andy-15-07

[andy-15-07]

OMG imagine coming home drunk from a girls night and Pedro is already waiting

A Little Tipsy, A Lot in Love

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT:919| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

A/n:I'm sorry I haven't been active in the last week, school kept me busy, now I have more free time and I will respond to all your requests.

Y/N stumbled through the front door, giggling to herself as she struggled to toe off her heels. Her purse barely clung to her shoulder, and her hair was slightly tousled from dancing all night. The faint scent of tequila and lime clung to her, evidence of the wild girls’ night she had just returned from.

Pedro, already waiting on the couch, raised an eyebrow as he watched the scene unfold. He had been expecting this—her texts throughout the night had been riddled with typos and an overuse of exclamation points. "Had fun, did we?"

Y/N gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. "Pedro Pascal! How dare you sneak up on me in my own house!" She swayed slightly and narrowed her eyes at him. "Wait… this is my house, right?"

Pedro chuckled, pushing himself up from the couch and walking over to her. "Yeah, sweetheart. It’s your house. Our house. Remember?" He reached out to steady her as she wobbled, his hands resting on her arms, warm and steady.

She leaned into him with a dreamy sigh. "You're so warm. Like a big, handsome space heater."

"Glad I could be of service," he teased, guiding her towards the couch. "How many drinks did you have?"

She flopped down with an exaggerated groan, throwing her arms up. "Math is hard. But… maybe four margaritas? Or five? There was a round of shots too, but I stopped counting after three."

Pedro sighed, shaking his head fondly. "Remind me to send a strongly worded text to your friends for letting you get this drunk."

"Excuse me, sir! I am an independent woman!" She poked his chest with surprising force. "And I had the best night. You should’ve been there!" She pouted. "We danced, we screamed ‘Shakira Shakira’ at the top of our lungs, and we might have convinced the bartender to play 'Toxic' five times."

Pedro smirked, sitting down beside her. "Sounds like I missed out."

She nodded aggressively, her whole body swaying with the motion. "You did! Also, do you know how cute you are? Because let me tell you something, Pedro Pascal, you are—" She booped his nose. "—so freakin’ cute."

He laughed, catching her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. "You’re extra affectionate when you're drunk."

She gasped again, eyes wide. "I am always affectionate. I just have no filter right now." She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a whisper like she was about to reveal a world-altering secret. "And I may have told my friends I was gonna marry you."

Pedro's eyebrows shot up, amusement flickering across his face. "Oh?"

She nodded, suddenly very serious. "Yep. And they all agreed because, duh, look at you." She squished his face between her hands, her palms warm against his cheeks. "Handsome. Sweet. And you smell good. Like, stupidly good. It’s unfair, really."

Pedro let out a deep laugh, shaking his head as he pried her hands away. "Alright, mi amor, let's get you some water before you start planning the wedding guest list."

Y/N groaned, flopping back against the couch. "Fine, but only because my mouth is dry. And maybe because I love you stupid much."

Pedro stood up and walked towards the kitchen, calling back, "And then you’re going to bed."

She peeked up at him through her lashes. "Only if you tuck me in."

He shot her a knowing look. "I always do."

She smiled, watching him fondly, her vision slightly hazy from the alcohol but her heart clear as ever. "Ugh, you’re the best. Like, top-tier best."

Pedro returned with a glass of water, kneeling in front of her and placing it in her hands. "I know, baby. Now drink up."

As she sipped, she squinted at him, her brows furrowing in thought. "Wait. Did I tell you that sober?"

Pedro grinned, his eyes warm and full of something deeper than just amusement. "You will tomorrow."

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the soft scent of coffee and the feeling of a warm, familiar arm draped over her waist. She groaned, her head pounding slightly, as the memories of the night before trickled in.

Pedro’s chuckle rumbled against her back. "Morning, future Mrs. Pascal."

Her eyes shot open. "Oh no. Oh no, no, no. What did I say?"

He kissed her temple, his voice laced with laughter. "Nothing you don't already mean, cariño. But don't worry—I won't hold you to that wedding plan just yet."

She buried her face in his chest with a muffled groan. "I hate drunk me."

Pedro smirked, tilting her chin up so she had to look at him. "I love all versions of you. Even the one that boops my nose and declares her love to an entire bar."

She groaned again, this time with a small smile. "Fine. But next time, you're coming with me."

"Deal," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her lips. "Now drink your coffee before I have to carry you to the kitchen."

She sighed dramatically. "You're so bossy. But fine, only because I love you stupid much."

Pedro grinned. "I know, baby. You told me last night."

Y/N playfully smacked his chest before settling back against him, sipping her coffee as Pedro held her close. She might have embarrassed herself last night, but as Pedro kissed the top of her head and murmured sweet nothings against her hair, she figured that if she had to be drunk in love, she wouldn’t want it to be with anyone else but him.

[andy-15-07]

Omg I have this nasty idea… Could u write about threesome with Javier x Steve x reader (love youuuuu)

Triple Temptation

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader x Steve Murphy

Word Count: 1996| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Warning: smut

A/n:I'm sorry I haven't been active in the last week, school kept me busy, now I have more free time and I will respond to all your requests.

Y/N’s apartment was cloaked in the soft haze of late afternoon light filtering through drawn curtains. It had been one of those long, dangerous days—missions, secrets, and the weight of the Narcos world all pressing down on her. But in the quiet of her living room, nestled on the worn leather couch, she finally felt free. Beside her, Steve Murphy’s hands roamed tenderly over her back as their lips met in a slow, hungry kiss.

“Steve,” she murmured between kisses, “I… I missed you so much today.”

He smiled against her lips, his voice low and sultry. “I missed you too, baby. Every minute without you was pure torture.” His hand slid up her thigh, sending shivers down her spine as he deepened the kiss. Their chemistry was palpable—a forbidden, secret passion that blossomed every time they stole a moment together.

Unbeknownst to them, the apartment door had been left ajar. The quiet hum of the day was soon interrupted by the soft creak of the door as Javier Peña stepped in. Javier, impeccably dressed in his dark suit even on his rare time off, was returning from a long day of government meetings, senators, and covert missions. His eyes, usually steely with determination, softened as they caught sight of the scene before him.

In the living room, Y/N and Steve were entwined on the couch, their bodies pressed together in an intimate dance of desire. Steve’s fingertips trailed fire along Y/N’s arm, while she moaned softly at his every touch. The air was thick with unspoken need and whispered promises—a world where duty and secrecy fell away in the heat of passion.

Javier paused in the doorway, his breath catching. The shock of seeing his two lovers together for a forbidden rendezvous left him momentarily speechless. For a split second, time slowed as he absorbed every detail—the curve of Y/N’s neck, the determined glint in Steve’s eyes, and the undeniable intensity of their kiss. Then, like a bolt of lightning, a mix of jealousy, arousal, and longing surged within him.

“Hey…” Javier’s voice was husky, low, carrying both surprise and something much darker.

Startled, Y/N and Steve broke apart, their eyes wide with a cocktail of guilt and anticipation. Steve’s hand froze mid-stroke, and Y/N’s heart pounded in her ears as they faced the man they both deeply loved.

Javier stepped forward, closing the gap between them, his tailored suit accentuating his powerful frame. “I—I didn’t expect to come home and find you like this,” he said, his tone a blend of stern reproach and undeniable desire.

Y/N swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Javier, I… We… I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to—” Her apology was cut off as Steve interjected.

“Javi, it’s not about apologies. We—” Steve began, his voice rough with suppressed passion, “We’ve always known our connection was complicated. And tonight, I couldn’t resist…”

Javier’s gaze flickered between them, his eyes dark with a mix of hurt and longing. “Complicated, yes… But it’s also ours,” he murmured, stepping closer until his presence filled the room. His hand reached out slowly, brushing a stray lock of hair from Y/N’s face, a silent reminder of the care and devotion he held for her.

A charged silence filled the space. The tension was almost unbearable as all three stood at the intersection of duty and desire, a web of passion and secrets binding them together. Y/N’s voice, soft yet resolute, broke the silence. “I love you both. Each of you brings a different kind of strength, a different kind of passion. And tonight, I want you both.”

Steve’s eyes widened with delight, and Javier’s expression softened, revealing a tenderness beneath the hardened exterior of a government man. “You’re sure?” Javier asked, his voice low and warm as he looked at her with a mix of concern and fervor.

Y/N nodded, her eyes sparkling with determination. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I want to feel all of you. I want this—us—to be real and raw, just like we are.”

Steve leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “I’ve been waiting for this moment all day, baby. I want to taste every part of you.”

Javier’s hand gripped Y/N’s waist gently as he stepped closer. “Then let’s not waste any more time,” he said, his voice laced with the promise of passion.

The three of them moved together like a perfectly choreographed dance. Steve slowly guided Y/N onto the couch, their lips meeting again in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. Javier circled around them, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s face as if memorizing every detail.

The room was soon filled with the sounds of whispered dirty talk and the soft murmur of pleasure. “You feel so good,” Javier murmured, his hand trailing down Y/N’s neck as Steve’s fingers tangled in her hair. “I want to savor every moment with you tonight.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she responded, “Javi… Steve… I need you both. I need your hands, your mouths, your everything.”

Steve’s voice dropped to a sultry growl as he added, “I’ve been aching for this, for you. Let me show you how much I want you.” His hands were skilled and deliberate, moving with a blend of urgency and care that made Y/N’s body tremble in anticipation.

Javier’s lips met hers again, this time with a fiercer passion. “I’m here too,” he whispered, his words a promise and a command all at once. “Every inch of you belongs to me tonight.”

The intensity of the moment escalated rapidly. Their conversations became a fervent mix of dirty talk and tender declarations of love. Y/N’s moans intermingled with the soft exclamations of both men as they explored her body, their touches igniting a fire that seemed to burn away the world outside.

“Tell me what you want,” Javier urged, his voice low and commanding as he paused to kiss her deeply. “I want to know exactly how you want us.”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed as she replied breathlessly, “I want you both to take me, to make me yours completely. I want Steve’s gentle caresses and Javi’s bold, determined touch. I want all of you to show me how deeply you desire me.”

Steve chuckled softly, his tone teasing. “Then let’s not hold back,” he said, as his fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns on her skin. “I want to feel every inch of you, to taste every curve, and hear you beg for more.”

Javier’s eyes darkened with desire as he shifted his focus, kissing a trail along her collarbone. “You’re so beautiful, so irresistible,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion and lust. “I want to feel you, to have you completely.”

The room became a playground of desire. Y/N’s laughter mingled with soft, heated whispers as Steve moved to kiss her neck, while Javier’s lips and hands roamed her body, eliciting moans that resonated with raw passion. Their dialogue, filled with affectionate banter and dirty talk, wove a tapestry of intimacy that was both fierce and tender.

As the passion built, the three of them found a rhythm—a perfect blend of exploration and connection. Y/N was the center of their universe, and every kiss, every touch was a declaration of their shared love and lust. “Steve,” she breathed, her voice trembling with anticipation, “I need you to take me right now.”

Steve responded by deepening their kiss, his hands sliding under her shirt as he whispered, “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby. I want to hear you say my name.” His dirty talk was a heady mix of desire and encouragement, fueling the fire that had been steadily rising.

Javier, not to be outdone, added, “And I want you to let go of all your inhibitions, to give in completely. Let me show you how much I adore you.” His voice was husky as he pressed his lips against hers again, the intensity of his affection and lust mingling in every touch.

Minutes turned into what felt like an eternity of shared passion. They shifted positions, moving seamlessly between kisses, caresses, and whispered promises. Y/N’s body was a canvas for their desire—her skin alive under the skilled touches of two men who revered every part of her. The dirty talk grew bolder, filled with confessions of need and declarations of love that blurred the line between lust and intimacy.

“Steve, you’re so amazing,” Y/N gasped as his hands explored her curves. “I love the way you make me feel.”

Steve’s response was immediate and raw. “I love you too, baby. I’m going to drive you wild tonight, just wait.” His voice was a low growl of satisfaction, punctuating the symphony of their shared desire.

Javier’s eyes shone with intensity as he whispered into her ear, “I want to hear you, Y/N. Tell me how you feel when I touch you.” His words, laced with the promise of pleasure, sent electric shivers down her spine.

She responded in a breathless whisper, “I feel everything—so much everything. I feel alive, desired, complete.” The honesty in her voice resonated with both men, reaffirming the deep bond they shared despite the dangerous world they lived in.

As their passion reached its peak, the air filled with the sound of soft gasps, whispered dirty talk, and the palpable rhythm of their bodies coming together. Each moment was a raw, unfiltered expression of their desires—a passionate union that transcended the ordinary. In that room, with its secrets and stolen moments, the world outside faded into nothingness.

Eventually, as the heat of their shared ecstasy began to subside, the three lay tangled together, breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. The silence was broken only by soft laughter, whispered endearments, and the gentle hum of the city outside.

Javier brushed a stray lock of hair from Y/N’s face and murmured, “You’re everything to me. Tonight, every touch, every word, was a promise of the love we share.”

Steve, still catching his breath, added, “I never knew passion could be this raw, this honest. You make me feel things I never knew existed.”

Y/N, with a tender smile playing on her lips, reached out to hold both men. “I love you both,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of all the stolen moments, the secrets, and the forbidden passion that defined their relationship. “I love the way you make me feel—desired, cherished, and completely alive.”

In that quiet, intimate space, they reaffirmed their bond—a triad of love, passion, and shared secrets. Their relationship was as dangerous and complicated as the world they navigated daily, but in these moments, it was pure and unfiltered. Every whispered word, every heated touch, and every shared glance was a testament to their unique connection—one that defied the odds and transcended the darkness of the outside world.

As the first hints of dawn began to light the sky, casting a soft glow over the room, the three of them lay together, entwined not just in body but in heart and soul. The dangerous world outside continued to churn with secrets and shadows, but within these walls, they had carved out a sanctuary—a place where love was fierce, raw, and beautifully complicated.

Javier kissed Y/N’s forehead gently and murmured, “No matter how dark it gets, I promise you, we’ll always have moments like this.”

Steve wrapped an arm around her, adding, “We’re in this together, every step of the way—no secrets, no pretenses, just the truth of our passion.”

And Y/N, looking from one to the other with eyes filled with unyielding love, replied, “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Tonight, we have everything—and that is more than enough.”

In that tender morning light, as the weight of the world loomed beyond the door, the three of them vowed silently that their love would always be their refuge—a sanctuary built on shared passion, trust, and the raw, unyielding power of desire.

[andy-15-07]

Javier Pena x f!reader

You two were in secret relationship, Javier wearing a suit but busy was government with bunch of senators and army. He misses you so much that he could be worried about you. You got back from mission, just scratch. Few hours later, Javi came to you on your apartment. He look for you as you lay in bed. Just relax. You felt his hand was on your cheek, feel so warm and cozy. He literally take care of you *fluffiness*

In the Midst of Shadows

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word Count: 1902| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

A/n:I'm sorry I haven't been active in the last week, school kept me busy, now I have more free time and I will respond to all your requests.

The day had been long and tumultuous—one of those days that left you mentally and physically exhausted. You had just returned from a mission that involved more danger than you cared to admit, barely escaping with a scratch on your arm. Every muscle in your body ached, but the thought of Javier Peña eased the tension in your chest. In the clandestine corners of your secret relationship, his presence was a safe haven.

You lay in your dimly lit apartment, the soft hum of the city outside mingling with the quiet rhythm of your breath. Memories of covert meetings, hidden glances in crowded rooms, and whispered promises in shadowed alleys replayed in your mind like a secret film. You knew the risks of this life—Javier was a government agent entangled with senators and military officials, his days swallowed by endless meetings and high-stakes decisions. But despite the danger, the thrill, and the ever-present threat of exposure, nothing could take away the comfort you found in his arms.

A few hours later, there was a gentle knock on the door. Your heart skipped a beat as you sat up, expecting the unexpected. The familiar sound of his voice echoed from the hallway.

“¿Estás despierta?” Javier whispered as he stepped into your room. His accent, rich and commanding, wrapped around you like a warm blanket.

“I was waiting for you,” you replied, your voice soft but steady, betraying none of the fatigue that weighed on you. “I needed to feel safe.”

Javier’s eyes, dark and intense as ever, scanned your face with a mixture of relief and quiet concern. “You’re safe now. I’ve been worried sick since you went on that mission. Every minute away from you felt like an eternity,” he said, his tone firm yet tender.

Without another word, he moved closer, his hand gently resting on your cheek. You could feel the strength behind his touch, and the warmth of his skin contrasted perfectly with the cool night air seeping through the window. “Just relax, love. Let me take care of you,” he murmured, as if to erase all your worries with a single caress.

You leaned into his touch, your eyes closing as you savored the moment. “I missed you, Javi,” you whispered, your voice a mix of vulnerability and desire. “Every second away from you was agony.”

He chuckled softly, a low sound that vibrated with affection. “I missed you too. Every meeting, every decision I made, I kept thinking about coming home to you.” His words were punctuated by the occasional sound of distant sirens and murmurs of the city below—reminders that danger and duty were never far behind.

The night deepened around you, cocooning the room in shadows and soft whispers. Javier moved to sit beside you on the bed, carefully setting aside the heavy weight of his responsibilities for just a moment. “Tell me everything,” he said, brushing back a stray lock of hair from your face. “I need to know you’re alright.”

Taking a deep breath, you recounted the day’s events—the mission, the narrow escape, the feeling of powerlessness when you saw blood at the scene, and the overwhelming relief when you finally made it home. Javier listened intently, his gaze never leaving yours, each detail imprinted on his heart as if your pain was his own.

“I can’t imagine how hard it must have been,” he said once you finished, his voice laced with worry. “But you did what you had to do, and you made it back. I promise, I’ll always be here to pull you out of the fire.”

The words, simple yet powerful, wrapped around you like a shield. “I know,” you replied, reaching up to squeeze his hand. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m not strong enough, that this world is too dangerous. But then I remember that you’re here, and suddenly, everything feels possible.”

Javier’s expression softened, his eyes glinting with admiration. “You are stronger than you think, Y/N. Every day, you face danger head-on, and you do it with grace. I’m proud of you.” He paused, as if choosing his next words with care. “I worry, though. There are days when I fear losing you—this life, these secrets, they put us at risk every moment.”

A heavy silence filled the space between you, thick with unspoken fears and the weight of hidden truths. After a moment, you broke the silence. “Javier, I know what we’re doing is dangerous, but it’s the only thing that feels real in a world full of lies and betrayal. When I’m with you, I can breathe. I can laugh. I can love without fear.”

He smiled, a small, crooked smile that made his eyes sparkle. “Then let’s promise each other something,” he said, his tone playful yet sincere. “No matter how dark the world gets, we’ll always have these moments, these stolen hours together. You are my sanctuary.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with love. “And you are mine,” you agreed, your voice firm despite the vulnerability in your eyes.

The conversation flowed naturally, every word drawing you both closer. Javier began recounting stories from his day—a terse meeting with senators, the constant scrutiny from high-ranking officials, and the dangerous liaisons that sometimes felt like stepping into a minefield. His voice was measured, yet beneath the calm exterior, you could sense the turmoil of a man caught between duty and desire.

At one point, as he described a particularly tense encounter with a military officer, he leaned forward, his tone softening. “I wish I could just disappear with you,” he admitted, “leave all this behind and start over somewhere quiet, where our secrets wouldn’t be a burden.”

The idea hung in the air between you. For a moment, you both envisioned a life far removed from the chaos—a simple, honest life where love was the only thing that mattered. But the reality of your world was too potent, too dangerous to ignore.

“We might never have that luxury, Javi,” you said gently. “But every moment we steal from this madness is ours. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

He smiled wistfully, then reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I know,” he murmured. “And tonight, I’m not thinking about the world. I’m thinking about you—about us. I’m here to take care of you. Let me help you heal.”

His hands moved with practiced care, massaging away the tension from your shoulders as you sunk deeper into the plush comfort of the bed. The soft rustle of fabric, the murmur of your voices, and the quiet intensity of your connection filled the room, creating a haven where nothing else mattered.

After a while, you spoke up again, your voice barely above a whisper. “Javier, do you ever think about how surreal this is? The power we wield, the lives we touch, the secrets we keep… Sometimes it all feels too heavy.”

Javier paused, considering your words. “Every day,” he admitted. “I live in a world of corruption, of violence, where every decision could change the course of a life. But then I come home, and in your eyes, I see a glimpse of hope—a future where the weight of responsibility isn’t so crushing. It’s a reminder that there’s something worth fighting for.”

His sincerity struck a chord deep within you. “I believe in you, Javi,” you said, your tone resolute. “And I believe in us. We might be walking a dangerous line, but together, we can face whatever comes our way.”

He nodded, pressing his forehead gently against yours. “Together,” he echoed. “And I promise you this: no matter how tangled our lives get, I will always find my way back to you.”

The night wore on, the conversation a mix of laughter, whispered dreams, and the occasional solemn pause as you both acknowledged the fragility of your world. Javier’s presence, steadfast and unwavering, was a constant reminder that even amidst chaos and danger, love could still bloom.

At one point, as the weight of his responsibilities seeped back into the conversation, he chuckled. “You know, sometimes I think my suit is my only shield—more than the power it represents, it’s a reminder of the battles I fight every day. But with you here, I feel invincible.”

You smiled, eyes glistening with unshed tears of gratitude. “I’m not asking for you to be invincible, Javi. I’m asking you to be the man I love—the man who has the courage to stand up for what’s right, even when it’s hard. And the man who isn’t afraid to show his softer side when no one is watching.”

His laughter was soft and warm. “And you, my love, have a way of making me feel like I’m the luckiest man in the world. Even on days when the weight of the world seems unbearable, you remind me that there’s beauty in every moment.”

You wrapped your arms around him, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “Promise me that you’ll always come back to me, no matter how many battles you have to fight.”

“I promise,” he said firmly, his eyes locking with yours in a silent vow. “No matter what happens, no matter how dark the days may become, I will always find my way home—to you.”

The conversation drifted into moments of comfortable silence as the night deepened. You could hear the distant sounds of the city, but in your apartment, it felt like time had slowed, leaving only the two of you cocooned in your secret world. Javier’s hand still rested on your cheek, and every touch, every whispered word, was a testament to the love you both fought so hard to preserve.

As the hours passed, you both found solace in the gentle cadence of shared dreams and quiet confessions. The complexities of your lives—the dangerous liaisons, the covert missions, the ever-present threat of discovery—melted away in the simple truth of your connection. In that room, wrapped in the soft glow of a bedside lamp, nothing else mattered except the unspoken promise of a future together.

Javier leaned in, his voice a soft murmur in your ear, “Tonight, let’s forget the world outside. Let’s just be—me, you, and the hope that we can carve out our own little sanctuary.”

You smiled, closing your eyes as his warm breath caressed your skin. “I’d like that. More than anything.”

And so, under the quiet watch of the night, in a city that never truly slept, you both embraced the fleeting moments of peace. Every word, every touch, every heartbeat was a reminder that love, no matter how dangerous, was worth every risk. In that delicate balance between duty and desire, you had found a place where you could be yourself—vulnerable, passionate, and entirely alive.

As the first hints of dawn crept through the window, Javier whispered, “I’ll always be here for you. No matter how many battles await us, our love will be our refuge.”

Your response was soft but resolute, “And I’ll always be waiting, knowing that every time you return, a part of me is home.”

In that quiet, secret moment, the world outside seemed to pause—allowing just enough time for two souls, bound by danger and desire, to find solace in each other’s arms. The challenges ahead were many, but in that small, hidden apartment, you had already won the most important battle: the fight for love.

[andy-15-07]

would you do a bf.Paul Mescal x reader where she is afraid of spiders and she calls Paul to get if for her?

Spider Help

PAIRING:Paul Mescal x reader

WORD COUNT: 506 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Paul Mescal Masterlis

A/n:I'm sorry I haven't been active in the last week, school kept me busy, now I have more free time and I will respond to all your requests.

Y/N had never claimed to be fearless. In fact, she was very open about the fact that some things in life absolutely terrified her—like the existential crisis she had at least once a week, or the deep fear of getting stuck in an elevator. But nothing, nothing, sent shivers down her spine quite like spiders.

So when she spotted one, large and menacing, sitting in the corner of the ceiling above her bed, her first instinct was to burn the whole apartment down.

Instead, she grabbed her phone and did the only rational thing: she called Paul.

The phone rang twice before his warm voice came through. "Hey, love. What's up?"

"Paul. Emergency. Life or death situation."

There was a pause, and then, in a much more serious tone, "Are you okay? What happened?"

"There’s a spider."

Silence. And then: "Y/N."

"Paul. It’s huge. Like, I swear to God, I can see its eyes. It’s looking at me, Paul. It knows I’m afraid."

A laugh bubbled through the speaker. "Oh, does it now?"

"This isn’t funny! I can’t go near it. I can’t even breathe properly knowing it’s here. Please come get rid of it."

"Y/N, love, I’m at the gym."

"And I’m at home! With Satan on my ceiling!"

Paul sighed, but she could hear the smile in his voice. "Alright, alright. I’m coming."

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at her door. She flung it open so fast Paul barely had time to react before she was pulling him inside.

"Where is it?" he asked, slipping off his jacket.

She pointed dramatically toward the ceiling. "Right there."

Paul followed her gaze, squinting. "Babe, that’s tiny."

"Tiny? That’s a monster! I can’t sleep knowing it’s in here. What if it crawls into my mouth at night? Or worse—lays eggs?"

Paul chuckled as he made his way to the kitchen, retrieving a glass and a piece of paper. "Alright, you dramatic little thing, let’s get rid of your eight-legged nemesis."

Y/N watched from the safety of the doorway as he effortlessly trapped the spider, sliding the paper underneath it.

"Okay, I’m officially in love with you all over again," she sighed in relief.

"That’s all it takes?" he teased, walking toward the window. "Not my charm, my good looks, or the fact that I make you tea every morning—just me handling a spider?"

"You don’t understand, Paul. I would’ve had to move out if you didn’t come. I would’ve vacated the premises."

He opened the window and gently released the spider outside before turning back to her with a smirk. "There. Your home is now arachnid-free. Can I get a reward for my heroism?"

Y/N grinned and stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You get unlimited kisses. And maybe I’ll even let you pick the movie tonight."

Paul pretended to consider it. "Hmm. Sounds like a fair trade."

She leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling back just enough to murmur, "My knight in shining gym shorts."

He laughed, kissing her again. "Always here to save you, love. Even from tiny little spiders."

[andy-15-07]

Will you please write a paul mescal x reader where he's your college prof and you're doing him some 'favours😏' bc youre failing his class 👀

Office Hours After Dark

PAIRING:Paul Mescal x reader

WORD COUNT: 1589 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Paul Mescal Masterlis

A/n:I'm sorry I haven't been active in the last week, school kept me busy, now I have more free time and I will respond to all your requests.

You never imagined that failing Professor Mescal’s advanced literature course would lead you down a path of such delicious, dangerous temptation. You had always been an excellent student—until your grades began to slip. With your final exam looming and your academic future in jeopardy, you found yourself desperate for any way to redeem your standing. That’s when you noticed the unmistakable glint in Paul’s eyes, a silent promise of something beyond the dry pages of Shakespeare and Keats.

You remember the moment clearly: after class one rainy Thursday afternoon, as the rest of your peers hurried out to escape the downpour, you lingered behind. The door clicked shut and the lights dimmed. There, alone in the quiet lecture hall, Professor Mescal’s deep voice broke the silence.

“Are you having trouble keeping up, love?” he asked, his tone laced with concern and something else—an unspoken desire. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your ears.

“I…I’m trying my best, Professor,” you replied, your voice trembling just slightly. “I’m afraid I might not make the grade.”

His dark eyes softened as he stepped closer, his presence intoxicating. “Maybe we can arrange…extra lessons,” he murmured, his hand reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face. The touch sent shivers cascading down your spine, igniting an ember of defiance against the academic world that had let you down.

That night, in a secluded study room of the old campus library, you met him again. The air was thick with anticipation, the room lit by the soft glow of a single desk lamp. Paul’s voice was low and persuasive as he explained the “extra lessons” that would help salvage your failing grade.

“Sometimes,” he said, his tone dropping to a sultry whisper, “a little extra credit isn’t found in textbooks.” His eyes searched yours, daring you to see the invitation within them.

Before you could protest, he leaned in. “I know you’re desperate,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “And I’m more than happy to help…if you’re willing to return the favor.”

The promise of secrecy, of a forbidden liaison, hung heavy in the charged silence. You nodded, heart racing with a cocktail of fear and excitement. “Yes, Professor,” you replied softly. “I—I need your help.”

Paul’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Then let’s begin our…private tutorial,” he whispered. With a final, lingering look, he led you out of the study room and into the shadowed corridors of the university.

In his secluded, dimly lit office—books and papers scattered in disarray—Paul closed the door behind you. The atmosphere was almost academic, yet the energy between you crackled with anticipation. You felt both nervous and eager, knowing that tonight, the classroom lessons would be replaced by something far more visceral.

“Sit,” he commanded softly, gesturing to a leather armchair across from his desk. You complied, your eyes locked on his as he began to unbutton his crisp white shirt. Each movement was deliberate, as if every inch of fabric removed was another layer of formality peeling away.

“Good…very good,” he murmured approvingly, his fingers trailing lightly along your arm. His tone shifted, laced with a confidence that made your pulse quicken. “You know, I’ve been thinking about you ever since you raised your hand in class. There’s something about the way you look at me, the way you…need to understand,” he said, pausing as his eyes roamed over you. “It’s almost as if you’re craving a deeper lesson.”

You swallowed, your voice barely audible. “I…I want to learn…everything.”

A spark of amusement danced in his eyes as he rose from behind his desk. “Then let’s begin with a demonstration,” he said, stepping closer until you could feel the heat radiating from his body. His hands found the hem of your blouse, and before you could react, they were slowly, deliberately tugging it upward.

The fabric slipped off your shoulders, pooling at your feet. “I must confess,” Paul whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, “there’s more to education than just reading.” His hands roamed over your bare skin with confident precision, eliciting soft, involuntary moans. Every touch was a lesson in desire, each caress an exploration of boundaries you’d only dared to fantasize about.

Before long, the space between you and the professor narrowed into nothingness. Your eyes met as he reached out, cupping your chin with a tenderness that belied the intensity of the moment. “Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the air.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation and a trace of apprehension.

With that word, he closed the gap, capturing your lips in a heated, all-consuming kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of forbidden pleasure and academic redemption, of lessons learned beyond the pages of any textbook. His tongue traced patterns along your lips, exploring and claiming, as if imprinting the memory of this moment in both of your minds.

In the intimate glow of his office, time seemed to slow. You were no longer just a failing student; you were a willing apprentice in the art of seduction. As his hands trailed down your back, unfastening the tie that symbolized the rigid authority of academia, you felt every inhibition dissolve.

Paul’s voice broke through the haze of sensation. “Tonight, I’m not just your professor,” he murmured against your skin. “I’m your guide in pleasure. I’m going to show you that sometimes, the most valuable lessons are those that we learn with our bodies.”

He led you over to his desk, where the cool surface became an unlikely altar to your newfound desires. With every movement, every whispered command, you felt the boundaries of teacher and student blur into something raw, passionate, and undeniably real. You explored each other’s bodies with a hunger that was both desperate and determined, as if each touch could rewrite the narrative of your academic failure into one of triumph.

As the night deepened, so did the intensity of your encounter. Paul’s hands, firm yet gentle, guided you through a maze of pleasure and exploration. His touch was both instructional and indulgent, a combination that left you breathless and yearning for more. Soft moans mingled with hushed whispers of encouragement as you both surrendered to the moment.

“I need you,” you admitted, your voice a tremulous confession as you reached out to him, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I need you to teach me everything.”

Paul’s eyes burned with a mix of desire and unyielding authority. “Then learn well,” he replied, his tone commanding yet tender. “Tonight, every sensation, every whisper of pleasure, is your lesson. And I promise you, my dear, it’s one you won’t ever forget.”

The exchange of dialogue was punctuated by the rhythmic sounds of your mingled breaths, the soft rustle of fabric as it was shed, and the occasional exclamation of pleasure that filled the space. In a crescendo of passion, your inhibitions gave way completely, and you found yourself lost in the overwhelming tide of desire that Paul evoked with every touch.

Your bodies moved in a delicate dance of exploration—a silent, wordless conversation where every gesture spoke volumes. His every caress was an assertion of control, yet your responses were bold and unyielding, a testament to your own burgeoning confidence and need. As the intensity built, so did the fervor of your exchange, until it reached a fever pitch.

“Tell me,” he whispered in between deep, resonant kisses, “what do you want most from me?”

Your answer was instinctual, raw, and honest: “I want you—completely.”

In that moment, any semblance of formality evaporated. The academic veneer was replaced by an unbridled passion, an explosion of sensations that left you both trembling and sated. The room bore witness to the merging of two worlds: the structured discipline of academia and the wild, uncharted territory of desire.

Hours later, as dawn peeked through the window blinds, the air was heavy with the remnants of your passionate encounter. You lay beside him on the desk, your skin still tingling from the night’s lessons. His hand rested lightly on your arm, a silent promise that what you had experienced was more than just an act of desperation—it was a transformative journey.

Paul’s eyes met yours with a soft intensity. “Remember this,” he said gently, “every lesson we learn in life comes with its own price. Tonight, you paid yours, and I hope you’ve learned something worth more than any grade.”

You smiled, the lingering heat of the night still warming your skin. “I’ve learned that sometimes, the most valuable lessons aren’t taught in a classroom,” you replied, your voice imbued with a newfound confidence.

The morning light found you both changed, your secret shared between whispered promises and the lingering scent of desire. As you dressed in the quiet aftermath, a part of you knew that nothing would ever be the same—not your grades, not your perceptions, and certainly not the lessons you learned that unforgettable night.

In the coming days, every lecture, every textbook passage, carried the echoes of that secret lesson. You no longer felt like a failing student, but rather someone who had dared to reclaim control over your narrative, even if it meant venturing into the dangerous territory of forbidden pleasure. And as you sat in class, the memory of that night with Paul Mescal—your professor, your guide in desire—remained an indelible imprint on your soul, a private reminder that sometimes, learning comes from the most unexpected places.

[andy-15-07]

Would you write for oberyn martell pretty please ? 🥹

Venom & Velvet

pairing: Oberyn Martell x f!reader

word count: 601 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

A/n:I'm sorry I haven't been active in the last week, school kept me busy, now I have more free time and I will respond to all your requests.

The sun hung low over Sunspear, casting the palace in warm hues of orange and gold. The scent of citrus trees drifted through the open windows, mingling with the salty sea air. In the private courtyard, the sound of laughter echoed as Oberyn Martell lounged on a cushioned divan, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement as his daughters sparred with wooden blades before him.

"Your stance is too rigid, Tyene," he mused, swirling the deep red wine in his goblet. "A warrior must be fluid, like water. Adapt, move with the wind."

"Like you do?" Tyene teased, dodging an incoming strike from her sister, Nymeria.

Oberyn smirked, taking a slow sip of wine. "Exactly like me. Though I hope you do not inherit all my bad habits."

Nymeria scoffed as she advanced. "You mean the wine or the women?"

A deep laugh rumbled from Oberyn’s chest. "Both, perhaps. But I would not deny you the pleasures of life, my fierce one."

From the shaded archway, you watched the scene unfold, arms crossed as you leaned against the cool stone pillar. There was something effortless about the way Oberyn moved through life, shifting between fierce warrior and indulgent lover with ease. He was, in every way, a contradiction—a man of passion and blood, of love and vengeance.

"You watch me as though I am some mystery to be solved," Oberyn mused, catching your gaze as he beckoned you forward. "Tell me, my love, have you yet found your answer?"

You smirked, stepping closer until you stood beside him. "I think you enjoy being a mystery."

He reached for your hand, fingers trailing lightly over your palm. "Perhaps. But I do not wish to be a mystery to you. Ask, and I will give you every answer you desire."

Your eyes flickered to his daughters, still locked in playful combat, before returning to him. "Why do you fight so fiercely for your family? You indulge in pleasure, yet you are always ready for war. How do the two coexist in you so easily?"

Oberyn tilted his head, considering your words. "Because love and war are not so different. To love someone is to be willing to bleed for them. My brother, my daughters, my nieces, you… I would fight for all of you without hesitation. Dorne is in my blood, but my family is in my soul."

His words sent a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the heat of the Dornish sun. Before you could respond, a shriek of laughter interrupted the moment as Obara, the eldest, snatched Tyene's sword and playfully declared victory.

"Enough of this!" Oberyn called, standing with a graceful ease. "Come, all of you. The sun is setting, and the night is best spent with good food and stories."

The girls groaned, reluctant to end their sparring, but they obeyed. As they made their way inside, Ellaria Sand appeared at the doorway, her expression fond as she watched the chaos unfold.

"You always let them get away with too much," she teased, slipping an arm around Oberyn’s waist.

"I let them live," he corrected, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead before turning to you. "And I would do the same for you."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile as he draped an arm around your shoulders, leading you inside. The night ahead promised wine, whispered confessions, and stolen kisses. Even in a world of war and duty, Oberyn Martell had mastered the art of loving fiercely. And you, caught in the whirlwind of him, could do nothing but surrender to it.

[andy-15-07]

hii do you write for any pedro character or is there certain ones?

Hello, there are no specific characters, I write for any character played by Pedro Pascal. 😊

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

[andy-15-07]

The Potion of Our Undoing

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader Word Count: 2393 Harry Potter Masterlist | request

The dim light of the dungeon barely reached the far corners of Hogwarts' ancient potion laboratory that night, yet it was enough for two figures to huddle around a simmering cauldron. Severus Snape's dark eyes, normally so guarded behind a veneer of disdain, betrayed an uncharacteristic flicker of apprehension as he meticulously measured ingredients. Opposite him, you stood with equal determination, your heart pounding with both excitement and trepidation. The project before you was no ordinary potion—it was known only as "The Potion of Our Undoing," an experimental elixir meant to reveal the hidden truths that both of you had long concealed behind rivalry and reserve.

"Severus," you began softly, your voice almost drowned out by the gentle bubbling of the concoction, "I believe we've reached a critical juncture. The potion's base is nearly complete, but there's one ingredient left—a rare flower that only blooms under a full moon." Your eyes shone with an intensity that balanced the thrill of discovery with a hint of something deeper.

Snape's gaze never left the cauldron. "Your optimism is as misplaced as it is dangerous," he replied, his tone low and measured. "This potion is volatile, unpredictable. One miscalculation, and it could expose more than our hidden desires." His words were clipped, yet behind them lay an emotion he would never openly acknowledge.

For a long moment, the silence stretched between you, filled only by the steady hiss of steam and the soft clink of glass. Finally, you spoke again, your tone tentative but earnest. "Dangerous, perhaps. But what is life without a bit of peril? Our endless bickering, our rivalry—it's a façade, isn't it? I sometimes wonder if beneath our constant sparring, we're both concealing something... something we're too afraid to admit."

Snape's dark eyes flickered, and for an instant you thought you saw a shadow of longing. "You speak as if you have already seen what lies beneath," he said, his voice a mixture of irritation and something softer. "I have no interest in airing personal sentiments over a potion. Our work here is strictly professional." Yet even as he denied it, his hand hesitated above a vial of shimmering liquid, as if tempted to cross an unspoken boundary.

You leaned in closer, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "What if this potion isn't about exposing our professional secrets but about unveiling the truth we hide even from ourselves? What if, in our quest for perfection, we've been too afraid to acknowledge what we really feel?" The question hung in the air, heavy and daring.

Snape moved away, pacing slowly around the cluttered worktable. "Our emotions are liabilities, not assets," he declared, though the tremor in his tone betrayed his inner conflict. "I have dedicated my life to the precision of potion-making. Sentimentality has no place in that discipline." Despite his harsh words, the potion before you began to glow with an ethereal light, as if resonating with the charged atmosphere.

"Severus," you said, almost pleadingly, "don't you ever feel that our lives have been nothing but a series of calculated moves? That we've hidden behind rivalry to protect ourselves from being truly known? This potion—our undoing—might be the key to understanding what we're so desperately trying to avoid." Your voice was soft yet insistent, each word laced with the hope of liberation.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Do you truly believe that this elixir could undo the carefully constructed façade we've maintained for years? That it could force us to confront the truth of who we are?" His retort was measured, yet the vulnerability behind it was unmistakable.

"Perhaps it won't undo us entirely," you countered, "but it might reveal the parts of us that we've hidden even from ourselves. We have spent so long cloaking our genuine feelings in hostility and criticism that we've forgotten how to be honest. I—I'm tired of it, Severus. Tired of pretending that our rivalry is all there is." Your words, spoken in the quiet sanctuary of the lab, seemed to dissolve some of the barriers that had long divided you.

The potion's luminescence grew, its colors shifting from deep violet to a warm, inviting gold. As you reached for two delicate cups, you added, "Maybe this potion will help us find the courage to be vulnerable. To admit that all this animosity might just be a mask for something... much more dangerous—and much more beautiful."

Snape's gaze met yours across the worktable, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. Finally, he broke the silence. "What if it reveals too much?" he asked, voice quavering slightly. "What if, in acknowledging these feelings, we shatter everything we've built—both in our work and in our lives?"

"Then we rebuild," you replied firmly, stepping closer so that your faces were almost touching. "I believe that if we let ourselves be undone by this truth, we might find strength in our vulnerability. I have always admired your brilliance and your passion—even when you masked it with anger. I've admired you silently, terrified that if I spoke it aloud, it would all crumble."

Snape's hand hovered over the cup you offered him. "Control has always been my refuge," he murmured, his dark eyes reflecting both resolve and a dawning uncertainty. "But perhaps... perhaps it is time to let go." Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he took the cup from you and, with a deep, steadying breath, sipped the golden liquid.

The effect was immediate. The laboratory seemed to dissolve into a haze of colors and memories. In that surreal moment, both of you experienced flashes of every unspoken glance and every heated argument that had hinted at a truth too painful to confront. Old wounds and long-suppressed desires swirled together like the potion itself, breaking down the carefully erected walls around your hearts.

"Severus..." you whispered, your voice trembling as vivid memories washed over you. "Do you see it too? The moments we almost acknowledged? The silent admissions that we were too afraid to voice?"

Snape's eyes glistened with a mixture of shock and dawning clarity. "I see everything," he said, each word heavy with the weight of years. "Every time our eyes met, every whispered critique—I now understand that it was never merely rivalry. It was... it was something I fought against for so long." His admission, raw and unfiltered, hung in the charged air.

The potion's magic seemed to weave around you both, its gentle hum punctuating the surge of revelations. "I have spent my life controlling every aspect of myself," you continued, voice growing steadier as the initial rush subsided. "Afraid to show any sign of weakness, even though what I've hidden inside has been crying out for release. I've come to realize that our battles, our harsh words—they were our way of deflecting a truth we were too scared to face."

Snape's expression softened, his typical severity giving way to a tenderness seldom seen. "I was always terrified that if I admitted my true feelings, I would lose the only control I ever had. I believed that to show affection was to invite chaos." His voice cracked, and for a moment, he looked as if he might step back from everything he'd ever known. "But now I see that in hiding behind anger, I was merely protecting myself from the very thing that could have set me free."

There was a long, heavy pause as the two of you absorbed the transformation that the potion had wrought. The glowing liquid in the cauldron had cooled, its job done, leaving behind a fragile silence filled with promise and uncertainty.

Finally, you broke the quiet with a resolute tone. "What now, Severus? Do we continue as we always have, letting our rivalry define us? Or do we dare to embrace this newfound truth—even if it means dismantling everything we thought we knew about ourselves?" Your eyes shone with a mixture of hope and determination.

Snape's reply was immediate, almost desperate in its clarity. "I choose... I choose to risk it all," he declared, his voice low yet filled with conviction. "For too long, I have allowed fear to dictate my actions. I have hidden behind bitterness and pride, refusing to admit that beneath it all, I have longed for something more than mere professional rivalry." His gaze locked with yours, fierce and honest. "I'm tired of the masquerade."

A hesitant smile crept across your face as you reached out to gently grasp his hand. "Then let's forge a new path together—a path where our undoing becomes the foundation of our truth, where we stand vulnerable and unafraid of what may come." The sincerity in your tone left no room for doubt: you were ready to embrace the possibility of love, no matter how perilous the journey might be.

As the night waned, the laboratory filled with the soft murmur of continued conversation. You discussed the intricacies of the potion, each dialogue a careful step toward a future that neither of you had dared to imagine before. "Do you remember that time in Professor Slughorn's class, when you critiqued my potion with such intensity, yet I caught a glimpse of admiration in your eyes?" you recalled playfully.

Snape allowed himself a rare, wry smile. "How could I forget? Your potion was an utter disaster that day, but you handled my criticism with a grace I rarely see." His tone was teasing, yet beneath it lay a deep-seated respect that you knew had always been there, hidden beneath layers of rivalry.

The conversation shifted effortlessly from potions to personal memories. "I've always believed our differences fueled our best work," you observed. "Our constant challenges pushed us to innovate. Perhaps, in our attempts to best each other, we were actually encouraging growth—not just in our craft, but in ourselves."

Snape's eyes were reflective as he admitted, "I have spent so much of my life clinging to control, convinced that emotion was the enemy of precision. Yet, now I see that this control was never about perfection—it was about self-preservation." His admission resonated deeply, the vulnerability in his tone breaking through the hard exterior he'd so carefully maintained.

The dialogue between you was interspersed with long, reflective silences—a natural cadence of two souls beginning to understand each other beyond the veneer of rivalry. "There is strength in admitting our weaknesses," you said at length, "and courage in sharing the burdens we have carried alone for so long."

Snape's response was almost a whisper. "I have always feared that revealing my true self would leave me exposed, fragile... but maybe being fragile is not a weakness at all. Maybe it's the very thing that allows us to be truly alive." His admission, raw and unguarded, seemed to hang in the air like a benediction.

As the hours slipped by and the first hints of dawn began to illuminate the edges of the ancient stone walls, both of you felt transformed—not just by the potion's magic, but by the honesty that had finally emerged. The potion of your undoing had, in its own strange way, undone the carefully constructed barriers between you, leaving only the truth in its wake.

"No more hiding," you declared softly, your eyes filled with newfound resolve. "From this moment, I want us to confront whatever comes with open hearts. Let our undoing be the start of something real."

Snape's reply was firm and steady as he squeezed your hand gently. "No more pretense," he agreed. "I have spent too long in the shadows of fear. If our undoing is the price for a chance at genuine connection, then I am prepared to pay it."

In that single, breathless moment, as the pale light of dawn crept into the dungeon and illuminated the space between you, the truth became undeniable. The rivalry that had once defined your interactions was now revealed as nothing more than a mask—a mask that had concealed a deep and abiding affection. The experimental potion had not only exposed your hidden desires; it had given you both the courage to embrace them.

There, in the quiet aftermath of a night filled with confessions and revelations, you understood that the greatest magic was not found in rare ingredients or complex incantations, but in the willingness to be honest with one's own heart. The ancient walls of Hogwarts, witness to countless secrets over the centuries, now held another truth—a promise that even the most guarded souls could learn to love.

And so, as you and Severus stood together in the soft glow of morning, the potion's legacy lingered in every whispered word and every shared glance. You had risked everything on the chance to be truly seen, and in that risk lay the seed of something beautiful—a future where every emotion was embraced and every truth celebrated. The potion of your undoing had, paradoxically, become the catalyst for your true beginning.

In that moment, neither of you could say exactly what the future held. But as you turned away from the cauldron and towards the rising sun, you both knew one thing for certain: you would face whatever came next together, unafraid and unbound by the chains of pretense. The journey ahead promised challenges and triumphs alike, yet the courage to share your hearts had already begun to rewrite the story you had once believed was fixed in stone.

"No more masks, no more rivalry," you murmured, eyes locked on Snape's. "Just us—unafraid to be undone, unafraid to begin anew."

He nodded, his voice filled with a quiet strength that belied the tumult of his inner world. "Together, we will be brave enough to discover what lies beyond our undoing. Let this be the first step toward a future defined not by our past battles, but by the truth we now share."

In the soft silence that followed, the echoes of your confessions mingled with the gentle hum of the cooling potion, leaving an indelible mark on both your hearts. And as the new day broke over Hogwarts, it carried with it the promise of a love forged in honesty, daring to flourish in the very face of undoing.

Thus, in the cool light of dawn, with ancient stone and whispered secrets as your only witnesses, two souls—once bound by rivalry and fear—stepped forward into a future uncharted, guided by the transformative power of truth and the courageous embrace of love.

[andy-15-07]

Marcus Acacius x f!reader where he hurts her by mistake 🤧🤧🤧

The Weight of a Warrior's Heart

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 869 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The torches lining the dimly lit chamber flickered as Marcus Acacius stood at the far end, his shoulders tense, his breathing ragged. The weight of Rome, of duty, pressed heavily upon him, yet none of it compared to the weight of his own actions.

Y/N sat on the edge of the stone bench, clutching her arm where his grip had been too strong moments before. The sting of it was nothing compared to the sharp pain in her chest. She had seen Marcus angry before—seen him cut down enemies with a blade as swift as a viper's strike—but never had she thought she would be at the receiving end of that rage.

"Y/N," his voice was hoarse, almost hesitant as he took a step closer. She flinched, and that alone shattered something inside of him.

"Don't," she whispered, eyes glistening. "Just don't."

He ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly, as if trying to steady himself. "I didn't mean—"

"But you did," she cut in, her voice trembling. "You grabbed me, Marcus. You—" She shook her head, as if trying to rid herself of the memory. "You hurt me."

Regret clawed at him. He had been drowning in frustration, in things beyond his control, and she had only tried to soothe him. But instead of accepting the comfort she offered, he had lashed out—not with a weapon, but with his temper, with the force of a man who had forgotten how to be gentle.

"I wasn't thinking," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I—" He stepped forward again, but this time, slower, measured. "Please, let me see."

She hesitated before extending her arm slightly. His hands, calloused and familiar, traced over the faint bruise forming on her skin, and he exhaled sharply, as though the sight of it wounded him more than any blade ever could.

"I would never—"

"But you did," she repeated, her voice softer this time. "And you can't take it back."

A long silence stretched between them, heavy with unsaid words. Marcus clenched his jaw, feeling the unbearable weight of his failure—not as a general, not as a soldier, but as a man who had sworn, even if only to himself, to protect her.

She looked away, blinking rapidly, her walls rising once more. "Maybe I should go."

"No." The word left his lips too quickly, too desperate. He reached for her but stopped himself before making contact. "Don't leave like this."

Y/N finally met his gaze, and for the first time, she saw something beyond the steel and fire of a warrior—she saw the man beneath, broken, ashamed.

"If I stay, things have to change," she murmured. "You can't let this—whatever this is—consume you so completely that you forget the people who care for you."

His throat tightened, the battle inside of him raging. "You are not just someone who cares for me, Y/N."

"Then prove it."

Marcus Acacius was a man of war, of bloodshed and conquest, but in that moment, he knew this was the most important battle he had ever faced—one he could not afford to lose.

His hands, once so sure and steady on the battlefield, trembled slightly as he reached for her again, this time with nothing but reverence. "Tell me how," he said, voice raw. "Tell me how to fix this."

Y/N's lips parted, her breath uneven. "Start by never making me feel like this again."

His nod was immediate, but she could see the torment in his eyes. "I swear it," he whispered, voice carrying the weight of an oath. "On everything that I am."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The fire crackled, the distant sounds of the city beyond the palace walls a stark contrast to the stillness between them.

Then, cautiously, Y/N reached for his hand. He stilled at the touch, as if afraid she might pull away. But when she didn't, he exhaled a shuddering breath, pressing her fingers to his lips in silent repentance.

"Marcus," she said softly, and for the first time that night, she saw something shift in his gaze—hope, fragile yet unwavering.

Perhaps this battle was not lost after all.

He lowered their joined hands, reluctant to let go. "Stay," he whispered, not as a command but as a plea. "Let me prove to you that I can be the man you deserve."

Y/N studied him for a long moment, searching his face for any sign of deception. When she found none, she sighed and gave a small nod. "I'll stay," she said, her voice quiet. "But only if you promise me, Marcus."

His grip tightened, as if anchoring himself to her. "Anything."

"No more walls," she murmured. "No more shutting me out."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "No more shutting you out."

A faint smile ghosted her lips as she leaned into his touch, resting her forehead against his. "Then I'll stay."

Marcus closed his eyes, breathing her in, the warmth of her presence easing the storm within him. He had been a man who conquered lands, but tonight, he would fight the hardest battle of all—to keep her heart safe, and to never let his own hands be the reason it ached again.

[andy-15-07]

Heyyy pretty!! Could you write something about Javier x reader where Javier is a friend of readers dad

Sunset Confessions

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word Count: 1919 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

You never expected that one seemingly ordinary summer afternoon would change everything. The house was bathed in golden light, the hum of a lazy day filling every corner. Your dad had always been close with Javier Peña—a man with rugged charm, a past that whispered of danger and adventure, and eyes that seemed to hold countless stories. Today, however, Javier's visit promised something more than just casual conversation.

It all began when your dad mentioned that Javier would be stopping by to help fix a leak in the guest room. You were lounging in the kitchen, flipping through a magazine, when the doorbell rang.

"Hey, kiddo! How's it going?" Javier's voice was warm, immediately putting you at ease. He leaned against the doorframe, a playful smile tugging at his lips. There was a familiarity in his tone that suggested he'd always considered you more than just a friend of your dad's.

"Hi, Javier," you replied, setting your magazine aside. "Dad said you were coming to take a look at that leak?"

"Yeah, that old house always finds new ways to surprise us," he said, stepping inside and removing his jacket. "Mind if I join you in the kitchen for a quick coffee before we get to work?"

You nodded, feeling a flutter of excitement at the thought of spending a few extra minutes in his company. As the two of you settled at the table, the conversation flowed naturally.

"So," Javier began, pouring himself a cup of coffee, "how's everything going with school and work?"

You smiled. "Busy, as always. I guess I'm still trying to figure out what exactly I want to do with my life."

Javier's eyes softened. "I remember feeling like that once. It's okay to be uncertain—sometimes the best adventures start when you don't have everything figured out."

His words, sincere and comforting, sent a warm glow through you. You found yourself opening up more than you expected. "It's just... sometimes it feels like there's this world out there I'm too afraid to explore."

Javier leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "I know that fear. But sometimes, the best thing you can do is take a step forward, even if it scares you."

Before you could respond, your dad's voice called from upstairs, reminding you both that dinner was nearly ready. "You two keep it down up here!"

Javier chuckled. "Your dad always knows how to break the moment, doesn't he?"

You laughed along with him, appreciating the easy banter. The conversation shifted effortlessly from school woes to travel dreams, and as you talked, you noticed how Javier's eyes sparkled when he spoke about his past adventures. Every so often, he'd share a snippet of a story from his days on the job—a thrilling escape, a narrow miss, the rush of adrenaline that comes with risk. His voice was rich with memory, and even though you knew these were stories from a life far removed from your own, they held you captive.

After dinner, while your dad was busy in the living room catching up with an old friend, Javier invited you to join him in the study. "I could use some help figuring out these wiring problems in the guest room. Plus, I could use some company," he said with a teasing smile.

You followed him into the quiet space, the air cooler there as the evening set in. With a toolbox spread out on the desk, you both crouched near the window, trying to figure out the source of the leak. It was then that the conversation took a more personal turn.

"You know," Javier said, fiddling with a loose screw, "your dad and I go way back. I've seen him grow from a mischievous kid into the man he is now. And you... you remind me so much of him in your determination and heart."

You felt your cheeks warm at his compliment. "Thanks, Javier. I always thought of you as a bit of a legend. You're like the daring hero in all those stories my dad used to tell."

Javier grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Legends aren't born, kiddo—they're made by taking chances and sometimes, by breaking the rules."

The tension between you grew palpable as he spoke. The study, lined with memories of a life lived fully, became a safe haven for confessions. With every word, you sensed that beneath his rugged exterior, Javier held a longing for connection—a connection that seemed to spark in the quiet moments you shared.

"Have you ever regretted not taking a chance?" you asked softly, surprising even yourself with the directness of the question.

He paused, considering his answer carefully. "Every day," he admitted. "I regret not saying things when they mattered. I regret the chances I didn't take... and sometimes, I wonder about the things that could have been if I'd just been brave enough."

Your heart pounded at the vulnerability in his voice. "Maybe... maybe it's not too late to be brave."

Javier looked at you intently. "Maybe it isn't," he said, his tone earnest. "I've always believed that life's too short to let fear hold you back. You deserve every chance to be happy, to follow your heart."

There was a long pause, filled only by the soft hum of the old house and the distant sound of traffic outside. The conversation had shifted from casual banter to a quiet, intimate exchange of hopes and regrets.

Breaking the silence, you asked, "Do you ever feel... like, when you look back at your life, there are moments that stand out? Moments that changed everything?"

He smiled sadly. "Oh, there are plenty. But some of the best moments are the ones you almost missed because you were too scared to look."

Before you knew it, the study had grown dark, the only light coming from a small lamp on the desk. Javier's hand brushed against yours as he reached for a tool, and the contact sent a shiver down your spine.

"Javier," you whispered, the sound of his name laced with unspoken longing.

He paused, his eyes searching yours in the dim light. "What is it?" he asked, his voice soft, as if afraid that speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "I think... I think I'm tired of always being on the outside looking in. I want to experience life—the good and the bad. And sometimes, that means taking a risk. With you, maybe."

Javier's expression changed in an instant—an array of emotions flickered across his face: surprise, tenderness, and a hint of something deeper. "You're saying you trust me with your heart?" he asked, a trace of disbelief mingling with hope.

"Maybe," you replied, your voice trembling. "I trust you, Javier. And I've trusted my dad's judgment about you for so long. I just... I need to know if I can feel something real. Something that matters."

The words hung in the air, heavy with promise and possibility. Javier set down the tool he had been holding and moved closer. "You're incredibly brave," he said quietly. "It takes a lot to bare your soul like that."

There was a pause, during which the weight of your words settled between you. Finally, Javier reached out and gently cradled your hand. "Let's not rush anything," he said. "But I want you to know that I'm here—for you, for as long as you need me."

You nodded, feeling tears prick at the edges of your eyes. "Thank you," you whispered. "I... I'm scared, but also excited."

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and comforting. "That's the beauty of life, isn't it? The thrill of the unknown. Just remember, you're not alone in this journey."

Later that night, as you lay awake in your room replaying every word of the day, you couldn't help but smile at the memory of Javier's steady, reassuring gaze. You thought about the moments of laughter and shared secrets, the way he had made you feel seen and understood. It was as if, in that quiet study, you had discovered a part of yourself that had been hidden away, waiting for someone to acknowledge it.

The next morning, you found yourself eagerly anticipating Javier's next visit. That day, while your dad was away on a business trip, Javier and you spent hours talking—about dreams, regrets, and the beauty of taking chances. Over cups of coffee and quiet walks in the garden, the dialogue between you deepened. Every laugh, every shared glance, every gentle tease only served to knit your hearts closer together.

"Do you remember the first time I told your dad about you?" Javier asked one afternoon as you both sat on the porch, watching the sunset.

You shook your head, intrigued. "No, what happened?"

He smiled, his eyes softening with nostalgia. "He was so proud, but a little worried too. I told him that one day, you'd find someone who would understand you better than anyone else could. And I hoped, in a way, that I'd be that person. Not as a replacement, but as someone who could share in your journey."

You turned to him, feeling the truth of his words resonate. "I'm glad you did," you said. "I've always felt like there was more to life than just following a set path. You make me believe in taking chances."

Javier's gaze held yours firmly. "And you make me believe that it's never too late to change the course of our lives." He paused, then added with a playful lilt, "So, what do you say? Should we take a chance together?"

The question, so simple yet profound, made your heart leap. "Yes," you replied without hesitation, the word feeling like a promise. "Yes, let's take that chance."

In the days that followed, the bond between you grew stronger—built on mutual respect, shared laughter, and the courage to embrace vulnerability. Every conversation, every touch, every smile was a reminder that sometimes the most unexpected meetings could lead to the most transformative experiences.

One evening, as the sky turned a deep shade of indigo and the first stars began to twinkle, you found yourself alone with Javier in the quiet of the guest room, now fully repaired. The silence was comfortable, filled with the unsaid words that both of you had been holding back.

"I'm really glad we did this," Javier said softly, breaking the silence. "I'm glad you took a chance."

So were you. "Me too," you replied, reaching out to brush a stray hair from his face. "I never thought I'd find someone who sees the world the way I do. Thank you for showing me that it's okay to take risks."

He smiled, his hand resting gently on yours. "We all have to find our own way, even if it means stepping off the beaten path. I'm honored to walk this path with you."

And as you sat there, the world outside fading away into darkness, you realized that this summer was not just a season of repair and maintenance around the house—it was a season of healing, of newfound love, and of learning that sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is to open your heart and let someone in.

In that moment, with the soft murmur of the night and the comfort of Javier's presence beside you, you knew that this was only the beginning of a beautiful story—a story where every word, every laugh, and every silence held the promise of something extraordinary.

[andy-15-07]

I absolutely, totally love your blog ❣️ makes my day everytime you answer an ask

Could you write sth about reader having real bad insomnia and Joel taking care of her ? In Jackson (everything is fine and everybody is well, but the past shows up in her dreams and makes her give up on sleeping...)

When the Night Whispers

PAIRING: Joel Miller x reader

WORD COUNT: 1862 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Jackson's evenings were meant to be peaceful—a haven of community, warmth, and the simple rhythms of a small town. But for y/n, the nights were anything but restful. Despite the life they'd built together in Jackson, the past had a way of creeping into her dreams, turning each attempt at sleep into a battleground of memories and fears.

It was well past midnight when y/n awoke again, her eyes snapping open to the dim glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains. Every time she closed her eyes, fragments of painful memories returned: voices, faces, long-forgotten moments that now held her captive. Tonight was no different, and the familiar dread of another sleepless night settled over her like a heavy shroud.

Before she could pull the covers up to hide from the dark, Joel was already at her side. His soft footsteps and the quiet concern in his eyes were a comforting contrast to the chaos in her mind. "Hey," he said in a gentle murmur, settling on the edge of the bed beside her. "I'm here."

y/n's voice trembled as she responded, "Joel, I can't stop thinking... I'm so tired, but I'm caught in these memories every time I try to sleep." Her eyes were full of a weariness that went far beyond the lack of rest.

Joel reached out, carefully brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "I know, sweetheart. I see how much it hurts you. What's on your mind tonight?" His tone was soft, inviting her to share the heavy load of her thoughts.

"It's everything—my past, the things I can't forget," y/n confessed, her voice breaking. "Even here in Jackson, where everyone seems happy, I'm haunted by dreams of what I'd rather leave behind. It feels like the past is always there, whispering to me, even when I'm trying to forget."

Joel's gaze grew serious as he listened. "I'm sorry you're going through this," he said firmly. "But you're not alone, y/n. I'm here to help you face those ghosts. We'll take it one night at a time."

After a long, thoughtful pause, she asked quietly, "How did you cope with your own past, Joel? How did you keep going when the memories wouldn't let you be?"

Joel's eyes darkened with memories of his own struggles. "I've had nights where I thought I wouldn't see another sunrise. There were moments when every memory felt like a weight too heavy to bear. But I learned something important along the way: running from the past only gives it more power over you. I started focusing on the present, on building a life here—even if every night felt like a battle. And when the nightmares came, I'd remind myself that I was still here, still fighting, still capable of finding something good in the darkness."

y/n managed a small, hopeful smile. "It sounds like you're saying that even if the nightmares are real, I don't have to let them define me."

"Exactly," Joel replied, his voice both tender and determined. "You are more than your memories. I know it's hard to believe when the past is so vivid, but every new day gives you a chance to create happier memories. And when those nightmares come, I'll be here to help you through them."

For a long while, they sat in silence, the quiet of the night punctuated only by their soft breathing. Finally, y/n spoke again. "Joel, what if I wake up feeling completely lost? What if the past overwhelms me so much that I'm not sure I can handle it?"

He squeezed her hand, his grip reassuring. "Then I'll be here, holding you until you find your footing again. If you ever feel like you're drowning in your memories, lean on me. We'll talk through it—whatever you need. You deserve every bit of care and every chance to find peace."

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "I'm scared, Joel. Scared that one day I might not wake up because these nightmares become too powerful. I don't want to lose myself in them."

Joel's gaze was soft, his voice a warm promise in the darkness. "I promise you, y/n, we'll face every night together. We can try little things—maybe a routine before bed, a walk outside under the stars, or even just talking until the fear subsides. Whatever it takes, we'll find a way to bring some calm back into your nights."

A tentative smile began to form on her lips as she considered his words. "A walk under the stars... I'd like that. It might be just what I need to remind me that there's still beauty in the night."

Later that evening, as dusk turned to twilight, Joel and y/n stepped out into the cool night air. The streets of Jackson were quiet, lit by the gentle glow of lanterns and the soft shimmer of stars overhead. They strolled slowly, their hands intertwined. "Tell me about one of your happiest memories here," Joel said, his tone light yet sincere. "Something that makes you smile, even for a moment."

y/n paused, looking up at the vast, starlit sky. "I remember the festival last fall," she said softly. "Everyone was laughing, dancing... and for a while, I felt like I belonged. I saw you laughing with our neighbors, and it made me feel safe. It was a time when I almost forgot how heavy my past could be."

Joel chuckled, a warm sound that blended with the night. "That was a good day. I remember seeing you light up with joy—like nothing in the world could touch you. I hope you know that even when you feel overwhelmed by your memories, that light is still inside you."

They continued their walk in a comfortable silence, punctuated by moments of soft conversation. "Sometimes," y/n admitted, "I wish I could just forget everything bad and start over. I feel like those nightmares are a part of me that I can't escape."

Joel stopped walking and looked at her earnestly. "We all have parts of our past that we'd rather forget," he said. "But those memories, as painful as they are, also mean that you survived them. They're proof of your strength. And every day, you're building something new here in Jackson—a life filled with hope and love."

A thoughtful silence followed, filled with the distant sounds of nocturnal life. Then, with a hint of determination, y/n added, "Maybe we can try to create a little ritual. Something that helps remind me that I'm safe here, that I'm not defined by those nightmares."

Joel's eyes lit up with a gentle smile. "I'd like that. Let's make a habit of taking these walks, of talking about the good things—no matter how small. And if ever the nightmares come back, we'll sit together until they pass. I'll be your constant, your reminder that you're never alone."

They reached a small clearing where an ancient oak tree stretched its limbs toward the sky, a natural shelter beneath which they could rest. Joel guided y/n to a weathered wooden bench beneath the tree. "Sit with me for a while," he said. "I want to hear more about what you're feeling. There's no judgment here—only understanding."

As they sat together, y/n's voice dropped to a near whisper. "Sometimes I wake up, and for a moment, I'm sure I've stepped back into that nightmare. The past is so vivid that I can't tell if I'm dreaming or awake. It terrifies me."

Joel's hand rested on hers, steady and sure. "I know it's terrifying, love. But remember, those memories do not have the power to hurt you now. They're a part of your history, yes, but they don't control who you are. You are here, in this moment, with me. And together, we can make new memories—ones that are filled with hope, not fear."

y/n leaned her head on Joel's shoulder, letting his warmth seep into the parts of her that were still raw from the night's struggles. "I want to believe that," she whispered. "I really do. I'm just afraid that the darkness will always find a way in."

Joel lifted her chin gently, meeting her eyes. "Look at me, y/n. Every scar, every painful memory, they're all a part of you—and they make you the incredible person you are today. I've seen you face your demons with more courage than you know. And I promise, as long as I'm here, you'll never have to face them alone."

Their conversation wove through the hours of the night as they discussed fears, dreams, and the quiet moments that made Jackson a home. Joel shared stories of his own struggles, of nights spent wrestling with memories and finding solace in the promise of a new day. y/n listened, her voice interjecting with questions and confessions, each word a step toward healing.

"Do you think these nightmares will ever truly end?" y/n asked at one point, her eyes searching the dark as if the answers were hidden in its folds.

Joel's reply was steady and reassuring. "Maybe not completely, but they can become less powerful. With time, as you create more light in your life, those dark moments will fade into the background. And on the nights when they're still there, I'll be right beside you, reminding you of all the good we have."

As the early hints of dawn began to paint the sky with soft pastels, they slowly made their way back to their home. Joel brewed a pot of chamomile tea—its gentle aroma a small promise of calm—and together they sat on the porch as the new day crept in.

"Drink this," Joel said as he handed her a warm cup. "It might help ease the tension tonight. And remember, if you wake up and feel lost again, I'm right here. We'll talk, or we can just hold each other until you find that peace again."

y/n cradled the cup in her hands, a smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you, Joel. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "You won't have to find out, y/n. I'm here—and I'm not going anywhere."

In that quiet, fragile moment on the porch, as the world slowly stirred awake in Jackson, y/n felt a spark of hope ignite within her. The memories of her past might still whisper in the dark, but with Joel's unwavering presence, each night became a little less daunting, each step toward healing a little more certain.

Together, they faced the promise of a new day—a day where even if the night whispered of old pain, their shared love and strength could quiet even the loudest echoes of the past. And in the soft light of morning, as the horrors of the night receded into distant memories, they knew that no matter what darkness lay ahead, they would always have each other to guide them back into the light.

[andy-15-07]

Hiii , for a few days I've been thinking about the Harry Potter series and I can say that I've started watching the movies and reading the books again and I thought about adding the characters and actors, even the fancast characters to my masterlist. So whoever wants to send me requests, please send them to me and I'll write them with the greatest pleasure. I'll leave the list of characters I write for. Harry James Potter Draco Malfoy The Weasleys Severus Snape Fancast James Potter (Aaron Taylor Johnson) Sirius Black ( Ben Barnes) Remus Lupin (Andrew Garfield) Let me clarify again, I also write for the actors, as I wrote for the fancast

Harry Potter Masterlist

[andy-15-07]

Harry Potter Masterlist

request

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Harry James Potter

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Fred and George Weasley

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Draco Malfoy

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Severus Snape

Dancing in the Dark

The Potion of Our Undoing

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James Potter

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Remus Lupin

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Sirius Black

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[andy-15-07]

Dancing in the Dark

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader Word Count: 2151 Harry Potter Masterlist | request

The Yule Ball was in full swing at Hogwarts, the enchanted Great Hall transformed into a winter wonderland of twinkling lights and shimmering icicles. Guests, both students and staff, mingled beneath soaring enchanted ceilings that mimicked the starry night sky. Among the dancers and laughter, two figures moved almost as shadows—one in a midnight-black cloak, his expression as guarded as ever, and the other, vibrant and warm with her deep brown hair and matching eyes that shone with a secret mirth.

Severus Snape stood near the periphery of the dance floor, his dark eyes fixed on the swirling couples. Ever the reluctant participant in frivolities, he had vowed to avoid such distractions tonight. Yet the magic of the evening, combined with the warmth that had settled between him and Y/N over the years, made resisting difficult. Their secret union—known only to the two of them—had transformed what would have been mere cohabitation into a partnership that whispered of forbidden tenderness and subtle defiance.

Y/N, elegant in a dress of deep forest green that echoed the quiet confidence in her eyes, spotted him. With a determined glint in her gaze, she moved through the crowd. “Severus,” she called softly, her voice carrying just enough to catch him off guard.

Snape’s features tensed at the sound, and he turned to see her approaching. For a moment, he appeared as if he might retreat into the shadows entirely, but then she smiled—a secret smile that seemed to illuminate the dim hall. “Must you always seek to disrupt my solitude?” he murmured, though his tone lacked its usual iciness.

“Disrupt?” she teased as she reached him, lightly tugging his hand. “Or perhaps liberate it?” Her playful remark was laced with both affection and a challenge. “Tonight is too special to waste watching others dance.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering around the room as though calculating every potential risk. The Yule Ball was not just a celebration; it was an event where every glance and whispered conversation could unravel the delicate tapestry of secrets they had so carefully woven. Yet, as her hand tightened on his, he felt the old defiance stir—a readiness to break away from protocol, even if just for a few stolen minutes.

“Very well,” Snape conceded in a low voice, the single word charged with more meaning than any declaration could ever convey.

They slipped away from the main crowd, finding refuge in a quieter alcove where the strains of a slow, melodic tune drifted softly. The space was nearly deserted, lit only by flickering candles that cast gentle, dancing shadows on the walls. It was here that Y/N’s eyes, warm and earnest, met his. “I’ve missed this—us,” she said softly.

He arched an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “Missed what exactly?” he replied, though his tone betrayed a hint of vulnerability.

“This,” she said, stepping closer until there was barely a whisper of space between them. “The closeness, the quiet understanding. The moments when it’s just you and me, away from everything else.”

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just the two of them. Snape’s heart, usually so guarded behind layers of duty and bitterness, softened imperceptibly. “It is dangerous, you know,” he warned gently. “Our lives… they demand discretion.”

Y/N laughed quietly, a sound that reminded him of distant, happier times. “Dangerous, perhaps, but worth every risk,” she countered, her tone resolute. “Every day with you, even in the shadows, makes it worth it.”

Their conversation paused as the soft strains of the music shifted into a slow waltz. The notes seemed to invite them to the dance floor once more. Without another word, Y/N extended her hand, an unspoken invitation. Snape’s eyes, dark and brooding, softened as he took it. “Let’s not allow others to see what we share,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

Hand in hand, they stepped onto the dance floor. The swirling figures around them blurred into insignificance as the couple found solace in each other’s presence. The waltz carried them effortlessly, their movements synchronized in a way that defied the rigid formalities of the outside world. With every turn, every gentle step, they carved out a small haven amid the revelry—a secret dance known only to them.

“Tell me, Severus,” Y/N said between the soft hum of the music, “do you ever wonder what our lives would be like if we weren’t bound by these restrictions? If we didn’t have to hide?”

His gaze remained fixed on the space ahead, as if he were peering into an impossible future. “Every day,” he admitted. “But fantasy is a luxury I rarely afford. Our world… it is not kind to those who dare to dream too openly.”

She squeezed his hand lightly. “Then let’s dream in the dark,” she whispered. “Let this night be ours, free from the expectations of the world.”

As the dance continued, their dialogue deepened. They spoke in half-whispers, the language of shared secrets and mutual understanding. Y/N recalled childhood memories of enchanted winter nights, while Snape spoke of battles fought in silence and the quiet victories that defined his days. Each word, each sentence, built a tapestry of memories and hopes—threads that only they could see.

“I remember when you first challenged me,” Snape said softly, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I believed it was a foolish endeavor. Yet here we are.”

“You were always reluctant to see beyond the surface,” Y/N replied, her tone both teasing and sincere. “But I saw you—a man of depth, of passion, of hidden tenderness. And I had to know if the rumors were true.”

Snape’s eyes flickered with amusement. “Rumors, indeed. Who would have thought that beneath this mask of stern duty, there lies a heart capable of defiance? A heart that beats in time with yours?”

The music shifted once more, slower now, and the soft murmur of the distant crowd seemed to recede further. In that moment, they were alone in their shared world—a world where words were more than mere sound, where every syllable carried the weight of their clandestine bond.

“You know, Severus,” Y/N began, her voice tender, “there’s something I’ve always admired about you. Even when the world seemed so cold, you never lost your sense of loyalty—to your principles, to the few who truly mattered.”

He regarded her for a long moment, the stern lines of his face softening as he looked into her eyes. “I have learned that loyalty, when true, transcends even the most oppressive circumstances. And you… you have taught me that love can exist even in the darkest of times.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a soft laugh from a nearby group, but they remained undisturbed in their private reverie. The gentle cadence of the dance was a reminder of what they shared—a secret union, a bond that defied the judgments of the world outside these enchanted walls.

“Do you ever regret it?” Y/N asked suddenly, her voice barely audible over the music. “Choosing this life of secrecy, this path of constant caution?”

Snape paused, his eyes distant for a moment. “Regret?” he echoed slowly. “There are moments when the weight of our secret feels unbearable. Yet every time I see you, every time I feel the warmth of your hand in mine, I know there is nothing I would change.”

She smiled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears that spoke of both joy and sorrow. “Then let us not waste another moment hiding in the shadows. Tonight, we belong solely to each other.”

“Tonight, we are free,” he agreed, his voice firm yet gentle.

As the dance drew to a close, they lingered in the embrace of their shared moment. In the midst of the festivities, their whispered declarations and secret smiles wove a story of rebellion and devotion. The Great Hall, with its brilliance and splendor, was but a backdrop to a more intimate narrative—a tale of two souls bound together in silence and defiance.

Later that evening, as the crowd thinned and the echoes of laughter subsided, Y/N and Snape found themselves alone in a quiet corridor away from prying eyes. The corridor, lined with ancient stone and flickering torches, held an almost palpable sense of history—a history in which they had carved out their own hidden chapter.

“Do you think anyone will ever know?” Y/N asked softly as they walked side by side, the soft rustle of their footsteps the only sound.

Snape’s reply was measured, thoughtful. “Some truths are meant to be whispered, not shouted. Our bond is our own, and if the world cannot see it, then it is ours alone to cherish.”

Y/N’s hand found his once more, a silent promise passed between them. “I believe that someday, the truth will shine through. Until then, we have these moments, these dances in the dark.”

He gave her a look that mingled both admiration and protectiveness. “And in these moments, we will be whole.”

Their conversation continued as they strolled through the quiet corridors, reminiscing about past Yule Balls and sharing hopes for a future where their love need not be concealed. Each exchanged word reinforced the unspoken promise that bound them—loyalty, love, and the fierce determination to carve out a life that defied the constraints of the world around them.

In a secluded corner of the castle, they paused before a portrait of a long-departed witch, its eyes twinkling knowingly. “It seems even the portraits agree,” Y/N said with a light laugh. “They know that some love stories are too powerful to be confined by convention.”

Snape’s normally reserved expression softened. “Perhaps one day, when the time is right, we can share our truth with those who matter. But for now, let our secret be our sanctuary.”

The portrait’s painted eyes appeared to wink as if in silent approval. In that moment, surrounded by centuries of magic and mystery, Y/N and Snape felt an almost tangible sense of unity—a merging of souls that transcended the limitations imposed upon them.

Their night was far from over. Later, while the festivities continued in distant halls, they retreated to a quiet classroom converted for the evening into a private lounge. There, beneath a tapestry depicting the founders of Hogwarts, they allowed themselves to be vulnerable once more. Over steaming cups of spiced tea and the soft glow of enchanted candles, their conversation delved into the complexities of their past and the fragile hope for their future.

“Do you ever think about what might have been if we weren’t burdened by duty?” Y/N asked, her gaze fixed on the dancing flames.

Snape’s voice was a quiet rumble. “Every day. But duty and sacrifice have been my constant companions for as long as I can remember. You, however, have shown me that there is beauty even in the fleeting moments of freedom.”

She reached across the table, her hand brushing his. “Then promise me something,” she said, her tone earnest. “Promise that no matter how dark the night, we will always find our way back to this light—our light.”

He looked into her eyes, the vulnerability there a rarity. “I promise,” he said firmly. “Even if the world tries to tear us apart, even if secrets continue to shadow our every step, I will always find you.”

Their words, simple yet profound, echoed in the silent room. The tapestry above, a silent witness to their pledge, seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly glow. For in that moment, beyond the constraints of Hogwarts’ ancient stone and the expectations of society, they existed solely as two hearts in perfect synchrony.

The hours slipped by, each minute filled with whispered confidences and the soft music of their shared laughter. As the first hints of dawn crept into the horizon, they reluctantly parted, each returning to their own responsibilities while carrying the warmth of their secret night like a cherished talisman.

Before parting at the castle’s threshold, Y/N leaned close and whispered, “Tonight was ours, Severus. And no one can ever take that away.”

He pressed his lips briefly against her forehead, a silent vow etched in the gesture. “Never,” he replied, his voice low and resolute.

And so, in the quiet aftermath of the Yule Ball, with memories of an enchanted dance lingering in the corridors of Hogwarts, Y/N and Snape carried on with their lives—a secret romance hidden in plain sight, a tender rebellion against the constraints of a world that could never understand the beauty of their union.

Their clandestine meetings, filled with dialogue that spoke of shared dreams and quiet courage, would continue to be the heart of their existence. In every stolen moment, in every whispered promise, they nurtured a love that was both fragile and indomitable—a love that, even in the darkest of times, danced defiantly in the shadows, waiting for the light of a future where truth might finally set it free.

[andy-15-07]

Hi could i request a fic with Javier Pena where she fakes an O and Javier notices it and then they have a talk. (Looove your fics btw 💕)

Beneath the Surface

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word Count: 1126 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The night had been full of whispered secrets and shared glances—a perfect storm of tension and tenderness. In the soft haze of early morning, after their passionate rendezvous, y/n lay beside Javier, her heart still racing. The intimacy of the moment felt bittersweet; an internal truth she'd hidden away resurfaced with an uninvited force. She had faked her pleasure, a reflex born from years of self-doubt and the constant pressure to perform. Yet Javier, ever perceptive, had noticed.

Javier shifted slightly, his eyes catching hers in the dim light. "You were a bit... off tonight," he said quietly, his tone gentle but laced with concern.

Her pulse quickened. "Off? What do you mean?" she replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she turned to face him.

He sighed, choosing his words with care. "I mean, I noticed that moment when it wasn't real. When you faked... your pleasure." His eyes searched hers, not with anger, but with genuine curiosity and care.

A blush spread across her cheeks, and she hesitated before answering. "I—I didn't want to hurt you. I thought if I pretended... maybe it would be enough."

Javier sat up, his gaze softening further as he reached out to gently touch her hand. "Hurt me? y/n, listen. I care more about your truth than any moment of performance. I want you to feel what's real, not just what you think I expect."

Her eyes shimmered with a mix of shame and relief. "But I was scared, Javier. Scared that if I admitted I wasn't feeling everything perfectly, you'd think I wasn't passionate or... enough."

He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Passion isn't measured by a perfect performance. It's about connection—about trusting one another enough to be vulnerable. I know sometimes it's hard to let go of that pressure."

She took a shaky breath. "I've always admired how genuine you are. You see beyond the surface. But sometimes, I feel like I'm trapped in a role I can't live up to."

Javier's gaze was steady, and his voice grew even softer. "You don't have to be anyone but yourself. I noticed tonight, not to judge you, but because I care. I'd rather know the real you—even if that means moments of uncertainty—than a mask of perfection."

A silence fell over them, filled only by the quiet hum of the early morning. Finally, y/n spoke again, her tone tentative. "I guess I was trying to protect your feelings. I thought, if I faked it, maybe it wouldn't be so painful if I didn't feel the same intensity as you."

Javier shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "There's no need to protect me from your truth. In fact, I'd like to know what you really feel. What turns you on, what makes you happy, what makes you, you. We don't have to force any moments."

Her eyes widened slightly, hope flickering in their depths. "You really mean that? You're not disappointed?"

"Not at all," he assured her. "What matters is that we're honest with each other. I want you to feel safe enough to explore everything, even if it takes time to understand your own desires. This isn't a performance; it's us, growing together."

She let out a small laugh, the tension easing. "I've always felt like I was supposed to be this... flawless partner. But I guess that's not who I am, right?"

"Absolutely not," Javier replied firmly. "Perfection isn't the goal here. Authenticity is. If sometimes you're unsure or hesitant, that's okay. We'll figure it out together. Tell me—what do you enjoy? What makes you feel truly alive?"

Y/n's expression softened as she considered his question. "I love when you look at me like you're seeing something extraordinary, even in the simplest moments. And I love our talks—when we can just be honest with each other without any pretense."

Javier's smile grew, a mix of amusement and tenderness in his eyes. "I love that too. For me, it's the quiet after the storm, where we share our thoughts and dreams. That's what really matters—not the fleeting rush of a perfect moment."

They fell into a deeper conversation then, the kind that unraveled layers of insecurities and hopes. Javier asked, "Do you ever feel like you're holding back, not just physically, but emotionally?"

Her voice wavered as she admitted, "Yes, sometimes I'm afraid to let go completely. I fear that if I reveal every part of me, I might lose control, or worse, be hurt."

He listened intently before replying, "I understand that fear. But every time we hold back, we miss a chance to truly connect. I promise, I'll always be here to support you, even when things feel uncertain. Trust isn't built on perfection—it's built on honesty, even when it's messy."

Their dialogue continued late into the night, a steady stream of confessions, questions, and reassurances. Javier's voice was a constant beacon, guiding her through the storm of her own doubts. "You know," he said at one point, "I noticed you faked it tonight because I care. I care about you enough to want the real truth, not just the show. And I'm glad you're willing to share it with me now."

Y/n smiled, the vulnerability giving way to gratitude. "Thank you, Javier. I never imagined someone could be so understanding, that you wouldn't be disappointed by my imperfections."

He replied, "Your imperfections are what make you beautiful. They tell me you're real, that you're human. And that's far more valuable than any moment of false perfection."

The conversation meandered through shared memories and future hopes. They talked about fears of intimacy, the pressure to always perform, and the comfort found in being truly seen by another. Each sentence, each pause, was a step toward dismantling the facade and building a bond based on sincerity.

Finally, as the first rays of dawn crept through the curtains, Javier said, "Promise me something, y/n. Promise that from now on, you won't feel pressured to fake anything with me. I want us to explore every aspect of our connection—the exciting, the awkward, and the real."

With a small nod and a soft smile, she replied, "I promise. I want us to be real, even if it means facing our uncertainties head-on."

In that quiet moment, wrapped in the tender embrace of truth, they both realized that their journey wasn't about flawless moments or forced performances. It was about growing together, one honest conversation at a time. And as the morning light grew stronger, it illuminated not just the room, but a new beginning—a space where vulnerability was not a weakness, but the very essence of true passion.

[andy-15-07]

Hi can u do where pedro and reader were in a many year relationship but they broke up because of a fight and they reunite again

What We Lost, What We Found

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT:2489| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

It had been years since you and Pedro had last spoken—years since the painful night when harsh words and a violent argument shattered the bond you once shared. Now, the autumn chill had returned, its crisp air carrying memories of times that both warmed and wounded you. As you walked down the familiar street toward the old café, your heart pounded with equal parts hope and anxiety. Every step was accompanied by the echoes of a past too heavy to forget, yet too precious to discard.

You pushed open the glass door of the café, its bell chiming softly as you entered. The familiar aroma of freshly ground coffee beans mixed with a hint of cinnamon and vanilla instantly transported you back to simpler days. There, sitting at a corner table by the window, was Pedro. He looked older now, with the lines of time etched on his face, but his eyes—those familiar deep, expressive eyes—sparked with the same intensity you remembered.

Pedro’s gaze lifted as you approached, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. The clatter of cups and quiet murmur of conversations fell away until only the sound of your racing heart remained.

"Hey," Pedro said softly, his voice carrying both the weight of regret and the warmth of welcome. "I wasn’t sure you’d come."

You paused just a few feet from the table, your eyes searching his for a trace of the man you once loved. "I—I needed to see you," you replied, your voice trembling slightly with unresolved emotion. "There are things we left unsaid, Pedro."

He gestured for you to sit, and as you slid into the chair opposite him, memories of laughter, shared secrets, and heated arguments played out in your mind. Pedro leaned forward, his hands clasped together on the table as if bracing himself against the surge of old emotions.

"I know," he murmured, his eyes sincere. "Every day, I think about that night—the fight, everything I said. I’ve carried it with me, and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you like that."

A lump formed in your throat, and you swallowed hard before responding. "It wasn’t just that one night, Pedro. It was all the moments leading up to it—the silence after the storm, the distance that grew between us. We both made mistakes, and somewhere along the line, we lost our way."

He nodded slowly, the remorse evident in every line of his face. "I was stubborn, and I let my pride get in the way of what we had. I was so sure I was right, even when I was wrong. I’ve missed you, more than I can put into words."

The vulnerability in his confession softened the anger that had long simmered in your chest. "I’ve missed you too," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I kept thinking about what could have been if we’d fought harder for us, instead of fighting each other."

Pedro’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as he reached out, his hand hovering above yours. "Do you remember that day we spent by the river, just talking about everything? You laughed so hard that day, and I felt like the world was right, even if just for a moment."

A bittersweet smile tugged at your lips as you recalled that day—the carefree moments, the way he had looked at you like you were the only person in the universe. "I do," you said softly. "It felt like we could fix anything, as long as we were together. I thought love was enough."

"And maybe it is," Pedro said earnestly. "But love also needs trust, communication… the willingness to forgive. I let my pride block me from hearing your pain, and I’m so sorry for that."

The conversation paused as the distant sound of rain tapping against the window filled the silence between you. You could feel the tension slowly begin to ebb, replaced by the tentative hope that maybe, just maybe, the wounds of the past could be healed.

After a long moment, Pedro spoke again, his tone gentler this time. "I’ve spent these years trying to find a way back to us, to understand where we went wrong. I’ve talked to friends, read a lot of books… even seen a therapist. I needed to learn how to listen, to really hear you, even when I didn’t agree. I needed to learn to be better."

Your eyes searched his face, seeing the earnestness and effort in every line. "And have you found what you were looking for?" you asked, a mix of hope and skepticism in your tone.

Pedro smiled, a small, tentative curve of his lips that held both joy and sorrow. "I think I have. I realized that while I can’t change the past, I can work on building a better future. I want to try again, if you’re willing. I know I hurt you, and I know we both have scars now, but maybe we can learn to move forward, together."

Your heart fluttered, the weight of years of regret mingling with the possibility of redemption. "I want to believe that," you said, your voice trembling with cautious optimism. "I’ve thought about this so many times—the good times, the bad times. It wasn’t just you who lost your way. I made my share of mistakes too. I was stubborn, too, and I let my pride keep me from reaching out when I should have."

Pedro reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "Maybe we both needed this time apart to grow, to understand ourselves better. And maybe now, we can start over—not as the people we once were, but as two people who have learned from their past."

A tear slid down your cheek as you squeezed his hand gently. "It won’t be easy, Pedro. There are wounds that might never fully heal. But I believe that if we’re honest with each other, we can find a way."

He nodded, his eyes filled with determination and regret. "I promise, no matter how hard it gets, I’ll always be honest with you. I won’t let pride or fear come between us again."

The conversation continued for hours, shifting from recollections of shared memories to discussions about dreams and plans for the future. The rain outside turned into a steady downpour, mirroring the intensity of the emotions exchanged between you. Each dialogue piece felt like a brick laid down carefully, rebuilding a bridge that had once collapsed under the weight of anger and misunderstanding.

As the café began to empty and the night settled in, Pedro suggested taking a walk. "Let’s take a stroll by the river," he said softly. "I want to show you something."

Intrigued and hopeful, you agreed, and together you stepped out into the cool night. The city lights reflected off the wet pavement, creating a shimmering mosaic that seemed to echo the fractured beauty of your shared past.

Walking side by side in comfortable silence, you eventually reached the river. The water flowed steadily, a reminder that life continued its course regardless of the storms it encountered. Pedro stopped at a familiar spot—a bench that had seen many of your conversations, both lighthearted and intense.

Sitting down, Pedro turned to you, his gaze fixed on the rippling water. "Do you remember the promises we made here?" he asked, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "We said we’d never let the world break us. We promised that even if everything fell apart, we’d find a way to hold on to each other."

You nodded, the memories flooding back. "I remember. I remember feeling invincible when we were together, like nothing could harm us. But then reality hit, and we realized that love isn’t always enough to keep the darkness at bay."

Pedro’s expression softened, and he reached out to brush a stray tear from your cheek. "Maybe we were naive," he whispered. "But I still believe in the promises we made, and I believe in us. I want to try—really try—to rebuild what we lost. I want us to be stronger, to communicate better, and to forgive the mistakes of the past."

You looked at him, torn between the fear of being hurt again and the longing for what once was. "I want that too, Pedro," you admitted. "I want to believe that we can start anew, but I’m scared. Scared that we’ll fall back into the same patterns, that the hurt will return."

Pedro took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "I’m scared too," he confessed. "But I promise you, I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I’m willing to work on my shortcomings, to listen more, and to ensure that we both feel heard and loved. I don’t want to lose you again."

The vulnerability in his words resonated deeply within you. "I know we can’t undo the past," you said softly, "but maybe we can create a future where we learn from it. I’m willing to take that chance if you are."

A long silence followed, filled only by the sound of the river and the quiet beating of your hearts. Finally, Pedro spoke again, his voice steady. "Then let’s take it one day at a time. Let’s rebuild our trust, step by step, until we find ourselves in a place where the pain no longer defines us. I want to be your safe haven, your partner in this journey of healing."

You nodded, a small smile breaking through the lingering sadness. "I’d like that. I want us to find our way back to each other, even if it means starting over from scratch. I want to trust again, to believe that love can conquer our fears."

Pedro stood up, gently pulling you to your feet. "Then let’s start now," he said. "Let’s make a promise to each other—to communicate, to listen, and to never let pride come between us again. We owe it to ourselves and to the love we once shared."

As you both embraced under the soft glow of the streetlights, the past, with all its scars and regrets, began to fade into the background. The future lay uncertain, but in that moment, you and Pedro chose hope over despair. The journey ahead would be filled with challenges, but with every honest word, every tear shed in understanding, you both felt the fragile bond between you strengthening.

In the days that followed, you met frequently, each encounter marked by long conversations, quiet walks, and shared moments of laughter and sorrow. Sometimes, you’d spend hours discussing the mistakes of the past, each dialogue serving as a stepping stone toward healing. Other times, you simply enjoyed the silence, the unspoken language of being together in the same space, allowing the wounds to mend naturally.

One rainy afternoon, as you sat together in Pedro’s living room—books and old photographs scattered around—the conversation took a reflective turn.

"You know," Pedro began, his tone thoughtful, "I used to think that fighting was a way to prove how much we cared. But now I realize that real care means knowing when to let go of anger and truly listen."

You nodded, sipping your tea. "I used to believe that our silence after a fight meant we were avoiding the truth. But maybe silence can also be a space to heal, to gather strength before we speak again."

Pedro looked at you, his eyes filled with genuine understanding. "I’ve learned so much since we parted ways. Not just about love, but about myself. I want to share all of that with you, to build something new on the foundation of who we are now, rather than who we were."

"And I want that too," you replied. "I want us to grow, to learn from our past, and to embrace every part of our journey—even the painful moments—because they led us here, to this chance at redemption."

A comfortable silence enveloped you both, punctuated only by the rhythmic tapping of rain against the window. In that quiet, you both felt a shared promise—a commitment to move forward, no matter how difficult the path might be.

Over time, as the seasons changed and the scars of the past began to soften, you and Pedro discovered new layers in each other. The dialogue between you became a lifeline, a means to navigate the complexities of rebuilding trust and rediscovering love. Late-night talks turned into laughter-filled mornings, and every shared secret, every whispered promise, wove together a tapestry of resilience and hope.

One evening, as you walked along a tree-lined street bathed in the soft glow of twilight, Pedro stopped abruptly. He turned to you, his expression earnest. "I want to thank you," he said quietly. "Thank you for giving us another chance. I know it wasn’t easy for you, and I know there will be difficult days ahead, but I promise that every step we take together will be worth it."

You met his gaze, feeling the sincerity radiating from him. "Thank you, Pedro, for not giving up on us. I was afraid we’d become strangers, but here we are—still holding on, still fighting for what we believe in."

He smiled then, a warm, genuine smile that reached his eyes. "I guess we both had to relearn how to be together again. It wasn’t the easy way, but I think the struggles made us appreciate the good moments even more."

You squeezed his hand, your heart lighter than it had been in years. "Maybe this is our second chance—a chance to be better, to love deeper, and to understand each other in ways we never did before."

Pedro’s eyes shone with hope as he leaned in closer. "Let’s promise each other that no matter what, we’ll keep talking, keep listening, and keep loving. No more letting pride and anger come between us."

"Promise," you whispered, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that had long been absent.

And so, under the starry sky of that crisp evening, with the future uncertain yet full of promise, you and Pedro took your first true steps toward healing a love that had once been broken but was now mending—one honest conversation, one heartfelt dialogue, at a time.

In the quiet aftermath of your reunion, as the night deepened and the gentle murmur of the city lulled you both into a peaceful calm, you realized that every end could also be a beginning. The echoes of past fights and bitter goodbyes had faded into the background, replaced by the soft, steady cadence of renewed hope.

Your journey wasn’t over, and there would be more challenges ahead. But as you held Pedro’s hand and walked into the future together, you understood that love—true, honest, and resilient—was worth every risk, every tear, and every moment of vulnerability. And in that shared resolve, you found not just reconciliation, but a promise that the best chapters were still waiting to be written.

[andy-15-07]

Joel miller x f!reader

It’s snowy outside in morning. You drink some latte, gonna have some fresh air. Looking at around the snow in neighborhood. Joel was looking for you. He simple have small smile a bit that you are outside, drink at her cup. Joel hug you behind that seems that have a great view. Ellie was with her friends. She noticed and say hi to them. They might be going to work. Tommy came with his son to drop him. They came to your home. Joel love to show tommy son for map. As you look at them, it’s emotionally to see this. As you hide the tears, Joel seems to know that feeling but you might worried that you might loss him.

(Hope you will write it lots of it, thanks and have a good day)

Quiet Hearts

PAIRING: Joel Miller x reader

WORD COUNT: 2078 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

It was one of those rare, serene mornings where the world seemed to pause—crisp, cold air filling your lungs as you stepped outside with a warm latte in hand. The snow blanketed the neighborhood in a soft, quiet silence, each flake a reminder that even in a harsh world, moments of beauty still existed. You wrapped your scarf tighter around your neck, letting the gentle drizzle of flakes kiss your cheeks, and allowed yourself to breathe in the peace that came with a new day.

From the far side of the yard, you saw him: Joel. He leaned casually against the worn wooden fence, his rugged features softened by the morning light. A small, almost imperceptible smile played at the corners of his mouth as his eyes locked onto yours. It was a look that said everything without a word—a look that told you he was happy to see you alive and well in this moment.

Before you could turn to greet him, Joel closed the distance between you. With a familiar quiet ease, he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you close. The warmth of his body was a welcome contrast to the chill of the morning, and for a brief moment, nothing else existed except the two of you and the quiet, falling snow.

"Morning," he murmured into your ear, his voice low and comforting. "I figured you might need some company."

You smiled softly, leaning into his embrace. "You always know when I need that," you replied, a mixture of gratitude and unspoken understanding in your tone.

The peaceful scene was suddenly punctuated by the sound of laughter and familiar voices. Turning around, you saw Ellie, bundled up in her winter gear, strolling over with a few of her friends. They exchanged cheerful greetings as they made their way past you.

"Hey there!" Ellie called out, waving enthusiastically. "Don't let that latte go cold now!"

Her friends chimed in with friendly banter as they passed, their voices carrying hints of hope and normalcy in a world that often seemed devoid of it. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of emotion watching them—a bittersweet reminder of all that had been lost, but also of all that was still worth fighting for.

As the laughter and chatter receded, a familiar rumble of footsteps approached. Tommy appeared at the gate with his son in tow—a small, curious boy who clutched a worn-out map like it was the key to some grand adventure.

"Morning, folks," Tommy greeted warmly, tipping his hat slightly as he came to a stop in front of your home. "Mind if we drop by? I got little Mikey with me today."

Joel's eyes lit up at the sight. "Of course not, Tommy. Mikey, come on over. Let’s see if I can show you a thing or two about maps."

With a chuckle, Tommy ruffled Mikey’s hair. "You and your maps, Joel. You know, the kid thinks you're some sort of explorer."

Joel grinned, unwrapping his scarf as he led Mikey toward the porch where an old, folded map lay on the table. "Well, every explorer needs a good guide, right?" he said, pointing to the carefully drawn lines and symbols. "See this line here? That used to be the safe zone back in the day. And over here—"

As Joel animatedly traced his finger along the map, you watched them interact with a bittersweet pang in your chest. Their easy banter and laughter stirred memories of a life that, despite the ongoing hardships, still had moments of warmth and humanity. You blinked back the sudden sting of tears that threatened to spill over, your heart heavy with the knowledge of how fleeting such moments could be.

Noticing your distant gaze, Joel paused and turned his head slightly, his eyes softening as they met yours. "You alright?" he asked quietly, his tone laced with genuine concern.

You managed a small nod, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you. "Just thinking," you admitted. "Sometimes I worry... I worry about losing these moments, or even you. It's like—every laugh, every shared smile, they mean so much because I know how fragile it all is."

Joel stepped closer, setting aside the map to rest his hand on your shoulder. "I get that," he replied, his voice husky with emotion. "Losing someone, even if it's just a moment, feels like you're losing a piece of yourself. But what we have right now—this, here in the snow, with our friends—it’s what keeps me going. I want to remember that no matter what happens, we’ve got these moments. And I promise, I’ll do everything I can to keep creating them with you."

His words, though simple, resonated deeply within you. The steady assurance in his eyes reminded you that despite the world’s unpredictability, there was a constant—a shared promise between you both that life, in all its fragile beauty, was worth the fight.

The morning continued, each minute filled with the comforting rhythm of daily life. Ellie rejoined the conversation, her voice a spark of brightness in the chilly air.

"Hey, you two," Ellie called, coming over with a playful grin. "You’re making it look like a geography lesson out here. Joel, you're going to have Mikey mapping out the entire neighborhood by noon!"

Joel laughed, his chuckle mingling with the soft rustle of the wind. "Maybe so," he admitted. "But every explorer needs to start somewhere."

Tommy, who had been leaning on the doorframe with a watchful smile, stepped in. "Joel, it's good to see you teaching him about maps. Makes me remember the old days when we’d all sit around and plan our next move."

"You were the best at reading the signs, Tommy," Joel replied, his eyes twinkling with the recollection of shared memories. "And you know, I wouldn’t have made it this far without you and the others."

Mikey, meanwhile, had settled on the step beside you, his bright eyes darting back and forth between Joel and the map. "Daddy says you're the best map-reader," he said earnestly, almost as if trying to emulate the heroism in Joel's every gesture.

Joel’s face softened further as he knelt down to Mikey’s level. "Well, kiddo, maps are just stories. They tell us where we've been and where we might go next. And sometimes, the best part of a map is not the destination but the journey we take to get there."

Tommy’s son nodded enthusiastically, and soon the group was enveloped in a conversation filled with shared anecdotes, laughter, and even a few bittersweet reminders of battles fought and lost. You listened, interjecting now and then with a quiet smile or a gentle laugh. The warmth of camaraderie filled the space, making the cold, snowy morning feel almost magical.

Yet, beneath the surface of these light-hearted moments, there was an unspoken understanding—a mutual awareness of the precariousness of life in this battered world. When the laughter died down for a moment, Joel’s gaze met yours again. There was a silent conversation in that look: a mix of hope, fear, and the deep-seated worry that comes from knowing how quickly life can change.

Later, as the group dispersed for the day—Ellie and her friends heading off to their duties, Tommy and Mikey disappearing into the distance—the quiet of the snow returned. Joel and you remained on the porch, the memory of the morning’s events hanging in the air like a delicate mist.

Sipping the last of your latte, you finally found the courage to speak the thoughts that had been weighing on your heart. "Joel, do you ever feel like... like we're living on borrowed time?" Your voice was soft, almost a whisper carried away by the gentle breeze.

Joel’s expression turned contemplative. He looked out over the snowy expanse, the memories of lost friends and harsh battles flickering in his eyes. "Every day," he admitted after a long pause. "But then I look at you, and I remember that every day we get together, every smile we share, it’s a gift. And that gift is worth more than a lifetime of regrets."

You reached up to touch his cheek, tracing the scars that told stories of survival and loss. "I just... I hate the idea of losing you," you confessed, your voice thick with emotion. "It scares me, the thought of one day waking up and not having you here to hold me, to make these moments feel real."

Joel pulled you even closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "I’m not going anywhere," he whispered, his tone full of conviction. "We’re going to keep making these moments, one day at a time. And no matter what happens out there—no matter how rough the road gets—you’re not alone. I’m right here with you."

The promise in his words was a lifeline, anchoring you in a sea of uncertainty. In that intimate moment, surrounded by the quiet beauty of the snowfall and the echo of shared laughter, you felt a surge of determination. You would cherish every second, every fleeting moment of happiness, and you would hold onto the love that connected you two even in the darkest of times.

As the morning melted into the gentle warmth of midday, you and Joel retreated inside, leaving the snow to continue its silent dance outside. Over a simple lunch, you both recounted stories of past journeys, shared quiet jokes, and planned for the uncertain future with cautious optimism. The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by moments of laughter and the occasional reflective pause.

Later that afternoon, as you helped Joel set the table for dinner, he paused and looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Remember when we used to argue about which was more important: the destination or the journey?" he teased.

You laughed, recalling the countless debates that had taken place on long, winding roads through desolate towns and ruined landscapes. "I think I’ve always sided with the journey," you admitted. "Because without the journey, the destination means nothing."

Joel nodded thoughtfully, his eyes crinkling in that familiar, affectionate way. "Well then, let’s make sure our journey is one to remember," he said, squeezing your hand gently.

As night fell and the world outside grew colder, you found solace in the quiet warmth of your shared home. You both sat by the fire, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the walls, as you talked about dreams—both small and grand. Joel’s deep, steady voice intertwined with your own soft murmurs of hope, crafting a tapestry of shared resolve to continue despite the odds.

"Sometimes, I worry about the future," you confessed, watching the fire’s glow reflect in Joel’s eyes. "But then I remember moments like these—your smile, the way you care for everyone, the way you make me feel safe—and I know that as long as we have each other, we can face whatever comes our way."

Joel reached for your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. "I promise," he said with quiet certainty, "no matter what happens, I’ll be here. And together, we’ll find a way to keep moving forward, no matter how hard the road gets."

The night wore on, the conversations growing softer, more introspective. In the midst of shared silence, you both understood that life was a series of fragile moments strung together like beads on a necklace. And while the world outside might be filled with chaos and uncertainty, inside your little haven, there was love—a love forged in hardship, tempered by loss, yet resilient enough to shine even in the darkest nights.

Before you drifted off to sleep, curled up next to Joel under a patchwork quilt, you whispered, "I’m glad I get to share my days with you."

He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead and replied, "And I wouldn’t want it any other way."

In that quiet, snowy world, with memories of past battles and promises for the future, you both found a fragile, yet unyielding strength. It was a strength born from shared laughter, silent understandings, and the deep, unspoken vow to hold onto every moment—each one a spark of light in the endless winter of uncertainty.

And so, as the night deepened and the snow continued to fall silently outside, you closed your eyes knowing that no matter how harsh the world might become, there would always be mornings like this—filled with hope, love, and the promise of another day together.