#making him pose with pedro face on a magazine

[ross1fum1]

What is this photo😭

[josephquinnswhore]

Hi 🌸

What about a fic where reader is walking with Pedro and they are at the airport but they get swarmed with paparazzi. Everyone wants to talk with Pedro so the reader falls and the paparazzi start to push her around and he freaks out trying to find her 😩☺️

Breaking Point - pedro pascal x female reader

Summary: pedro looses his shit after you get hurt from paparazzi.

Word Count: 2k

Content Warning: paparazzi being assholes, reader gets hurt, slight panic attack, Pedro losing his shit.

Note: I FUCKING LOVE YOU ANON. TRULY. Anyway I’m gunna source Pedro’s rage from that video of him at the airport where he’s frustrated but make it 100 times worse lol. I cant believe people are actually requesting my fics, I love you guys.

It’s no secret that Pedro spends a lot of time in LA when he’s not at home in New York, snaps of him plastered on the internet for the world to see; exposing his location within the day of him arriving. Privacy wasn’t a luxury you could afford, especially after his upcoming fame after his role as Joel Miller in the last of us, paparazzi just seemed to be everywhere you went, no matter if you were ordering a coffee, driving to a family members house or even going to the gym. Pedro was often apologetic about the lack of privacy and how intrusive the paparazzi could be, your life has changed drastically since being with Pedro. It was hard to acclimate to, being followed and having hundreds of photos of your face and personal life plastered on the internet and magazines worldwide. You had put your big girl pants on and learnt to deal with it, Pedro admired your resilience, even though the paparazzi were moderately tame up until today.

Today was one of those instances where you and Pedro were on your way to LA, a frequency that had become a fortnightly occurrence, the airport was nearly empty, a few people floating around, you try not to draw to much attention to yourselves regardless as you pull your luggage behind you, the few people that occupied the airport seemingly recognising Pedro despite the cap and sunglasses in an attempt to hide his face. He never minded the fans approaching him, in fact he loved it, as long as they were polite he would entertain them, what he didn’t need however was for someone to post online that he was in the airport, much against your luck that’s what happened when a particular fan approaches the both of you.

“Oh my god Pedro! Could we get a photo please, I’m such a huge fan!” A young girl asks him, his attempt of a disguise obviously failed, Pedro offers a polite smile, “yeah of course, thank you for your support.” You step to the side while she takes a selfie, not wanting to intrude on her moment, “I can totally take a picture for you if you like?” You offer kindly. The girl smiles and is trembling as she hands you her phone, you snap a picture of them together, Pedro wearing a genuine smile, his tired pose captured in the image on the girls iPhone.

You hand the iPhone back to her and she thanks you both, speed walking back to her friend that had been left by the seating area, showing her phone and seemingly posting it to the internet. Within minutes your phone is buzzing from a text notification, Lux sending you a screenshot of the post on Twitter from the girl, in her excited high she exposed your location to the world; worse off the paparazzi. You try to prepare yourself for the shit storm bound to happen.

“This isn’t good.” You mumble to yourself, a loud sigh leaves your lips that catches Pedro’s attention. “What’s wrong honey?” You simply turn your phone to him, he squints through his sunglasses and exhales loudly. “This is going to turn to shit.” He looks around the airport as you walk toward where you’ll be boarding your plane, about to stick your luggage on the belt carousel when you hear shouting and clamouring heading in your direction, that didn’t take long. Pedro turns your body away from the audience as to give you some privacy from the invasive images being snapped of you. He wished just once that the way he touched you would be kept private, he gentle hand on your back, his lips on your temple, nothing seemed sacred between you and Pedro despised it.

“Pedro, Pedro! Look here!”

“Please here look! Just one picture.”

“Someone move the girl out of the way.”

The paparazzi were screaming over each other, pushing and shoving their way closer to you with every second. Their desperation to get a new picture of Pedro outweighed any morals they had, if they had any at all. You struggle to make out their sentences and demands as they rush you, pushing you a few steps back, separating you from Pedro as they surround him in a half circle as they scream at him, each trying to gain his attention for their news report.

You begin to panic once you’re separated, never having death with paparazzi that act like this before, the noise and clamouring becomes too much to handle, it’s easy to become overstimulated when the screaming overlaps each other and the noise becomes havoc, you try to squeeze between the gaps to get back to Pedro, reaching out to him as you try to get his attention, to no avail. Pedro is polite in the way he’s shielding his eyes from the blinding flash as he calls your name, asking them to move out of the way so he can find you, unable to see you past the swarm of strangers. “Pedro!” You call out, voice breathless and strained as you panic, you’d never been around paparazzi like this before. “Please move out of the way so we can get on with our day.” Pedro pleas.

One man shoved past you harshly, seeing the gap you occupied in order to get the perfect picture of Pedro once he had taken his sunglasses off. You trip backwards at the force of his shoulder barging you, stumbling over your luggage that’s pulled tightly behind your legs and as if in slow motion, it takes a few seconds to register the pain in your head as it smacks into the floor as you fall onto the cold tile.

“Baby! Oh my god look at what you people have done! Move out of my way!” Pedro tries to shove his way past in an effort to get to you, seeing you being brutally shoved to the ground, groaning in pain set a fire inside of him.

You grunt in pain as you cradle your head, the area hot to the touch where it met the cold floor, the throbbing spreads to your ears leaving a ringing noise to squeal through them. “Oh fuck,” you mutter which comes out slurred, your own voice sounds unrecognisable, unable to stop the room as it spins around you, the dizziness sets a nausea in you that climbs from your stomach to your throat.

“What the fuck is wrong with you people, have you got no dignity or respect?” Pedro snaps as he rushes towards you, seeing your face paler than normal and the pained look on your face as it scrunches. He kneels above you, your eyes seeing doubles as he comes into view. “Baby, are you okay?” His hand is cradling your head and one is waving in front of your eyes, you blink slowly, trying to gain a clearer view of your surroundings.

Pedro slowly helps you sit up, leaning against your luggage as the clicks of the camera are still shuddering throughout the ordeal, not caring that they’ve physically hurt you. Pedro’s face is red and a large vein in his neck and forehead begin bulging in his rage. “You fucking cockroaches, you did this to her. You can expect to hear from my lawyer for this stunt. Get that camera the fuck away from me.” Some of the men flinched, never seeing this side of Pedro. It was a first for you too; the indescribable rage he’d shown was a direct result of your injury at the hands of these people. The clicking and flashes of the camera finally stopped, your vertigo stops to a standstill and you’re brought back to your senses. “We’re sorry man, we just wanted some new pictures. I got a family to support you know.” The man who pushed you excused himself, the irritated tone didn’t go unnoticed, Pedro scoffs, “go and get a real fucking job. All you do is harass people it’s pathetic. Now get the fuck away from us before I call the police. You’re lucky I don’t beat your ass for this.”

“I’m sorry man, I can’t afford a lawsuit.” The man stutters as he realises Pedro is dead serious in his threat. Pedro helps you stand and you wobble on your feet, his arms hold you upright as he leads you away from the crowd. “I don’t give a fuck if you can afford it or not you spineless prick.”

“Come on baby, you need to get your head checked out.” The paparazzi that lingered snapped a few more shots of Pedro leading you to the front desk as they’re escorted out by security.

You’re sat down on a small chair, an EMT approaches you, kneeling down so you can see him.

“Hey, how’re you feeling? Heard you had a bit of a fall.” He starts, opening his medical pack as he observes you. “A fall? She was shoved by those heathens.”

“Its okay.” You turn to assure Pedro, but it was totally not fine, he just shakes his head at the way you’re still trying to make this out to be no big deal. “I think I’ll live. I still feel a little dizzy though.” The EMT takes out a torch, you blink harshly a few times as it blinds you, you try to adjust to the bright LED light. “Just follow this light for me. That’s it, now look up.” Your eyes follow the light lazily, seeing Pedro with a concerned expression on his face out of the corner of your eye, made you feel guilty for ruining his whole day.

“Your reaction is a bit sluggish. Just going to check your head now okay? Where does it hurt?” You nod and point to the area at the back of your head slightly to the left and wince as his gloved hands part your hair where the giant egg on your head was. Pedro’s hand sits on your knee, rubbing it to reassure and offer some support to you. The man gently prods the sore spot and you tense, holding your breath, a headache coming on at the sudden contact with the sore spot.

“It’s very possible you’ve got a concussion. I’d advise not getting on a flight until you’ve been cleared. It may take a few days.”

You sigh, “thank you for looking over me.”

“It’s no problem at all, look after yourselves,” the man farewells as he walks away. Your hands are aggressively rubbing your hands over your face in annoyance, you’ve just delayed Pedro’s flight and now you would have to stay home while he flies to LA for his interview.

“I’ll call a cab to get home, you should still go to LA. You can call me tonight once you land.” You offer weakly and Pedro frowns deeper, the stress lines on his face making him age a few years by the whole ordeal. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m leaving you here after that, concussion or not. I’m staying with you honey.”

Before you can protest Pedro hushes you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I can rebook the flight and reschedule the interview for next week. I need to be here to make sure you’re okay. Don’t ask me to leave without you.”

“Okay.” You accept which helps Pedro relax, his face red from where the stress lines had been a semi permanent fixture on his face. “Let’s get you home baby. Gotta make sure my girl is looked after.”

Pedro calls a cab outside the airport and helps you into the car, the taxi driver loads your luggage for you. “They’re going to point the narrative about you being awful. You know that right?” You look up at him through your lashes, Pedro scoffs, “let them, they can get fucked.”

He tucks your hair behind your ears and slips his fingers in between yours to hold your hand, a sincere look in his eyes, “no one fucks with my girl and gets away with it.”

[popcornforone]

Be A Good Girl

A Detective Tim Rockford Fic

Day 5 of Pedrotober (Esquire Photo shoot prompt)

Masterlist

Day 5, the return of everyone’s sexiest Detective. If you’re not here for Tim Rockford, then I’m sorry I feel for you. I wanted to include Tim & thought this would be a very fun way to do it. Have him show all his sides & then have you hanging on his every word. & that Esquire look Pedro had going… damn. Could have used so many photos for this, but ended up just going for this one.

Synopsis:- Your photo shoot falters when your model is late, how can your hot boyfriend help out.

Word count:- 1200

Warnings over & above:- mentions of being tied up durring sex, talk of sex, persuasion, good girl & god cop bad cop kinks, handcuffs basically don’t let me write sexual tension for Tim Rockford it’s not healthy for me.

Thanks as always for the read peoples & please thank @alyssamariag & @norththelemon for the prompt list for the month.

There you sit waiting for the hot model to come in to do this month’s shoot for Esquire. The outfits are laid out & ready to go. The couple of sets & props are ready to have some 6ft skinny model pose on them that you then need to try & make hot as you know they won’t be your type of man. But he’s not arrived. You’re running out of time to do this, it’s important for both the magazine & your portfolio to get some photos done today, this is a huge deal. Esquire don’t usually ask someone like you to do a photo shoot for them.

Instead you sit there & wait. Your boyfriend had even tagged along today. He wanted to see exactly what his girlfriend of 6 months did. You knew all too well what Detective Rockford did. It was rare for him to have any relaxation time with work, but with no case to work on, without a real suspect yet, he decided to spend this afternoon with you. Not that he’s spending it with you. He’s in his jeans, which make his arse look like a delicious peach, & shows exactly what you get to enjoy every time you are with him. He’s got a white vest on under dark blue shirt, his jacket he left in the car. He’s got adidas trainers on too. But more importantly he’s playing with the make up artists dog, letting her lick his face as he calls her a good girl & she continues to play. Each time you hear the words good girl you gasp a little. Thinking about how he whispered those words into your ear last night as you came, the clinking of the handcuffs chiming in your mind as you pulled against them, the bed frame creaking . You got the good cop bad cop in the same night & he got to watch you hit back to back orgasms in 3minutes, making him cum so hard you thought he was going to pass out.

“Fuck baby” he growled. You’re busy thinking of this when your iPad lights up with a call regarding this shoot.

“Well it doesn’t look like he’s showing up”

You sigh after coming off a call with his agent & Esquire. Everyone in the room groans. Tim looks up slightly from the dog. His hair now slightly disheveled as he’s been rough with the dog. “Let’s not make today a complete waist of our time though I have an idea” you put your iPad down & run across to Tim.

“Baby this is a huge ask, but if you could grab that jacket to the left & find some boots over there in your size, can I photograph you, just so then Esquire know the look I wanted to go for, they then might let me do it for another month”

“Me?” He asks shocked. His head looks up, if you didn’t think your boyfriend was hot before, you did in this exact moment. Those eyes are smouldering. You can also tell my the radiating face that he’s secretly excited to be apart of your shoot.

“Yes you” you plead,”please baby. I’ll do whatever you want”

“Really?”

“Yes”

“really really?”

“Yes” he then steps into your personal space, moving that stay hair off your face & whispers into your ear.

“What I want is after the shoot, is for everyone to leave & for you to lay on that dirty mattress over their & for me to investigate what’s under your clothes”

“Tim!” Blushing crimson doesn’t match how red you’ve just gone that he’s said this in a room full of people. Yes he whispered it but it was in a seductive way. You’re aroused instantly.

“Can we do that” you pause & look at the smirk across his face. You tug at his belt, he’s getting excited. His jeans are always tight fitting but that outline is much more prominent than it was a few minutes ago.

“If I can’t get the mattress & props clear it up, I promise we can head back to yours to do a thorough inspection.”

“Good girl” he whimpers. You gulp & you receive a sloppy kiss on the cheek. He then walks over grabs the boots & a jacket & lays across the sofa, the dog coming up to sit next to him. “Let’s get this over with”

You take the photos, but your mind is thinking about what Tim will do to you later. He has no idea that you actually have matching pink lace underwear on today. Hed lie you on the dirty mattress or his own bed like a man possessed. Your head hearing his dirty words from the night before.

“You want it baby, you need it, good girl, such a good girl for your bad cop”

After a few photos you look down at your camera & flick through them. Tim stands behind you looking over your shoulder.

“Hmmm there’s life in the old dog yet” he says as he slips his hand inside your own trousers. You hear the sigh as he feels the lace from your underwear & you hope no one else heard it.

“Thank you Tim, that means the world that you did that”

“Hmmm so when do you get to come to my work for work experience” he asks as costume ask for the jacket & boots back & he has to remove his hand from your arse.

“I’m not sure the police department would like that”

“Don’t care” he says bluntly now back in his trainers but he hasn’t put the blue shirt back on he’s just in that white vest. Your hands instinctively move to his muscular arms. Stroking and caressing each inch of him. Vests don’t usually do it for you at all, you prefer a man in a suit, but damn he’s rocking it all today. Neither of you are caring about the room being cleared around you “your my girl & if I want you for some hands on help, by god you’ll be in my office assisting me”

“Just assisting?”

“Orally”

“Obviously” you snigger. “Cos good girls…” you pause & tug on his belt”are obedient”

“& bad girl…” he reply’s he tugs at your hair”… know they don’t need permission” his lips vilonly crash with yours. That large hand goes around the bottom of your neck. You don’t care if he’s been licked by a dog all afternoon, he still tastes of Tim as your tongue entertains his, & he pushes his groin, hardening still, into your thighs. A small whimper escapes your lip.

“Take me home Detective” you moan when your eye lids eventually flutter open & realised the room is all but cleared. “I think I need you to work out what I have in store for you”

“Oooh beautiful” he moans & he scoops you into his arms & starts to carry you towards the door “if your let me give you a strip search, I’ll let you cum while your tied up, so be a good girl baby”

[absurdthirst]

Smth I rlly like about Pedro is how much he’s just like, a dude. (And seemingly more actors as of late, maybe, I avoid tabloid drama usually)

Which is sort of weird when you think about it but at the same time makes total sense?

He’s famous, he has money, he could be an absolute turd Ferguson to ppl, but he isn’t. Everything I’ve heard about him makes me want to have a drink with the guy, like even if I didn’t find him attractive I’d buy him one.

He’s not a famous person so much as he is a person who so happens to be famous? Does that make sense?

And he just looks like a dude too! He’s not shredded, he isn’t sculpted to kingdom come, he’s got sm tummy and a cute lil butt and he dances like a dad at a barbecue obviously having fun and like only a vague idea of the rhythm. He’s got crows feet, those little patches in his beard, and obvious pores and I know the beauty standards for men are different then those for women, but still that’s significant.

He can’t pose for red carpet photos and can’t take a decent selfie with the front facing camera either. How normal he is makes me like him even more.

Which also makes me kind of sad for him too, cause like he can’t have that normal as much as he used to.

(Im in a bit of a mood, srry)

I think the rise of social media has changed the way that we view a lot of celebrities. They are no longer that golden chalice where if you want to know the latest on them, you pick up a magazine. Instead you hop onto their IG or Twitter profile and see them doing some of the same shit we do. Right? (Even if sometimes it’s a little more luxurious)

In some ways SM has humanized celebrities in that aspect, but it also comes with unfortunate side affects. Because of those affects, he cannot be his total self. He had to be someone who weighs what he says/does/goes with the outcome of those actions. Unfortunately, public people aren’t without the detractors and the ugly side of fame. Not like he can post “oh going to this restaurant for dinner tonight!” If he did, I’m sure the place would be swarmed.

One of the reasons I believe that people are drawn to Pedro is because of his open and genuinely kind seeming nature. I would just caution that it is only one facet of his personality like so many other. We are complex and layered. Just because he acts goofy and fun loving and like a total ham in interviews makes people forget about the real issues that he has talked about before. He does have moments of depression and anxiety and other things. We just see the happy face he puts on for the world.

[dinsbeskar]

Now Beg, Princess | Din Djarin/F!Reader, 18+

Summary: F!Reader comes home from a long hard day to find a dark handsome man ready to relieve her tension - inspired by the above gif

Warnings: oral sex (male receiving), slight daddy kink, slight dom/sub undertones, unprotected P in V sex, fingering, masturbation, floor/chair sex

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 1.5k

Pairing: Reader x whatever Pedro Pascal character you're in the mood for, but personally this is a modern AU maskless!Din x Reader.

------------

Dropping your keys on the side and your bag on the floor, you sigh in relief.  Thank god you were home, what a day.  You’d been rushed off your feet all day, all you wanted to do was grab a glass of something cold and fall asleep in front of the TV.  A deep voice from behind you upsets your plans entirely.

“So how was your day?” You’d know that voice anywhere and the hairs on your neck stand to attention immediately.

You turn slowly, fixing your expression into something slightly more bored-looking.

“You know how it is, too much to do, too little time.  You?  You look pretty relaxed already, lounging on my furniture.”

His eyes stalked you as you slipped your shoes off one by one, stepping out of them as you made your way into the kitchen, already feeling the weight of his gaze rake you over.  He was draped over your favourite chair, the one he liked to claim whenever he came over despite your protests.  Typical.  You pick up a glass and walk to the fridge, aware of him watching every action.

“Thought I’d make myself at home, didn’t think you’d mind.  Get me one.” He gestures to the drink you’re pouring. “You sounded stressed on the phone earlier."

“Nothing I couldn’t handle, and a ‘please’ would be nice.”

“And yet I didn’t need to say it.”  His knowing grin would annoy you but he is right; you roll your eyes anyway in response and hand him the glass.

You know why he’s here, he knows why he’s here, but who will make the first move?

“Bed or couch today?”

Well that’s a surprise.  Usually there’s a lot more small talk involved.

“I was thinking bed.  Just as a change, we don’t usually make it there.” There’s a lilt in your voice, teasing him for jumping your bones as soon as you entered the apartment.

He doesn’t bite.

“You avoided my question earlier, how are you?” You only ask again because he seems tense despite the power posing.

He shakes his head and looks away, moving a hand up to his face, running it down his jaw.

“The usual.”

“Listen, I don’t need you particularly chatty, but if we’re going to do this, I want you right, I don’t need you taking your tensions out on me.” You two have had an understanding for a while but you draw the line at that.

He looks up and smirks again, seeming to settle back into character.

“I’m good.  And it’s your stress I’m here to relieve, not mine.”

“Mmm.  Alright well, bed okay?” You reply, satisfied for now.

He grunts, then-

“Kneel.” His voice is firm, that familiar rasp sending shivers down your spine.

You begin to move, but the way he’s sat nonchalantly with his head tilted away from you and his hand hiding his smirk irks you.  He’ll have to work for it.  You settle into the chair a little more and pick up the closest thing to hand to hide your smile.

“No, shan't.” The mischief in your voice is enough to pique his interest as he turns to look at you fully, deep brown eyes fixed on you.

“What did you say?” He’s smirking now, this is a game he enjoys as much as you, despite the endgame being the same.

“You heard me.” You raise your eyebrows but refuse to look up, gaze still glued on the magazine you picked up.  You haven’t read a word.

“And you heard me.  Do I have to ask twice?  You know how much I hate that.”  You remember what happened last time, and as pleasurable as that was, tonight is not the night for the whip.

You look up finally and his eyes are dark, patience seemingly wearing thin.  He’s as eager as you tonight.  You bite your lip and he flushes, fuck he looks good when you tease him.  You slowly rise out of the chair, taking your sweet time about it.  His fingers clench on the arms of the chair a little, just enough for you to notice.

From the floor in front of him, he’s an image to behold.  One hand lazily held on his chest, the other palming his cock as he waits for you, that fucking smirk on his face pulling to the left as you draw closer to him.  Eyes dark with lust, focused on you and only you.

You know how this goes, and you reach for him without thinking.  He taps your hand away and undoes his fly, pulling himself free from the confines of his trousers.

“You know you have to ask permission.” You do know that. “Now beg, princess.”

“Please, daddy, I need you.” Your voice hitches as you draw a shaky breath, arousal already evident between your thighs.

His smirk widens as he shakes his head. “Need what, beautiful?  I want to hear you say it.”

You lick your lips and raise yourself up, putting your hands on his thighs, breathing in the scent of his cologne, musky like cedar and sandalwood.  “I want your cock in my mouth, and when you’re done, I want you to fuck me hard.”

That’s enough for him, and with a quick nod, he leans back and sighs, letting you take a little control.

He’s big but you’re used to it, tongue swirling around the head as you take him in your hand, slowly moving up and down as he likes it.  He thrusts his hips a little every time you hit that sensitive spot near the base, making you laugh a little.  Well at least you’re doing your job right.

As sure as you are that you’re giving him the time of his life, you haven’t forgotten about yourself.  You lean back and rid your bottom half of your clothes while he watches you intently, cock back in his hand, unable to wait for you.

“Look who’s so greedy for it now,” you shake your head disapprovingly as he gazes at you heavy-lidded with that damn fine smirk, running his hand up his length with your name on his lips like a prayer.

You reach down with one hand to touch yourself, relieving the ache just for a moment before he takes your hand in his.  “Fuck I need it, touch me please, I’m begging you.”  Those are the words he so desperately wants to hear before you wrap your lips around him once more.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, fuck, stop, I need you,” he pants as you bring him closer to the edge.

He lifts your head and bends to kiss you, lifting you as he does so, so you’re sat in his lap, hands in his hair.  With a few deft motions his fingers are on your clit, sending waves of pleasure to your core that make you moan into his mouth.

“Fuck you’re so wet, all this for me, princess?” He slides a finger into you, then two, thrusting slowly, letting you get used to him.

“Mmmm, always for you-“ you cut yourself off with a moan as he hooks his fingers and finds that spot inside you that makes you keen, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear as he rubs circles around your clit.

As you get closer, you ride his fingers harder, his lips on your neck and collarbone, tracing every inch he can find.  He pulls out, ignoring your protests, and lines up his cock with your entrance, slicking himself with your wetness before drawing his fingers into his mouth and moaning.

“Beg me.” His voice fucks you up and you groan, needing him to relieve the tension he’s built up.

“Fuck me, for fuck’s sake, I need you inside me,” you curse, irritated but amazed at his self control at this point.

With the same intensity but more gentleness, he slowly presses inside you, letting you get accustomed to him, before he starts to move with more urgency.  He knows you, knows you’ll only beg him to go faster and you do.

“Please, I need it, fuck-" You start to ride him in your impatience, and he lifts you a little, before flipping you over and settling you on the floor.

“I’m gonna take care of you, don’t I always?”  He kisses you again, tongue running over yours while he fucks you slowly.

His body covers yours entirely, arms on either side of you, chest pressed into yours, hips bucking as you both find your rhythm, rising and falling to meet each other.  It’s a dance you’ve done so many times together but it never gets old.

“I’m getting close, princess,” he groans, and you pick up the pace, moving a hand down to touch yourself again.

He bats you away and presses his palm into you, stroking your folds and edging you, refusing to let you come before him.

When you do come, you come together, bodies intertwined and breath mingling as you ride the high together.  Waves of pleasure rock you to your core as you clench around him, clutching at his back and moaning into his mouth. He’s gorgeous as he trembles through his orgasm, hair messy and eyes ablaze, half closed but intense as always.  It’s not often that your breath is stolen away, but that’ll do it.

He collapses on top of you, sweaty and worn out, his expression entirely serene.  You can enjoy his body weight for a only a moment before you push him off, too hot to stand a full grown man on top of you.  A small smile graces his lips as he lies next to you, enjoying the afterglow before sleep takes you.  Finally you break the silence.

“So... bed?”

[macybeckham7]

Love Is a Losing Game

Chapter 01

Bullshit. Complete, and utter bullshit.

When YN got told by her university they were going out for work experience, she thought spending the month and a half at a magazine company, never in her wildest dreams did she think being the junior photographer for Tottenham Hotspur’s. She didn’t know what was worse, being sat in the cold trying to take photos of middle aged guys running around after a football, or the fact everyone got where they wanted but she had to be here.

YN let out a deep sigh as she tied her up in a top knot on the top of her head as she walked into the office of her manager. The middle aged man was sat behind his desk looking through your portfolio.

‘YLN you are very talented, tell me why did you want to be a photographer’ he spoke. Pedro was a middle aged Spanish guy, with olive skin and light green eyes. With a soft smile that she’s sure could warm everyone up.

‘Thank you’ she smiled. ‘Being a photographer has been something I’ve wanted to do because I think every photograph can show you the true beauty and a different story depending on who is in charge of the camera’

He smiled and nodded. ‘I see that Tottenham wasn’t your first choice, or anywhere on your list’ he smiles.

She clears her throat. ‘I’m not a football fan, but I’ll give 120% of effort while I’m here’ she smiles.

He hums before there was a knock on the door. She turns around and sees Edward from your course, he was the perfectly description of the posh guy. He looked down at everyone and everything he’s got is because of mummy and daddy’s credit cards. YN mainly stays away from him because he makes her uncomfortable, and she hated him even more, because she’s here because of him.

He gives his million dollar smile and shakes Pedro’s hand. Pedro starts giving you a low down on what you are going to be doing while you are apart of the Spurs family.

He starts giving you a tour around the facility, with Ed being the biggest butt licker, managing to tell Pedro the facts before he does. Which you can tell was getting on his nerves but that’s what he was like, trying to be the best and liking the sound of his own voice.

You found yourself just looking out the window as you watched the team out of the field as they did their daily training. They all rocking the blue and purple kit, some completely covered with hats and snoods and some wearing a lot less with more skin on show. She could hear Pedro and Ed talking about something but she weren’t really paying too much interested.

YN looked over her shoulder as someone come in asking for a word with Pedro. Ed came walking over to his competitor and leaned on the table, taking in her appearance.

‘So I hope you are ready to lose this competition, we both know I’m better than you, and Pedro already loves me’ he smirks.

‘YLN’ Pedro appears. ‘We need your talent to take some photos of the new manager’

She nods grabbing her badge and camera. She looks at Ed who looks pissed.

‘Sorry what was you saying’ she grins. ‘Let the game begin, and just so you know I never lose’ she winks.

As she walks into one of the rooms she is shocked when she comes face to face with a familiar face.

‘Jose?’

‘YN!’ The both say in unison.

‘Oh you know eachother already’ Pedro smiles.

He could say that, she didn’t know much about footballer but she definitely knew the most decorated Chelsea manager.

‘Looks like we are both walking into over the enemy lines’ he jokes.

She ignores his comment and gets to work with the photos which will appear when they confirm him as the new manager.

‘Get my best side’ he smirks.

After a quick photo op and a little wink and thumbs up from Pedro, she made her way to the training field.

‘Why did they choose you, I’m a better photographer’ Ed raged. ‘And Pedro is giving you the best position, what is with that?’

He barged past YN making her drop her things.

‘Here let me help you’ a voice appeared.

He grabbed the stand that Edward made her drop and stood up and smiled, as she got lost in his dark brown eyes and charming smile.

‘YLN, you are here for your photography skills not melting over the players’ Pedro called.

The guy handed you the stand before giving her a small grin and jogging off to Jose, who simply put his arm over his shoulder and spoke to him. Yn kept her head down and walked towards Pedro who looked proud of himself.

Time to work, she thought. She might not like this whole thing but she’s definitely going to put her all into it and show off her natural talent.

She started snapping photos, getting some of Jose laughing and joking with his new team. She managed to get a few of the guy who helped her, and found him most of the time posing for her making her giggle. She found out that Pedro liked to talk a lot, and gave a lot away about himself, luckily for YN that meant it didn’t mean that she had to do a lot of talking herself.

‘DUCK!’ Someone called, making both Yn and Pedro look from looking at the photos, to see a ball flying towards them.

She let out a gasp and ducked with Pedro using her as a shield as the guy came running over, she found herself looking in the same brown eyes.

‘I’m so sorry’ he laughed. ‘I was just showing off’ he smirked at her.

He watched as she sat up normally. ‘Shouldn’t you have better control, considering you’re a footballer and that’s what you get paid for?’ She sassed.

He watched as she collected a camera and walked a few steps down the touch line and crouched to take more photos. He was completely in awe of her, and how she could be cute and yet fiery.

.....

[deliverydefresas]

shape of you: bonus parts

I’ve been owing you these for months and i’m very sorry about that! thanks again to the anons who’ve reminded me you guys are the best!

there’s a couple more parts i have started writing but haven’t finished yet (one of them being the definite epilogue) so lets have our fingers crossed they’re done this year lmao 

i cant remember but it’s probs not proofread, sorry in advance

for all the previous parts click here  

                                                             💫

                                                             💫

MEETING FANS

They’d been going out on dates for a month before it hit Ámbar that she wasn’t dating a ‘normal’ person.

Simón had picked her up after her last class that Friday, telling her the guys – as he called his band- had invited them out for drinks so they could meet the girl who’d stolen his time and mind. She’d been reluctant at first, not really in the mood to go out after a long, stressed week of mid-terms, but Simón’s puppy face had become something she just couldn’t say no to.

They had dinner at their place first, ordering Chinese take-out as she let herself be questioned by Pedro and Nicolás. Simón’s friends weren’t as bad as she’d thought, talking mostly at Simón’s expense and sharing embarrassing details of the boy she’d been dating, as well as setting up ‘the talk’, warning her to not hurt their friend. Ámbar found it rather amusing; Pedro and Nico didn’t give the intimidating pose they tried to pull off, but a goofy, joking one, even if the underlying warning was there. Simón had shaken his head, telling her to ignore them, but she ended up promising she wouldn’t, more to their amusement than hers.

Eventually they hit one of the near-by bars close to their apartment, Simón’s hand firm on her waist and both of his friends backing them up through the crowd. It was a Friday night, so she wasn’t surprised to see that many people around, but she did wonder how they’d find a table to sit on with so many people around waiting for one as well, and whom, most likely, had been there longer than them.

It was when Nicolás disappeared for five minutes telling them he’d go talk to the manager, so they could be seated that it hit her.

It didn’t take long before the four of them had a table and drinks on their hands. If it had been her and her friends alone, they’d probably had to wait at least an hour before they could leave find seats available, but she was with her boyfriend, who happened to be in a famous band, and whose name had a weight heavier than she’d expected. It was a strange feeling, but she wasn’t going to lie and say she hated it. She didn’t love it, either, but she wasn’t about to complain when she was on heels. She also wasn’t shy to ask Nico what deal he’d to make.

The guy shrugged. “We just have to post a picture of us and tag the place. I’ll do that before we leave, I don’t wanna get mobbed today.” It sounded like it was nothing out of the norm, so she shrugged it off too, sipping on her mojito, waiting for them to carry on their conversation about writing sessions.

They’d only been on the bar for an hour before a girl around her age came up to them, interrupting Pedro’s question about her classes; she felt the weight of Simón’s arm around her shoulders fall, and she’d frowned at the missing contact. Her boyfriend threw her an apologetic smile before turning to the – clearly tipsy- girl, asking her if she needed anything.          

The girl started squealing how she was a big fan, and how she didn’t want to be a bother but that a picture with the guys would be a dream come true. Said guys all wore matching polite smiles – she wondered if they were practiced- and kindly told her they would if she didn’t post it right away, as they wanted to chill around for a bit more. The fan nodded multiple times, only turning to look at her to ask her if she could take the picture, her grin so big she was sure it hurt. The boys chatted her up for a total of five minutes, asking her standard questions before sending her off, begging her again not to post the picture right away. The girl said her goodbyes with shiny eyes and the biggest grin she had ever seen.

Ámbar would learn later that those were her favorite type of fans. The ones who were polite and only focused on the band, instead of those who’d throw distasteful glances at her whenever she was out with Simón, or those random people who clearly didn’t know who Simón and the rest were but wanted a picture anyway just to show they met them; she really couldn’t say those who tried to make a conversation with her were great, either, but that was mostly due to her inability to hold a conversation when all they wanted to talk about was Simón, how hot he was and how lucky she had been to snatch him up. She hated other girls objectifying him, and she hated that if affected her as much as it did.  

Her least favorite, though, were those who couldn’t take a no for answer; those who, even when the guys asked for them to give them a little of space, kept shoving their cameras on their faces. Her encounters with those were only a handful, but watching her boyfriend get harassed had proved to be too much for her, as two out those times, Antonio – the band’s manager- had to hold her back from behind to stop her from smacking some people’s faces.

In the end, however, a fan’s glee at finally meeting a person they admired so much was contagious, and 9 out of 10 times it left her with a smile on her face. It wasn’t easy, knowing that at one point or another, your boyfriend will prioritize strangers ahead of you, but she learnt to deal with it. Simón loved making other people happy, so the happy grin on his face whenever he met them was enough reason for her to bear it.

                                                            💫

READING ONLINE ABOUT HERSELF

They’d been dating around three months when the first picture of them appeared online.

It was blurry, clearly taken by someone who was trying their best to be sneaky and quick, a prominent zoom if the way it was noticeable pixilated was any tell.  

Sadly, it wasn’t blurry enough to couldn’t tell it was them. Simón’s face was fully displayed, laughing about something they were talking about, his arm around her while she rested her head on the crook of his neck, making only her profile visible. It’d been taken on one of their many lunch dates, half-eaten food in front of them told her so.

It went viral everywhere.

And so, the hunting for her identity begun. Every single media she knew of wanted to know her name, her age, where she studied – if she studied-, how they’d met and why he decided to date her. It escalated to the point of a magazine offering money for her information. Ámbar never felt luckier to go to a private university, where none of the people who knew her cared enough to sell her out.

Sadly, her relief lasted only a week. Simón was leaving the country to a meeting with their label when Emilia’s text reached her phone. ‘The cat is out of the bag; someone ratted you out’ following with the link of an article: ‘Meet Ámbar Smith: Simón Álvarez’ new flame’. Her breath caught on her throat, while her fingers flew to open the link. The more she read, the tighter her chest felt; they’d left no personal detail untold.

They knew her full name, they knew her age, her uni, what she was studying and the year she was on, that she was on a scholarship and had a nearly perfect GPA; that she lived with her mom and had a younger brother on his dad’s side, her mom’s job and her dad’s office. They knew she was a co-founder of The Fab and Chic, that it was her who’d interview him all those months ago, theorizing that was how they’d met and how long they’d been dating. They briefly mentioned his relationship with Matteo, too.  

Ámbar almost started screaming in the middle of the airport. As if Simón could feel her mood changing, he turned around from where he was talking to Pedro to ask her if something was wrong. He’d asked her at least five times what the problem was, but she just couldn’t speak. It wasn’t until Pedro – or was it Nico? She didn’t remember- opened twitter and showed him what was happening that Simón understood. That’d been the first time she saw him truly pissed off.

“How dare they?!” he’d growled, gripping the phone so hard his knuckles turned white. Someone must’ve told him she was still there, because then he turned to her, his arms holding her tight and his tone going down a few octaves, softer. “I’m so sorry, love. I will fix this, I promise I will.”

Her mind went back to the conversation she’d had with Emilia months ago, about how the exposure of the article could get her name out there, how she wished it would. But now, with her personal information, with her life, only a google search away from the public, she felt sick. “This can’t be happening.” She started mumbling, her mind a chaos. “How did they find out? Who could sell me out like this?” Only a couple of people knew what was told to the media, and all of them were trust-worthy. Either one of those people was scum, or the magazine was very good at stalking and digging up information.

“Baby, no. I’ll take care of it, okay? I’ll speak to Antonio and he’ll speak to our lawyer and we’ll see what we can do, alright? I’ll sue them if I can, make them delete it-”

That made her snap. “It’s all over the internet, Simón! Nothing ever gets completely deleted there! There must be thousands of screenshots already!” Even to her ears she sounded panicked. Her boyfriend’s face fell even more, and she felt worse.

Ámbar knew he’d do everything he could to make her happy. He’d proven that to her time and time again, he always asked first what she wanted to do, what she wanted to eat, which movies she wanted to watch, for him, it was always about her and her wishes. It was her who didn’t want to divulge their relationship just yet, and now, instead of his fans finding out their way, from their mouths, they’d found out by someone else’s. And it was her own fault.

That only pissed her more.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, grabbing her hand to push her to his body, encircling his arms around her waist. She took a deep breath, trying to sigh out her emotions.

“I’m sorry, I know you’re trying to help but I’m just- I’m so mad I just want blood to spill.”

“I understand.” He squeezed her waist slightly, “I’m serious, though. I can call Antonio and we can see how this can be… not as bad. I’ll sue them if that’s what you want.” She felt her heart swell with gratitude. As usual, though, she’d to ask him.

“Is that what you want?”

“This is about you, little gem. But yes, I do want to fight them on this. It’s not only your privacy being stepped on, but Silvana’s and your dad’s, too.”

“I want to know how they did this, and who did it. I want my parent’s info deleted as soon as possible, I don’t care about mine right now, but theirs I want gone.” Ámbar mumbled on his chest, knowing he’d hear it as his head was casted downwards, above hers.

She felt him nod. “I really am sorry, love.”

“Don’t be. I knew this would come sooner than later, and it was me who gave them time to collect my information, instead of me directing their moves.” She sighed out, mentally slapping herself for letting this pass by.

“It’s not your fault they’re assholes.” He tried to make her feel better. Ámbar just hugged him tighter. He held her for about a minute more, before excusing himself to call his manager and publicist and see what he could do.

An hour later, after Simón and his band’s flight had taken off, she’d received another text from her best friend. ‘He did it. It’s gone.’ She let out a sigh of relief.

But she wasn’t stupid. Ámbar knew this was only the beginning, and that, as much as she’d like, they wouldn’t be able to afford erasing every single article someone happened to write about her. It just wasn’t viable.

She did, however, promise herself that, the next time an article popped out about her, it’d be on her terms.

                                                            💫

GETTING PAPARAZZI’ED ON A DATE

It took the media another month before they got another photograph of them together.

Or, well, multiple pictures.

Simón had decided he wanted to take her to a ‘nice’ restaurant to celebrate the end of her semester. Ámbar knew this was also his way of coaxing her into going out for dates instead of the nights in she’d been convincing him to have at his apartment. It wasn’t that she was explicitly limiting them to stay inside the comfort – and privacy- of his home, but she wanted to take precautions in case anyone involved her parents again.

Whom, unsurprisingly, hadn’t heard of their info being leaked until she asked them if they were okay. Her mom had been taken off guard at first, wondering if she needed to change jobs or warn her boss about teenagers and grown men with a camera, but as soon as Simón told her it wasn’t necessary, and that he’d taken care of it, she’d dismissed the whole ordeal and asked her daughter’s boyfriend if he wanted to have dinner with them. Her dad wasn’t as chill. First, because he didn’t even know she was dating a famous band member, and second, he wasn’t thrilled she was exposing her life by dating one. He’d questioned her reasons, asking her if living in expectation of what the world had to say about her everyday was what she wanted, forever shadowed by her boyfriend’s name wherever she went.

She wasn’t proud to admit she’d snapped at him, throwing at his face that he’d left her mom raise her alone after she turned three, and that for that, he had no reason to butt in her relationship. She wasn’t even sure they were going to last, anyway. Nothing was set on stone when it came to relationships. In the end, he’d grunted out that he was okay and promised to call her if something happened, so she could talk to Simón and see what they could do. He also made Simón promise him he’d meet him soon. Ámbar still grimaced when she remembered how awkward that had been; her dad with his ‘hurt my daughter and die’ attitude, her dad’s wife all star-struck and giving out barely coherent responses to Simón’s questions, and her bored, not at all impressed brother making faces at his meal. She wanted to dig a hole and die.

Just like right now.

The dinner itself had gone splendid, the five-course meal always appreciated, especially when it came with a nice sized brownie and ice-cream scoop. She knew something was amiss when Simón asked for the check and the waiter told him it was taken care of. Not because it surprised her, but because it surprised him. She was used to Simón nodding, or even smiling when it happened. To see him frown, though, had her with her guard up.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered as she leaned to him, forcing him to look her way.

“I don’t know the owner, much less asked them to arrange this.” His voice sounded a little strangled, but he squeezed her thigh to not worry her.

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” He huffed, squeezing once more before excusing himself to make a call. She was left alone at their table, confused. The waiter – who hadn’t left yet- seemed to be anxious, looking over his shoulder a couple of times as he waited for Simón to return. She forced herself to smile at him, even when all she wanted to do was to run to her boyfriend and demand an explanation. In the end, she chose to call for the guy’s attention. The waiter’s eyes widened in surprise, but still walked to her side.

“Do you know who arranged for this?”

He gulped. “I’m afraid I’m not allowed to tell you anything, miss.” Ámbar threw him a glare, the one she knew expressed she wasn’t going to take anyone’s bullshit. “The- uh, the manager might’ve arranged for a couple of photographers to come tonight-”

Her glare intensified. “Did my- Mr. Álvarez’ team agree to this?”

The guy loosened his tie a bit. “We uh- well, the calls weren’t returned.” She pursed her lips for a second, nodding as she stood up to look for Simón.

“I’m sure you’ll hear from them very soon.” She didn’t bother to excuse herself, and just walked away.

Ámbar found her boyfriend walking outside the bathrooms’ hallway, angrily whispering to whoever was on the other side. She called his name, making him snap his head her way; when his brain recognized it was her, he threw a hast goodbye to the phone and hung up.

“Love, I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t know anything. The owner-” She raised her right hand, stopping him.

“I know, the waiter told me. What’s the plan?” Simón sighed heavily and got close enough so he could pull her to his body, encircling his arms around her. Something she’d learnt he tended to do when he was trying to comfort her, and his own anger.

“There’s only a couple of them out there, two or three, max. It’s not enough for Antonio to send someone over, and since this place collides with another building on the back, we can’t go out from there either. Both the principal exit and the emergencies one, are on the front.” He sighed again, the air hitting her neck, making her shudder. He must’ve mistaken it for fear, because he pulled her closer, cradling her head between his hands. “I promise I won’t let them publish anything. If I must pay them the double whoever called them over did, I will, princess… or I could go out alone and call you when-”

That made her scowl. “Don’t call me princess.” He smiled, knowing well she was only kidding – partially. Then it was her turn to sigh. “You don’t have to pay them anything, Simón. I can’t keep letting you waste your money to keep them off my back, it’s not fair. I- I think we should just… get it out of our way.”

“I don’t mind-”

She interrupted him. “I know you don’t mind wasting that money, but I do. I’m ready to take that step, Simón. I want to. Unless you see us breaking up soon – which, by the way, I don’t- there’s absolutely no reason to keep us hidden.”

He stared at her for a moment, before the biggest smile she’d seen on his face, appeared. “I don’t see us breaking up soon, either. Hopefully never.” Ámbar rolled her eyes.

“Now, don’t get too ahead on me yet.” His only response was to attach his lips to hers. He kissed her once, softly, pulling back slightly to breath heavily before kissing her again. This time he let his tongue roam over the ridges of her lips, and it took everything in her not to open her mouth to allow his tongue to meet hers; they were still in public, whether she wanted it or not. So, she let their lips part briefly, to then kiss him again, soft and gentle, before pulling away completely. “As nice as that was, we still have to deal with the problem here, buttchin.”

Simón pouted, showing off his chin dimple – aka, the reason of his nickname-. “Don’t call me that.”

She rolled her eyes again, smirking playfully, and grabbed his hand. “C’mon, I want to go home and kiss you some more.” He was quick to drop the pout.

“Should I pay for our meal? I don’t want anything from them.” She shook her head, lacing her fingers with his as they walked to the entrance.    

“And give them free publicity? Hell no. Just talk to Antonio and have them pay you back.” When she saw their waiter and a man approaching them, she glared at them, a deep scowl on her face, warning them to stay away. If she was going to allow this to happen, she didn’t want to do it angry. And talking to the person who had put her in the situation would surely anger her up.

As he helped her put her coat on, he took the opportunity to whisper on her ear a couple of instructions. “If you don’t want to show your whole face just keep your head down, grab my hand tightly and I’ll guide us to the car once it’s brought to us. I’ll chat them up and, if we’re lucky, they’ll just take a couple of pictures with the restaurant as our background. If you feel uncomfortable squeeze my hand tightly. If they ask me something and you’re okay with me answering, squeeze my hand once, twice if it’s a negative, okay?” By the time he’d finished talking he was already putting his own coat on. She merely nodded, offering her hand so he’d take it again. He counted to ten before walking them outside.

True to his word, there were only three men outside waiting for them. Ámbar was quick to lower her eyes, hiding half of her body with his as she leaned her forehead on his right shoulder. It was in times like this when she was thankful her boyfriend was tall enough so even if she was in heels, she could still use him as a shield.

“Good evening!” he chirped out, and she could bet all the money on the world he was faking a grin. They all chorused his greeting, asking him if he was okay with answering a couple of questions as they took their pictures. She squeezed his hand once. “Sure! What do you want to know?” his tone was cheerful, and polite.

“Did you two have a nice time?” one of the men asked, and Ámbar could hear the flashes going off. She squeezed once again.

“I had the best company, so yes.”

“Your girlfriend’s a beauty.” Another of them offered, making Simón squeeze her hand this time. She squeezed back.

It took him a second to respond, a little less cheery, but still polite. “She is, thank you.”

“How long have you two been dating? Some people had thought you had broken up after no one had seen you out for weeks.” The first men spoke again, his curiosity clear as water.    

Ámbar gripped his hand once, sending a silent prayer to the skies for whoever was bringing his car to hurry. “A while. I think you can imagine why we laid low the last month.” His answer was enough for them to get the hint. They moved the topic to his album, getting two more questions before the sound of an engine told her his car had arrived. “I’m afraid we have to go now. Thank you, gentlemen. Have a nice evening.” Her boyfriend started walking again, leading her to the passenger side and opening the door for her, as usual. For the first time, she didn’t look back at him to thank him. Instead, she kept her head low, letting her hair fall to cover her profile. He was quick to get into his side.

It wasn’t until they had drove off for a couple of streets, that she looked up again, letting a long, heavy sigh leave her lips. Simón grabbed her hand again, kissing the back of it comfortingly.

She sighed again. Wishfully hoping for it to get easier, even if she knew tonight was nothing compared to other times she’d seen other people deal with paparazzies.  

They’d gotten lucky tonight, who knew what it’d happen from now?  

[lucyvivesnews]

The confessions of Lucía Vives in SoHo

Nudity and Freedom (August 2016)

To begin with, I have to make it clear that, for me, the nude shouldn’t be an issue. Zero tabus. I know that in several societies, including our own, seeing a body without clothes still gives us something to talk about, and it’s more than just a topic of conversation: it’s a subject of criticism, prejudices and insecurities. But in my case, I like to associate it more with naturalness, with freedom and with self-confidence. That was one of the biggest reasons why I didn’t turn down the opportunity, when they came up with the proposal to pose for the magazine. I knew it might be a good choice to get more people to that message. I thought about it, of course. I consulted with my close friends, with my family, and then I decided.

A few months ago something strange happened to me: I posted on my Instagram account a photo face down, half naked, and that caused a small earthquake. So much that to the few days they censured it. Seriously, I still can’t believe it. I can take out a song and probably don’t make so much noise. It wasn’t rage what I felt, but I was a bit disappointed to know that even people who supposedly follow me can be offended or annoyed by a photo as well. It’s a lack of education, a little primitive, and I was very curious. Taking the time to criticize and download a naked photo of a network at this stage of our society, when we have really frightening things to worry about, I find something very ignorant. It’s simple: if you don’t like what you see, you do not have to follow me.

And I think nudity is about honesty; We must be honest with ourselves and our bodies, without being disgusted or morbid. The naked body is something we all have in common, but unfortunately people like to ignore it. So going out in SoHo does seem like a good way to close that incident.

I won’t continue to leave aside what I understand will be in everyone’s mind; I know that many will be wondering what my father, Carlos Vives, said of the matter, of my decision. I must say that he did get a surprise, at least at first. He has always been a bit overprotective, and it’s understood because I am the eldest of his daughters. But, as he has always done, he respected my independence and my freedom a lot, although I don’t think we put the cover in the refrigerator of the house for my brothers Elena and Pedro. All my life he has told me to be sure of my decisions, to meditate well before taking them and don’t forget to always think of me. He believes that life consists in that: in making our own decisions and doing what makes us happy. And that’s what I think. My mom, Herlinda, was the first person I told her about, as I do with most of my concerns. And she accompanied me at all times. She told me that the important thing was that I was comfortable. Having the unconditional support of the two definitely made me feel more calm and confident in the photos.

In any case, the relationship with my dad is unique. Our deal is half serious and half cockfowl. When we get serious, we talk about personal, political, historical or whatever. But then we laugh, we ride it to my brothers and we invent characters and play - he is still a tremendous actor. The theme of music has also approached us in recent years, since I have been much more interested in creating and producing. All of this strengthens the relationship. Recently, for example, I did the musicalization of a song and he helped me a lot with the process: he gave me constructive criticism. It’s very interesting to know him and to treat him in that professional part, because that has also helped me to understand him as a person.

Otherwise, I am honest, my life is very calm. I am 20 years old, I live in New Orleans, United States, and I study philosophy and study of the Woman in the University of Loyola. Every day I wake up alone in my house, with music, and I make my breakfast. I go to class on a skateboard. In the university I am the president of the feminist group and organizes talks or writes speeches to speak in panels. When I arrive at the campus, I dedicate a couple of hours to the music, because I am working on a personal project. And I like philosophy, in the end, to think, to always think different. Perspective is very important in forming a broad idea of ​​life. Philosophy is not only to understand the arguments but to create, and perhaps with that make a genuine and important difference.