted to go to the one where your parents were. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t as surprised to see you, just more surprised you didn’t call him. You quickly changed in the bathroom, and when you walked back out to the living room, Pedro had microwaved some popcorn. He pats the spot next to him for you to sit down. 

You rolled your eyes and sat down beside him, “What are we watching?” 

“I’ll tell you if you tell me what’s going on,” he asked in a serious tone. 

You sighed, “don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Do your parents know you're here?” 

“All they know is that I’m not home and they’re happy with that,” you picked up some popcorn and began eating. 

“Now why would you say that?” At this point he turned the T.V. off, giving you his full attention. 

“My mom and I got into this big argument,” you said, hoping he would drop it and you could just go back to ignoring the situation. 

“About?” But part of you knew he wasn’t going to just drop it. Pedro was a good listener and for some reason, he had done more for you in the little time he has known you, than your parents ever have. 

“Money,” you began, not even trying to hold it in anymore, maybe he could help you do something about it. “They’ve been spending everything I’ve earned like it’s no tomorrow and now I’m scared that that’s all they care about.” 

“What?” Pedro sat up, “They can’t do that, it’s your money,” he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he knew he had to be somewhat illegal. 

“I know,” You sighed, “but they're my parents” 

“Mija, they signed a contract. Only a certain percentage of that money goes to an account that they could spend for you, the rest has to go to a savings account for you.” 

“It’s all in one account,” you responded. “I don’t know what to do, I’m too young to get emancipated, and even then… I have no other family I can stay with.” 

Pedro got up, he knew he had to talk to someone about this, maybe one of the directors or even your manager. He just knew this wasn’t right. He grabbed his phone from the counter, Pedro hesitated for a second, what was he doing? The choices he made right now could change your life either for the better or for the worse. 

He went into his contacts, tapping on his phone a few times before pressing it to his ear, “Pedro?” You called out, walking in the direction he went. “What are you doing?” You asked as soon as you saw him. 

Before he could respond to you, someone had picked up, “Hello?” 

“Chris,” he began, your eyes widen, you couldn’t believe he had called your manager, you had forgotten that they had been good friends. “It’s Pedro.” 

“Pedro, what are you doing?” 

Pedro didn’t respond to you again, “Pedro, what’s up?” 

“Any chance you can come by my place? Y/N is here and we have something to talk to you about.” 

“Um, yeah, I can be there in like thirty minutes, sound good?” 

“Yeah, see you then,” Pedro hung up the phone, looking over at you, “It’s  gonna be okay.” 

“How do you know that?” 

He sighed, “because I’ll be there to help you, okay? You’re not alone, Y/N. Do you trust me?” You didn’t trust a lot of people, but Pedro was one of the few you did trust. He had shown you that you could trust him time and time again. You gave him a small nod. He smiled softly at you, “you hungry?” 

“I don’t think I can eat at a time like this,” you said nervously. Pedro understood he didn’t think he could eat either, but he knew it was rude to not offer. 

When Chris arrived, Pedro did most of the talking. You sat on the couch, nodding every once in a while or talking when things needed more clarity. But for the most part, Pedro was your advocate and you were content that you didn’t have to deal with it. Chris was overwhelmed with the information he was given, but he knew what to do in these kinds of situations. 

“I can get you a lawyer,” he began, “but I’m letting you know now, it’s gonna get messy. We’ll have to find a family for you to stay with-” 

“I have no other family,” you confessed. 

“Well, they might have you-” 

“She can stay with me,” Pedro blurted out. “If she’s able to.” 

“It’s possible. We’d just have to provide evidence that temporary guardianship is needed in this case,” Chris stated. 

“I have evidence,” you began, “just do whatever is needed and I can provide the evidence.” 

Chris sighed, “alright. I’ll keep in touch and It’s probably best if Y/N goes home tonight.” 

“My mom told me not to come home.” 

Chris glanced at Pedro before looking at you, he didn’t know what to say, “then I guess you’ll stay with Pedro for the night.” He didn’t say anything else before leaving. 

“You think it’ll work?” you asked Pedro, he had sat down next to you once Chris had left. 

“I like to think it will,” he gave you a reassuring smile before pulling you to his side. 

“Did you really mean it?” you asked, receiving a confused look from Pedro. “When you said I could stay with you.” 

“Of course I meant it,” he said. “You’re like a daughter I’ve never had, in just a few months we’ve known each other you have brought me so much joy and I have to admit, seeing you shoot your scenes, makes me feel so proud.” 

You felt tears begin to well up in your eyes. Someone who didn’t even know you for your whole life was proud of you, more than your parents ever could be. “What’s wrong?” Pedro asked as he wiped away a tear off your cheek that had managed to escape. You shook your head, “Something has to be bothering you, muñeca, what is it?” 

You let out a shaky breath, “it’s just… I wish my parents could say that they’re proud of me. I wish they could at least act like they loved me.” 

“Oh, mija,” he cooed. 

“You know what my mom said to me today?” you sniffled, “she said that they only had me because they thought I would help make their marriage work. What kind of person says that to their own kid?” You let out a soft sob, “Do I even matter to them? To anyone?” 

Pedro held you tight, “you matter to me.” He placed a small kiss on your temple, “they may say all these awful things but you are here for a reason.” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “Sure.” 

“I’m serious, Y/N. You’re like a daughter to me and I believe you were brought onto this earth to shine some joy into my life,” he gave you a reassuring smile. “Okay?” You gave him a nod, “Now let’s watch our movie marathon, we’ll worry about everything else tomorrow.” 

You laid your head on Pedro’s lap, watching as the opening credits began to play on the screen, but you couldn’t help but wonder if everything was going to be okay. When you woke up that morning you didn’t imagine this was how you were going to end your day, but then again, no one ever really imagines how they would really end their day. 

You wondered if you’d need to move out and if so, how would everyone take it? Did that really matter? No, it didn’t. You know Pedro said he’d take you in, but would he be true to his word? You couldn’t help but think about all these intrusive thoughts, all you wanted to do was watch the damn movie, but your mind was so loud. 

The next day came and no word from Chris. You went back onto the set, your mother was there too. You played your best role yet, the obedient daughter. You sat and listened to your mother as she lectured you for not coming home last night, even though she had told you not to. 

Days went by and only one call from Chris, he was working on it. That’s all he said. You visited Pedro a few times before he went back to New York. 

Then weeks went by and eventually you finished filming. You hated when you weren’t filming, it meant you had to go home and spend most of your time there. 

It wasn’t until a month after the whole talk with Chris was when your parents received the knock at the door. You were at the kitchen table when your mother answered the door, you could hear the shock in her voice when the gentleman said the four magical words, “You have been served.” 

Your head the door shut, and the smile on your face only lasted a few seconds before it was met with anxiety. You heard the sounds of the envelope being torn apart and then complete silence. You were beginning to regret everything that had just happened, maybe it was just all a big mistake. Suing your parents was a big deal, accusing them of stealing was another big deal. 

You heard footsteps inching closer to where you sat. Then silence. You looked up at your mother standing at the doorway, It was at that moment you knew that it was probably best that she was served the papers when you weren’t there. Because up until that moment, you had thought that all your mother would do was mentally and verbally abuse you, or steal from you. 

“You bitch,” she spat as she threw the papers onto the table, “after everything we did for you!” She smacked her hand across your face, your hand instantly touching the spot she had slapped. “This is how you repay us!?” 

You felt tears well up in your eyes, you got up from your seat to leave but your mother quickly blocked your way, “move.” 

“This is how you repay us?” She asked again. You remained silent, not daring to look at her. It was all quick, her hand on your throat pushing you against the wall, “I’m asking you a question!” Her grip was strong, you scratched at her hand, hoping that it would pain her enough to let go. 

It felt like you were against the wall for minutes. Her phone began to ring, allowing you to break free. You fell to your knees as you attempted to catch your breath. “Leave,” she began. “No te quiero ver en esta casa nunca mas, no me importa donde vas.” ( I don’t want to see you in this house anymore, I don’t care where you go) You remained silent as you got up from the floor, “Me oiste?” You didn’t say anything again as you grabbed your phone from the kitchen table. “I asked you a question!” 

“Yes! I fucking heard you!” You yelled. 

Your reflexes weren’t quick, maybe it was because you were still trying to recover from being choked, or maybe it was because your nerves were everywhere. You weren’t quick enough to dodge your mother's fist, and you stumbled back. Quickly covering your eye, you groaned as you felt it throbbing. 

Your mother shook her hand, “Leave before I do something I’ll regret.” 

“You’re fourteen years too late for that,” you muttered. 

“Eres una disgracia, no eres mi hija. Quiero que todos que sepan que no tengo hija.” (You’re a disgace, not a daughter. I want everyone to know I don’t have a daughter) she muttered as you walked out of the room. You walked into your bedroom, and quickly looked at the damage to your eye, it didn’t look too bad but you knew it would bruise, not to mention the red marks on your neck. You couldn’t worry about it right now, you had to pack what was important and the essentials. As looked around your room, you couldn’t think of anything you wanted to take, just things you needed. 

As you began to pack things, you decided to call Pedro, it had only rang a few times before he answered, “Hey, Y/N! I was just about to call you,” He began to say. “I was gonna surprise you, but I might as well just tell you, I’m in LA! I have an interview tonight an-” he had rambled on, but you had to interrupt, or else he wouldn’t have stopped. 

“I need you to pick me up,” you cut him off. 

Pedro went silent for a moment, “Everything okay?” 

“My mom just got served, Pedro.” 

“Shit,” he mumbled, “I was hoping they’d tell me before they did anything, that way…” Pedro hesitated, he didn’t want to think about what could have happened. “are you okay?” he asks instead. 

“Can you please pick me up?” You asked shakingly. 

“Of course, Mija, I’ll be there right away, okay?” He said. 

“Don’t hang up,” you pleaded. 

Pedro’s heart sank, he could hear how torn you were, “okay, I won’t hang up.” You could hear car keys jingling on the other side of the phone, “I’m gonna connect the Bluetooth to my car, okay?” 

“Okay,” you had zipped up the last of your stuff into one of your suitcases. 

Pedro stayed silent for a few seconds, “are you still there?” 

“I’m here,” you said. You began to make your way out of your room, and you spotted your mother still in the kitchen, phone pressed against her ear. You walked out of the house, without saying another word to her. You didn’t know how your father would react and you didn’t want to know. “I’m outside,” you said into the phone. 

“I’m only a few minutes away.” 

It felt more than a few minutes, it felt like hours. You stood at the driveway, anxious that you wouldn’t leave in time, you wanted to make sure you weren’t home when your father got there. 

“I’m down the street,” Pedro announced. 

You quickly spotted his car and you ended the call once he was close enough. Pedro parked at the curb, quickly getting out to help you put your stuff in the car. Before you could get in, he grabbed your arm, placing a hand on your face, “Mija,” he began as he noticed the marking on your neck and the swelling of your eye. “Did they do this to you?” 

“Let’s go,” you pleaded. He sighed, he knew you were anxious to get out of there. He glanced over at the house you had come out of as you got in the car, he closed the door for you before getting in the car. 

The car ride was silent, which was different. Usually, the car rides with Pedro were filled with music and laughter, but this time there was no music and no laughter. You stared out of the window for most of the ride. Once you got to the house, Pedro took your bags and you followed him inside. 

“I need to make a phone call,” He informed you as he walked into his office. 

You walked over to the window, looking out at the scenic view. Were you making a big mistake? Was he beginning to realize it? 

You did the right thing, right? 

You took charge of your life and you did the right thing, right? Even if it feels completely wrong and you feel so much guilt. Is it wrong to feel a little relief? Usually, relief meant a good thing, so did this mean it was a good thing?

You felt something on your shoulder, you jolted a bit at the sudden touch. 

“Sorry,” Pedro apologized. You calmed down when you realized it was him, “I was on the phone with Chris and the lawyer.” 

“What they say?” 

“Well, I told them what happened and the lawyer is attempting to get an emergency temporary custody agreement from the judge so you could stay with me. He said he’ll be coming over to take pictures for evidence, but for now…” He sighed, “are you okay?” you shook your head. You didn’t need to say anymore, Pedro pulled you in for an embrace and you allowed yourself to feel everything. 

For once you felt like you were able to feel everything without feeling guilty for doing so or even wrong to think such horrible things. But now that the truth has come to light, you were able to feel. 

In most cases, this process would have taken days, but somehow the lawyers your manager hired made the process go by fast. Within a couple of hours, Pedro received the call that he was able to get temporary custody, but that’s all it was. Temporary. Eventually, you would have to go to court and maybe end up in foster care, but you didn’t want to think about that now. 

“Let me see,” Pedro said softly as he joined you on the couch once again, he had been making some phone calls for the past twenty minutes. “Fuck,” he said softly, “They really hit you pretty well.” 

“It hurts,” you groaned. 

“I know,” he had a frozen pack of peas in his other hand, along with a small towel. He wrapped the bag of peas in the towel before gently placing it on your eye, “leave this on for twenty minutes, then rest it.” You gave him a nod as you took a hold of the bag of peas. “You want to talk about it?” 

You shook your head, “not really.” 

“That’s fine,” he said, trying not to push you into talking. 

But that’s the thing, you wanted to talk about it. You wanted to cry it out, you just didn’t want to feel like a burden, especially not to him. Not after all he has done for you so far. 

Tears began to well up in your eyes, Pedro quickly took notice, pulling you back into an embrace. “I thought that I would be happier,” you cried. “They’ve always treated me so terribly and now that they’re no longer a part of my life… I don’t get it.” Pedro rubbed your back, “Why does it hurt so much? Why does it feel like-” 

“Like you’ve lost your parents?” you nodded. 

“Even if they never acted like parents.” 

“I don’t know, grief is funny like that,” he said softly. “Some people don’t deserve to be parents, Y/N.” 

You took in a deep breath, “you know what she said when I left?” he hummed in response, “Quiero que todos se sepan que no tengo una hija.” Every girl needs a mother, you needed a mother, and you had one. You just didn’t have the one that was portrayed in movies or the ones that your friends had. And you were always envious of that. You wished you had a mother that truly loved you and took pride in being your mother. Maybe you didn’t understand, what it was like to be a mother, but you think you could. 

Because if you ever had a daughter, you knew you would love that person unconditionally without hesitation. So, why couldn’t she? 

Pedro couldn’t understand it because like you if he had a daughter or even a son. He would love them unconditionally, just like he had tried to do with you. Like he was doing with you. Right now there was a hurting child in his arms and all he could think to do was comfort them even if he was fighting everything inside him to go punch your parents. He knew what he had to do at that moment, he had to comfort you because you needed him. 

He kissed your temple, “She doesn’t deserve such a beautiful, intelligent, talented daughter like you and it hurts that she can’t see what I see.” He leaned back from the embrace, holding your head in his hands. “Just because someone shares your DNA doesn’t mean that they are family. If there is anything you have shown me in the time I’ve known you, it’s how to be a father to someone who isn’t even my own kid.” 

You gave him a small smile as he wiped away a tear from your cheek with his thumb, “from here on out, we’re in this together, mija, okay?” you nodded.

Yeah, you really couldn’t understand it, but you didn’t have to because DNA didn’t mean they were truly your family. If there was anyone who actually knew you like the back of your hand, it was the man that was sitting beside you. The man who took time to be there for you when they couldn’t. 

The man who knew what to say on your bad days and what not to say, who knew your favorite foods and knew your pet peeves, just like a father would. He knew what time you should go to bed for you to be not grumpy in the morning and he knew what subjects in school you needed help in the most. 

And he mostly knew all of this in a short period of time. He spent time with you and not because he needed to, but because he wanted to. It didn’t take him long to create a bond with you and it didn’t take you long to consider him like a father. 

“Okay,” you said softly. The pain would only be temporary, you knew that and you allowed yourself to feel it. You were still nervous about the outcome of the future, but you knew you had a small support system and that was all you needed.

Pedro Pascal Taglist: @Sophieelizabeth01  @tracysnook  @cilliansangel  @change-the-world-someday  @graciegoeskrazy @oggystine93 @t-stark35 @twkobii @picklehat3r

To be added CLICK HERE

[imaginesbymonika]

“Shame” (Part 3)

A Pedro Pascal x fem!Reader fan fiction

Plot: For the last four years, Y/N and Pedro have been dating in secret. The fear of rejection has turned them into a mystery that could only be encountered in yearning looks on red carpets or hands that are touching one another briefly. However, for the longest time, things have been working out that way just fine. But now Pedro's agency wants him to have a PR relationship with another woman and neither Y/N nor Pedro is sure if their love is going to survive that.

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, feelings of cheating, grief and eating disorders

She knows that she shouldn't do this. She can almost hear Pedro's voice in her ears, telling her to put the phone down, but it's accompanied by this deafening ringing so it doesn't matter. Y/N stares at her phone, unable to tear her eyes off the bright screen. She reads the tweets, every single one…god, it must be thousands of them. Voicing their very strong feelings about Pedro and his new girlfriend, Melissa. And Y/N wishes she could simply roll her eyes and whisper some vulgarism, but holy fuck Melissa is beautiful.

She has a body like a supermodel, even though she proclaims to love pizza and burgers- Y/N listened to her and she wanted to throw up. Maybe develop some sort of eating disorder, maybe the same one she has. She has that million-dollar smile, standing next to Y/N's million-dollar man… who right at this moment wasn't her man. It was Melissa's and the whole world thought so too. All Y/N could do was wait. Linger in the living room like a dog until Pedro returned to her.

In her head, she is agreeing with everyone else. Y/N wouldn't say it out loud but she does feel like she is grieving their relationship. Even though he is lying next to her at night, Y/N couldn't help herself but feel like a mistress. It made her so furious every single time, that she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs that none of this was fair and that she was here first. She had him first! But Y/N understands how pathetic that would sound, so she just remained silent.

Her eyes widen. Even if the majority weren't happy with this, they were happy that it wasn't…her. Those people have no idea but despite that they were relieved. Relieved that Melissa was older than her, more mature perhaps. Holy shit, Y/N tosses her phone to the side while a crazy lump of anxiety forms in her throat.

[ruumiinlaulaja]

Love & Anarchy film festival started brilliantly with the short films ”Strange Way of Life” and ”The Human Voice”. I liked both, especially Strange Way of Life in which Pedro Pascal and Ethan Hawke play dramatic gays who have to spill blood before they can be together (lol).

The first film was about a woman dealing with the loss (death?) of a loved one, and although it was implied the loved one was a man, I kind of interpreted that it could have been a woman. The apartment/the set is full of art work of naked women, and throughout the film the lost loved one is referred to in a gender neutral way (until the very end). The suit on the bed could have very well been worn by a woman (a power lesbian). Also, the main character talks about how she was an experiment for them; they could have been a married woman who wanted to try a relationship with a woman. Also, I think the character is dead. The mc talks to them on the phone but she might be imagining it. Why else would she have the other person’s dog, and their suit, and all their things.

So yes, the film leaves lots of room for personal interpretation.

Anyway, I obviously went to this screening for the second film, first and foremost. AND OBVIOUSLY I LIKED IT. Pedro Pascal in a gay cowboy movie, who wouldn’t like it? Unfortunately, the film isn’t explicit, although I expected that it wouldn’t be. But I kind of wish we at least got to see the two lovers kiss, as older men, that is (so basically Pedro Pascal and Ethan Hawke making out). There is a hot kiss scene between the younger versions of the characters, but the intimate scene between the older versions of the characters is just fade-to-black sort of stuff. Well. At least we got to see Pedro Pascal’s butt. LMAO.

Also, the story is intense, and it has a happy ending (at least that’s how I interpret it). And it was implied Pedro’s character bottomed, haha. SO YEAH I LOVED IT.

[mandoalorian]

Joel Miller headcanons

I’m in mourning. If anyone wants to send in some Joel drabble requests you may. 💓 oh and please reblog so more people can read these💕 thankyou. Xxx

Joel masterlist

Every night before bed, he’ll play his guitar. His voice is soft and soothing and rasp, but he can lull you to sleep so easily.

Nightmares aren’t uncommon during the apocalypse, so if you wake up in the middle of the night, he’ll pull you close and sleepily smooth out your hair. He assures you that he will always protect you, and as long as he’s around, he’ll always take care of you. You know you can believe him.

In his older years, during his time in Jackson, his confidence grows a little and he will enjoy playing his guitar and singing for audiences around the campfire. After all, it was always his dream, to be a singer.

He loves all animals, but especially horses and dogs. He makes little wooden ornaments of horses and displays them around his house, even giving them names.

He used to be a carpenter, pre-Apocolypse, so he’s the perfect man to have around whenever you need some DIY doing or if you need something fixed. He’ll jokingly tease you if you can’t do something, saying how it’s so easy and how you should be more like him.

When he loves, he loves hard. Everyone (Tess, Bill, even Tommy) always told him to not form attachments, especially during the apocalypse. They told him that he should only be looking out for himself, otherwise he’ll just get himself killed. Joel is stubborn though, and he doesn’t listen. He puts you and Ellie first, at all costs.

He adores 80s music and always has vinyls playing quietly around the house. We know he’s very keen on the song Take On Me by A-Ha.

He’s a hummer too. He’s always humming little tunes to himself as he potters around the house.

He loves going on long hikes and he can even skateboard, after practicing with Sarah when he was younger.

The apocalypse hardened him a lot, and he became known to be a brutal “crazy man” who had no shame in torturing and murdering anyone who crossed him the wrong way. But in his later years, he has grown to be more soft and gentle, much like the man he was back when he was only a father to Sarah.

He has a lot of trauma. There are no mirrors up in his home because he can’t bear to look at himself. He hates the man he’s become. He doesn’t feel like himself anymore.

Sometimes you catch him and Ellie reading comic-books. It’s their favourite bonding activity.

Joel loves history and science, and one of his favourite memories is taking Ellie out to learn about dinosaurs. He can string off random dinosaur facts and it’s so endearing to listen to.

He tends to stay away from alcohol because it can make him spiral. He smells like woodland and black coffee.

He always displays Ellie’s artwork and drawings, and beams about how proud he is of her to everyone in Jackson.

He hates having to lie but he’ll do it if it means protecting those who he loves. It’s hard for him to live with the guilt though.

He’s a feminist.

If Pride was still a thing, he’d take Ellie and cheer her on.

He often tells dad jokes that fall completely flat. Like, really terrible jokes. But it only makes your heart grow for him.

He’s a family-man at heart and if you weren’t living in the middle of an apocalypse, he’d love to have more children.

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl20 @phoenixhalliwell @xoxo-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33 @sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor @pedro-pastel @steeevienicks @rrtxcmt @saphic-susperia @readsalot73 @softmedics @jade10077 @dodgerandevans @planetariumx @pascals-cat @ajeff855 @spideysimpossiblegirl @smoldjarin @thewayofthemandalorian

[chonkychonkin]

Chapter 2: Coffee Talk

m a s t e r l i s t

Words: 1353

You woke up the next morning to the beautiful rays of light shining in your room through the blinds. Smiling, you opened the blinds and reveled into the sight of the beautiful city. Jake woke up a little later after you took a bath and got into your clothes. You gave him his favorite food and checked your things for rehearsals. Then you noticed the messy stack of papers on the couch,”Oh right, forgot what happened to you.“,you thought to yourself. Whilst arranging your sheet music, images of last night flashed through your head and you cursed,”You could’ve avoided this problem if you werent a little too drunk Ronnie...“ Yet part of you thought that maybe you didn’t have to regret last night’s incident. You were very curious about him, “Pedro.“ The name rolled off your tongue which caused Jake to look up at his owner, leaning his head to the side. You smiled at his cuteness, patting his head as he continued to dig into his bowl. You finished up arranging the pile of papers, it was fairly easy given that there were numbers on the corner on which page the paper was.

You slid the folder into the backpack along with some essentials and your violin, heading over to your favorite coffee shop, Romeo and Juliet. When you arrived there, it wasn’t as crowded as it was a few weeks before.You went straight to the cashier and was greeted by your friend, Mike. “Good morning Ronnie. Do you want the usual today, your one and only favorite?”, he asked you rather enthusiastically and smiled, looking up to you as he waited for your response. “Hey Mike, yes I’d like to get the white mocha frappe”, you rolled your eyes at him, he was the closest friend you had in NYC for at least 6 years now. He was like a big brother to you. “Just sayin’, for someone who is almost going into their 30’s, you still look and like the same things as a teenager”, he declared, shrugging and chuckling as you threw him a playful punch in the shoulder. “For someone older than me, you still act like my brother when he was 15.”, you retorted at him and told that you’ll be waiting for your order at the table. “Donuts on the house by the way! I’ll bring them to you as soon as it’s done señorita” he spoke jokingly with a very hard accent which made you chuckle.

You sat at the table by the window and looked out into city streets. Minutes later, Mike finally got you your order with two glazed donuts, ”Here you go señorita, a white mocha frappe and two donuts! A typical sweet morning treat”, he spoke as he laid down your frappe on the table. “Thanks and please stop calling me that.”, you chuckled as you took a sip of your drink. “Have a good morning Ronnie.”, Mike told you with a soft smile as he went back to the cashier.

You decided to stay a little longer at the café, it was still early and rehearsals won’t start in an hour and a half. You pull out a book from your bag and start reading from the page you were left behind. Losing yourself in the story, you didn’t notice someone approaching you. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”, you thought you were dreaming when you heard Pedro’s voice but, no, he was standing in front of you with the most charming smile you have ever seen. “Hey! I guess I could say the same to you”, you chuckled as you closed the book, “Is this seat taken?”, Pedro gestured to the chair across the table,”No, no it’s not. Please, make yourself comfortable, grab a donut”, your smile never left your face since you saw Pedro and you felt that familiar sensation of butterflies in your stomach, you really did feel like a teenager. He put his bag down and sat in the chair across to you as he opened his mouth to say something but he closed it, he seemed to struggle with his words yet his smile never left and he just chuckled. You found it adorable and giggled softly.

“So, you come here often?”, you asked him, hoping to strike up a conversation while the two of you sat together. “Do I come here often?”, he laughs,”This is my favorite coffee shop, I come here every time for coffee! Sometimes I bring my dog, Edgar, in when I’m about to take on him on a walk, I ended up ordering with some food ‘cause he would give me those doggy eyes that was one of my weaknesses.”, his eyes sparkles with happiness as he answered rather enthusiastically, that explains why you thought you saw him almost every time you ordered something. “And I’m blabbering like a fool, sorry about that.” You snap out of your train of thought, probably imagining him with Edgar whining at his feet, you found it adorable,”No,no,no you’re not. I think it’s cute.”, you chuckled as you took another sip of your drink.”Do you come here often?”, he asked as he raised up the donut you offered him a while earlier, raising his eyebrows wondering if he could take it. “You can have the donut, Pedro. And yeah, I do come here often. Too often, actually. I come here to get my morning coffee or maybe in the afternoon or evening to think about things. I like it here.”

“So you do remember my name, I thought you could’ve forgotten it last night ‘cause you looked a bit tipsy but talking to you right now, I guess I was wrong.”, he chuckled feeling embarrassed as you hinted a small blush that crept in his cheeks,”It is nice here, really. The coffee is my favorite thing here, it brings memories from when I was shooting a series in Colombia”, and at that moment, you finally realize it was Pedro Pascal you were talking to , you recognized him from that episode you and your friend watched together. You weren’t quite interested at the show at the time so you didn’t pay much attention to it. No wonder, his features were familiar. “Oh shoot, I almost forgot you were an actor.”, you chuckled in embarrassment as you rubbed your neck, ”No it’s okay, really.”. “Well I have to admit, I did see you at the theater, well I think I saw you, if that was you. Does that mean you’re playing a part in King Lear?”, you asked him raising your eyebrow as you checked your watch for the time, not wanting to be late for your first day in rehearsals. “Can I say that I think I saw you too?”, he chuckled softly as he took a sip at his coffee,”I am playing a part in King Lear, wha-what were you doing there? Are you producer? I-I’m”, you looked up at him making eye contact, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “I’m curious”, he muttered softly enough for you to hear. You take one more look at your watch and sighed, looking back at his eyes that somehow enamored you in the first place you laid your eyes on them.

“I’m part of the orchestra, Pedro. And it’s 8:35 in the morning, and we’re gonna be late for rehearsals. Why don’t we talk more when we’re heading towards the theater?”, you proposed to him as you stood up and waited for his answer, hoping he would walk with him. You did like him very much although you just met last night. “I would love to!”, he said enthusiastically as he stood up and picked up his bag along with his coffee as he offered his arm to you, ”Shall we?”, you smiled at the gesture and looped your arm around his. He opened the door for you and both of you went out, slowly getting to know each other better as you drifted into the city streets.

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Monument Woman

Pairing: Marcus Pike x OC (Rosemary Carter)

Warnings: None

A/N: God, I have been wanting to finish this story for weeks, but once we got out of quarantine, I lost all ambition to write.  So, I’m glad I finally have enough of a cushion to get part 1 out to you guys.  I won’t be following my old posting schedule, but I hope I don’t go so far between posts that you all forget about me!

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tag List:

@zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale  , @ahopelessromanticwritersworld [please message me to be added or subtracted]

Part 1 – And So We Begin 

“Thank you for calling Fort Jamison Historical Museum, this is Rosemary. How can I help you?”  The jaunty-sounding phrase rolled off her tongue automatically with little thought behind it until she heard the wizened chuckle on the other end.

“Do you always answer your cell phone like that?”  She pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned as Robert Lancaster’s chuckle morphed into a hearty laugh.  She couldn’t help but giggle along as she dropped her pencil and took off her glasses, setting them on the desk in front of her.

“You know, sometimes I do, especially when I’m not paying attention.” Rosemary leaned back into her chair, propping her feet up on the desk.  Her free hand dropped down to fondle Banana’s ears as the dog snoozed next to her.  “What’s up, Robert?”

“I’m doing some spring cleaning at the house and shop.  I got quite a few boxes accumulated, including stuff I’d like to donate to the museum.  When do you think you can come down to look through them?  I don’t expect you to take them all, but there are a couple of items I want you to specifically have.”  His voice sounded muffled over the phone as he bent down to toss another book into the Friends of the Library box.

“It’s a little slow this week,” she started as she checked the calendar on her wall.  “Looks like I can come as early as tomorrow.  So, if that works for you, I’ll bring the paperwork with me and we can just get it all done at once.”

“Oh, great!  I was hoping you could come soon.  It’s been a while since we had time to visit.”  His smile was evident in his voice.  “Can you do the paperwork on the computer?”

“Sure, we have the fillable PDFs.”

“Even better.  Just bring your laptop and we’ll work on it as we go through everything.  We can connect to the printer here and then you don’t have to worry about doing any of this at the office.  By the way, do you think you’ll have time for lunch?”

“Robert, you know I always have time for you.”  She smiled.  They had been friends for ten years by that point and he never failed to ask the lunch or dinner question and she never failed to make time for him.  Robert had been her first friend when she arrived in Michigan and the long-running friendship between the perpetual bachelor and the bold curator was stuff of area legend.  

There had been speculation of a May-December romance between the two, but Robert saw the younger woman as the daughter he never had and on her part Rosemary saw Robert as the father figure she lost when her grandfather passed away.

“Want to do Phil’s or Coral Gables?”  She smiled.  Just as their dates were always guaranteed, she knew that their location was as well. But it was habit to ask and it never felt right if she didn’t.

“Why do you even ask the question?  You know it’s supposed to be nice tomorrow, Coral Gables’ patio all the way.”  The two chatted a bit longer before they hung up, returning to the rest of their respective duties.  Rosemary sat up and Banana whined when she stopped petting him.  Spoiled dog.

“Sorry, Baba.  Work calls.” She stood up from her desk and wandered down the hall to the director’s office, knowing Helen was at her desk.  The third floor of the museum was workspace for the staff and despite working there for so many years, Rosemary never failed to draw an appreciative breath at the stunning sight of the Kalamazoo River.

As she ambled down the hall, Banana’s nails clicked on the tile floor, hinting that she wasn’t alone on her journey.  She smiled as she waved her hand and the dog rushed to her side.  The two slowly walked to the director’s office, warming themselves in the afternoon sun that poured through the windows.

Rosemary heard the muttering first as she rounded the corner and entered the office.  The stout woman was hunched over her laptop, her salt and pepper pixie cut sticking up everywhere.  Whatever she was working on, it was stressing her out.  Helen always pulled at her short strands when she was concentrating hard.

Smiling, Helen’s head jerked up as Rosemary knocked on the door.  The older woman waved her curator into the office and leaned back.  As she stretched, both women could hear a series of loud pops and they started to giggle.

“Ugh, I am getting too old to sit like this.  I need a massage.”  Helen groaned as yet another loud pop emitted from her shoulder.  As Banana scooched under the desk to get scritches from Helen, Rosemary plopped down in one of the armchairs and it creaked in complaint. “Do you have to sit so hard? Those are collection pieces, you know.”

“Not anymore.  I deaccessioned them last week into the decorative collection.  Donor approved, mind you.  So, we can sit in these however we want.”  Rosemary grinned as she threw a leg over the arm of the ornate chair.  For being so ugly, it was comfortable and not for the first time, she wondered if she could move them to her office without Helen noticing.

“That may be, but it’s not like we have money to fix something you broke because you were being too careless.”  Helen raised her eyebrow and Rosemary sat back up in the chair like normal, having the courtesy to look chagrined.  The director sat back.

“So, what do you need?  Are you still having issues with that Gaylord order?”

“Naw, I talked to them last week, they shipped it out yesterday. Finally.”  She rolled her eyes.  “Robert Lancaster called me just a bit ago, wanting to donate some items to the museum.  I got the time, so I’ll head to Saugatuck tomorrow to handle it.”

“Well, I know Robert is quite the collector, but do you think there are things we’ll want?  I’m hard pressed to start accepting any old thing again after we finally got the collections cleared up and decluttered.  I know he’s a long-time supporter of the museum, but I don’t know if I can take another ugly piece of furniture with a smile.”  Rosemary laughed at the comment.

“To his credit, he said there were things we probably wouldn’t want, and I doubt he’ll be sad if I said no to some things.  I certainly want to see what books he’s got for us.  We have a few things in the library that probably need to be rotated out into archives for their own protection.

“Besides, I am not going to pass up a chance to swoop in and yank the rug out from underneath Saugatuck.  You know that.  Watching Fred get mad that I got the leg up on him adds ten years to my life.” Rosemary rubbed her hands gleefully, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“You really hate him, don’t you?”  Helen laughed.  Lake Michigan History Center was a charming coastal museum, but everyone agreed their curator was a bit odd.  Rosemary took an instant dislike to the man when she came on Fort Jamison’s staff and over the years, their dislike turned into a mutual hatred.  Like her friendship with Robert, everyone knew Fred was Rosemary’s mortal enemy and vice versa.

“God, yes!  Helen, he’s a dick and greedy as hell.  I don’t trust him any further than I can toss his skinny ass. I am still pissed over the diary!  Mrs. Greenwich assured me that we were getting it and he slithered into the village last year and took it!”  Rosemary’s voice got louder.  “THAT DAMN DIARY HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SAUGATUCK, LET ALONE MENTIONS IT!”

Helen laughed harder while raising her hands in surrender and her curator stopped herself before she got too carried away.  Rosemary cleared her throat and drew a deep breath.  Ugh, he always managed to get her riled up even when he wasn’t around.  Damn Fred.

“Sorry, sorry.  I shouldn’t let him get me so mad, but god.  I hate him so much!  So, if Robert Lancaster’s got something that would make Fred die with envy, then by god, I’m gonna bring it home.”

“Alright.  I trust you as usual.  But since you’re here, I want to go over a couple of things with you for this grant so I can get it out Friday.”

The two women moved on to other things and fell into discussion about the future of projects for the museum and how to fund them.

---***---

“Cripes.”

The word was accompanied by a deep groan.  Agent Marcus Pike sat back in his chair to rub his eyes for the third time in less than an hour.  Some intern had dumped four boxes of case files in his office and was coming back with four more.  And the intern was certain there was another half dozen.

When three art pieces were stolen in Canada last year, Pike had been notified as a courtesy from his Canadian counterparts.  Which in and of itself wasn’t unusual, but the notes from the agents there stood out to Pike and he realized that the details match another case he had worked on earlier in the year.  And further digging uncovered almost three dozen cases dating back almost thirty years that carried all the hallmarks of this most recent one.  And more importantly – they were all still open.

He had taken his concerns and theories to the Art Squad chief, Agent Maria Luisa Armand, and with her blessing, assembled a crew to explore these cold cases. Maybe with new technology and eyes, they’d get the lead to solve them all.

The dull throbbing behind his eyes seemed to get worse and he leaned further back in his chair, trying to do some breathing exercises to reduce the pressure.  He let his eyes go unfocused, letting the colored light reflected on his ceiling go blurry.  The stained glass propped up in his office window had been a bit of an indulgence for him, but Pike never regretted the purchase and, in that moment, the colored streaks help bring some sense of zen that he needed.

A knock on his door forced him out of his zone and he sat up to see his partner, Brenda Carmichael, waiting at the door.  He smiled when he saw her and she returned the gesture, coming in to sit in one of the chairs.  The two had been partners for six years and together they had solved dozens of cases and thwarted twice as much.

“Do we have a plan, Carmichael?”

“Yep.  Someone is coming to get these boxes and take them to Conference D, which I commandeered.”

“How did you do that?”

“Threatened to tell Harrison’s wife that he was spending big cash on that escort he’s seeing.”

“Ouch, a little low, don’t you think?”  Pike laughed.

“God no.  Harrison doesn’t ever play nice, so you can’t do it with him.”  She waived her hand and laughed, her tightly coiled hair bouncing as if it was laughing, too.  “Anyway, three junior agents are on the job currently preparing to create the timeline and pulling all the files.  Two more are working to create point of contact lists for witnesses and such. And finally, I think Armand is putting on the coffee.”

“So where does that leave you and me?”  He didn’t think he’d get such a big crew to do this.  Must be a slow day in other departments.  “I want Fitzbender on the NSAF search and follow up, though, before I forget. 

“That’s fine.  And we supervise.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it for now. Until we have more material to work with.  So up off your duff and let’s get going.”

Pike smiled as he pulled himself out of his chair, grabbing his jacket and gesturing to Carmichael to leave first.  If they could solve these cases, it would be the biggest win in the Art Squad’s recent history and Pike really wanted to bring those pieces home where they belonged.

---***----

“Robert, you know I love you, but you have some ugly stuff here.” Rosemary’s nose wrinkled at the stuffed monkey with murderous eyes staring at her from a box.  The only place that creepy thing was going was in the garbage.  She moved on to another open box, pawing through the items that were housed there, pulling out a couple of potentials.

“Yeah, well no accounting for taste, I guess.”  Robert groaned as he leaned over and pulled open another box. He thought he had labelled all of them for the museum, but he realized three of them got mixed up in the junk pile. “God, how did I miss all these boxes. I’m sorry Rosie, I am usually better organized.”

“It’s not a problem, Robert.”  Rosemary walked over with the contents of yet another box, a bounce in her step as she realized she snagged a two-hundred-year-old map of the area that Fred would have murdered her to get for himself.  Her grin was almost feral at the idea that she one upped the old bastard. “Hey, question.”

“What?”  Robert had moved on to a small box on his desk that had a post-it with Rosemary’s name on it.

“What’s with all the cleaning and giving away all of a sudden?  The house wasn’t like this when I visited two months ago.”  She wiped the sweat off her brow and turned to look at him.  He was quiet and she took a moment to really look at him.

She knew from long talks that Robert had been living in the Saugatuck area since the 1990s.  He had come from Chicago, declaring he needed a slower pace and his bookstore was a welcomed addition to the downtown area.  He was highly philanthropic to causes he loved, like the Fort Jamison museum.

After her Pops passed away several years ago, she seemed to lean even more into Robert to fill the empty void and he did so gladly.  As she watched him shuffle about, she grew concerned because he looked more frail than usual.  The man had always been on the thin side, but he looked scarily thin and a thought skittered through her mind that sent a wave of sadness through her.

“Robert, are you sick?”  There was no hiding the sadness in Rosemary’s voice.  When he stopped and hesitated, she didn’t need a verbal answer from him. She walked over from where she was standing and placed her hand on his shoulder, turning him around.  “Robert.”

He bowed his head and wrapped his arms around the younger woman as tight as he could, and she did the same.  He began to cry on her shoulder, and it startled her, causing tears to form in her eyes.  She silently rubbed his back in comforting circles as sobs wracked Robert’s body. They stood there a long time before he quieted down, but even then, Rosemary refused to let him go, hugging him close to her.

He was her friend and she loved him dearly, so if he were dying, it would devastate her.  Robert made a move to pull back and she reluctantly let him go but held onto his arms with her hands to keep him close.  His red-rimmed eyes crushed the broken pieces of her heart.  He sighed.

“Rosie.”  He took a deep breath.  “I met with my doctor last week and I have stage four pancreatic cancer.  He only gave me a few months to live.”

“Oh Robert.”  The tears started up again and she threw her arms around him.  They cried together a second time and the sadness enveloped them. As she held him close, her tears made her voice rough.  “That’s what spurred this on, isn’t it?”

“Yes.  But you’re the only one to know right now.  I didn’t want to tell anyone else until you knew.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Well, for starters, this hug is pretty good.”  He chuckled a little bit.  “And get some of this stuff out of my house.  And then just be my friend until the end.”

“Always.”  She pulled back to look at him.  “But it will be a cold day in hell before that ugly ass monkey comes with me.”

The tension and sadness were broken, letting them laugh a bit through their tears.  They stepped apart and let themselves smile at each other.

“Let’s get lunch and come back to this stuff later.  It’s too nice of a day to miss out on the patio.”

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Sunshine

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x OC (Evelyn “Evie” Blaker)

Warnings: None

A/N: This story is coming to an end, only one more chapter of Sunshine after this and then its on to the next story!

Reminder:  I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tags:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars​ , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale  

Part 9 

Pay Restitution

 “How long are you going to be in town?”  Bette’s voice muffled on the phone as she bent down to pick up Lorraine’s shoes before tossing them towards the front door.  That girl never put her shoes away.  “Will you have time for a lunch date?”

“Oh, please, Bette, it’s already on my calendar.  You still want to try out that gyro place?  I’m dying for some lamb or something.”  Evie tossed her own sneakers into the suitcase opened in front of her, George sitting next to the bed watching her every move like a hawk. “Do you want to try for Monday or Tuesday?”

“Tuesday, I have a department meeting Monday and can’t miss it.  Were you still going to the parade with us on Thursday?  Lorraine wants to see you.”

“Yes, do you mind if my dad joins us?”  Evie closed her suitcase and set it next to the door before going into the kitchen to start packing George’s bag.  The dog walked behind her, nails tapping in excitement.

“Ooooh, your dad is coming?”  Bette’s voice turned teasing.

“Would you believe Max personally called him up and invited him?” Now Bette was laughing.  The domineering Maxwell Lord was turning into a total softy and it made her cackle madly.  “My dad called me, asking why this strange man was calling him to come and stay for Thanksgiving.  I lost it and then told him the whole story.”

“Everything?”

“Yeah.”

---***---

“Max.  I love you, too.”

Maxwell’s head shot up so fast, he pulled a muscle in his neck.  Grabbing at it with his hand, his eyes frantically searching Evie’s face.  He was certain she was mocking him, maybe teasing him.  But her face was honest and open, hopeful even.

“Evie, I swear to god. . .”  His voice was low and cautious sounding.  It seemed almost desperate, so opposite of the powerful businessman who ran one of the most successful companies in the world.  In that moment he was brought to his knees.  “If you’re joking, it will kill me.  I’m sure it will.”

“I’m not joking, Max.  I do love you.”  Her voice was soft, and it felt like a caress against his skin.  He lowered his head and his body curled towards her.  She dropped her forehead to her hands, which were clasped around his free one.  “But what happened Thursday cannot happen again.  Ever.  I will not allow you to hurt me like that.  And if you do, don’t ever think that you can just show up on my doorstep begging for forgiveness because I won’t give it.”

He dropped his head.

“What can I do to earn your trust again?”  His voice was quiet, but eager.  He was sorry and so badly wanted to prove to her that he wouldn’t ever hurt her again.  He dropped his hand from his neck to their joined clasp.  He bent his head to lay it on top of hers and they sat there for a long moment.

“Max.”  He raised his head and she raised hers so they could look each other in the eye. In that moment pretenses and pride were stripped back so the barest of emotions were exposed.  Together, they were both in vulnerable places, but Maxwell felt like he had the most to lose.  She quickly had become his world and he didn’t want to think about it without her.

“Remember when I got sucked into those reports in September?”  He nodded.  “The little things you did for me?  I felt so loved and cared for.  Your texts every day gave me something to look forward to.  That’s when I knew I was in love with you.”

Maxwell brought their joined hands to his mouth and he kissed her knuckles. He was thrilled to know that the things he did meant something to her, that’s what he wanted her to feel.  She pulled their hands towards her and she laid her cheek on his knuckles.

“Knowing that you’re there for me and that you trust me and support me – that’s what I need.  I need your words and your actions.  And I don’t need you calling me a whore.”  She narrowed her eyes at him and he at the courtesy to look chagrined.

“Evie, then let me show you with my actions and my words that I love you and that I’m worthy of your trust.”  He slid off the chair, so he was on his knees in front of her.  He removed his hands from hers and placed them on her face.  She held onto his wrists as he dipped his head and brushed his lips across hers.  If she hadn’t known it was coming, she probably would have thought it was a breeze touching her.  It was that soft and tender and her heart bloomed in her chest.

“Okay.”

---***---

For weeks after their reconciliation, Evie and Maxwell took it slow.   They worked during the week and took turns visiting each other on the weekends, talking nearly daily in between.  Unlike their first attempt, this time, they choose to work to get to know each other, to let the rest of the puzzle pieces fall into place.  Evie found her love for him growing deeper and wide than she ever thougth possible. And she noticed the nights she slept alone were getting worse, unlike the times she slept with him by her side.

She, along with those closest to him, noted a change in Maxwell as the weeks passed.  She wasn’t sure if he realized it himself, but he was chilling out.  Eric told her that he was as firm as ever in his leadership at Chimtech and the company was doing well.  But amongst his friends, they absolutely noticed.

His personal relationships had begun to change – even Bennett and Marnie noticed he took a kinder tone and inquired about their lives and families.  He found his friendships less stiff and more relaxing, taking time to connect with people like Eric and others.  He laughed more, he smiled more, and in general he was more pleasant to be around.

That wasn’t to say he didn’t get mad or frustrated and became moody or sullen.  But even in those cases, he rarely lashed out as viciously as he did before.  Marnie, who knew Maxwell’s father, told Evie on the phone one day that he seemed less like his mother and more like his father – a man with a large heart.  Evie wasn’t going to pretend that she didn’t have anything to do with it, she was too proud of the man morphing in front of her.

This was the man she wanted to love, and she was giddy it was the man she was getting.

---***---

 Taking the train into the city was certainly convenient as she appreciated the time to get some work done during the trip.  But Evie also loved to drive the route whenever she could.  The natural beauty of the Hudson River Valley around her made for a gorgeous drive and the rise of the New York City skyline never failed to thrill her.  

Today, the drive down had been sunny and while the fall colors were long gone this late in November, she still found the trip to be breathtaking.  And with George in the back and her father in the passenger seat, she never felt more content.

“George, stop sniffing my head.” Dr. Blaker groused at his granddog.  Both the human and the animal males were getting restless in traffic and she rolled her eyes.  George stopped on command and instead dropped his head on to the good doctor’s shoulder and rested there a moment.  Evie rolled the window down in the backseat and he immediately stuck his head out the window, preferring this to anything else.

Evie’s phone rang and when she saw it was Maxwell, she smiled and before hitting the Bluetooth button on her steering wheel.

“You’re on speaker with my dad, so behave.”  She didn’t even say hello and the silence on the other end made her smile widely.  She was getting to know him too well for his liking sometimes.

“I wasn’t going to say anything bad, Evie.”  There was a thread of curtness in his tone and now she was grinning and attempting to keep the giggles at bay.  He had planned something for sure.  “I was just calling to see where you were at because Bennett informed me that there is a nasty accident south of Morningside Park and you might want to find a way around it.”

“Oh, then I’m glad I stayed on the 9-A because I figured all the side roads were going to be crazy because of the holiday.  Traffic is a little bad, but I should be there in, oh, half an hour.”

“See you then.  Love you.”

“Love you, too.”  She hung up and she could feel her father’s grin more than she could see it.  “Stop, dad.”

“What?  My little girl is in love, can’t a father be happy for that?”

“Not with that grin on your face.”

“What grin, you aren’t even looking at me?”

“I know that grin, dad.  Don’t start.” The older man grunted in answer, but the grin was still there.  Evie deserved to be happy, he thought.  She told him everything and while as a father he wanted to clock Maxwell for calling his daughter a whore, but if Evie found it in her to forgive him, then he could keep his mouth shut.  They made each other happy and that was good enough for him.

When they final arrived, she was relieved to find a spot directly in front of his house and to see Maxwell standing on his porch waiting for them. He was dressed in a sweater and jeans, hands in his pocket and smile on his face.  He was so relaxed that the worry lines that usually formed on his forehead were completely gone.  

He came down the stairs to greet them, kissing Evie’s cheek, shaking Dr. Blaker’s hand, and giving George a few scratches behind the ear.  He brought in their bags and guided the doctor into the house while Evie took a short walk to let George relieve himself and stretch his legs a bit.  When she entered the house, she unhooked George’s leash and let him bound through the house.

Back when he first learned about the dog, Maxwell assured Evie that George was welcomed to come every time she did and the dog was at home immediately the first time they arrived together.  Now, he acted as if he owned the place and took up what had become his spot in front of the fireplace.  She smiled as she wandered in behind him, finding her dad and Maxwell sitting in the living room, deep in conversation.  She noted they were talking about pharmaceuticals and since she had no interest in the subject, she wandered into the kitchen to say hello to Marnie.  

The older woman had come to dote on her employer’s girlfriend and in turn, Evie welcomed the maternal love she lavished.  The two sat down, chatting about Thanksgiving dinner and a few other things.  The conversation continued even after George wandered into the room.  He sat quietly, staring a hole into the cook, hoping for a treat or two and when Evie turned her back to leave, Marni slipped him some ham with a conspiratorial smile.

The afternoon soon faded into evening and the three sat down to enjoy dinner. Marnie had out done herself and the conversation flowed easily.  Dr. Blaker was much like his daughter and people couldn’t help but to feel comfortable around him as well.  After dinner and dessert, Marnie and Evie cleaned up and the cook took her leave, hugging the younger woman before heading out the door.  She let George out to do his business and the two went back to the living room.

Eventually, the day caught up with Dr. Blaker and he took his leave to bed, leaving the two lovers alone.  George snored gently on the floor in front of the fire and Evie laid against Maxwell’s strong chest, his arms around her.  They stared into the fire, letting the silence envelope them as they relaxed.  Evie felt the rumble in his chest before the words came out of his mouth.

“Sunshine, are you happy?”

“I am Max.”  And she meant it.  They laid there a little longer before the fire died down and they decided to move upstairs to bed.  Evie called to George, who followed them up the stairs, hot on their heels.  They got ready for bed, their routine a comfortable one. As Maxwell passed by her in the bathroom, he dropped a soft kiss to her shoulder and brushed his hand across her lower back.

The chill of the late November night permeated the house as Evie left the bathroom.  She saw Maxwell and George already in bed and she crawled in after them.  Here, she never felt cool between the dual furnaces of her man and her dog.  She snuggled against Maxwell, who had already fallen asleep.  She rested her head on his shoulder and laid her hand on his wrist. She could feel his blood pumping beneath her fingertips and she realized their hearts beat in tandem.

As she fell asleep, she never felt more contented.

---***---

“Why did I agree to come here again?!”  Evie had to shout to be heard over the din of the crowd.  The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade was far better viewed on TV from the comfort of her home and not on the loud and crowded Park Central South.  Evie could handle crowds, but this was almost too much.  Coupled with the freezing cold and she wished she had said no when invited.

“Because you love me?”  Bette was just as loud, her laughter evident in her voice.  She hung onto Evie as Bennett stood next to them with Lorraine on his shoulders.  The foursome was pressed on all sides as people clamored to get a good look at the parade as it passed.  Suddenly, Lorraine was waving her arms as the Young People’s Chorus moved passed.

“Momma!  Daddy! Look!  It’s Claudette!”  The young girl was vibrating with excitement for her best friend.  It was an exciting thing to be in the parade and seen by millions across the country.

“I see, baby!  But do you see what I see?”  Bette pointed and Lorraine looked.  She squealed with excitement and briefly forget she was on her father’s shoulders when she tried to stand up.  Evie and Bette both reached out to catch her as Bennett swayed to kept hold of her legs. They were able to get her back up on her perch as the flamingo floated past.  Lorraine waved excitedly and when the rider waved back, she felt her day had been made.

Soon enough, the parade ended, and the group made their way back to the car. Lorraine chatted a mile a minute about Claudette and the flamingo and a few other things.  Evie smiled, feeling as if the young girl’s excitement as seeping into her now that the crushing aura of the parade had passed.  As they made it to the car, they climbed in and Bennett quickly started it to get the heater going.

“I’m sorry your dad couldn’t make it, Evie.”  Bette turned around to face her.

“Naw, knowing dad, he would have lost his shit the minute he saw all the people.  He’s lived in small cities and towns for a reason!”  Evie laughed. “Besides, I think he wanted some alone time with Max.”

Bette and Evie began to cackle madly, and Bennett rubbed the back of his neck, wondering how this new development was going to affect his boss’ mood. The ride back to Maxwell’s house was pleasant and she hugged everyone before getting out.  As she walked up the steps, a sensation of déjà vu passed over her and she stopped.

Yes, she had walked up these steps plenty of times before, but something about this sent shivers down her spine.  Something was going to change and soon.  Taking a deep breath, she entered the house and was immediately enveloped in the delicious smells of an early dinner.  As she hung up her coat, Maxwell appeared in the foyer, smiling at her.

She smiled back and he leaned in to kiss her, she offered up her lips to his. It was soft and sweet and when she pulled back, Evie almost regretted parting from him.  Maxwell put his arm around her waist and walked her into the dining room.

As they sat down to dinner, they laughed and joked.  Each one of them snuck food to George, who felt as if he died and gone to heaven.  The meal lasted a long time but towards the end, Dr. Blaker pulled out the wishbone from the turkey.

“Here, Evie.”  He handed it off and when she offered him the other half to him, he raised his hands and shook his head.  So, Evie offered it to Maxwell instead and he gladly took it.  They each held a leg of the bone and thought about their wish.

When the moment had passed, they each pulled, and the bone broke in favor of Maxwell.  He laughed and Evie giggled.

“Do you think your wish will come true, Max?”

“I can only hope, Evie.  I can only hope.”