#absorbed absolutely none of it

[chilapis]

Flooded by assignments but blessed beautiful mornings, all. <3 I didn’t get time to properly interact or check in with people that day so, playing my part now. I do hope everyone has been well. <3

[lovedeluxe92]

dude this job is so fucking much to learn and handle idek if i can handle it tbh with you

[gir-posting]

[pulls up a chair] tell me about javascript and why it sucks?

i think the bad part about it for me has been the difference between learning html and javascript. html (the coding language for building webpages) and css (coding language that makes webpages look pretty) were like figuring out i knew a different language my entire life and was only just learning that then. trying to learn javascript has been like learning french while someone attacks me with hammers

(long pic under the cut)

IDK WHAT ANY OF THIS MEANS </3

[frangipani-wanderlust]

Everyone in the notes squawking about ~*COLONIALISM*~ and ~*WHITE SUPREMACY*~ needs to check their own racism. Obviously the Egyptian stuff was supposed to be cursed because the Egyptians wrote down, explicitly, that they wanted it to be. Christianity, on the other had, has repeatedly written down that there are no curses associated with death.

Y'all ain't open-minded. You're just racists who hate white people.

Tired: finding a sealed tomb from Egypt or some other non white culture and declaring it cursed

Wired: doing the same for the catholics

[rovermcfly]

proud to say that I have never once in my life figured out the whodunit in any crime story I've read or watched. I just let the facts and clues wash over me, absorbing absolutely none of it. I am the audience they think of when they throw in red herrings, in case you've ever wondered "who would fall for this obvious false lead". it's me. I am the idiot viewer/reader. not once has an obviously framed clue revealed anything to me. my head is completely empty when I consume these stories.

[inkskinned]

you spent hours in libraries and in art supply stores trying to absorb the artist tips from books your parents didn't want to buy you. on each page of every "how to draw" is a version of the same four things: this is how you shade a sphere. this is how you shade a cone.

this is what a man looks like. he is hard and angular and jutting. his chest narrows a triangle down to his sharp hip and long legs. his jawbone is a square. he is powerful, imposing, his hands are big and meaty. he is a leader.

this is what a woman looks like. she is soft and her hands tuck her long hair back behind a delicate ear. she is big-eyed and round (but not too round, she is skinny, here is the faint sketch of her abs showing), she is smaller and lighter and pretty. she has thick black lashes and her tits do not come with a massive ribcage to offset the weight we put on her - she has curves, but they are impossibly slim without giving her backache trouble. there is a large red hourglass outlined on top of her figure, the way there is a triangle outlined on top of the man. her face is a heart-shape, and her lips are pouting.

here is how you draw the woman and the man together. the man should be in action shots. the woman's ass should be in action shots. she should fit against the man to compliment his negative space - she should slot into his shadow so when they hug, they become one uniform space. here is how all the other artists have done it, see how good it looks when the man (angles, fire, passion, action) and the woman (roundness, water, emotion, supplication) complement each other? he begins the sentence, she is his ending.

do you want to kiss another girl? that is round-to-round. that is fitting the wire into the wrong socket! how would the faces look together? a single silhouette you sketch and then hide, scribbling over it.

do you want to look like a girl? by sheer genetic happenstance, you absolutely don't look like that, and you never have. you don't look like a man, either, though, do you. you don't feel like you truly belong to either gender, but there is not a "neutral/fluid" drawing in the book. there is male (triangle) or female (hourglass).

but you have a square jaw and square hands and "masculine" proportions. but you have curves and roundness and full lips and "feminine" features. someone online says, definitively, that any form of gender noncompliance is "a mental illness." this comment has over one thousand likes from people who agree.

here is how you shade a square. none of the clothes at the store look good on you, you always somehow feel like you're wearing a weird kind of costume. here is how you shade a sphere. your friend's mother calls the school because she's horrified you're in the same changing room. here is the neutral body figure: it is a wooden man. technically the wooden man is genderless, but that is because masculinity is the default, and everyone calls the figure "a wooden man." you must be small and posable and skinny and featureless, then you can be masculine enough to not have gender.

here is how to draw a person. begin with some shapes. choose the right shapes to get that person's gender correct. do not kiss her. shade in short, sharp lines.

when she laughs, look away.

[theostrophywife]

heaven and back.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader x theodore nott.

song inspiration: heaven and back by chase atlantic.

author's note: poly! matty and theo just hits different. the teamwork that these two would put in. whew baby that's a one way ticket to st. mungo's. these men break backs, not hearts 😏

You were good at playing games. 

As a matter of fact, Mattheo and Theodore would argue that you were a little too good. 

After all, you met your boyfriends during one of Malfoy’s infamous game nights in which you swindled Mattheo and Theodore out of a few hundred galleons during a tense round of magical poker. Ever since that fateful night in fourth year, the three of you became inseparable. Thanks to your slyness, the first Saturday of every month was deemed sacred to your fellow Slytherins. Game nights were reserved for drinking and debauchery, which just so happened to be your specialty.

Though the entirety of Hogwarts coveted an invitation to the longstanding tradition, very few were allowed a glimpse into the inner workings of the serpent’s nest. Tonight, the guest of honor was none other than the Gryffindor golden girl—Hermione Granger. She and Draco only started dating a month ago, but anyone with eyes could see that Malfoy was quite smitten. Before Hermione, Draco had never invited a significant other to game night. 

You were determined to give Hermione a warm Slytherin welcome. Hence the special potion you brewed just for the occasion. 

With a smirk, you produced the potion from your back pocket. The liquid sloshed around in the glass vial, the iridescent purple mixture flecked with specks of glitter. 

“I know that look.” Theo remarked, pulling you into his lap. “What sort of trouble are you brewing, dolcezza?” 

Mattheo chuckled and nestled against his shoulder. “Don’t act like you don’t like it, Teddy. You know we both benefit from her mischief. Isn’t that right, princess?” 

You smiled, ruffling Mattheo’s curls. “You’re absolutely right, Matty. Tonight, everyone will reap the rewards of my tricks. I concocted a special little potion that’ll make game night a little more interesting.”

Pansy raised a perfectly groomed brow. “What exactly does this little concoction of yours do, Y/N? The last time I drank something you brewed, I ended up streaking through the quidditch pitch.” 

“As I recall, I was right beside you, Pans.” Your friend chuckled, nodding in confirmation. “Consider this a social lubricant. It takes the edge off, makes you feel a little warm and fuzzy inside. It’s the perfect balance between feeling tipsy and high. Lowers those pesky inhibitions.” 

Draco scoffed. “If this group lowers their inhibitions any further, we’d all be expelled.” 

“That’s why we have you, Dray. What good is the Malfoy fortune if it can’t bail us out of sticky situations?”

“Need I remind you that the last sticky situation almost ended with Enzo in the infirmary after Mattheo and Theo convinced him to race backwards on their brooms.”

Hermione watched the back and forth exchange, absorbing the interaction with a small smile. 

“Draco’s exaggerating, of course. Anyone would’ve missed the whomping willow in the dark.” The Golden Girl chuckled as you sent her a conspiratory wink, causing Draco to sigh in exasperation. “Besides, Berkshire had fun. Didn’t you, Enz?”

“Oh, loads. I had a blast pulling twigs from my arse for two hours straight afterwards.” 

“See? You’re not talking us into taking another one of your poisons, Y/N.”

Enzo shook his head. “Speak for yourself, cousin. I’m definitely in.”

The rest of your friends expressed their agreement. Even Blaise, who would never dream of drinking anything besides the finest vintage, was eager to participate. Mostly to see the others make a fool of themselves, which was perfectly fine by you.

Draco rolled his silver eyes. “Fine. You lot are going to end up talking me into it, anyways.”

“What about you, Hermione? Would you like a sip as well?”

Her warm, honey brown eyes darted around the room. Draco clasped her hand in his, squeezing gently. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, love. I’m only agreeing because I don't want to have to take care of these heathens.”

You nodded empathically. “No pressure, Hermione. You can say no if you’d like, but I am rather proud of my little concoction and it would be an absolute honor if the golden girl partook in our debauchery. After all, you’re dating Draco. You might as well get used to it now.”

A mischievous grin pulled at Hermione’s lips. She shrugged nonchalantly, her curls cascading over her shoulder. “Why the bloody hell not?” 

“That’s the spirit, Granger!” cheered Pansy. 

You smirked in response and slithered out of your boyfriend’s lap. Both Mattheo and Theo watched intently as you crawled across the plush ornate rug, slowly making your way towards the Gryffindor. Hermione sucked in a breath, her cheeks blossoming into a pretty blush. Her hands, which were laid in her lap in the most prim and proper way, twitched when you knelt before her on the sofa. 

Behind you, Mattheo mumbled something into Theo’s ear. When you glanced over your shoulder, your boyfriends were staring directly at you, anticipating your next move. You responded with an innocent smile before turning back to Hermione. 

With  a sly smile, you held her honey eyed gaze and tapped her bottom lip. “Open up, love.” 

Hermione swallowed thickly before parting her lips. You gently cradled her jaw before tipping the vial into her mouth, pouring a generous amount of potion for the golden girl. She looked up at you expectantly, her lashes fluttering ever so slightly. 

You rewarded her with a cheeky wink. “Good girl, Granger. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

She shook her head, the flush on her cheeks mimicking her house colors as you wiped a droplet of liquid off of her lips with your thumb. Beside her, Draco sighed. “For Salazar’s sake, stop putting the moves on my girlfriend.” 

“What’s the matter, Dray? Are you scared I’ll steal Hermione away from you?” 

“You can hardly blame me. You’re a shameless flirt, Y/N.” 

You placed a hand over your heart, feigning offense. “Why, I’d never dream of flirting with your lady. You know how jealous my boys get.” 

Your boyfriends shook their heads, clearly amused at your attempt to rile Draco up. Truly, your friend made it too easy. You chuckled as the blonde glared at you. “Come on, Malfoy. It’s your turn. Maybe the potion will loosen you up, yeah?” 

Draco rolled his eyes, but allowed you to pour the potion into his mouth. You moved down the line, doing the same for Pansy, Blaise, and Enzo. The latter grinned as you ruffled his hair. After Enzo, the only ones remaining were Theo and Mattheo. 

“Come here, cara mia.” Theo said, beckoning you with two fingers. “Mattheo and I are waiting.” 

“I saved the best for last, boys.” 

Mattheo smirked as he pulled you into his lap. You settled against him, making yourself right at home. He kissed the side of your neck, smiling against your skin. “Go on, then. Don’t leave Theo hanging.” 

You nodded, body heating as Mattheo rubbed your thighs. Theo raised a brow, his watercolor eyes settling over you. Licking your lips, you couldn’t help but let your gaze wander. Your boyfriend looked rather casual in his emerald jumper and dark jeans, but there was something about the way that Theo carried himself that exuded sex appeal. The cocky smirk on his handsome face told you that he was well aware of the effect he had on you.

Theo cocked his head towards you and opened his mouth. You tipped the vial past his lips, admiring how plush and pouty they looked. Lust darkened your boyfriend’s watercolor eyes as he watched you through hooded lids. The potion dribbled off his chin, making you giggle. 

“Oops, I spilled.” You licked the remnants off, lapping up the liquid all the way to the corner of his lips. Mattheo’s fingers dug into your hips as you finished off your little show with a kiss. 

Theo grabbed the back of your head and deepened the kiss. He didn’t take kindly to being teased. Never one to shy away from public displays of affection, Theo groaned softly and slid his tongue into your mouth, giving you a filthy open-mouthed kiss before pulling away and winking. 

Across the room, Hermione flushed, her lips parting ever so slightly. “Oh,” she whispered softly. 

Mattheo chuckled, his laughter caressing your skin as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He turned you over in his lap and tapped his lips. “Me next, princess.” 

“Open wide, Matty.” 

“Funny. Usually I’m the one saying that to you.” 

Your friends groaned at the suggestive comment, but you only grinned in response. Mattheo parted his lips eagerly, not once breaking eye contact as he swallowed the potion. The intensity of his big, brown eyes made your hands shake, causing you to spill a few drops on your fingers. Your boyfriend took your middle and pointer finger into his mouth and sucked them clean. 

You gasped in surprise. Mattheo chuckled darkly, catching the vial before it slipped out of your fingers. Behind you, Theo tugged at your hair and titled your head back. 

“Your turn now, mi amor.” Mattheo drawled, his voice a seductive song in your ears. He lowered his voice, so only you could hear his next statement. “Be a good girl and swallow.” 

The eager nod made both of your boyfriends smirk. Theo gathered your hair in one hand, fisting your locks into a makeshift ponytail while Mattheo poured the last of the potion into your mouth. The liquid was strong and sweet, trailing down your throat and warming your body with a pleasant heat. 

“That’s my girl,” Mattheo said. Theo raised a brow, which made the curly headed boy laugh. “That’s our girl.” 

“Better,” Theo remarked before pulling you against him. 

You settled into his lap, watching the rest of your friends start a game of poker. As always, Draco was way too competitive. Blaise was hustling the hell out of him, but the blonde didn’t seem to notice. Pansy wrapped her arms around her boyfriend’s shoulders, leaning in every so often to whisper things in his ear that made him smile. 

Enzo reclined back on the couch, an endearing smile pulling at his lips as he took small sips of his firewhiskey. From his glazed eyes, you could tell that the potion was hitting him the hardest. 

Mattheo rested his head on your lap, tugging at your hand in a silent request to play with his curls. You obliged happily, scratching at his scalp and twirling his bouncy locks between your fingers. Every so often, he’d lean in and show you his cards, asking for advice. 

As the night progressed, the potion took its effects, loosening both lips and limbs. Theo’s long legs bracketed you from either side, the intoxicating scent of petrichor and cigarette smoke clinging onto him like your own personal drug. Mattheo stared lovingly up at you as you continued playing with his hair. 

When you looked up, you met Hermione’s inquiring gaze. She was leaned up against Draco, who kept an arm around her waist, absentmindedly drawing circles underneath her sweater. 

She cocked her head, a question forming in her brilliant mind. “So, how exactly does it work?” 

You leaned back against Theo’s chest, a playful smirk curving against your lips. “How does what work, love?” 

“Having…two boyfriends.” 

“You mean, being poly?” 

“Poly,” Hermione said, testing out the word. There wasn’t a hint of judgment in her expression, just plain curiosity. Apparently, the Gryffindor girl’s innate hunger for knowledge extended to the intricacies of your relationship. “If you don’t mind me asking. How exactly does a poly relationship work?” 

You shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s like every other relationship,” you started, glancing at your two favorite people in the world. Mattheo and Theo smiled back. “We go on dates, we argue about stupid things, then we kiss and make up. Except sometimes the boys like to gang up on me.” 

Theo chuckled. “I reckon ganging up against you is the most fun that we have, dolcezza.” 

“I’d have to agree with Teddy,” Mattheo interjected as he grinned up at you. “We give teamwork a whole new meaning. Don’t we, princess?” 

“See,” you said, waving your arms between your boyfriends. “These sassy men will be the death of me.” 

Theo wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling against your neck. “You love us though.” 

“That I do,” you replied with a smile. 

“Do any of you ever get jealous?” asked Hermione. 

Theo nodded. “Of course, it’s a natural part of every relationship, but we have ways of working it out.” Your boyfriend smiled and kissed your cheek. “We just make sure no one feels left out.” He leaned down to place a kiss on Mattheo’s forehead too.

Hermione hummed. “That sounds rather nice, actually.” 

“I wouldn’t call it nice,” Mattheo countered with a sly smile. “Y/N can get a little feisty sometimes. You should’ve seen what she did to Lavender for touching my shoulder last week.” 

Theo nodded in agreement. “It’s nothing compared to the fight she had with Cho after she tried asking me out. Poor girl thought that polyamory equates to having an open relationship. As if I’d ever need anyone else besides Y/N and Mattheo.” 

“So polyamory doesn’t translate to opening your relationship to others,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “I’m learning so much.” 

Mattheo confirmed her statement with a nod. “Yes, we’re all very committed to one another. It’s only Y/N and Theo for me.” 

“While we all adore your wonderful little trio,” Draco cut in. You could tell by the tension in his shoulders that he would definitely not be open to sharing the golden girl with anyone else. “I think it’s time to call it a night.” 

You chuckled. “Such a party pooper, Malfoy. Don’t worry, Granger’s just asking for education purposes. Aren’t you, Mione?” 

“I know what you’re doing, Y/N. You’re devious, you know that?” 

Theo smirked at his oldest friend. “Don’t be jealous cause she has more game than you, Dray.” 

“After all, that’s how she got us. Right, princess?” 

Draco sighed exasperatedly. You rolled your eyes fondly before saying goodbye to everyone. Pulling Hermione into a hug, you winked behind her back as Draco glared at you. 

“Thank you for indulging me,” Hermione said softly. “I feel thoroughly educated now.” 

“No problem, Mione.” 

You kissed her cheek before wrapping Draco into a hug as well. “Stay sharp, Dray. You’ll have to work harder to keep up with this one. Granger’s way out of your league.” 

Draco smiled. “I’m well aware.” 

Later that night as you laid in bed sandwiched between Mattheo and Theo, you felt the potion reach its peak. You giggled into Theo’s neck, squealing as Mattheo pressed his cold feet against your legs. The three of you were chatting about your day like you usually did, but thanks to the potion, one of you always got sidetracked, leading into cuddles and kisses mid sentence.

Matty spooned you from behind, his possessive grip snaked around your waist like a vice. “I’m not going to lie, watching you crawl towards Granger tonight did something to me.” 

“That’s her game, mio amato. You know she loves to tease.” 

You turned over to face him, an amused smirk toying at your lips. “I thought you liked my little games, Teddy. At least your lower half did. I could feel you pressing against me all night.” 

Theo smirked, grinding his erection against your thigh. “Can you blame me? You knew exactly what you were doing. Admit it, cara mia. You weren’t cozying up to Hermione just to get under Draco’s skin. You were doing it to rile us up too.” 

“It worked. I’ve been hard as fuck all night. The way you teased Granger had me thinking vile thoughts.” 

“So I’m not enough for you, Matty?” You jested, pouting your bottom lip at your boyfriend. “You want Draco’s girl too?” 

Within the blink of an eye, you were pinned underneath Mattheo with your arms raised above your head as your boyfriend glared down at you. “No. If anything, you’re the one flirting with Granger like Theo and I aren’t enough to handle already. Maybe we should remind you who you belong to.” 

You hummed in agreement, biting back a smile. “Hmm, maybe you’re right, querido. I’m not opposed to a little refresher.” 

Theo shook his head in disbelief. “Fucking hell, bella. You just want to be railed until you cry, don’t you? Such a little brat. You could’ve just asked for what you wanted.”

You batted your lashes in response. “But it’s so much more fun this way.” 

As retaliation, Mattheo flipped you over on all fours. With a smirk, he leaned back on the headboard and pushed down his gray heathered sweatpants as Theo crawled behind you. He gave no warning as he bunched up your nightdress, pressing a filthy kiss against your clothed sex. You were dripping for him, coating his lips with your taste as he pushed your head down on Mattheo’s lap. You groaned as Mattheo pumped himself between slender fingers, tapping the tip of his cock against your lips. He bucked into your mouth just as Theo plunged his tongue between your folds. 

“What was that, principessa?” Theo hummed against your aching cunt. “Matty and I can’t hear you over all that moaning.” 

Mattheo laughed meanly as he gathered your hair in his fist, thrusting down your throat with a choked moan. “Put that smart mouth to work, sweetheart.” He thrust in lazily, barely giving you his tip. “Spit on it.” 

Glancing up at him through your lashes, you spit on Mattheo’s cock and watched as his head lolled against the headboard. “Teddy? Wanna give me a hand, pretty boy?”

With wide eyes, you gasped as Theo leaned over and pumped Mattheo in his hand before lining up his length against your lips. Theo kissed your cheek before shoving your head down to take inch after inch. Once Mattheo slid all the way in, he pulled out just to slam back in forcefully. You could feel Mattheo hitting the back of your throat, activating your gag reflex while he smirked in satisfaction. 

“Gonna shut the fuck up and take my cock like a good little slut, aren’t you?” 

You nodded, tears forming in your eyes as Mattheo continued to fuck your throat. As if that weren’t enough, Theo flicked his tongue on your clit and feasted on you from behind like a starved man. He took his sweet time, sloppily making out with your pussy and lapping up your arousal before slipping a finger inside, pumping you as you gagged on Mattheo’s cock. You groaned as Theo pried your legs apart, his intense gaze never leaving your face as he kissed the inside of your thighs. Hooking your right leg over his shoulder, Theo began licking and teasing, his tongue flicking through your folds with expert precision. He sucked hard, lapping your juices up with fervent devotion. 

The potion increased the sensations tenfold, intensifying your pleasure as you bucked against Theo’s face. It seems that your less than innocent academic pursuit had truly paid off because both Theo and Mattheo seemed to be affected just as much. The current of the concoction surged through all three of you, slamming you with wave after wave of heady desire. It felt better than drunk sex or fucking while you were high. This was just unbridled lust and want, flooding you with the need to be nothing but an obedient fuck toy for your favorite boys. 

Mascara streaked down your cheeks as you cried out for more, fisting the sheets as your boyfriends occupied both of your needy holes. The cries of pleasure were muffled around Mattheo’s cock. Your boyfriend’s breathing grew ragged and his grip grew tighter, his abs rippling as he shot hot ribbons down your throat. 

“Good girl. So fucking beautiful, swallowing every drop of my cum like a perfect little whore. You’re flawless, Y/N.”

Theo made quick work of you afterwards. Warmth spread from your core, hot tendrils snaking all over your body as he pushed you to your first orgasm of the night. When Theo crooked his middle and pointer finger inside your gummy walls, you squirted into his mouth with a cry. Despite your cries of pleasure, Theo showed no signs of stopping. His cool breath fanned over your sensitive sex and you whimpered at his ravenous appetite, squirming away from Theo’s tongue. Displeased, Theo flipped you onto your back and dragged you towards him by the ankles. 

“I’m not done with you, tesoro.” 

Your boyfriend growled and glanced at Mattheo. “Hold her down,” Theo commanded, his pretty eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re done when I say you’re done. Sit back, look pretty, and let me eat your pussy until you’re sobbing. I’ll make you feel so good, bella. Surely you have another one in you, don’t you, Y/N?” 

You nodded, still reeling from the aftershock of your orgasm. Mattheo placed you on his lap, prying your lips open with his fingers. “Theo asked you a question, princess. Use your words.” 

Theo smirked. “Give her a minute. I think I’ve fucked her so dumb with my mouth and fingers that she can’t even form a sentence.” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Mattheo said with a chuckle. He caressed your jaw, pressing kisses against your shoulder. “Don’t you want to cum again, sweetheart? Either way, you don’t really have a choice. Theo’s going to feast on you no matter what you say. You know he hates being teased.”

“I can take it,” you said in a shaky voice. “I’ll be good, I promise. I just want to make you both proud.” 

Theo smiled, revealing the dimples you loved so much. “I know you do, Y/N. We’re not stopping until you’ve soaked the sheets. Now come on, be a good girl and sit on my face.”

You swallowed thickly as Theo switched places with you, laying back on Mattheo’s lap while bringing your hips forward. Steadying yourself on Mattheo’s shoulder, you slowly lowered onto Theo’s face. You grinded against him slowly at first, minding your sensitive sex, but it wasn’t long before you were bucking into his mouth, riding his face like you’d ride his cock.

There was no other word to describe Theo but feral. He gorged himself on you, poking and prodding your wet cunt with his tongue and fingers until your head fell onto Mattheo’s neck, gasping against his skin while Theo’s fingers dug into your hips. You groaned as Mattheo kissed you roughly, whimpering at the overwhelming pressure already building in your core. 

As your moans and screams grew louder and louder, Mattheo gagged your mouth with his fingers, shoving his middle and pointer finger past your lips in an attempt to muffle the noise. 

“Are you trying to wake the whole castle up, princess?” 

“Let her,” Theo said, chuckling darkly as he wrapped his lips around your clit. “Let the whole castle hear what a desperate little slut she is for us.” 

You groaned as Theo picked up the pace, fucking you with his tongue until you were coming undone in his mouth. The second orgasm was an out of body experience. Stars exploded behind your eyes as you came with a cry. You could’ve sworn that you went to heaven and back.

As you collapsed backwards into Theo’s arms, your boyfriend grabbed you by the throat and kissed you. The taste of you lingered on his tongue and your eyes rolled back as Theo’s lips claimed yours. He chuckled when you chased his kisses. 

“Don’t be greedy, pretty girl. Matty wants a taste too.” 

Your lips parted in surprise as Theo grabbed the back of Mattheo’s head and kissed him hard, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip and they both groaned. Theo smiled into the kiss, savoring the taste. He patted Mattheo’s cheek before pulling you into his lap. 

“Such a good girl for us, aren’t you?” Theo cooed, caressing your cheek and rewarding you with neck kisses. “I love when you ride my face. You’re fucking perfect. I’m so proud of you, pretty girl.” 

“Don’t go all soft now, cariño.” Mattheo teased, licking away the remnants of you from the corner of his mouth. “We’re only getting started. We haven’t even fucked her yet.” 

Theo smiled down at you, wiping away the mascara streaks clinging to your cheeks. “Then by all means. Finish the job you started, Matty.”

“I intend to,” Mattheo replied as he loomed over you.

With a wink, Theo spread your legs apart and presented your sopping wet cunt to Mattheo like a present. He reached down and rubbed his middle and pointer finger against your clit, holding your hips in place as you arched off the bed. 

“Look at that. Pretty little pussy’s all nice and wet for us,” Theo said with a chuckle. “You’re so eager, aren’t you? So insatiable, dolcezza. Maybe Mattheo and I should give you a double dose. Fuck you at the same time.” 

“Yes,” you breathed, mewling as Theo continued rubbing lazy circles against your clit. “Please, please, I need it.” 

“Just a cockhungry little slut. You’re fucking greedy, mi amor. Begging for both of our cocks. Don’t worry, baby. We’ll give you what you want. Fill you up like you need.” 

You whimpered in response as Mattheo manhandled you, pushing your face into the pillows while he lifted your perky arse in the air. He kneaded your ass, rubbing his cock along your folds. When you grinded against him for more, Mattheo’s palm landed on your right cheek with a hard smack. As you looked behind you, Theo winked before slapping your left cheek. The sting of his palm burned against your skin, making your eyes water. 

“What’s the matter, bella? I thought you wanted to play.”

“I do,” you breathed, gripping the sheets. “Please, Teddy. I need more. Spank me harder.” 

“Dirty girl,” Theo said fondly. “Ask and you shall receive.” 

As his palm came down on your ass over and over again, you gasped for breath, chasing air while Mattheo lined himself up at your entrance. Theo leaned down to kiss the handprints on your arse, biting softly and embedding his mark onto your skin before mirroring Mattheo’s actions. Theo teased against your puckering hole and nodded at the curly headed boy beside him. 

He placed a soft kiss on Mattheo’s lips. “Ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be,” Mattheo responded with a grin. 

You braced yourself to take both of them, gripping the sheets while they filled you simultaneously. It was a tight fit and you could feel both of your boyfriends stretching your walls.

“Such a good girl,” Theo groaned, moving slowly so you could adjust to his girth. “Letting Matty and I stretch you wide open. Fuck, I love being inside of you. It feels like fucking heaven, tesoro.”

Mattheo groaned in agreement. “Your pussy’s so wet. Does it turn you on to be ruined like this?” You cried in pleasure, mewling as Mattheo took Theo’s hand and placed it on your lower abdomen. “Feel that, mi corazón. Can you feel me fuck her deep, rearranging her insides?” 

“Merda, you two are going to be the death of me.” Theo said, his dead eyes rolling back. “Fuck me, I could cum just watching Matty move inside of you, Y/N.” 

As the two of them moved in sync, you gasped and panted, tears streaming down your cheeks from the overstimulation. There were so many sensations all at once, overloading your senses, making you writhe and whimper while your boyfriends ruined you. Mattheo tilted your chin, praises dripping from his lips, sweat slicked skin glimmering a pretty golden shade in the dim light. 

The hard planes of his abdominal muscles rippled while he fucked you from behind, grasping at the base of your throat until you were gasping for air. “Who’s pussy is this?” Mattheo growled into your ear, his curls tickling your cheek while he released a ragged breath. “Who do you belong to, Y/N?” 

“You and Theo,” you breathed. “Only you and Theo.” 

Theo smiled at your answer, lacing your fingers together. “That’s right, principessa. You’re ours to love, to fuck, to worship. Don’t forget that.” 

“Oh gods,” you moaned, gripping Theo’s hand while wrapping your fingers around the hand that Mattheo had around your neck. “I’m yours and you’re both mine.” 

“Damn fucking right,” Mattheo said with a sharp thrust. 

As Mattheo’s breathing grew more ragged, you and Theo both knew that he would succumb first. Theo fisted Mattheo’s curls in one hand and pulled him in for a filthy kiss, swallowing the cry that left his lips as he came inside of you. The sensation of him filling you up was too much to handle and the orgasm rocked your body, making your limbs seize as that familiar white hot heat blinded your senses. 

Theo was the last to cum, pulling out of your sensitive hole so that Mattheo could wrap his lips around his cock. His endurance was rewarded with vulgar noises as Mattheo gripped his hips in place and sucked him dry.

When your third and final orgasm ran its course, you found yourself laying flat on your back, blinking back up at the ceiling as you regained control of your senses. Through the haze, you blinked and found Theo and Mattheo fussing over you, casting a cleansing spell and wiping your damp forehead with a clean cloth. With a smile, they both leaned in and kissed your cheeks before tucking you safely between them. You hummed, placing a gentle kiss on both of their foreheads. 

“You know you two are all I need, right?” 

Your boyfriends both nodded, curling against you. “Of course, mi corazón.” 

“You’re all we need too, cuore mio.”

Taglist: @annaisabookworm @marina468 @yaraasthings  @the0doreslover @bubybubsters @moony-artemis  @natasha887 @lucyysthings @criesinlies  @bunnymallowo @niktwazny303 @letmedownslows  @siriuslyalovergirl @wordsarelife @clairesjointshurt  @daydreamingabthar @therealallisonspear @athenalikethegoddess @clairesjointshurt @vixzwrites @elle4404 @dramaticals @slut4riddle @berryzxx @finalgirllx @peterpan-neverfails @jayybugg @ashisabitgay @goldenmagnolias @atadoddinnit @rafesmuse @thames-fig @theeslutintheroom @bunnymallowo @athenapotter @dracosmalfxy @moonflowersandsparkles @unlikelysadgirl @txzii @cruxxio

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐀𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰 !

— pairing; vil schoenheit x ramshackle! reader

— summary; you throw rocks at his window, and vil expects a love confession, not whatever this is.

— notes; this was fun to write hehe. please donate to my kofi or consider commissioning me if you like my work bc im broke and need cash. and know that i am mentally smooching everyone who reblogs my stuff.

❋ It’s almost midnight, and you’re panicking.

❋ You can’t remember if Professor Crewel assigned homework, and you aren’t keen to be on the receiving end of his whip if you’ve forgotten to complete his assignments.

❋ Grim is absolutely no help (big surprise) and none of your other classmates can remember if there’s homework. Naturally, you figure that if anyone would know, it’s Vil, the epitome of discipline.

❋ Which is how you find yourself standing outside his window and throwing rocks to get his attention, like a medieval messenger.

❋ Inside, Vil’s thoroughly absorbed with his intricate skincare routine. He’s got the heater turned on, he’s wearing his favourite pink silk robe, and the lovely scent of lavender aroma oil fills the luxurious space.

❋ Initially, he assumes the tapping is just a stray branch. But when it doesn't stop, he finally gets up to investigate, his face twisted up into a scowl by the interruption at such a late hour.

❋ But when he looks out the window and sees you standing there with a handful of pebbles, Vil immediately assumes that it’s some grand, romantic gesture. He sighs dramatically, envisioning himself in a scene straight out of a classic romance movie.

❋ “Of course, someone would confess to me this way. Such effort deserves acknowledgment.”

❋ Critically, Vil surveys his reflection in the mirror. Once he’s satisfied with what he sees, he throws open the window with a grand flourish. The night breeze tousles his hair perfectly and a soft glow from his bedside lamp casts him in an ethereal light as he leans down, ready to hear your impassioned plea.

❋ “Hey, Vil! Do you remember if Professor Crewel gave us homework today? ’Cause I didn’t write it down . . .”

❋ The silence that follows is deafening. Vil blinks. Once. Twice.

❋ He’s not sure whether he heard that right. But you’re staring up at him so expectantly, looking completely unromantic. He’s envisioned a poetic declaration or to be stolen away in the dead of the night by his admirer, but no — he’s apparently nothing but a glorified assignment planner to you.

❋ “You threw rocks at my window this late at night . . . To ask me about your homework?” His voice is all clipped elegance, though internally, he’s seething. But externally . . . His face is turning a shade of red that could even rival Riddle’s.

❋ Oblivious to his growing rage, you blink up at him. “Well, yeah. It’s fine if you don’t know either, I figure I can —"

❋ Vil’s face instantly goes from expectant to offended, a mix of disbelief and exasperation clouding his features. The sheer audacity of interrupting his evening routine for something so mundane makes a vein throb in his temple.

❋ Without another word, he slams the window shut without answering your question.

❋ The sound of the lock clicking is so loud it echoes in the quiet night.

❋ “— Ask Epel instead?”

❋ When it becomes clear that Vil’s not coming back out anytime soon, you decide to head to Epel’s room (they live in the same dorm anyway, and you’re already here).

❋ Back inside his room, Vil is pacing furiously. He’s not sure what bothers him more: the lack of romance in this situation or the fact that you didn’t even seem remotely flustered at the sight of his dishevelled beauty.

❋ “Who even does that?!” He mutters, reapplying his eye cream aggressively.

❋ Out of the corner of his eye, Vil watches as you shuffle off into the night, not even pleading for his forgiveness before you go, or begging for another glimpse of his face.

❋ The absolute gall of you.

[thebibliosphere]

"@feed-the-roses some people struggle to absorb things that aren't pre-methylated (it's a gene defect) I was anemic for 30+ years before I switched to methylated folate and my body could suddenly process iron."

Why, why have none of my doctors told me this in the 7+ years I've been trying different iron supplements that all make my intestines feel like death? They all just say, "Oh, your hemoglobin is [currently] within normal ranges, so you're fine." Never mind my ferritin is at a 3 or 4 and I'm always tired. (Never mind that I have a family history of bleeding disorders.) *screeches*

So, can you get that over the counter, or...?

... not to project my trauma onto you, but how are your b12 and homocysteine levels?

Also, yeah, you can absolutely buy it otc. Look for L-methylfolate or a b complex with 'methyl support.'

If you're in the US and have any allergies, the brands I alternate between are Pure Encapsulations and Thorne. They're generally good about not adding extra junk in.

[legendofmorons]

Your honor, I humbly submit an idea that has not left me alone for a solid few months. Seriously. I can’t escape it.

Reader is a hero. Well, kinda. They are a hero in their dreams in the most literal sense of the phrase.

When they were younger, they had this incredibly strong love for the Legend of Zelda and Mario and all manner of games where you could simply help people for the sake of doing good. They weren’t too shocked when their dreams took a more realistic turn. As they slept, they felt like they were living a second life where they were the hero. They would go around solving problems, collecting items, and generally saving the day. Some nights, the dreams would be from different times, based on different adventures, or fighting different people.

Those dreams had always felt extremely real to Reader, yet they knew they were just dreams. When morning came, they moved on.

That was the norm until a strange portal appeared in front of them. The summer was coming and they had no better plans, so they threw caution to the wind and stepped through. When they came to, they found themselves clad in the same clothes they wore in every dream, surrounded by the items they had grown so familiar with adventure after adventure.

They had gathered their things, realizing they instinctively knew how to fight, similar to what had happened on that first night. They wandered the area, heroic persona seemingly taking control, heading towards a town and immediately solving problems.

In fact, that was how they found the chain, while attempting to solve another problem. Something told them to keep their name close to their chest and they weren’t in the business of going against their gut, so they listened. They used a nickname in a group full of nicknames.

A long while of traveling and growing trust (and one particularly heated story rendition where the reader just plain forgot to censor their name) and Reader had shared their name with the group. They were met with stunned silence which was, admittedly, not the reaction they were expecting.

As it turned out, each of those dreams became stories to these heroes, acting as a guide on how to act, what to try. In their eyes, Reader was a hero of story and legend, someone kids played at being.

How do you think the boys would move forward from this?

-VS Anon

Dreamscape

Pairing: Chain & reader

Rating: G

Notes: (Y/n/n) - Ypur nick name. I wrote the opening and then skipped the middle, I hope it's okay. I just really wanted to write the meeting.

Summary: You find yourself in the world of the dreams you played hero in, but apparently those dreams were more real than you thought.

Warnings: none.

Other: I saw you submitted something along these lines more recently. VS, do you want a second take on this? I am willing to do another take, haha. As always, if I missed anything, please let me know

-------

You have always had a vivid imagination, at least according to those around you. But you can't really argue. After all, your dreams used to feel like a whole other world. A second life of sorts.

You'd loved games where you played a hero. Legend of Zelda? Amazing. Mario games? Absolutely.

Over the course of your life, you built what would have been quite the legacy in your dreams. You had countless items and had even been blessed by a sages.

Summer hangs in the breezes, due to start any day.

So, when a strange purple portal with a spooky energy opens up before you, you go through it. You don't have much else going on, and don't imagine anything too weird coming of it.

A shield, that was gained from a forest. Wooden with metal enforced ages and a beautiful swirling design carved into it.

You emerge in a small clearing with birds song cheerily overhead.

In front of you is a pile of items. Items that you know, because you collected them in your dreams.

A sword, gifted by the ruler of a fairy kingdom. The blade is enchanted to never break and to absorb any malice.

A small stachel that clips to a belt that is a bottomless bag. Anything you put in there appears in your hand once you reach in and think

A small cluster of potions. One that heals, one that provides stamina, and one that protects from fire.

Even the small flute from your travels.

"What the hell?" You murmur, looking at your hands.

You realize then, belatedly, that you are in the same outfit from your dreams. The leather armor on your limbs and the breathable fabric comfortable.

This is officially Weird, with a capital 'W'. This- doesn't seem like a dream. Not at all.

Ypu gather your items, securing them as you have many times before. You brush yourself off and look around for more details.

The clearing you're in is nice. Wild flowers are scattered about and there's a rabbit at the edge.

A river runs through it.

Well, your best bet is to find a town or something, and you heard once that towns are often near rivers. So, in theory, if you follow the river, you'll be okay.

You head off, following the river downstream and hoping for the best.

-------

After two days of travel you have come to a few more conclusions.

First of all, you can fight. Like- really well. You fought of monsters that included a lynel, some lizards, and several bokoblins.

Second of all, walking for two days straight sucks but also you aren't as exhausted as you probably should be.

And third of all, this is definitely not a dream.

You're starting to wonder if this second life was ever a dream.

The third day you find a small town, but a town nonetheless. Thank whatever it is that looks out for you.

You make your way towards the store, hoping to stock up on arrows and food. You've accepted this is your life for the moment, might as well be prepared.

Unfortunately, while lost in thought you trip and stumble into someone. You are both sent sprawling to the ground.

With a groan, you rollout of them. You sit up and say, "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, are you okay?" A male voice asks.

You turn to look at him and nearly chokes. You find yourself staring at the Link from Skyward Sword.

Okay, this is a lot.

"Uh-" You manage eloquently. Blinking as you try to formulate some kind of response.

"Did you hit your head?" Another male asks, he has pink hair. That's another Link, the one from Link to the past and s several other games.

"I think I might have." You frown, pushing to your feet.

You look around the group and find it made up entirely of Links from different games.

"That's no good, you need a potion?" Asks Twilight Princess Link.

"No... Just a little dazed." You wave him off, "Ever since I walked through a portal it's been a little weird."

"You walked through a portal too?" Asks Wind Waker Link.

"Yeah... Why?"

"I guess you're supposed to help defeat the shadow." Muses what is probably an older version of Majoras mask Link.

"Maybe."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, I'm Twilight." The Link in a wolf pelt says.

"I'm Time."

"Legend."

"Hi, I'm Wind!"

"Wild."

"I'm Warriors."

"Hyrule!"

"I'm Sky."

"Four."

You know these are all nicknames, so you decide to give your own nick name. You have a feeling your real name will cause- a scene.

"I'm (Y/n/n)."

-------

Time can't stop thinking about the connections between you, (Y/n/n) and the hero (Y/n). You both have the same items, the same personality, and even the same appearances.

The hero you remind him of is legendary, chosen not by Hylia but by a deity before any remembered. A hero chosen Fierce Deity.

He comes back to the conversation in time to catch the tail end of your story.

"Ams then my friend was like "Stop hiding from them, they don't remember ypu tripping two years ago, (Y/n)."

"What?" Hyrule chokes.

"You're name is (Y/n)?"

About time. Fierce purrs from the void inside Time's mind.

"Uh- yeah?"

"You're The (Y/n)?!" Wind demands.

"Oh stars." Time mutters.

"I mean, maybe?"

"You're The one who slayed the hydra of Catan?" Wild blinks.

"Oh. I mean, yeah. That wasn't a big deal." You shrug, "It needed to be done."

"You rode a tornado!" Legend accuses.

"What? No I got swept up in a tornado."

"You knew the original sages before Skyloft even exsisted!" Sky gasps.

"Yeah?"

"You're the biggest hero ever." Warriors manages, sounding awed, "How are you unaware?"

"Uh...I didn't think that stuff mattered?"

"Are you kidding? Kids play games where they pretend to be you." Four says, looking horrified at your unawareness of your importance.

"Oh. Neat?" You say shakily.

This makes no sense, your dreams - if they were ever that - never seemed like you would be a hero of legend important enough to be known millenia later across different timeliness.

"You really don't know." Legend muses wryly.

"Glad I helped?"

"You are telling us all about your adventures." Wind informs you.

[zoobus]

The popular American Psycho (2000) take I heavily disagree with is that Patrick was convincing.

I heard this consistently; Patrick successfully hid his monstrous nature. He is the wolf in wool at the office. He gets away with what he does because he has successfully infiltrated the palace of normiehood. Patrick Bateman is Good at Being Normal.

This is demonstrably and meaningfully untrue? He's not persuasive. He doesn't convince anyone that he's one of them. He regularly fails his charisma checks. His peers openly dislike and disregard him. They don't notice that he (may or may not be) a sicko who kills sex workers, poor minorities, the homeless, and eventually one of their own both because they don't care/respect him enough to bother and because they're all too self-absorbed to notice the dead woman he's stuffing into the trunk.

This is not a small thing! He isn't keenly using pre conceived biases and superficiality to dodge consequences - they simply don't give a shit about him. Like, that seemed a core tenant of the movie, that his wealthy, brand-obsessed colleagues who talk so much while saying nothing of weight aren't actually listening to his flimsy excuses or explicit murder confessions, as if none of his actions mattered. I seriously hate to be that guy but "it's not that his mask was believable, it's that very few bothered looking at the mask" feels like an important point to not miss.

I can somewhat grasp the pov that Patrick was just too good at presenting as a dorky loser since that's what his peers believe him to be - maybe we're working off different definitions of what a "convincing person" is - But Patrick was absolutely not trying to convince them of this! He desperately tries (and fails!) to kill this image - which doesn't sound like convincing guy activities to me!

The word "convincing" denotes a level of agency I didn't see. It's as if people saw his character as frightening because oh what if the normal guy you talk to everyday at work was secretly a serial killer, despite the vast majority of people he interacts with either think he's an annoying loser or quickly recognize there's something wrong with him but lack the social status to do anything about it. Who did he convince?

[psychoticallytrans]

I believe very strongly that if you want to be an ally to marginalized groups, you should absolutely read and watch material bigoted against them.

This is because one of the big things that radicalization pipelines benefit from is the principle I've seen framed as "milk before meat", where they feed you palatable, easily digestible ideas, often with a kernel of truth, in order to work you up to the core of the bigoted ideology. If you go to the meat first, you will choke on it. This will make you more easily able to spot it when they try to feed you the milk, and more resistant because you know the meat it's building up to.

There are two keys. First, you need to start with the meat, and second, you need to read it with a sharply critical eye.

If you're looking to read something fatphobic, for example, Harry Potter may be a great mainstream example, but it's in a way that is so culturally acceptable that it can slip by if you aren't looking for it. "None For You: How Fat People Are Ruining America and the Planet and What You Can Do About It", on the other hand, is rather obvious in its biases, allowing an amateur to see them clearly for easier interrogation of the premise. Most bigoted material can be acquired by piracy or through your local library. This is one of the big reasons that libraries stock bigoted material.

Then, start noting down all of the things that the material says that seem to make sense, or that you are sure are true. There's no shame in this. Bigoted ideas are ingrained in your upbringing, and on top of this, a lot of bigots will take real problems and build on them in ways that are bigoted.

For instance, anti-immigrant sentiment in the USA is often bolstered by the fact that wages in the USA are effectively decreasing, along with job security. They say that this is because immigrants are taking the jobs, decreasing the amount of value that is available to USAmericans. To a USAmerican who does not know much about immigrants, but does know that their paycheck buys less and less, this sounds like a plausible explanation.

Then, later, look up exactly what they are saying. What are the real issues? (Racism and unchecked capitalism.) Why are they being used to bolster this argument? (Because it takes the heat off of powerful people and puts it on powerless ones, redirecting the hate to people it can more easily hurt, which satisfies the rage of the USAmerican, drives a wedge between them and immigrants, and takes heat off of the powerful.) What are real ways to tackle the real issue? (Solidarity with immigrant workers, especially undocumented ones, unions, and working for better social safety nets.) Why did I fall for that? (You did not have enough information.) Can I notice this rhetoric in the future and avoid falling for it? (Yes.)

Know that many of the ideas you encounter will be normal. Much bigotry is normal. Normal is not automatically good or right.

Know that there will be useful ideas interspersed with some bigotry. A lot of people with useful ideas have been bigots. This does not mean we must discard their ideas, nor that we must accept the bigotry. It does mean that we need to critically examine the ideas to see if they are rooted in and/or affected by the bigotry, and if it is possible to effectively remove them from their bigoted origins, or if the bigotry is so wound into the ideas that they is no longer useful if you wish to avoid harming the group the thinker was bigoted against.

This is difficult work to do. It is intellectually intensive, and emotionally exhausting. You will start seeing bigotry in all kinds of places, including media you thought of as "good" and "progressive", and that will also be emotionally exhausting and dispiriting. It will also mean that you are no longer passively absorbing those bigoted ideas because you settled on the idea that this media is "good" and that as long as you only consume "good" media, you will be free of bigoted ideas- a premise that is disturbingly popular for how incorrect it is. Knowing how to recognize and discard bigotry in works is far, far more useful than flatly refusing to consume more overtly bigoted works.

One way to make it easier is to form reading groups, so that you can lean on each other when reading something that's affecting you badly. It also means that there's more than one person processing the bigotry, so other people might notice more subtle parts of the bigotry that slipped past you in your own reading, allowing you to have a fuller picture of the book. If you can't form a reading group, more famous bigoted works often have criticism available online for you to read through. Remember to do your own research. What makes doing this so valuable is increasing your own ability to detect bigotry and to think critically about material you are consuming.

You do not have to limit yourself to traditional media, either. There are forums and social media bubbles that are hotbeds of bubbling, seething bigotry that is more extreme and repugnant than the vast majority of published work. Reading these conversations can be useful for the exact same reasons that reading overtly bigoted books, articles, letters, and essays can be, and they often contain more up to date dogwhistles. However, this is a riskier move. Social media is built to make you keep scrolling, and you can easily find yourself at your wits end and vulnerable to a bigot whose rhetoric is slightly less obvious than the others. In addition, it can be tempting to interact- at which point the bigots will either attack you or try to recruit you, both of which are damaging to you. Only read the conversations of bigots if you are well supported and have strong impulse control, and read them in small doses.

You are not immune to propaganda, but you can partially inoculate yourself into being less vulnerable by consuming it in controlled circumstances that match your ability to recognize it as such and reject it.

[theetherealbloom]

NORMAL THING

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

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader  

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

Word Count: 3k

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

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

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

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

| Main Masterlist |

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like what?” He asks in confusion.

“Y’know, acting?”

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

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

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

“You didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[icyminghao]

i don’t understand (but i love you)

pairing: minghao x gn!reader genre: fluff, some angst, comfort, established relationship word count: 1.5k warning(s): none

summary: despite the communication barrier, minghao and you have been doing well. at least, that’s what minghao thinks. but when he sees you conversing so freely in your native language with someone else, he doesn’t really know what to think anymore.

based on this request by @phenomenalgirl9!

read (pretty) hungry, you nailed it! and a little sweet, which are set in the same universe!

Minghao and you have always been doing great. At least, that’s what Minghao thinks.

He’d met you while he was browsing the shelves of a bookstore while on vacation, and he’d forever be grateful that you reached for that one mystery book the same time he did, or he would never have known of your existence (he can’t bear to imagine how he would have turned out if he hadn’t).

You didn’t speak any of the languages he did, but he was absolutely mesmerised by you nonetheless, too lost in your eyes to pay attention to how you were frantically apologising for grabbing the book, rambling on in your native language about how you’d actually read it before but loved it so much you had to get the physical copy that he’d gotten caught staring after failing to notice that you had already stopped talking for about a minute.

He’d wordlessly placed his phone on your hands, and you looked down at the screen to see the interface of the Phone application, except the text was all in Korean. You’d marveled that you’ve never actually met a Korean before in your broken Korean, and Minghao swore he fell for you harder in that instant, too absorbed in the fact that you had tried to converse with him in a language he knew to correct you on his heritage. He could do that later (and that he did).

Subsequently after your first meeting, or as Seokmin calls it, your “meet-cute”, Minghao spent every moment he had with you while he was still in the country. Dates mainly consisted of getting to know each other at your favourite café, where the both of you fell into a routine of trading book recommendations and talking about each other’s book recommendations. It was there that you found out about Minghao’s first language and subsequently hounded him to teach you Chinese, much to his enjoyment. Of course, Minghao wasn’t naïve and was well aware of the limited time that the both of you shared, but he couldn’t stop himself from falling deeper and deeper for you anyway.

It was like luck was really on his side, though, when you told him that you’d been accepted into a college in Seoul for your Masters Degree. He’d been so over the moon he asked you to be his partner right away, and the rest was history.

So, despite the communication barrier, Minghao and you have definitely been doing great. The two of you may not be able to say much to each other (but you’re both trying, really hard), but the comforting reality is that there isn’t a need for much words between the two of you. You always seem to know what he’s thinking, as he does for you (much to the dismay of Minghao’s friends, who constantly groan about how the both of you always communicate with your “disgusting, lovesick eyes” and leave them out), so there simply isn’t a need for much words to be exchanged between you both.

But as he looks at you from across the bar, smiling and laughing at a childhood friend visiting Seoul for the week, as he looks at you being more talkative than you’ve ever been with him considering that your friend shared the same first language as you did, Minghao can’t help but let the insecurities eat away at him.

Your Korean has definitely improved a lot since the both of you had first met, so you could definitely engage in more conversations with each other now, but it’s the way you looked so comfortable conversing in your first language that really struck Minghao. Maybe you would be better off being with someone like your friend, someone who spoke the same language as you did? Maybe you’d be much happier than you were with him if you’d just left him and went for your friend instead? After all, the both of you do look very much like a childhood-friends-to-lovers kind of pair. Minghao’s just getting in the way, right?

As Minghao starts spiralling down the bottomless pit of his insecurities and overthinking, you seem to pick up on his deteriorating mood, eyes searching and finding his from across the crowded bar. Your eyes soften as you slightly raise your eyebrows in what Minghao interprets as an “Are you good?”, and he sends you a tight-lipped smile in response, nodding slowly. You don’t seem to buy into Minghao’s flimsy attempt at waving off what’s wrong, however, and excuse yourself from the conversation promptly before making your way over to him. Minghao tries not to let his glee at you picking him over your friend show, instead keeping his eyes on you for the entire duration it takes for you to walk over to him.

“What’s wrong, hm?” you ask the moment you’re face-to-face with Minghao, reaching to rest one hand on his cheek. Minghao sighs and closes his eyes, leaning into your warmth.

“Did you…” he slowly opens his eyes to look into your glittering, love-filled ones, “did you manage to catch up with your friend?”

A look of surprise washes over you, having not expected your friend to be the topic of conversation. “Oh, yeah! We talked a bit about how things were like back at home, but that’s it, really.”

Home. Minghao feels his heart ache at that word. Home is where you and your childhood friend reside, where he doesn’t exist. Home is where you should be, is all that crosses in Minghao’s mind.

“Baobei*?” your saccharine voice pulls him out of his self-deprecating thoughts, your eyes softening as your brows furrow at him in worry, “What’s wrong? Should we leave?”

You remove the hand on his cheek to grab his wrist and lead him towards the exit without waiting for his answer, and Minghao yearns for your touch on his face again. You weave through the crowd expertly, with such a determined stride that Minghao can’t help but smile at how seriously you’re taking this. It’s really not good for his poor heart.

As soon as the both of you step out of the bar, you’re pulling Minghao to a nearby bench and sitting him down, fretting over him as all he does is stare up at you with the softest eyes. Not seeing anything external to worry about, you move to sit beside him, taking one of his hands in yours to rub the back of his palm soothingly.

“Are you feeling unwell? Please tell me,” your voice comes out soft, and laced with so much worry that Minghao can’t help but feel bad for making you feel like this because of him.

He shakes his head, moving to rest his free hand on top of yours. “It’s nothing, I just… I just wasn’t used to seeing you so talkative, I guess.”

Your face morphs into one of confusion, seemingly not understanding what Minghao is getting at. He takes a deep breath before continuing.

“Do you… sometimes wish you were with someone whom you could speak the same language freely to? Like… your friend just now.

It’s just… when you’re with me, it’s like you’re always thinking before speaking, like you’re trying to piece together coherent sentences that I would understand, and when I saw you today talking to your friend with such ease it just made me think that maybe you’d be better off with someone like him, someone whom you don’t have a language barrier with, you know?” Minghao doesn’t know when his grip on your hand tightens, or when the first tear falls, but he’s suddenly finding himself sobbing like a child on your shoulder as you wrap your arms around him and pat his back reassuringly, cooing at him to calm him down.

“Baobei…” you coo, patting his back rhythmically as a sign that you’re there with him, “Who’s to say that I’d be better off with someone else who’s not you? I would have an easier time conversing with someone who speaks the language I speak fluently, yes, but I chose to be with you because I think we have a bond that transcends the limits of language, Minghao. You always seem to know what I’m trying to say even when I fumble with my words, as I do for you. I’m choosing to be here with you to navigate our relationship together because I love you, Minghao, and no one else. So no, I don’t sometimes wish I were with someone whom I could speak the same language freely to, because I have you.”

Minghao removes his head from your shoulder to stare at you with his reddened eyes and tear-stricken face, and you pout at the sight. It’s not often that you see Minghao crying, much less in public, so this issue must have really affected him badly.

“I love you too,” he chokes out, practically launching himself into your arms, hugging you so tight as if you were going to slip out of his grasp if he didn’t. “please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Baobei,” you smile, tilting your head to plant a soft kiss on his hair.

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

*: Baobei (宝贝) — Chinese term of endearment for “baby” or “love”.

a/n: i love them sm i feel like i’m probably gonna be writing drabbles set in this universe bc minghao reminds me sm of jem carstairs (from the infernal devices) here and 😵‍💫😵‍💫 jem my book boyfie fr

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @slytherinshua @xomingyu @belladaises @pepperonidk @tastymintchocolate @dahliatopia

masterlist

[kelstey]

the smiths

mattheo riddle x reader

warnings: none

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

you were in hogsmeade, in a small little coffee shop tucked away from the crowded village. exam season was absolutely beating your ass and you loathed it but knew you had to revise.

you were about 2 essays deep - yet you wouldn't be able to tell anyone what was in them if they asked. all your 'revision' was going in one ear and out the other into a drain.

you threw your head back in frustration, unable to concentrate on a singular thing. all you were writing was rubbish and were sure that once you read them back would be utter gibberish.

you got up form the window seat, walking over to the counter to order your fourth coffee of the day. it was also only iam.

your day was meant to be motivational - but you were struggling to even stay awake let alone concentrated. you heard the bell from the door opening ding, not even having an ounce of energy to turn around.

you waited for your iced coffee, oblivious to mattheo riddle stood next to you. "the coffee's here must be good," your head turned to the voice.

"sorry?" you were confused.

he pointed to your lone 'study' area, three mugs of empty coffee scattered around. "how are you not bouncing off the walls?".

your eyes met back with his warm brown ones,"exams are killing me. i need any ounce of caffeine i can get."

"mind if i join your little study session? maybe a study buddy might help," a cute smile was present on his face.

"i suppose," you smiled back. you paid for yet another coffee and headed back to your seat, waiting for mattheo.

the two of you had never really spoke much - maybe a couple words had been exchanged but no where enough to call him a 'friend'. you couldn't deny though, he was absolutely dreamy.

but you were sure the countless of girls he had wrapped around his finger told him everyday. you were too far deep in your thoughts to notice he had made his way over to you.

"nice hand writing," he complimented the countless piles of parchment over the small table.

you nodded, unsure how to reply. "anything in particular you want to study?" you asked.

"could do with some help with astrology, it absolutely kills me," he chuckled.

"oh i love astrology, one of the very few subjects i actually enjoy," you started to go into depth about astrology.

mattheo wanted to listen to you - but he was truly entranced on your gorgeous looks and the way you were so passionate about astrology. the way your hair looked effortlessly done, your eyes twinkling when you got super into a particular

subject.

"mattheo? you there?" you giggled. mattheo was snapped out of his thoughts with the way his name rolled off of your tongue so perfectly.

"i'd be lying if i said i wasn't admiring you," he smiled and you could feel your stomach going flips.

"how many of your little girlfriends do you also say that to?" you teased him.

"just you," he shot you a wink.

"sure," you gave him an unsure look. "i better get going, i told luna i'd go over some potions stuff with her."

mattheo was disappointed to see you leave, truly savouring every moment he had with you. "will i be seeing you again soon?".

"hopefully, maybe next time you'll maybe be focused on the work," you joked about his clear un-amusement in studying, more so studying you instead.

"i'll wish on a shooting star," he shot you a killer smile. you waved him off, putting your earphones in as you played the smiths.

the music was blasted in your ears, mattheo's ears perking up at the familiar song. you left the cafe, makine vour way to luna's dorm.

you were too absorbed in the smith's, oblivious to the brunette boy chasing up to you. you felt a tap in your shoulder, you turned around and took an earphone out.

"back so soon?" you giggled at his flushed cheeks.

"i love the smiths," he said.

"sorry?" you were slightly disorientated.

"i said i love the smiths."

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

[alyrasturnz]

need a velvet ring fic from you

VELVET RING

❐ summary » matt harbors a deep love for y/n, a love that is both genuine and unwavering. yet, he is not alone in his affections; countless others vie for her attention, each trying to capture a piece of her heart.

❐ pairings » bsf!matt x singer!reader

❐ warnings » none...?

❐ a/n && w/c » yayayaay happy 1k! im posting the first three fics tonight and the rest tmr cause i just got home from the hospital and i am #exhausted  • 1.97k

you stumbled towards the backstage, your breath coming in ragged gasps, as beads of sweat traced intricate paths down the curve of your nape, mingling with the adrenaline that pulsed through your veins.

you seize the nearest bottle of water within your reach and, without a moment's hesitation, bring it to your lips, allowing the cool liquid to cascade down your parched throat in a desperate, unrestrained gulp.

you had just graced the stage of a sold-out stadium, a vast expanse filled with the energy of 70 thousand souls. the sheer magnitude of the crowd's roar still echoed in your ears, and exhaustion clung to you like a heavy cloak. tired to say the least, you felt every ounce of your being drained from the performance.

“y/n!” matt exclaimed, his face illuminated by a broad, beaming smile. as you turned your gaze towards him, you felt the warmth of his joy radiate through the air, compelling you to meet his eyes.

a radiant smile blossomed across your face as you set the water bottle down. with a surge of emotion, you sprinted towards him, your arms outstretched, and enveloped him in a heartfelt embrace.

“hi,” you manage to utter, your breath still coming in uneven gasps. as he gently rubbed your back, the soothing motion seemed to blend with the remnants of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"you were incredible out there!" he exclaimed, slowly disentangling himself from the embrace. his eyes scanned you from head to toe, taking in every detail. "holy shit, you're drenched," he chuckled, the laughter bubbling up from deep within him.

“i am, aren’t i?” you giggle, your hand instinctively reaching for the nape of your neck. with a delicate motion, you swipe away the beads of sweat, feeling the cool relief against your skin.

“yeah, here,” he said, quickly grabbing the nearest towel within reach. he handed it to you with a gentle smile, watching as you wiped the sweat off, the fabric absorbing the remnants of your exertion.

“i’m fucking exhausted,” you muttered, feeling the weight of fatigue settling in. he threw an arm over your shoulders, the warmth of his touch grounding you as the two of you walked out of the backstage room, each step echoing the shared relief of a performance well done.

“me too. wanna crash at mine tonight?” he asked, his voice laced with a mix of exhaustion and tenderness, offering a sanctuary from the weariness that cloaked both of you.

“absolutely,” you say with a smile. just as you were about to exit, you inadvertently bumped into the artist who had been the opening act.

“hey! you did great tonight,” carlos said, his voice brimming with genuine admiration as you looked up at him, the intensity of his gaze reflecting the shared passion for the craft.

you smile, feeling the warmth of his compliment envelop you. "thanks, carlos! your set was amazing too. i loved that new song you performed."

carlos steps a bit closer, his eyes bright with excitement, the energy between you palpable. "oh, you noticed? that means a lot coming from you. maybe we could collaborate sometime? i think our styles would mesh really well."

your eyes light up at the idea, a spark of enthusiasm igniting within you. "i’d love that! it would be so much fun to create something together."

carlos grins, his pleasure evident as his eyes crinkle at the corners and a warm glow spreads across his face. "great! how about we grab a coffee tomorrow and brainstorm some ideas?"

you nod eagerly, your head bobbing with enthusiasm, as a wide smile spreads across your face, reflecting your excitement. "sounds perfect. let’s do it!"

meanwhile, matt watches, his fists clenching involuntarily as he witnesses the effortless connection between you and carlos. jealousy burns within him, a fierce and bitter flame, as he feels the sting of being on the outside looking in, yearning for the camaraderie that seems so natural between you two.

carlos walks away, his footsteps echoing softly, while matt remains rooted to the spot, his jaw clenched tightly. the tension in his posture speaks volumes, a silent testament to the turmoil churning within him.

you look up at him, your eyes catching the sight of his clenched fists. "matt? you good?" you ask, your voice tinged with concern as you notice the tension radiating from him.

"yeah, i'm fine," matt said bluntly, his voice carrying a sharp edge. he continued to walk, deliberately avoiding eye contact, the stiffness in his gait betraying the turmoil he sought to conceal.

»--•--«

matt paced back and forth, his steps restless and uneven, as he ran a hand through his tousled hair, the frustration clear on his face. "she's just... perfect, you know? the way she smiles, like she’s genuinely happy to see you. and her laugh, it's like music. i can't get enough of it. and don't even get me started on her eyes. they're like these deep pools that you could just drown in."

chris leaned against the wall, his posture relaxed but his expression serious, arms crossed tightly over his chest. he listened intently, nodding slightly as he absorbed each word. "dude, you need to tell her how you feel. it's obvious you're crazy about her."

nick nodded in agreement, his eyes meeting matt's with a reassuring look. "yeah, matt. you keep talking about her like she's the best thing that ever happened to you. just confess already. what's the worst that could happen?"

matt stopped pacing, shaking his head vigorously, his frustration palpable. "it's not that simple. she's popular, everyone loves her. she's always surrounded by people, and she's so kind to everyone. what if she doesn’t feel the same way? what if i ruin everything? i can't stand the thought of losing her, even as a friend."

chris sighed deeply, his eyes filled with sympathy as he looked at matt. "you'll never know unless you try. sometimes you just have to take the risk. if you keep waiting, you might miss your chance."

nick chimed in, leaning forward with a serious expression. "exactly. she's worth it, isn't she? every time you talk about her, your face lights up. she's clearly special to you."

matt looked down, his heart heavy with uncertainty. "yeah, she is. but that’s what makes it so hard. she's always so confident and sure of herself, and here i am, just... me. what if i'm not good enough for her?"

chris stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on matt's shoulder. "listen, man. you are good enough. you just have to believe in yourself. she deserves to know how you feel."

nick interjected, leaning forward with a thoughtful expression, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding. "and who knows? maybe she feels the same way. you won't know until you take that leap."

matt took a deep breath, attempting to calm the tumultuous storm of his racing thoughts. "i just... i don't want to mess this up. she's everything to me."

chris offered him a reassuring smile, one that conveyed an unspoken promise of unwavering support. "we're here for you, no matter what happens. but you owe it to yourself to be honest with her."

nick nodded in agreement, his gesture imbued with a silent yet profound understanding. "you got this, matt. just be yourself. that's the guy she already likes."

matt glanced at his brothers, a glimmer of hope beginning to illuminate the shadows of his doubts. "thanks, guys. maybe... maybe i will tell her. soon."

»--•--«

your fingers waltzed across the piano keys, each note a tentative step in the quest for a new melody, when the soft click of the front door reached your ears.

you furrowed your eyebrows, leaning back slightly, your gaze drifting toward the entrance with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

you see matt approaching, his head bowed and his hands buried deep in his pockets, each step heavy with unspoken thoughts.

you smile, swiveling on the piano seat. "hey, matt. what brings you here?" you inquire, your voice a gentle blend of curiosity and warmth.

"we need to talk," matt said, lifting his gaze to meet yours as he came to a halt in front of you, his sudden presence catching you off guard.

your heart skips a beat at the gravity in his voice. "okay," you murmur, gesturing to the chair beside you. "sit down."

matt hesitates for a moment before settling into the chair, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes the air feel heavier. he takes a deep breath, as if summoning all his courage from within. "i've been thinking a lot lately," he begins, his voice quivering slightly. "about us. about you."

you feel a knot forming in your stomach, the uncertainty of the conversation's direction weighing heavily on you. "what do you mean?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper, tinged with apprehension.

matt runs a hand through his hair, his eyes momentarily dropping to the floor before lifting to meet yours once more. "i can't keep this inside anymore. you mean so much to me. more than just a friend. every time i see you, it feels as though my heart is going to burst. and when i'm not with you, my thoughts are consumed with the longing to be near you again."

your breath catches in your throat as you process his words, each syllable echoing in your mind. "matt, i..." you begin, but the words falter on your lips. emotions swirl within you, a tempest of confusion, hope, and fear. you struggle to find the right words, the gravity of the moment pressing down on you.

he interrupts, his eyes pleading with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. "just let me finish," he implores, his voice a mixture of desperation and earnestness. he takes a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he continues. "i know this might be a shock, and i don't want to ruin what we have. but i can't pretend anymore. i love you. i have for a long time. and i need to know if there's even a chance that you might feel the same way."

silence hangs between you like a heavy curtain, the weight of his confession sinking in. your fingers, which had been resting on the piano keys, now tremble slightly, each note you once played now a distant memory. the air feels thick, almost tangible, as if the very room is holding its breath, waiting for your response.

finally, you find your voice, though it wavers with the weight of unspoken emotions. "matt, i had no idea... i mean, i never thought..." you take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart, which feels as though it might leap from your chest. "i feel the same way. i've been too scared to say anything because i didn't want to lose you as a friend." your words hang in the air, fragile yet powerful, as the world seems to hold its breath around you.

matt's eyes widen in surprise, and a slow smile spreads across his face, as if he’s just discovered a hidden treasure. "you do?" he whispers, his voice barely audible, yet brimming with hope and disbelief.

you nod, a smile of your own forming, delicate and full of unspoken promises. "yes, i do," you reply, your voice soft yet resolute, each word carrying the weight of the emotions you've kept hidden for so long.

in that moment, the room seems to brighten, the air filled with a newfound hope and possibility. matt reaches out, his hand trembling slightly as he cups your face, his touch tender and reverent. with a gentle pull, he bridges the distance between you, and your lips meet, a symphony of emotions and unspoken words finally finding their voice.

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