#the way i was sobbing during the movie

[asky22]

Rocket means so much to me.

[joskippy]

Tv glow has officially earned its way to the spot of movies that left me stuck with a overwhelming sense of dread so intense I felt sick hours after my viewing

[tending-the-hearth]

“i do not like humans, but you like them, so i will help you save them”

this line made me lose my shit in the theater. It’s such a simple line, but it says so much about Splinter overcoming his own fears for the sake of his sons’ happiness. This movie in general just has so many themes like that, about creating your own family, overcoming difficulties to be able to find happiness, but this moment in particular just stuck out to me

It’s about letting go of your own prejudices and fears in order to support the people you love and subsequently learning how to see the good around you, not just the bad, because making sure the people you love are happy takes precedent over your own animosity towards a certain group.

[myfriendtheghost]

had a dream last night that GVF put on a Christmas concert in Nashville

naturally, they opened with Built By Nations

[skitskatdacat63]

My friend wants to hang out and i want to hang out but also just have absolutely no will to leave my house and not a lot of social capacity atm and UGhhhhh idk how to express that, like yes I want to see you and yes I like to see you but I dont think I have the capacity to be a fun person lately

[decaying-vampire]

warning: if you are currently experiencing female hysteria, do NOT look at handsome men on Pinterest, and do NOT listen to mitski. It will just make it worse

[tojigasm]

i just need to be idk, babied by logan, even though he knows that twenty something isnt a baby, hes showing you how to smoke properly, your sitting on his lap and taking sips of his drink, he lets you lay your head in his lap and cuddles up to him at night with ur cheek against his stomach and he just like, takes care of you? like he pets and humours and tolerates and when ur fucking hes so caring, stroking hair and kissing ur cheeks and forehead ur honour i want him so bad

And you get it soooo fucking bad because the idea of him being so paternal with you is something that just rots me to my coreee you guys. And there's a semblance of casual dominance about it that just makes me sob.

He's in the middle of fucking you. His chest pressed to your back, his skin flush to your own as he stands curved over you on your hands and knees on his bed. He keeps an arm wrapped around your chest, keeping you upright as he rolls his hips into, pressing a long kiss to the back of your head.

You'll be at the counter in the kitchen late at night, working on whatever when he wanders into the room in a grey hoodie and sweats. He makes his way to lean against the countertop, peering over at your notes. "Y'need anything, baby?" He'll eventually ask, running his knuckles over your forearm as you continue to write. "Mm, maybe water," you say, almost jumping out of your seat before you're being pushed back into the leather cushioning of the chair. "Let me do it fr'ya, sweetheart." And you don't get your glass of water until after he's "secretly" stolen a sip. He stands next to your seat at the counter until you're all done.

He's the first time you experience smoking. The smell of tobacco is heavy in the air while he sits on the front porch of the mansion. You've always been one to try new things and Logans never been one to deny you almost anything and so of course he holds the blunt of the cigar to your soft lips and lights the tobacco while you look all pretty fr'him. Takes you a couple tries and a few lessons in watching Logan easily breathe in the smokey tar, but you catch it eventually, earning a "atta' girl." From Logan.

Has you sit in his lap during movie nights at the mansion while he nurses a bottle of Jack Daniel's. He keeps a hand wrapped around your hip and the other on the neck of the bottle. Ever so often, you'll motion towards the bottle, and Logan'll hold you by the chin and tilt the bottle to your lips only for a second before pulling it away. You try to reach for it back, and he's pushing your hand away with a "C'mon, kid, that's enough." And you better not argue, it'll start an hour long discussion on how he knows best.

Or how the two of you will be lying on the couch after finishing a movie. You're resting against his chest as he runs the tips of his fingers up and down your back softly. And he'll just start giving you quick pecks here and there over your cheeks and on the tip of your nose and your forehead and chin before pulling back to look you over. He'll soothe the palm of his hand over the soft apple of your cheek, whispering softly "Yr'my baby, huh."

[peachesofteal]

you bake when you’re upset or stressed - ghoap/f!reader

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," the quiver in your voice doesn't do much to dispel Simon's suspicion, and you toss the bowl full of brownie batter onto the counter. "I'm fine."

"You're baking at three in the morning, sweetheart. Did something happen?"

"I had a bad day, is all. It's nothing." The lie hisses through your teeth, jaw set tight as an attempt to keep everything bottled up where it belongs.

"What's going on?" Johnny's leaning against the counter in plaid pajama pants, gold ring on the chain around his neck glinting in the dimmed light of the kitchen. They both wear them, the rings, the ones complementing yours, a delicate twist of three threads, woven together to make one tight knit strand, looped together in a knot at the top of your finger where a diamond would normally go.

"Baked goods in the middle of the night." Simon sticks his finger in the batter, and gives you a knowing look. "You know I'll keep you here until you let it out." You shake your head.

"Let's go back tae bed then." Johnny's trying to coax you, gently, as always. It's his way. Soft, slow, sweet. Even keeled and sensitive.

Still, you won't budge.

It's not them. It's something else, something unsettled in your stomach you can't explain. It's you. Always you. Distraught. Disorganized. Disappointing.

"I need to finish these." Simon's focus is one of a predator's, and you're always prey. Analyzing, anticipating, nose to the ground on a scent. He’s already got you pegged, turned inside out. He knows.

When Johnny carefully wraps his fingers around your wrist and Simon hops onto the counter with his knees spread wide, you know you're done for.

You let them arrange you. Let Johnny push you between Si's thighs and cup your face, stroke your cheek. You go willingly, lacking a fight that was so prevalent only an hour before.

It takes two minutes of physical touch before you're crumbling.

"I had a terrible day," you sob, "I got a parking ticket and spilled my tea and missed an important email and then I bailed out of my work out halfway because I was miserable and then I didn't do anything at home, I wasn't productive, I didn't get any of the laundry done like I wanted and I left so many dirty dishes in the sink last night, I-"

"Okay, hey." Johnny rubs your arm, "hey, ye're alright dove. Ye're okay." He knocks his forehead against yours. "Jus' breathe f'me. Just breathe." You suck a long gasp in through your lungs, Simon tightening his hold enough to ground you.

"Who cares about the laundry? It's not even your week, and the dishes are our fault. You worked all day, we laid around. Should have done them."

"I know!" You cry, "I mean... you should have. But I left them and I feel like I'm always so disorganized, I'm always making a fucking mess."

"I'd clean up your mess everyday. I love you, your dishes and whatever else… none of it matters." Simon kisses your temple, "we both would. And there's nothing wrong with calling it during a workout if you're not feeling well. That's the right thing to do." You nod miserably, lingering in their hold, their arms, your heart rate slowly sinking back into a normal rhythm, your air coming easily.

"Now, do ye really want these brownies? Or do ye want to put the batter in the fridge?"

"Batter in the fridge." You press your face into Simon's shoulder, blocking out the light. You're suddenly so tired, energy drained from the emotional purge, and Johnny rubs your back.

"I'll put it away, ye two go get in bed. Put on a movie, an' I'll be in."

The bed is the coziest place in the house. The safest. The warmest. It's so easy to succumb to sleep and sweet dreams here, so it's no wonder by the time Johnny makes it back, you're barely awake. He tugs you away from Simon's snores and into his arms. "Ah love ye, dove. Messes an' all." You smile.

"I love you too."

[mariwashereonce]

We went to the movies the other day (26/7) to watch a horror one and I just love how casual it was and how I didn't think we'd actually go until he had the tickets! And that's why I didn't tell anyone, I was scared we weren't really gonna go anywhere, haha-

I just one day mentioned smt like:

"Nono, you know which movie would be cool to watch? "(Movie name)"! Idk why, I just think so."

And he was like:

"Oh, that one's great!" -a pause of 3 seconds- "So when are we going?"

And aaa we just kept making comments about it like "We should ask for the day off (at work)" and stuff but, I thought we were just saying it, you know? But last week he mentioned he thought about going this Tuesday and I said sure, so we both asked for the day off; but we didn't say anything else about it ok, until the day before we were complaining about how shitty that day at work had been, and he said "But let's look at the bright side. Tomorrow we're going to the cinema!" And I just got so happy internally jshdjsnsndjf and we arranged everything when we went back on the bus together so !!! Yay!!

It was so much fun tbh, we went to the arcade before and everything, and it was so funny pls; when I looked at him when I arrived I just-- fell in love again aaa I really love him just so much, I'm so glad he likes me enough to have gotten out with me just the two of us:'))

[rafecameronssl4t]

Trust who? || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader love island au

A/n: during this I was thinking of that one kordell and Serena edit with this song and the beat drop is literally when reader sees the clip of Rafe and the casa amor girl during movie night!!!!!!!! ALSO im so sorry for this to take so long to be posted :/ PART ONE IS HERE

Warnings: just angst

Word count: 2,937

MASTERLIST (love island au masterlist)

The night was heavy with unspoken tension. Movie night, usually a time for lighthearted fun or harmless drama, was anticipated by everyone in the villa. You sat stiffly on one of the large outdoor sofas, flanked by a couple of the girls who were clearly trying to be there for you. The two Casa Amor girls were off to the side, Nakia sitting beside the other girl, her eyes flickering to Rafe every so often, like a lioness watching her prey.

Across on the other lounge were where the boys were sitting. Rafe's face was unreadable—stoic, like a statue—but he hadn't glanced your way yet. The screen flickered to life, and the names of the clips appeared in bold text, each one more unsettling than the last: Temptations and Betrayals, Crying Angel, and The Dark Nakia Rises were only some of them.

“Oh, this is going to be amazing,” you said, your voice heavy with sarcasm, though a hint of venom lingered beneath the surface. The girls around you laughed nervously, their giggles thin and hollow against the weight of the moment. No amount of levity could mask the tension that thickened the air. Nakia shifted in her seat, throwing you a smirk before turning her attention to the screen.

“I’ll pick Crying Angel,” she said, her tone deliberate, as if the title alone wasn’t designed to cut you open. The video played, and there you were, seated in the glam room, your face buried in your hands. The sound of your muffled sobs filled the air, and your voice, shaky and broken, cut through the villa like a blade. “I don’t want to be here anymore,” you admitted through your tears.

“I thought he cared about me. I really did.” One of the girls wrapped an arm around you in the clip, murmuring softly, “You’re stronger than this. Don’t let him break you.” But you shook your head, your anguish palpable. “I stayed loyal to him. I could’ve coupled up. But no, I waited for him because I thought we had something real. And then he walks in with her like I never even mattered. I’m done! I’m so done.”

As the screen went dark, the silence that followed was deafening. The air felt too thick to breathe. A few gasps rippled through the group, and some of the boys shifted uncomfortably in their seats, casting sideways glances at each other before stealing sympathetic looks your way. You sat still, your face a perfect mask of indifference.

Not a single muscle twitched as you kept your gaze fixed ahead, refusing to let them see how deeply those moments of vulnerability still stung. Across the firepit, Rafe was motionless, his jaw clenched so tightly that you could see the tension rippling through his neck. His blue eyes were glued to the now-black screen, his face unreadable but undeniably stricken.

~

When Sofia’s turn came, a flicker of mischief danced in her eyes. She leaned forward, her lips curving into a smirk, and you caught her gaze, exchanging a conspiratorial glance. You straightened slightly, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at your own lips as you braced yourself for what was coming next. “I’ll pick The Dark Nakia Rises,” Sofia said, her voice light with faux innocence.

The group erupted into a mix of cheers and nervous laughter, all eyes shifting to Nakia, whose face had drained of colour. You broke the tension with an almost unnervingly calm tone, delivering your jab with a straight face. “Oh, Nakia. I bet you’re absolutely shitting yourself, babe.” Nakia forced a laugh, her discomfort palpable. “I’m not,” she said weakly, glancing toward Rafe for reassurance.

But he didn’t meet her gaze. His eyes were locked on the firepit, his face a storm of emotions he was trying—and failing—to suppress. The clip began. The sound of the kitchen in Casa Amor filled the room, and Nakia was standing with a few of the other girls. Their voices could be heard in the background as they gossiped, oblivious to the camera that had captured their every word.

"So what do you think of him?" One of them questions Nakia as she smiles, looking over her shoulder to where Rafe was working out. “I mean, I’ve heard about his dad,” she said with a casual shrug, her tone dripping with entitlement. “And I know they’ve got money. Like, serious money.” She leaned back, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, clearly basking in the attention.

“He’s not exactly ugly either, is he? Could be a good setup if I play my cards right.” The other girls laughed, egging her on. “Yeah, but do you even like him?” one of them asked, her tone teasing. “Like him?” she repeated, laughing. “I mean, he’s alright. But come on, this isn’t about feelings. This is about strategy. And if he’s dumb enough to fall for it, that’s on him.” The clip ended, leaving the villa in stunned silence.

The clip ended, and the silence that followed was deafening. No one spoke at first. Your heart sank as you glanced from Rafe, his face pale, his jaw clenched in fury, to Nakia, whose confident smirk had vanished completely. Her face was a mask of panic, eyes darting around as the weight of her words settled over everyone.

You could barely breathe as you stared at her. “Holy fucking shit, dude,” one of the boys muttered, breaking the silence as he turned to Rafe, who hadn’t moved an inch. He was staring at the ground, seething, his fists clenched at his sides. “Nakia, what the actual fuck?” another girl asked, her voice filled with disgust as she turned to face her. The room was heavy with the collective judgment.

Everyone was watching her now, and Nakia could do nothing but stammer, her voice high-pitched and defensive. Your words hit harder than you expected, and Nakia shrank back, her face flushing with embarrassment. “That is so fucked up,” one of the guys added, his tone harsh as he shook his head in disbelief.

Nakia opened her mouth to respond, but her words faltered. She looked on the verge of tears, her confidence completely shattered. The air was thick with tension, and everyone could feel it—Rafe’s rage, your frustration, Nakia’s panic. “You’re really going to sit there like that?” you finally said, your voice steady, but there was a bitter edge to it. “Like you didn’t hear her?”

Rafe’s head snapped up, his expression unreadable. But you could see the storm brewing in his eyes. “Don’t start with me, Y/n,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. You raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his warning. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I not allowed to call out the fact that this whole thing is a fucking joke to you?” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the stunned silence of the villa.

You gestured towards Nakia without sparing her a glance. “That I’ve been here crying my eyes out, while you’re over there being a pawn in her game?” Nakia stiffened, her face pale. “That was taken out of context!” she stammered, her voice high-pitched and defensive. “I was just joking—” “Oh, you were joking?” you snapped, cutting her off, your voice rising with every word.

“You thought it was funny to admit you’re using him? That his feelings don’t matter to you as long as you get what you want?” You shook your head, your voice dripping with disdain. “That’s not just a joke, Nakia. That’s manipulation. Plain and simple." “That is so fucked up,” one of the guys muttered, breaking the tense silence.

Nakia’s gaze darted around the group, her eyes glassy as though she was on the verge of tears. You let out a dry, bitter laugh and leaned back on the couch, Sofia's hand finding yours. “I just can’t believe I was crying my heart out over this shit,” you muttered, your voice shaky. You leaned back against the cushions, exhaling deeply to steady yourself.

~

“Alright, my turn. Let’s go with Betrayals and Temptations,” One of the boys announced, his tone a mix of excitement and dread. “Of-fucking-course,” you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes. You already knew what this clip would show. The title was self-explanatory, and the dread in your stomach only grew as the screen lit up.

The scene began with Rafe and Nakia in the Casa Amor pool. Nakia sat perched on the edge, her legs skimming the surface, her posture relaxed and confident. Rafe stood in the water, gazing up at her like she was the only person in the world. “So, would you say you’re closed off, or…?” Nakia asked, her voice playful as she tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with mischief

Rafe shook his head, a chuckle escaping his lips. “No—no. That would be stupid of me to do that to myself,” he replied casually, his eyes locked on her. “Really? So, am I your type?” she questioned, a coy smile playing on her lips. “Hundred percent, babe. Hundred percent,” Rafe said with a laugh, his hands resting on her knees as he grinned up at her.

The tension between them was palpable as they stared at each other, the moment thick with anticipation. Nakia leaned forward, closing the gap between them, and kissed him. “I can’t get out,” Rafe whispered against her lips, his tone teasing but laced with something deeper.

“Why?” Nakia breathed, her brows knitting together in faux confusion. Rafe chuckled, glancing downward, murmuring something too low for the clip to catch. Nakia’s eyes widened before she burst into laughter, her head falling back. “No fucking way,” she giggled, clearly pleased with herself, as Rafe pulled her closer.

The screen went dark, the villa erupted in hushed murmurs and gasps, but the damage was already done. Your vision blurred as tears welled up, spilling over despite your desperate attempt to keep them in check. Your head spun, the voices around you muffled and distant. “Fuck this,” you muttered, your voice thick with emotion as you shot to your feet and stormed off, your sobs breaking the suffocating silence.

Sofia hurried after you, her heels clicking against the wooden planks as she tried to keep pace. Meanwhile, Rafe sat frozen, his face buried in his hands as he let out a loud, frustrated exhale. “Mate, what the hell were you thinking?” one of the boys hissed at Rafe, his tone laced with disappointment. Rafe didn’t answer immediately.

He sat motionless, his face buried in his hands, his breaths uneven. Finally, he stood abruptly, his chair tipping slightly behind him. “Fuck, I need to talk to her. Right now,” he muttered, his voice thick with frustration and guilt. As he made his way upstairs, the sound of your muffled sobs grew louder, each one hitting him like a blow to the chest.

He hesitated outside the glam room, his hand hovering over the door. Finally, he knocked, his voice tentative. “Y/n, can we talk?” There was a pause, and then the door creaked open to reveal Sofia. Her expression was a mix of anger and disdain as she stepped into the doorway, her voice icy. “She doesn’t need to hear your excuses right now.” She brushed past him, leaving the hallway in silence.

Rafe swallowed hard and stepped inside. You stood near the vanity, your back to him, shoulders trembling. When you finally turned, your tear-streaked face was a mix of heartbreak and fury, your mascara smeared like dark shadows under your reddened eyes. “What can you possibly say to me to make this better?” you demanded, your voice bitter and raw.

You glared at him, your anger barely concealing the hurt threatening to consume you. Rafe faltered, his mouth opening as if to speak, but no words came out. He raked a hand through his hair, his usual confidence replaced with visible unease. “I—” “You what?” you snapped, cutting him off. “You didn’t mean it? You were caught up in the moment? Save it, Rafe. I’ve heard enough lies for one night.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” he finally said, his voice quiet but filled with desperation. “It didn’t mean anything, Y/n. None of it did.” You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking your head. “It didn’t mean anything? You kissed her, Rafe. You flirted with her. You made me look like a fucking idiot in front of everyone.” “I fucked up,” he admitted, his tone softening as he took a step closer.

“I know I did. But I never stopped thinking about you. You’re the one I—” “Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice cracking. “Don’t you dare try to spin this like you cared. If you cared, you wouldn’t have done this. If you cared, you wouldn’t have disrespected me while you had your fun.” The room fell silent except for the sound of your laboured breathing.

Rafe looked at you, his expression filled with regret, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “I think you should leave,” you whispered, turning away from him. Your shoulders sagged, the weight of everything crushing you. Rafe hesitated, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out to you, but he didn’t.

Finally, he stepped back toward the door, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry.” The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with the shattered pieces of what once was.

[artdcnaldson]

Want religious virgin art to grind his dick between my pussy lips he says it’s practice for the real thing and it doesn’t count/isn’t a sin bc his dick isn’t inside of me (yet)

VIRGIN X VIRGIN YES GOD!!!!! This became longer than I expected so here have a gif

Both of you are so devout that your parents don't even feel like they should be worried about you two fooling around. You aren't even on birth control, and art would keel over and die before he walked into a store and bought a pack of condoms. You blush and fast forward movie scenes with anything beyond a chaste little kiss.

But you and Art are overcome with this intense, desperate need for each other that you can't really understand. You were never given the words to understand or describe it. You just know when you're on a date with Art and you move into the backseat of his car to make out (the one goddamn place in the world that you can get a hint of privacy), you get this ache between your legs, and gets a tent in his pants, and it feels like heaven when he moves his hips against yours.

You've both cum that way multiple times, blushing and panting and looking at each other in a strange mix of abject horror and absolute delight. You're both worried that it's a sin... at first. But you don't think you've really committed any horrible sin by just kissing. You haven't actually slept together, you know that's a line you can't cross... but the grey area...

You start by just... slipping off layers of clothing during each make out session. Testing the waters each time to see if it'll really eternally damn you. Your top, his shirt, his pants, your skirt. You leave on your bra and panties, but he can take off his boxer, if he wants. Its like adding rules of what you can and can't do makes it okay, like if you slowly increase the temperature, God won't notice by the time the water is boiling.

He fumbles with a bottle of lube he got from a red-faced trip to walgreens, slicking up his cock to rut over the sweet white cotton of your panties. Getting it so wet with lube that he can see your pussy through it. He hardly lasts, seeing the way the slick panties cling to your cunt, how your clit puffs up and you cry out when his tip nudges it. He finishes with a whimper and coats your panties in thick ropes of his cum.

By the next time, your panties are on the floor of his Jeep, and your cunt is slick with lube and your own arousal and he promises over and over that it doesn't count, that he's not inside of you, that God doesn't even (can't even) notice. His ruddy tip bumping your clit each time he slides through your folds makes you cry out, moaning in a way you hadn't known you were capable of. His hot breath against your neck as he buries his face there and whimpers, kissing along your shoulder and throat.

When his tip catches at your entrance you both freeze, just for a moment, considering how wrong it would be if it just... happened. If he just slipped in, like his body was made to. Like you were both created for. Just the thought is enough to make Art glaze your sticky folds with cum, practically sobbing from how good the release feels.

Maybe if god hasn't noticed yet, he never will.

[hvnlygrl]

hii can u do rafe cameron

can u pls do soft!rafe cameron or soft!jj maybamk where reader and him get into an argument and then he storms out and then the next morning reader gets her period, and when he comes home he just sees her lying on the bed eith a heating pad so he decides to make her a cookie skillet with nutella in it and ice cream on top of it and when he gives it to her she immediately starts sobbing and covering her face with the back of her hand telling him how shes so sorry and that she wished she never foughr with him and then he just comforts her and helps her eat while they watch a movie

i take it all back.

pairing — rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count — 1.3k

warnings — lotta cussing, reader gets a little mean, argument between rafe/reader, hurt/comfort.

synopsis — after a fight with rafe due to your hormones during that time of the month, he goes out of his way to make you feel better.

notes — sorry i kinda went in a little bit of a different direction with this i hope that's okay! but the general idea is still the same... thank you for the request! it's such a sweet idea <3

it had never bothered you before, the sound of rafe on his game in the spare bedroom, but for some reason the loud sounds of him on the headset with his friends were driving you up the wall while you tried to watch your show in the living room. 

you sighed out in annoyance when you heard him for what seemed like the 20th time in 5 minutes, “GO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? TOPPER GET HIS ASS!” 

you clicked the volume up on the t.v. in front of you, head beginning to ache from the loudness of the show mixed with the loudness from the game room. you were unsure of how to handle the situation. you didn’t want to ruin rafe’s fun on the game, and you surely didn’t want to start an argument with him but you couldn’t take it anymore. 

you paused the show, stood from the couch and stomped your way down the hallway. you didn’t bother knocking on the door since you knew he wouldn’t hear it, instead opening it as soon as you reached it. “rafe,” you called out. no answer. he continued clacking at the keys on the p.c., shouting orders at topper and kelce over the headset. “rafe,” you called out again, quite a bit louder this time. still no answer. 

at this point you were fed up. you were unsure of where the blind rage came from, but before you knew it you yanked the headset from his head. 

“what the-y/n? what the fuck are you doing?” he shouts at you, his eyes flitting back and forth between the computer screen and your angered expression. 

“can you shut the fuck up, dude? i’m trying to watch my show,” you grumble at him as if it's obvious. 

“woah,” he cocks his head back at your statement, “chill out.” 

now you’re really pissed. “don’t tell me to fucking chill out!” 

“babe, it’s not that serious,” he continues clacking at the keys on the game. 

“it is that serious. you try watching your favorite show and listen to me hooting and hollering from the next room. it’s fucking aggravating and i can't take it anymore right now.” 

rafe rolls his eyes. “i don’t know what you want me to tell you, y/n, it’s really not that serious. i’m doing my thing and you’re doing yours. you don’t see me busting through the door to get on your ass about the t.v. being too loud.” 

you can hear the oohs and ruh-rohs coming from the headset, only adding fuel to the fire. 

“oh my god, dude, can you just act like a fucking adult for five minutes? you don’t have to play fortnite every single night with your gay ass homeboys. maybe you could spend time with your girlfriend instead of being on the game from the second you get home until hours after i fall asleep.” 

“that is so not true and you know it, bruh.” 

“if you’re gonna play the game and not even interact with me, then just go do it at your own damn apartment. i’m not fucking dealing with this right now. i have a migraine and i don’t want you here tonight.”

rafe can't ignore the pang that shoots through his heart at your words. “seriously? you’re kicking me out?” 

“yeah,” you mutter softly before leaving the room and heading back to the living room. cramps begin overtaking the muscles in your stomach, only adding to your agitation. you breathe out shakily, your throat beginning to tighten as you watch him grab his bag and storm out. 

once the door slams behind him, a wave of guilt washes over you, your eyes watering as you smack yourself for kicking him out. all you wanted was for him to stop being so loud and now he’s on the way back to his apartment, pissed at you for embarrassing him in front of his friends and for sending him home.

you lie down on the couch, allowing the tears to stream freely as your thoughts get darker and crueler toward yourself. you sob deeply, arms wrapped around a pillow until you finally fall asleep. 

about an hour or so later you wake up, shuffling into the bathroom, you notice your appearance in the mirror; cheeks puffy and eyes swollen from crying. the sight only makes you feel worse. you sit on the toilet, letting out a harsh sigh when you notice the blood that pooled in your favorite pair of panties. after already feeling like a piece of shit both physically and mentally, here was mother nature three days early, ready to screw you over even more. 

you couldn't help but tear up again at the inconvenience, suddenly realizing what happened tonight. you wanted to slap yourself for being so stupid and not noticing the signs, but you knew that it was too late now. after heading to your bedroom to find a new pair of underwear and shorts, and spotting the dirty pair before throwing it into the wash, you head back to the living room. 

your heart beats in your throat as you pull out your phone to text rafe. 

after the conversation with him you felt a lot better about the situation, but you were still feeling pretty upset. you rummaged through the kitchen, checking the cabinets and the fridge and freezer for any type of food that would satisfy your cravings. of course, you had absolutely nothing that would help. you sighed as you shuffled back toward the living room, opting to just lie on the couch and watch your show until you fell back asleep. 

you knew the thought was dramatic, but you couldn’t help but wonder when your life turned into this; alone in an apartment that was too big for you with nothing you wanted and no one to share it with. 

and then you heard a knock on the door. despite it being his signature knock, you couldn't stop yourself from checking the peephole, heart fluttering when you saw the blonde on the other side of the door.

you quickly opened it, a soft smile on your lips. “what are you doing here?”

“did you really think i was gonna let you be alone on night one?” rafe raises a brow at you before revealing two grocery bags he’d been hiding behind his back. he had made a run to the local store for all your favorite sweets, chips, icecream, drinks, and anything else he could think of. he even bought you a heated stuffed animal that could be thrown into the microwave and used as a heating pad.

“baby,” your lips curl down into a frown, eyes watering at the gesture, “you’re too nice to me.” 

“of course i am,” he chuckles as he sets the items down on the coffee table, “you’re my girl.” 

you watch in awe as he grabs your favorite cup, fills it with ice and pours your drink into it. then he grabs the stuffed turtle (your favorite animal) and heads to the kitchen to throw it into the microwave for a couple minutes. 

“get comfy, babe,” he calls out to you, “get your show set up, do whatever you gotta do.” 

you smile at him sweetly. “you didn’t have to do all this, rafe.” 

“i know,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “i wanted to.” 

“thank you,” you whisper when he brings the warmed turtle over to you. you moan happily when you stick it onto your lower abdomen, the sensation immediately easing some of the pain. “i don’t deserve you.” 

“sure you do,” rafe huffs as he kicks his shoes off and gets comfy next to you, “how many times have you taken care of me? saved my ass without me even thinking to ask you for help?” 

you nod, “yea, i guess you’re right. i’m sorry about what i said earlier baby, i take it all back.” 

“don’t stress,” he holds his hands up, “water under the bridge, my girl.” 

you smile at him, admiring his features before turning your gaze back to the t.v. and snuggling in closer to him. “i love you.”

“i love you,” he parrots back, hand rubbing at your lower back in the spot that he knows typically bothers you. 

-> back to masterlist

taglist — @lanasb0ngwater

[uniquexusposts]

Taking care of you - L. Hamilton

Summary: Y/n broke her wrist and Lewis is taking care of her. Genre: fluff

Pain.

The muscles were contracted, released, contracted, just like in the rhythm of a heartbeat. The pain moved to the rest of her arm, it reached her shoulder. Something was hurting Y/n’s stomach, as well. Brick? Stone?

She turned on her back and squeezed her eyes closed. Her arm was hurting even more now. She held in her breath. Stop, stop, stop. I can't handle this, were the words that were going through her mind. She almost forgot that her arm was in a cast and that she had surgery a week ago. Everything around her was annoying her; the darkness of the night, the heavy blanket with the hotel scent, the pillow what was way too hard for her liking, the light crack under the door, she even got annoyed by herself.

A broken wrist, that is what's happening, she thought. 

Tears escaped her eyes, and she gasped for air. "Fuck," she mumbled and pressed her head in the pillow.

It felt like a knife was digging in her wrist, what absolutely happened during the surgery, but why do I feel it now? Minutes passed, hoping the pain would go away and could have a proper amount of sleep time. Not to mention she was in Singapore, which meant it was time for a jet lag.

Lewis woke up by the heavy breaths Y/n took. He didn't feel her moving and twirling around, but he knew she were awake. Soft sobs filled the hotel room.

"Babe," Lewis mumbled and turned on a small light. "Are you alright?" His deep voice overmastered the sounds of the sobs in the room. She turned her head towards him, and she saw his look soften. "Babe..." he whispered worriedly.

"It's nothing," she pressed the words over her lips. He brought his hand to her face and dried her cheeks. "I somehow managed to lay on my arm, and there got pressure on it." Her watery eyes showed pain. "It hurts so fucking much," she groaned.

He pressed a kiss on her forehead.

"I can't have meds yet. My goodness. There's nothing I can do." Y/n’s voice cracked.

Lewis gently wrapped his arms around her, trying not to touch her painful arm, but to comfort her. "You can lay your arm over my stomach, babe," he whispered. He could feel the tension and fear of accidentally making the wrong movements on Y/n.

"But this is heavy," she mumbled softly and pressed the side of her face in his chest.

"We have pillows enough," he said and looked around for another pillow. He grabbed one of the ground - with a lot of yoga exercises, and placed it on his stomach. "There you go."

With gentle movements, Y/n lifted up her arm and placed it on the pillow, on Lewis' stomach. "Is it not hurting or annoying you?"

He let out a soft chuckle; even though she knew it was better for herself, she always made sure others were good too. "I'm fine, love. Don't worry about me," Lewis said and removed a piece of her hair from her face by stroking it behind her ear.

"Thank you, Lew," she mumbled. It was still hurting, and it was a nasty, throbbing pain, but it was better.

•

After the two free practices of Friday, Lewis opened the hotel door of his shared room with his girlfriend. The practices were fine, there wasn't much to complain about. Lewis was acting like nothing was going on, but he was worried about Y/n; she was in pain and begging for more painkillers. She usually refuse to take meds when it wasn't necessary, but this time she begged for it. It was breaking his heart.

The room was dark, not to mention it was evening. He threw his bag on the ground and walked towards the bed. A smile spread out on his lips when he saw Y/n peacefully asleep. He grabbed the laptop from the bed and paused the film she were watching. It was almost near its end, there was a chance she didn't know what kind of movie this was because she fell quickly asleep.

"My dearest Y/n/n, it's time to wake up," Lewis sang and kissed her cheek.

"Hmm," Y/n hummed and turned on her back.

He started to press small kisses on her lips and on the corners of her mouth. She giggled and placed her hand on his bicep. Lewis relaxed his muscles and locked his lips with hers.

Y/n pulled back and looked Lewis in the eyes. "Hey," she whispered.

"Hey, gorgeous," he smiled. "How are you?" He brought up his hand to her face to place a piece of hair behind her ear.

She looked in his brown eyes. "Alright. You?"

"Better now I see you," he winked. She smirked. "Are you in for dinner or have you already eaten?"

"It's midnight or something." It was midnight where they were, in Singapore, but their bodies still think it's five o'clock since they were still in the Europe mindset.

"So?" Lewis spoke. "Are you in or not? Otherwise, I will call someone else." A cheeky smile was spread out on his face.

“Like?”

“Toto.”

She closed her eyes. "You will not."

"Make me."

She opened her right eye and looked at him. "You know I can knock you out easily, right?" He squeezed his eyebrows together but quickly realises she talked aboard her arm. "Well?"

"You just come to dinner with me," he breathed and sat up. "Get dressed. I heard there's a nice rooftop restaurant."

Y/n sat up and felt the heavy plaster. A sigh rolled over her lips, she was already tired of it. "Only if you will help me," she mumbled and got up. "I tried to go to the shop and get something to eat, but I can't fasten my own bra, so that part was making it stop. I can't do anything on my own," she complained and grabbed some clothes from the suitcase; a simple jeans, a white t-shirt and a bra. With a lot of struggles, yoga poses and swearwords, she managed to get on the trousers.

"I can't handle this anymore," she ranted and threw her shirt on the bed. "I can't do anything, everything hurts, I feel like I have smoked too much weed. Absobloodylutely amazing. I know I should not complain, but I still will do it.”

Lewis snorted and grabbed her bra from the ground. He held the bra in front of her chest and carefully helped taking it on.

"One, two or three?"

"One, two or three?" Y/n asked, confused.

"Tight, medium or loose?"

"Oh, medium," she answered.

His fingertips were touching her skin when he fastened the strap of her bra. She could feel his hands on her upper arms and his warm lips on her shoulder. She closed her eyes and enjoyed his touch, goosebumps spread out on her body. He pressed more kisses on her shoulder, leading up to her neck and jaw. Her breathing became heavier.

"Come," he mumbled against her skin. "We need to go."

She deeply breathed out and came back to reality. "I'm sorry I'm not the funniest or amazing person right now, and I wish I could act differently. Why did you even take me to here? It's not like I can do things," she mumbled and pulled the shirt over her head.

Lewis snorted. "You really think I would leave you behind in Monaco? Your family is on vacation, so are your friends. No one is home.”

"I can perfectly take care of myself."

"Yeah, sure," Lewis sarcastically said. "You can't even put on your own bra."

She licked her lips and pressed them into a thin line. "You got me there," Y/n said and brushed her hair. "Can you make a ponytail or something?"

Lewis gently grabbed her hair together and made a ponytail. She turned around and put on the sling for her arm.

"Thanks," she smiled. "Thanks for everything."

"Y/n, you don't have to thank me," he said and gave her a kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too."

They left the hotel room and made way up to the rooftop restaurant.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos@crashingwavesofeuphoria@maryvibess @chocolatefartstrawberry @snzleclerc @ironmaiden1313

[jymwahuwu]

BARKINGN WOOF WOOWF DOES HE LIKE DOGS?? I CAN BARK!! GOOD HEAVENS MR. RECA. MISTER MISTER!! HELLOOO SAILORRRR!!

cough cough, my apologies for that outburst but here are my thinking thoughts on Mr. Reca..

Thinking of him holding you in a headlock to make sure the camera could capture your face. Maybe press down on your tongue with some of his fingers so the camera can capture those lil mewls and such.

He loves to keep going until he sees that doe-eyed blank stare you get whenever he goes too far. Face tear-stained while you drool mindlessly against his fingers. In fact, he always tries to get that one clip in whenever he wants to record(which is always.)

Bondage but it's him tying you up with old film from your previous commercial/scenes of you in other movies. Just so he can see the before and after his special films. He loves you dearly, look at how footage he kept of you from your previous acts!!

(Also on a more romantic topic, thinking him of making roses out of his favorite film tapes of you on the first date. You don't know because it's pitch black but they're actually from the films that you have acted as a romantic love interest. He's very sweet..when he's not insane me think.)

I passed out…Mr. Reca…his movie-related kink, and the way he expressed his love…😩💖💖💖

cw: yandere, dub-con, obsession, humiliation, oral sex, ooc because the official plot has not been released yet

Headlock may be a little rough, but that's the way to get your face on camera! He enjoys making low-budget movies for his own entertainment, without any regard for commerce but only his art and desires. The camera is right in front of you. Are you a little too shy? His arms were draped across your neck, holding your face in place as you bounced on his cock. Now you can't avoid the camera no matter what. He presses his thumb against your tongue as you swallow those sobs. No reason to hide them!

Mr. Reca doesn't show restraint. He pushes you to your limits to see how far you can go. Disappointing that you only need 5-6 orgasms to be brainless. The dazed look on your face is priceless (eyes melting out of focus, tears all over your face, and trembling legs. No quick reaction, just a subconscious whimper as your lips wrap around the cock). He often fails to part with these precious films and adds plots that have no obvious connection. In a movie about human loneliness in the universe, the scene of your orgasm is played. This is what happens at film festivals and cinemas. Anyway, if the audience complains, he will say it is a montage.

He keeps every movie that includes you. Those are his treasures. Even with the technology here, he still keeps these physical movie discs in his collection box. There are handwritten marks on it, such as: "1:15:32 blowjob part", "A must-see during the holidays", "3 hours without breaks version" and so on.

This stems from Mr. Reca's romantic moment. He created a CD collection of movies about you, decorated with fresh flowers and a cosmic gemstone.

Tucked inside is a card:

"To my favorite actor, legend, and sun. (Beautiful cursive writing, but at the last word, the person who wrote it seemed a little emotional, and the ink melted) Only when the sun shines on him, the moon will glow.”

[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.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

older brother touya au, quirk training is mentioned but no quirk mentioned for reader, abusive todoroki household, endeavous is a piece of shit, angst, kinda rough hyper fem reader (you push shouto at one point), lmk if i missed sum else !!

shouto, lately, has been showing up to school with bandages on his arms. and touya knows others find that weird.

for a while now, their father’s training had been more grueling than ever. touya recognizes it in the sounds of screaming and pillars breaking and the coughing of his younger brother as he holds back a sob. not like you could hear it over the sound of enji todoroki’s booming voice yelling at him to get up anyways.

touya recognizes himself from before he was deemed a failure. he recognizes the coughs and wheezes but he thinks his were slightly different from shouto. his tiredness left him sore and unresponsive, complaining about muscular pains that touya never complained about himself. maybe because he ignored them until they were too painful to bear, all to please his father. to be his perfect creation.

but he isn’t, shouto is. and the boy doesn’t like it one bit.

his little brother comes to him most nights sniffling, clinging to him and pleading for touya to let him stay the night in his room. and he always says yes, of course he will, cus he’s his little brother. who’s just a little weird, but who he cares about deeply.

shouto sniffles about how he doesn’t like training with father, how he wishes he could spend time with his older siblings again instead. touya’s eyebrows furrow and he squeezes his brother harder. because he doesn’t like it either.

“if dad ever pisses you off, you can come to me, yeah ? i’ll be there.” shouto chastises him for swearing as he calls it, but touya doesn’t care, cus it made his little brother giggle a little even though he barely does. and it makes him chuckle too.

he remembers what training with his dad felt like when he still had potential. he remembers it was kind of like a father son experience. his dad would look at him proudly when he managed to pull off a new move, praising him in the only way he knew how to and encouraging him to keep aiming higher, to make his fire burn stronger. that he’d even surpass him.

but then the burning started to hurt. then the training started happening less often, and when it did it more desperate than anything. nothing was ever good, he had to keep pushing, keep burning. harder, stronger and faster. because he needed to surpass him.

it didn’t feel like a father son anything after that, it wasn’t fun and his body hurt. but the sudden change in demeanor was jarring, he remembers. it hurts to remember how his father had gone from this to simply just..giving up on him. but he thinks it must be horrible for shouto to immediately go through the tyrant that is endeavor at such a young age, rather than at least liking it at first like touya had.

of course he wouldn’t like it, touya doesn’t like it either.

“sho, i think we should get married.”

shouto’s laying on the grass with you when you suddenly speak to him. his eyes widen just a bit and when he turns his head to question you, you’re smiling like the sun. he likes that about you.

“why ?”

you jump up, leaning over him a bit, everything else is blocked out but you, shouto thinks he prefers it that way.

“cuuuuuz,” you sing “it’d be fun, right ?”

“to get married ?” you nod. shouto blinks at you. and when he keeps looking you shyly look away.

he figures you’re somewhat right, though. in the movies he watches with fuyumi, people seem to have a lot of fun during weddings, they seem happy. shouto wants to be happy with you, as simple as that, so he responds with the first thing that comes to mind.

“okay.”

and if he thought you were the sun before, he’s proven wrong immediately because the smile you send him blinds him. he hopes you’ll smile like that again every single day, it’d make him happy. you squeal and pull him up to you to squeeze him tight, the sudden move hurts a bit, but he doesn’t mind. it doesn’t hurt like his father does and it’s you, so he doesn’t mind and let’s you squeeze him to your hearts content.

“we’re engaged now, then !” you tell him, “so that means your my fiancé. when we’re grown ups, i’ll ask you again, okay ?” you ask giddily, you stand up because you can’t stand still anymore and you pull him along with you. shouto readjusts your fingers so he’s holding onto your pinky (he likes it that way) and he nods. “okay,” he answers again.

natsu-nii told him that he should speak more once, because people think that one word answers are rude sometimes. but he doesn’t like talking to people, and he doesn’t care if they think he’s rude and you get so happy when he speaks to you. you’re the only person he wants to talk to and you’re happy, so why should that bother him ?

shouto can’t wait until he’s a grown up. he’s sure when he’s a grown up, he won’t have to listen to his dad all the time, he’ll be stronger and will be able to fight back. but now, he can’t wait to be a grown up so you can get married for real.

apparently, shouto’s getting pulled out of school.

he hears touya angrily talking with his nanny about him. they can’t see him from where he's hiding behind the door. shouto can't remember a time where his older brother had sounded so mad, not even when he gets mad at him for being a brat. touya always seemed the angriest when their father was involved.

he keeps swearing, calling something bullshit. but shouto realises that if he gets pulled out of school, he won't be seeing you anymore.

so, just to be sure. when training is over and his father has ordered him to patch himself up, he asks.

"are you going to pull me out of school ?"

shouto holds back a flinch when his father stops in his tracks and turns to look at him slightly. all he responds with is "who told you ?" shouto only shrugs. enji stays quiet before finally responding.

"it's what's best for you. you are meant to surpass me."

shouto doesn't like talking to his father, it makes him nervous. he misses when his mom was here to comfort him, to tell him it was okay to be scared sometimes. shouto picks at his bandages, his mom had told him to stop one time, because it makes them come loose. but he's nervous.

"but..i have to got to school.." he utters quietly, he clenches his fist to keep it from shaking. "i'll get you a teacher." his father responds easily, he doesn't understand. shouto bites his lip.

"but..my friend at school.." shouto keeps his eyes to the floor, he knows his father is looking down at him and he doesn't want to look back. "yn..will wanna know where i am..'cus she wants to get married.."

enji todoroki huffs loudly, grumbling to himself. "what do you know about marriage.." he scoffs, and he keeps it at that. walking off and before he slides the door shut, he reminds shouto to patch himself up.

shouto doesn't jump when the door slams. and now that he thinks about it he doesn't know much about marriage.

"i don't think we should get married anymore."

you're usually always talking, shouto likes that about you. but now you just blink at him.

"..what ?"

you're always smiling at him, shouto likes that about you. but now you're frowning at him.

shouto swallows, it feels hard to "i don't want to get married anymore."

you're frowning at him, it's hard to swallow. you like sitting on the swings with him, and shouto likes that you taught him to go on it by himself, but he thinks he's ruined it for you now.

"why not ?"

you sound sad, shouto doesn't like it. he wants you to be happy all the time. but he won't be able to go to school soon, he won't see you anymore. and that'd make you even more sad. he doesn't know what else to do.

shouto can't bring himself to respond because he doesn't have a reason. he wants to be with you, he wants to hold your pinky and he wants to marry you. he wants you to smile at him so hard it blinds him. but he doesn't know anything about marriage. besides what he's seen on tv and from his own mom and dad. and his mom doesn't live at home anymore, because his dad had sent her away. when you get married you have fun and you're happy but his mom never was. you're always happy and he doesn't want you to be sad like his mom was, because you're the nicest person in the world.

so he just shrugs. natsu-nii had told him that people would find that rude once, and he thinks maybe he should've listened. you abruptly get up and stand in front of him. he looks up at you and wishes he'd never had because you look so sad. you want him to think you're angry, but he can tell with you.

"so you lied to me ?"

he wants to say no, because he doesn't mean it. but in your mind he probably did, he looks away. he can't look at you anymore because your lip is wobbling like you want to cry. angrily, you push at his shoulder, shouto trains with his father almost every day, he has the bandages under his sweater to prove it. but this hurts so much more.

"i hate liars !" you yell at him, shouto's never heard you yell besides that one time you'd punched tanaka in the face and ended up at the nurses office. you push him again and your voice is wobbly when you tell him you hate him before you run away. you're leaving without him. shouto can't move from where he's still slightly swinging on the swing. he doesn't like it anymore, but he can't go anywhere, because you're not holding onto his pinky and he can't readjust it to hold yours better.

shouto feels colder suddenly now that you're away, but he can't move as he grips the bars of the swing tighter and his lip wobbles.

touya, for the first time in a while, sees his brother come back home completely clean. and extremely sad.

i didn't want to end this part so sadly but i couldn't help myself yall im sorry, i hope yall still love me !!!