#rpf

[mattmurdockismyspiritanimal]

[landslidelovesyou]

Bucking!

Pedro Pascal x fem! Reader Friends to lovers

Word count: 1.8k!

Content warning!: stong language,Explicit sexual content (18+), mild vomiting, alcohol consumption,public sex

Everywhere you look you find a heart staring back at you- cute little cutouts of cherubs amongst half-wilted rose petals laying flat and trampled on the grimey bar floor. The place seemed to radiate a loving spirit, although it was a half-assed version you thought to yourself as you peeled away a pink streamer that caught itself on the bottom of your heel.

“I told you it's got a charm, you just needed to warm up to it,” Pedro said, hand sliding around your shoulder as he handed you your drink. There's a coyness in his tone you didn't recognise before- something which made your stomach falter that you blamed on the sub-par quality of your watered-down whiskey.

“By charm, are we talking about the banner that says Happ Vtine dy—because if so, I'm smitten?” You grumbled over the rim of your glass as you looked into his dark brown eyes. You watched as he squinted—a soft aaahhh erupted from him.

“Bombón, you wound me” he jokes, clutching his heart. He pushes a strand of your hair past your ear. “ I mean this is a pretty good Valentine's Day if you ask me.”

“ Pedro- we are both single and in a bar that's been playing Be My Baby for the past half hour” you retorted as you picked the saggy heart balloon next to your booth.

He smiles, his grip releasing on the side of his drink as he looks into your eyes. “But at least you've got a hot date,” he enthuses, his hands ghosting from the top to the end of his body, almost showcasing himself like a new car as he wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

“Vey funny- but we aren't dating” you stated before continuing “There needs to be some effort when it comes to a date y'know? Like flowers or maybe some chocolates”

“I mean if we go by your standards then this is a date” He muses, eyes trailing down to your feet.

“How so?” You question, brows knitted.

“You put the effort in to wear your ‘fuck me’ heels,” He remarks, his head tilting to the side before letting out a soft giggle.

“I am not! ohmygod” You defend, checking over your shoulder to see who overheard,“- I told you that in confidence” you whisper, playfully hitting his shoulder.

You watch as his lips stretch into a wide grin as he begins to let out a wide laugh, but the worst part of it all is that he is telling the truth.

The ‘fuck me’ heels were bought the night before your first-ever date. It was this guy in your acting class, with these wide-rimmed glasses that hung so low on the bridge of his nose as you ran through lines together deep into the night in his apartment, and when he finally invited you on a date you expected perfection- or at least an enjoyable night. Instead, you found yourself getting touched up the back of a cinema as the bright white flashes of some obscure Godard film blared in the background.

He dropped you off a half mile from your dorm- explaining he “didn't have enough gas” to drive both you and him to your respective apartments. So there you were cold, pissed off and so close to just throwing those goddamn heels into the Genesee River.

But by the time you got home- it all seemed to fade as you slammed the door and saw Pedro lying sluggishly against your shared couch, with a beer in his hand. As your eyes met, he rose up in concerned hands cupping your cheeks as you ranted about it all, mascara running down your cheeks as you stuttered out what occurred.

He carried you to the couch, his hands prying the heels off your feet before throwing them into the corner of the room. That was what made him so different from the other guys- he would listen, there was never a moment where he would ridicule you or mutter out an ‘I told you so’- he was just there when you needed him.

And even years later, with those damned heels, it felt as if maybe you always needed him- even when you thought you didn’t.

You watched as his gaze shifted off you and focused on something behind you.

“Oh now that looks like fun” he states, poorly feigning innocence. As you turn around you see a mechanical bull, the seat is worn out and frayed as it surrounds itself with drunk patrons, while a bright neon sign flashes above it saying ‘RIDE OR DIE’.

“-Yeah that's not happening” you reply, cutting him off before he even has the chance to ask.

“You scared?” He snorts, clearly trying to taunt you.

“Why would I be scared? It's just-” you pause, watching as a guy on the bull pukes into his pitcher of beer..while somehow not falling off “It's just the fact that I'm not really wearing the most appropriate attire for that kind of gig” you explain, looking down at the hemline of your dress which barely met the middle of your thighs.

He rubs his hand against his face, clearly debating his options.

“I'll hold it down for you.”

Your stomach lurches.

“I'll go with you and I'll just make sure your skirt doesn't go flying up” “Y’know? Don't want to give everyone a show” He continues casually- almost too casually.

“That's a very..direct approach” you quip sarcastically.

“I'm a direct kind of guy” he shrugs, taking your hand, leading you through a crowd of drunken strangers to the bull.

As you both sit on the bull, bass thumping against your ears as Pedros hand rests in between your thighs, pinning you down, you can't help but feel a little nervous.

“Stay still, sweetheart” he whispers against your ear “If you keep wiggling I might start thinking you're teasing me.”

Before you could conjure a response, the voice of the operator rang out with a countdown before the bull sprung to life.

You hear Pedro yelp before coughing and playing it off like a giggle. His arms flex as he presses your dress further into the saddle; his grip on you is so tight and protective. As the bull lurches forward again you feel him whisper in your ear “I've got you, just enjoy yourself”

Your heart thumps against your chest as the bull gains momentum again; you feel his chest pressed so deliciously close against your back, that you feel every ridge of him through his thin shirt.

The bull begins to slow down, as do yours and Pedro's breathes. You feel his grip on your body loosen as he lets you down but as you et off he holds you in front of him as you make it back to the booth.

“Pedro, what are you?”

Oh.

You look up at him as he avoids your eyes, ears burning red.

“Don’t.”

But you ached for him, you felt your thighs squeeze together as he covered his lap in the booth.

You hear him hiss as your hand trails down to his buckle, softly tugging on the belt “I want to help.” His hands move from his lap and grab onto your wrist and before you knew it you had no time to stumble through the crowded bar floor until you reached the bathroom.

“Pedro-”

“Before we do this I need you to know that we can’t go back, if you want to stop we need to stop now.”

The room hung in silence as you locked the door.

He grips your waist hastily, pulling you onto the counter of the bathroom as he leans in for a kiss. His hands roam freely across your body as the kiss deepens- his teeth grazing your bottom lip playfully. As your bodies collide, you feel your hands wander back to his belt “I wanna make you feel good” you whisper, pushing yourself off the counter.

“Okay hold on” He starts, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders onto the floor “I dont want you to catch something from this place”

“Oh I thought this place had charm” you retort as you settle onto his jacket on your knees”

“not enough charm to protect you from ringworm” he quips, unbuckling his belt in front of your eyes. You ran your tongue along the underside of his dick as he threw his head back and cursed. He watched through his lashes as your head bobs teasingly, fingers digging into his soft thighs.

“Fuck, that mouth,” he groaned, voice rough, wrecked. “Always running it—should’ve put it to use sooner.” He grabs your hand with his hands and you watch as he drags your head back and forth against his cock, watching you splutter and drool.

You could feel him getting closer, the way his hips kept bucking against your face, just as you expect him to cum you feel him pull out.

“Not like this- I wanna feel you” he whimpered, barely above a whisper.

Then you were lifted again, breasts pushed against the countertop, your panties being pulled away from your body. He was all over—palming your ass, sliding between your thighs, growling as he inspected your soaked underwear.

“How long have you been like this baby?” he asks, tossing the lingerie onto his jacket.

“A-all night.” you pant out, pushing against his body.

“Gotta keep quiet for me,” he warned, voice thick with lust. “Think you can do that?” You didn’t have time to answer before he was sinking into you, stretching you open inch by inch. The stretch was intoxicating, burning in the best way, your fingers gripping the edge of the sink so tight your knuckles ached.

Pedro let out a low, broken moan, his forehead dropping to the back of your neck. “So fucking tight,” he muttered, hands gripping your hips, holding you still as he bottomed out. For a moment, he just stayed there, breathing heavily, like he was trying to survive the feeling of you wrapped around him. Then he pulled back, almost all the way, before snapping his hips forward, setting a relentless, filthy pace that had you gasping.

The bathroom smelled like sex and sweat, the sound of skin meeting skin barely drowned out by the muffled music outside. One of his hands snaked around your front, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles that had you trembling.

“Pedro—”

“I know, baby,” he groaned, his thrusts growing rougher, deeper. “Come for me—fuck, I wanna feel it.”

It only took a few more strokes before you shattered, clenching around him so hard he cursed, his hips faltering. His grip on you turned bruising as he chased his own high, thrusts growing erratic before he buried himself deep with a guttural moan, spilling inside you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both panting, trying to catch your breath. Then Pedro let out a breathless chuckle, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmured against your skin. You snorted, head dropping forward. “Romantic as hell, Pascal.” He grinned against your neck, hands smoothing over your hips. “I can buy you chocolate after if that helps.”

"Shut up."

[constantpan1c]

i mean, fuck, i like frerard, i like peterick, i like kellic, i like ryden, i like gay sex

[laundryandtaxesworld]

@gaytommykinard sent me these pictures

and now i have ✨ louliver thoughts ✨

so *clears throat* ahem (this is my first stab at rpf that is not just me yapping on my blog.)

lou tugged his suit jacket down as he looked in the mirror. the suit jacket laid nicely over the shirt. and lou had one more thing to decide. tie or no tie? he picked up the tie from the dresser and put it up to his neck to see if he liked it better. he cocked his head as he removed the tie and looked at his outfit. he moved the tie back and forth for a few minutes.

“babe, can you come here?” lou heard footsteps and looked back at the door leading into the room. oliver walked in looking handsome as ever.

“you called love?”

“tie or no tie?” lou asked as he held up the tie.

“mhmm, i like you without a tie,” olive said as he came up behind lou and wrapped his arms around his waist. “gives me easier access to this neck.” oliver nipped at lou’s neck, who just smiled.

“we don’t want to miss another party because of your insatiable appetite.” lou chastised lightly.

“well, then tell my boyfriend to stop being a whole meal.” lou turned around and wrapped his arms around oliver.

“mmm, i will then.” lou kissed oliver who melted into his arms.

“okay babe, we have to go now.” lou said as he broke off the kiss.

“mhmmm…fine. but we will be exercising tonight.”

“whatever you want darling.”

[petewentzkisser]

“I saw you in a dream last night”

“I just want to feel the warmth of your body next to mine”

[mustlovelou]

For @gaytommykinard

(I hope you like it. Sorry for any mistakes or if it sucks!)

After their characters break up, Lou and Oliver said goodbye to each other. It's what they had agreed on after the first time they slept together.

Oliver still remembers how pent-up he had felt after they did take after take of the hospital scene. It had been particularly torturous because Lou is an extraordinarily good kisser and Oliver had found himself wanting more. During the last take, Lou had looked at him weirdly, a mix between confusion, surprise, and intrigue but hadn't said anything.

Five minutes after Oliver had entered his trailer, there had been a knock. Lou had stood outside, gesturing for him to let him in.

As soon as the door had closed behind him, Lou had said, "This might be a terrible mistake, so I apologize in advance but I really don't believe that I'm reading things wrong."

With that, Lou had slid one hand around Oliver's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. In no time at all, the kiss had turned passionate with their hands roaming each other bodies, and them grinding onto each other. They had sex right there in the trailer.

The agreement had come right after that, as they lay on the floor, sweaty and catching their breath. They were going to keep having sex as long as they kept having scenes together. The deal had been 'no strings attached' just sex.

Unknown to Lou, Oliver had caught feelings and saying goodbye had been as awful for him as it had been for Buck.

But a deal was a deal, therefore Oliver kept it to himself. He tried his best to avoid thinking about him and even hearing about him, not wanting to know anything, afraid he would hear about him dating someone.

Luckily for Oliver, he had never followed him on Instagram so he didn't have to torture himself with that, at least.

That's why when he's scrolling through his explore page he gasps and freezes when he sees a post of Lou wearing a cardigan completely open, showing his chest and stomach.

With trembling fingers, he clicks on the post and feels like dying. Lou's photoshoot for Felix Magazine has finally been posted and he looks amazing.

Knowing it's a bad idea but not caring, Oliver goes to the magazine's official Instagram and clicks on the link to read the article and look at all the pictures.

Oliver doesn't know how much time he spends just looking at the pictures, all he knows is that he ends up feeling dazed. He blames that fact as why he grabs his phone and texts Lou for the first time since they said goodbye months ago.

Oliver: What the hell dude?

Lou: ????

Oliver: the Felix Magazine article??? That photoshoot???

Lou: oh, right! Pretty cool, yeah? ☺️

Oliver: I hate you.

Lou: You didn't like it?

Oliver: …

Lou: ?

Oliver: you looked hot and you know it

Lou: 😏😎

Lou: thank you!

Oliver: I hate you.

Lou: no, you don't

Lou: also… I thought we weren't talking??

Oliver: we aren't

Lou: it looks like we are though

Lou: Oli?

Oliver stares at their conversation, feeling his breath hitch at the nickname. How many times did Lou said it in the throes of passion? How many times did Lou breathe out 'Oli' against Oliver's skin, causing goosebumps to appear in his entire body? How many times did he whisper it against Oliver's ear before kissing, biting, and sucking his neck?

Sighing, Oliver adjusts his sweatpants and boxers and contemplates what to do.

"Fuck it," he mutters.

Oliver: what are you doing now?

Lou: oh, you're back

Lou: nothing… just at my house with my dogs

Lou: [picture of him lying down with one of his dogs on his chest]

Lou: why?

Oliver: [picture of the lower half of his body, focusing on his big and hard bulge]

Oliver: wanna come over?

Lou: we are doing this now? I thought we weren't supposed to…

Oliver: up to you, I guess

Oliver waits with bated breath for Lou's response. He knew he broke the deal, he knew he took a chance but he sincerely hopes it pays off. After all, there were times when he would swear that the way Lou looked at him meant that he was feeling something for him too. He hopes it wasn't just wishful thinking.

Lou: on my way

Sighing in relief, Oliver smiles and promises to himself to confess his feelings to Lou tonight. He believes it is now or never.

[isacksteban]

this jack and this liam (nsfw blurb under the cut)

Jack was all over him — grabbing, pulling, pressing up against Liam like he couldn’t stand even a second of distance between them. His hands were restless, sliding the zipper of his racesuit down to the imprint of his cock, tracing over his stomach, up his chest, nails scraping lightly over his covered skin in a way that was pure desperation. Every few seconds, Jack would lean in, chasing Liam’s lips, but Liam would tilt his head away just enough to deny him, smirking as Jack whined in frustration.

"You're so impatient," Liam murmured, voice low and teasing as he grabbed Jack’s wrists, pinning them against eachother — stopping Jack from touching Liam how he so desperately wished he could. "Can’t even wait a few minutes without pawing at me like a needy little thing, huh?"

Jack squirmed, panting softly, his pupils blown wide. "I just— Fuck, come on, Liam," he breathed, trying to grind forward against him, but Liam held him still, pressing his weight down just enough to keep him in place.

"No," Liam said firmly, his grip tightening just enough to make Jack shiver. "You’re going to stand still and listen, or neither of us are getting off tonight."

Jack whined, tugging at his hands, but Liam didn’t let go. Instead, he leaned in, brushing his lips just barely over Jack’s jaw, his breath warm and teasing. "You want me, don’t you?"

"Yes," Jack answered immediately, his voice wrecked with need.

"Then you’re going to be patient," Liam said, slow and deliberate, each word sinking into Jack’s already melting resolve. "You’re going to keep your hands to yourself until I say you can touch me. Understand?"

Jack hesitated, eyes darting between Liam’s, body practically vibrating with need. But when Liam tightened his grip just slightly in warning, Jack swallowed hard and nodded.

"Good boy," Liam praised, finally letting go of Jack’s wrists — only to smirk when Jack clenched his fists against where their race suits met — where their boners were level — struggling not to reach for him again.

Liam leaned back just slightly, dragging out the moment, letting Jack suffer in anticipation. "See?" he murmured, trailing a single finger down Jack’s chest. "You can be good when you try."

Jack whimpered, biting his lip, but he stayed still. Barely.

And Liam was going to enjoy making him wait.

[louciferssacrament]

Louliver incorrect texts (part 5/♾️) prev

[f1-stuff]

Hey! Do you have any fic recs with style similar to yours or ones that you particularly enjoyed and would recommend, preferably something on the happier side?? Thank youuu!!

Hi! I'm not sure what my 'style' exactly is tbh 😅 altho I've been told I'm the AU/romance author lol. 'Happier' trips me up a little bc I feel like sooo many fics lately have been angsty, what with the divorce. But I'll put some below that hopefully fit the bill/ones I've really enjoyed recently! (also here is a general fic rec list from a couple years ago now, so for the sake of variation, I won't repeat any from there, but they're all great!)

internal mechanics by venerat - Carlos has a crush on Lando's friend Charles, who goes to his gym and is in his jogging group (it is as adorable as it sounds)

last night by venerat - (basically anything by venerat lol), 18yo Charles, ahead of his freshman year, 'loses his virginity' to Pierre's NYU roommate, Carlos

head over heels by betzykielberg - charlos rival lawyers AU series, Carlos refuses to sleep with Charles bc he only sleeps with people he's in love with (cue copious sexual tension and Charles trying to move on bc wth kind of kink is that, but he can't!!)

(sharpen your teeth) sink into me by antspaul - Charles & Carlos keep having bad sex (or is it?) and, for some reason, Charles won't stop coming back to try again. Funny and pretty lighthearted, tho there's some feelings/angst involved

i know the end by aplacetorestmyfics - Charles is trapped in a timeloop of the Abu Dhabi GP, not exactly 'happy' but it's so good I can't not rec it, and it ends in a happy place

never got that ferrari by iiiOpheliaiii - another one that's so good I can't not rec it, Charles misses Carlos now that they're no longer teammates but it takes the two of them a while to figure it out, angsty! but so satisfying

a bad recompense for your love by steviethenarwhal - non-driver!Carlos AU, they meet when Charles is on vacation and start up a casual relationship that is really Not casual! This one is a little angsty, but it ends happy!

The Sicilian Defense by nottonyharrison - if you're blindfolded and a dude goes down on you, is that gay? Carlos doesn't really think so and this shakes the foundation of Charles' world lmao

[toadettely]

Okay hello I have so much to say so just take this as I run away fleeing🥰👀

I'm Eldette! Or El !! I love Toadette and the color yellow (duh.)💛🌻

I live in germany, am over 18 and use she/her. 💘

I have been watching the Party Crashers for years and recently it has kinda become a fixation? Idk how to explain but it is what it is.🐧🤓☝🏻

And I randomly scrolled through tumblr and I AM SHOCKED(positively) because there are so many cool people!! :3 And I would have never guessed I'd find like "my" people. Like people who like to yap about the pc and especially the king of soph shippers (me included ahh)??? Hello! 🤗 ???? I love y'all already and this is the first time I actually want to interact with others/a community 🥹 because I'm often just shy asf online :')

Also I made this acc just for the purpose to express my love for the pc💚💙🩷💜 (if you saw a sims acc, @/simsricecake like or follow you, that was me! ^^)

Thank you like so SO so much for reading all this and pls accept me TwT <3

[thefudge]

based on latest snl we have a job doc, we need pedro pascal and sabrina carpenter oneshot😪

well! who am i to deny yall

a little older, a tiny sabrina/pedro oneshot for the road

[sneakertin]

beatle gurus please help me out. im new here and i dont understand this weird mclennon discourse cus literally half the fandom ships them either platonically or romantically and acknowledges the incomprehensible complexity of their relationship and the amount of unexplainable gay shit that was said and the other half will rip your throat out if you even dare to breathe the letters r, p, and f in the same sentence. i don't have much experience in rpf fandoms and i really don't know what to think, am i a horrible cringe person for shipping these four silly little musicians? am i inevitably disrespecting them by kinda treating them like characters despite fully realising that what im doing is entirely fictional? i know the answers already but some people are making me think otherwise. i also used to personally dislike rpf but i never judged anyone who enjoyed it wisely and respectfully. and yet in the beatles fandom i see a lot of rpf hate. some people are really acting like shipping confirmed bisexual john lennon with his closest friend is akin to spitting on his grave

anyway, no hate to absolutely anyone, im just a lil confused. peace and love!!

[unfamiliar-ghostly-system]

No longer just a screen [Pt. 1]

You and Schlatt have been online friends for months. Your friendship fueled by blurry pictures of Jambo and video calls that stretched into odd hours of the night. But now, for the first time, you're both in the same city.

Texting Schlatt always had a way of leading to something unpredictable.

He had a talent for leading conversations in directions you never expected. Sometimes, his replies left you breathless from laughter. Other times, he offered insight and advice you hadn’t thought of before. He could shift between absurdity and sincerity with ease. Whatever it was, hitting send left you anticipating his response.

It had been nearly a year since you first met. A chaotic Minecraft stream had thrown you together, and what was supposed to be a simple stream with a couple of YouTubers turned into hours of unscripted nonsense between you and Schlatt. He could stick to whatever ridiculous bit he had latched onto with ease, and with jokes that were perfectly in line with his character. It had almost been hard for you to keep up with the banter, but the chemistry was instant and effortless. The kind you couldn’t fake, and apparently, it didn’t stop when the cameras turned off. 

You had sent him a cheeky message after the stream ended, half expecting him to leave you on read. But he replied. And then he replied again. The occasional message turned into almost a daily habit. Schlatt, in all of his unfiltered and unhinged glory, found a place in your life so easily it was like he had been there all along.

Some days it was just a picture of Jambo, or you sent a picture of the fat raccoon in the yard with the caption “u.”. Other days it was long strings of messages on topics like what was objectively the best cereal on the market or if hotdogs were sandwiches. Through the memes and debates, he had woven himself into your life.

But there was one thing you struggled with. The way your heart reacted to him. The way it stuttered when he sent one of his rare selfies. The way it pounded when he said something genuinely kind or when he remembered something personal about you. You tried to avoid lingering on those personal messages. Surely, you figured he just saw you as one of the guys. Someone to joke around with. 

Now, you stood in your hotel room in New York, nervous as the time you first messaged him. Staring out the window, you clutched your phone in your hands. 

You had been in the city since noon, arriving the day before the play you came to see. Even though you had spent weeks planning the trip, you never told Schlatt. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him; you knew he lived in the state, and he could realistically make it work. It’s that you didn’t want to give him the impression that you expected him to make those plans. What if he was busy? You didn’t want to risk the awkward exchange where he’d say he wouldn’t be able to make it. Or what if he didn’t want to? Or somehow worse, what if he never addressed the proximity at all?

But now you were here, in the sprawling city, and felt it was safe to reveal your location without pesky unspoken expectations. You snapped a picture of the brightly lit city, sending it along with a message. 

You: Got any recommendations for good places to eat? 

You barely had time to lock your screen before he responded. 

Schlatt: No way. 

Schlatt: You’re in New York?

You blinked; that was not the sarcastic remark you expected. No proposal for the suspicious-looking pizza place tucked away in a dirty alley, or a suggestion to hit up the nearest McDonald's—just immediate and genuine surprise. 

You: Yep, here for a play tomorrow. 

Schlatt: You clown, I’m here too.

Your breath hitched. Schlatt was in New York City, meaning he was in the same city you were.

You: Shut up. 

Schlatt: Dead serious, where’s your hotel?

Your fingers danced over the keyboard for a minute. The thought of actually meeting him, of actually seeing him in person, sent a wave of excitement pulsing through you. You hadn’t ever actually expected this to happen. The reality glowed on your screen, and you bit your lip before replying with your location.

Schlatt: I’m like 20 minutes away. Are you free now?

You didn’t let yourself overthink it and replied with a quick yeah. His message came back almost immediately. 

Schlatt: Prepare yourself. I’m 6’3, and devastatingly handsome and rich. 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. A bit of tension faded away; this was definitely the Schlatt you’ve known for months.

You: Bold for someone built like you to say, big guy. 

Schlatt: Say that to my face, coward.

And for the first time, you’d be able to.

---

The next twenty minutes felt like a strange combination of time moving too slow and too fast.

You couldn’t stop your eyes from drifting to the digital clock on the nightstand. When you expected five minutes to have passed, it had only been one. Yet, the seconds managed to slip away when you weren’t looking.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror, you ran your hands over your outfit for what must have been the tenth time. It was nothing fancy, although you had only packed nice clothes for your trip, but suddenly nothing you packed felt right. You turned to check your reflection from the back and then faced forward again. You gathered your hair in your hands, debating whether it looked better up or down. At one point you swiped on some lipstick, only to wipe it off a minute later. 

This was not a date. 

You were only meeting a friend. A friend who made your heart pound and stomach twist in knots. Just a friend. 

You forced out a deep exhale and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to avoid driving yourself mad. You had spent nearly a year talking to this man. Texting, calling, and even FaceTiming. Conversations with him felt like second nature, easy in a way it wasn’t with others. But, despite all this, it felt like you were getting ready to truly talk to him for the first time.

It made you feel better to imagine that he would without a doubt be dressed like himself. Schlatt was not about to drop by your hotel dressed in a three-piece suit. He’d be in jeans, maybe even sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a basic jacket. His hair would be its usual fluffed-up mess unless he had it stuffed under a hat.

Your phone buzzed from its spot on the bed next to you. 

Schlatt: I’m downstairs. Try not to trip on your way down. 

You rolled your eyes and left him on read. You tucked your phone into your pocket, grabbed your hotel key, and took a breath before slipping out the door. 

The hallway was quiet; the only sound was your boots on the carpet. As you stepped into the elevator, the first thing you noticed was your reflection in the wide mirror. 

“Relax, dammit!” You muttered to yourself, forcing your shoulder back and your jaw to unclench. You barely noticed as the elevator slowly descended.

The doors slid open with a soft ding, and you stepped into the sparkling lobby. 

The warm and pleasant lobby was busy with people. The murmuring of well-dressed couples heading to the hotel's restaurant and of people checking in hummed over the soft music playing overhead. A massive chandelier hung in the centre, casting golden light throughout the room, highlighting the polished floors and leather furniture. Even at this hour there was the faintest smell of coffee in the air.

And there he was. 

Schlatt stood near the entrance, looking exactly how you thought he would. He had one hand stuffed in his jeans pocket, the other holding his phone, his shoulders relaxed and rounded. He had a brown jacket over his hoodie. In the dazzling lobby, he looked wonderfully out of place. 

He looked up as you approached. Only a beat passed before he opened his mouth.

“Oh shit,” he said. “You’re real.” 

[isacksteban]

i wanna make them kiss but i dont wanna go to hell

[starry-sophrosyne]

(non reblog post) ok but literally just thought of this, drabble of the after events of @pen--anon 's "always by your side"; not canonic, heavily inspired (no im not over the fic still why do you ask) :

VERY long post underneath the cut btw, it probably won't get as much recognition bc i cut it but idm, it's a bit too long (￣ ￣)

brent who DID in fact get sick from staying by sophist's side, now feverish and somewhat delirious. vern chastising him all the while sophist has gotten a bit better, atleast enough to stand up and move around a little. sophist approaching brent's bed side, forced to stay a little away for his own sake, as vern worries what will happen to his recovery if he does get sick. nick manages to get vern off his case, atleast for a little bit, earning him a small smile from sophist as he ushers vern out of the room, giving him his own lecture about taking care of himself. meanwhile?

sophist slowly caressing brent's cheek, which is squinted shut in a little bit of sickly agony. brent's eyes slowly fluttering open when he feels his touch, letting out a hoarse whisper of "sophist?.." while he sluggishly turns to face what he can only assume is sophist, albeit a humanoid blob in his eyes. brent closing his eyes again, head throbbing and dulling any complicated thoughts as he lethargically moves his arms, cupping his own hands around sophist's hand, all the while muttering words of delirium just a bit too softly for him to hear. sophist chuckling while moving just a bit closer to hear what brent's saying, only to freeze as he hears brent pleading for sophist to not leave him, a single tear falling from his closed eyes. sophist letting out a soft sigh of apology, but smiling softly as he continues to caress brent's cheek, with slow murmurs of how he's right by his side. his gaze softening even more when brent relaxes, as his brow unfurrows and gaze visibly relaxes at this reassurance. all the while, he keeps repeating the same thing over and over.

"don't go. don't leave me. stay, please."

nick coming over to change the compress resting on brent's forehead, noticing sophist's visibly worried expression towards brent. chastising him with "you're worried about brent when you almost died just a day ago? c'mon, he'll be fine, he's strong. you need to get some more rest, otherwise vern will scold you again for getting too close to brent."

nick noticing the soft smile that sophist gives him disappearing as he turns to look at brent again, guilt and worry evident in the glint of his eyes. nick pulling up a stool and sitting down next to sophist, resting his head on his shoulder.

"hey. he'll be alright. and so will you. we're all in this together, and nobody leaves anybody behind." chuckling, as he continues: "besides, he's definitely in love with you. i've never seen him that scared..." he paused, expression contorting as he struggled to find the right words, before continuing with a sigh: "... that scared to lose anything or.. anybody, well, since i've known him." nick pausing again, before finally finding the words he'd been trying to get at. "brent saying all this doesn't mean anything against you, it just goes to show how much he cares for you. you'll still be by his side. besides, he's sick right now. the bozo doesn't even know what he's saying."

sophist quietly smiling with genuine relief and relaxation for once, thanking nick before teasing him for the sappiness in his words that he struggled to get out. nick, exasperated, rolling his eyes but unable to stop a chuckle. silence returning to the air as nick rests his head back atop sophist's shoulder, and they both close their eyes. minutes later, vern showing up to check up on nick and the others just to see all 3 of the boys bundled up together, in an adorable sight that makes his heart melt. vern being careful not to make any sudden noises as he drapes a blanket over nick and sophist's shoulders, who are now both soundly asleep, with quiet snores filling the air. vern then pulling up a stool and lowering himself to the ground to prop his head and arms up on the stool, as he joins them for the night.

when they all finally wake up, groans fill the air of different amounts of back pain and stiffness. all the while, brent laughs, his fever having gone down significantly. quietly, he turns to look at sophist, pressing his hand to his cheek one more time in quiet recognition. sophist noticing this and giving him a soft smile before going off to stretch, as vern tiredly yawns about his necessity to check up on both sophist and brent again. nick making fun of him again for caring about the two more than himself, and while they start a little unserious argument, sophist can't help but laugh. nick was right about last night, they will always be together. not just him and brent, but all four of them. they're all destined to remain buddies and partners, through thick and thin, no matter what struggles the world throws at them. they will face them all together, as a group.