#thank you for being so kind and understanding

[snoopychris]

introducing… dad’s best friend!chris x reader

warnings: unprotected p in v (DO. NOT. DO. THIS.), no use of y/n, reader has daddy issues, chris is 33 and has a daddy kink, a little dirty talk, dumbification if you squint. oh and also dad!chris.

“so you have kids? you look like one yourself but… maybe i’m just flattering you. but you gotta be at least 18 to be at the airport alone and you’ve got a vertical ID so you’re at least 21.” the bartender speaks, continuing to shake your drink all around.

you chuckle and shake your head, leaning your chin further into your chin. “no i don’t. i’m 23 though…i should probably get on that or something. i don’t even got a boyfriend… just visiting my dad and his new family for the new years. you? any kids?” he sends you a smile as he places the drink in front of you, tasting it from a straw before handing it off. “what is this again?” you ask, furrowing your brows as you take a sip.

the man across the counter chuckles as he grabs another drink ticket, making the beverage all while conversing with you. “i call it the chris. named after the best damn bartender this place has ever known. me. duh. but yes. i got a son. he’s 4. his names owen.”

“he probably looks up to you. don’t screw him up. but with all that aside, how can you be so sure of that?” you whisper, licking your lips as you grab the drink from the counter once more.

“i’ve been workin here since i was 18 years old. first 3 years i was only washing dishes but ive seen a good amount of bartenders come and go. i know im the best bartender that’s ever been here. 15 years of evidence.” his voice is more confident than cocky. a kind of attitude you’d kill to be in bed with. you hum in acknowledgment, looking at your suitcase besides you as the airport PA begins to speak again. the words are incomprehensible, but chris seems to understand them. some flight is leaving from gate B17.

“you think it’s weird or pathetic or something if im drinking at an airport bar at 2pm to avoid seeing my father?” you question, stirring the drink around with the small plastic straw.

“i’ve seen people here blackout drunk at 11am. i think you’re fine. what’s your name again, kid?” he asks, his lips parting as he pours a beer for a man besides you. you give him your name and he hums, handing you a piece of chocolate from behind the bar. “i think kid suits you better.” you furrow your brows at the gesture, reluctantly taking the sweet. “kid, just take it. it’s a piece of chocolate. no harm done if you take it. you don’t even gotta eat it. just get that look off your face. you look sad. you’re too pretty to look that sad.”

you blush at his words, popping the chocolate into your mouth. you slide your empty glass back across the bar, sending the bartender a smile- a real smile- and thank him honestly. “what time does your shift end?” you question, noticing another bartender begin to settle in.

“my shift? the second that you tab out. you want another and keep enjoying my company or you gonna head to your dad’s house?” he teases, washing the glass you handed to him. you shake your head and sigh, sitting up straight. “should probably head home. can i get the tab?” you whine, leaning your arm and head on the marble counter.

“nah i got it. get outta here. go see your dad. be nice to him.” he smiles, clocking out for the day. you slowly walk away, hesitantly pulling your bag with you.

when you finally make it out of the airport after an excruciatingly long walk, you let out a sigh. you knew you had four options. call a cab, call an uber, call one of your high school friends, or call your dad. you take a moment outside to gather your thoughts, only being brought back to reality when you bump into somebody behind you.

“shit i’m so sorry!” you groan, turning to profusely apologize to whoever was the victim. you smile when you notice that it’s chris. “oh. you again. following me are you?” you tease, poking at his shoulder.

“why you still here?” he questions. even though he hardly knew you, he felt like he still had an authority over you for no reason other than he was older than you by 10 years. you shrug as you let out a sigh, looking around. “i just don’t wanna see him yet. i mean… i dunno.”

chris sends you a look of remorse but then pulls you into a tight hug, one you clearly needed. he rubs a hand over his mouth before speaking. “you trust me enough to come back to my place? just till you feel good enough to go to your dads.” the look you gave him made him practically collapse.

your back was arched to a point that you didn’t even know you could reach. your face was buried into a pillow that was most definitely being stained with your mascara. “take it. thaaaaatts a good girl. take that dick. fuck you’re so tight.” chris speaks, his pants getting heavier with each of his thrusts. he’s holding your hands behind your back while you’re pushing yourself back onto his dick. it’s practically impossible for him to go any deeper into you, but you try to get him farther anyway. his grip on your wrists tightens when you let out another one of your whines. he can tell that you’re trying to spit out a sentence but that you’re unable to based on the cockdrunkness you’re experiencing. all you manage to achieve is a “c-cumming” and even that comes out all whiney and in chris’s words ‘pathetic.’ “y’gonna cum? fuck yeah you’re gonna cum. come on, pretty. cum all over daddy’s cock.” he whispers into your ear, leaving a mark on your neck as he lets go of your hands. your orgasm takes over your body, and any control of yourself you had left is out the window. you squirm and shake while chris is just smirking behind you, continuing his thrusts. he pulls out once you’ve settled down, spurts of cum falling onto your ass and lower back.

chris isn’t an asshole. he helps you clean yourself up and look presentable enough to go visit your dad. he even offered to drive you, but you refused because of how close it was. the arrival at your dads house was… fine. his new wife was fine and his four year old son was fine. it was all just fine. you could tell your dad tried cheering you up multiple times but it never worked.

the next day was the same shit, different day. you had to get through the day acting like you liked your step mother, had to get through the day acting like you tolerated children, and had to get through the day acting like your father didn’t hurt you when he left 6 years ago. you’re half tempted to go to the airport just to go to the bar. a knock on the door catches your attention, only furthered when your dad calls out to you. “hey honey can you get that? that must be your brothers friend and his dad, we’re buddies!. i invited them over for lunch!” he yells, to which you comply to almost immediately.

you open the door slowly, your eyes adjusting to the brightness of the outside world. a breath gets stuck in your throat when you’re met with the same eyes you saw at the bar. chris, whose eyes are about to pop out of their sockets, covers his sons ears as he speaks for both of you. “shit.”

a/n: new au who cheered! i did! i did! i finally get to write for chris thank GAWD cause as a chris girl i sure write a lot for matt.

tags(reply or message to be added): @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @chrisscoraline @ayesha-eroticaa

[lechrts]

brother's best friend!oscar!!!!!!

Archetype. ✷ Oscar Piastri

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Norris!reader

Summary: When your brother’s best friend finds you stressing out and he comforts you.

Word Count: 2.1k

Disclaimer/s: norris sister reader , fluff ? ish .. idk

Vera’s Voice! BOOF….. I HOPE I DID THIS JUSTICE. i tried but Lmk. hope u enjoy this !!!!! thank u for the request ^_^

The hum of the Silverstone paddock filled the air, mixed with the sounds of rushing fans, tire changes, and radio calls. It was race weekend, and the energy was electric.

Lando was in his element, bouncing around the garage with the kind of confidence and ease that only came when it was home turf.

And of course, being his little sister and all, you were there in support no matter what. Perched on the edge of the chaos, offering quiet encouragement from the sidelines.

It was a proud moment for you as his little sister, but today, despite the cheers, your mind was elsewhere.

You had been in the paddock since early morning, trying to keep a brave face while your mind battled with the stress of university assignments piling up back home.

The constant juggling between being a supportive sister and keeping up with your academic commitments was starting to take its toll.

You had retreated to the sanctuary of Lando’s driver room for a moment of peace, hoping the quiet would give you a chance to center yourself.

With a laptop open in front of you, your notes scattered around, you furiously typed, unable to focus on anything other than the deadlines you were desperately trying to meet.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love the sport or being here for Lando, but the pressure was mounting. Your stomach churned, not from the excitement of the weekend, but from the looming weight of university demands.

The door creaked open, and you didn’t even look up. “Hey—” Your words faltered when you saw who had entered the room.

It wasn’t Lando.

Oscar stood there, his usual quiet demeanor tempered with concern.

You had always known there was something between the two of you.

Ever since Oscar became Lando’s teammate, the tension had been palpable. You had shared laughs, some late-night talks after races, and moments of shared understanding.

You were close, but never more than that. At least, you tried to convince yourself of that.

You both had a way of bantering and making each other laugh, but you’d never taken the leap into something deeper.

It was hard when you were his teammate’s little sister and when Oscar seemed so out of reach.

He, however, was not out of reach now. His eyes softened when they landed on you, hunched over your laptop in the driver’s room. He must have noticed the stress radiating from your posture.

He cleared his throat before taking a step inside.

“Oh, hey you alright?” His voice was warm, as if he knew exactly what was going on in your mind.

You straightened, trying to hide the frustration on your face, but you knew you didn’t fool him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just, um, university stuff,” You muttered, waving a hand dismissively. “I just need to finish this. I’ll be fine.”

Oscar leaned against the doorframe, watching you closely. “Have you been here this entire time? It’s mid day..”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair, the weight of the laptop heavy on your lap. “Yeah…” You answered. “It’s just that I’m so behind. I’ve got all these assignments due, and I’m freaking out.”

Oscar pushed off the doorframe and walked over to you. “Let me see.”

You hesitated, but Oscar, always the curious one, peered over your shoulder. His presence was calming, the familiar scent of his cologne mixing with the scent of fresh tires and the metallic tang of the track.

He stood close enough that you could feel his warmth, but not too close to make it awkward. You noticed how his eyes darted to your screen, scanning the notes you had scattered around.

“Need a hand?” He asked, his voice still soft but insistent.

You shook your head. “No, I can do it, it’s just… everything’s due at once, and it feels like I can’t catch up.”

Oscar didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there in silence, thinking. Then, he reached out and gently closed the laptop. You blinked, surprised by the action. “Hey, no—dont,” you started, but Oscar shook his head.

“No,” He said, his tone a little firmer now. “Take a break. You’re not going to solve this by stressing yourself out here.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Oscar wasn’t having it. He reached down and tugged at your wrist, coaxing you up from the chair. “Come on,” He said, guiding you toward the small sofa in the corner of the room.

“Relax for a minute.”

You followed him reluctantly, sinking into the cushions. Oscar sat down next to you, close but not too close. You both fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the sound of distant chatter from the paddock filtering into the room.

But the stillness was only temporary. The air between you two seemed charged, something unspoken lingering.

You could feel his presence like it was pulling you in, his proximity making your heart beat just a little faster.

Oscar leaned back against the sofa, glancing over at you. “It’s important to take care of yourself,” He said, his voice low, yet full of meaning.

You glanced at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone.

Your breath caught in your throat as you noticed the way his eyes met yours—steady, almost searching, as if there was something deeper there. A flicker of warmth spread across your chest.

“I know. I’ll be fine,” You muttered, but the words didn’t hold the same conviction as before. “Everything just feels like a lot right now, is all.”

Oscar’s lips twitched into a small smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the quiet amusement he often wore around you.

But this time, it felt different. More intimate.

He studied you for a second. “Want a hug?” He asked, his tone still gentle, but with that soft sincerity that made your heart stutter.

The offer was unexpected, but somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no.

You nodded, the tension in your shoulders slowly melting as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his side.

“I’m here if you need anything, you know...” He paused. “Me and Lando, yeah.” He quickly corrected himself.

You could feel his gaze lingering on you as he pulled away, heavy with something unspoken. His shoulder brushed yours, and despite the casual nature of the gesture, the touch felt electric.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way your skin tingled at his closeness. “I’m not used to asking for help,” You admitted quietly.

Oscar didn’t reply right away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, studying you with that thoughtful expression that you’d grown familiar with over the past months.

Then, after a long pause, he let out a quiet sigh.

“It’s okay to lean on others when you need it.”

The room seemed to close in around you, the words hanging in the air, and for a moment, you were lost in the intensity of it all.

There was a weight to his gaze now, something tender, as if he were offering you more than just comfort.

You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—he felt the same way you did.

Before you could respond, the door to the room swung open without warning, and in walked Lando. You froze, and Oscar quickly leaned back, putting more space between the two of you.

Lando stepped in, his usual smirk in place, but it faltered when he saw the situation.

“Oh,” He said, his voice rising in playful surprise. “Osc… was just looking for you?”

The aussie raised his brows. “You were?”

Lando’s gaze went back and forth between the both of you. “Yeah… They’re calling us for a quick briefing.. Uh—“ He cleared his throat. “Are you okay? What—what is all this…?” His forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows furrowed after glancing at you. His had gesturing between the two of you.

“I’m fine.” You brushed it off.

And Oscar, ever so calmly replied as well. “I was actually looking for you, but I found her stressing a little, so I stayed to make sure she’s alright.”

Lando looked between the both of you again , an eyebrow arched in mild confusion.

The wheels in his head started turning, but before he could say anything further, he noticed the look in your eyes—distant, tired, and a little overwhelmed.

Lando’s expression softened. “Right,” He said, walking in fully now but not pressing the issue. “Well.. You sure you’re alright?” He asked you, his voice more gentle now, a shift in tone from his usual teasing one.

You sighed, rubbing your face with both hands. “Yeah, I’m okay now. Just… a lot going on. School work and all,” You explained quietly, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

Oscar, who had already stepped back to give you some space, gave you a knowing look. “Think she just needed to step back and take a break.” He said, his voice soft with concern as his hand rested ever so near your own.. almost as if he wanted to hold

it. “Think you’ve calmed down a little though.”

Lando’s eyes lingered on you, his instincts as a big brother wanting to make sure you were really okay, but he seemed to read the situation.

He let out a breath and nodded, though his concern didn’t quite fade.

“Alright,” He said, voice still lighter but with a hint of that older brother protectiveness. “Just, you know, let me know if you need anything.”

You gave him a weak smile, nodding. “Thanks, Lan.”

Oscar, sensing it was time for him to step back, gave you a final, reassuring glance. “You’ll be alright here?” He asked quietly.

You nodded, offering a smile that was more genuine this time. “Yeah. Thanks, Oscar. Really.”

Oscar gave a soft nod, then turned toward Lando. “Ready?” He asked, his voice shifting to the casual tone they both shared.

Lando shot you one last look before following Oscar out the door, muttering something about getting back to the paddock.

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving you alone again in the quiet room, feeling lighter—comforted not only by Oscar’s support but by the way they both made sure you were okay before leaving.

And as you sat there, the tension between you and Oscar lingered in the air, but now it felt a little less uncertain.

He had been there when you needed it most—and, somehow, you knew he always would be.

likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated! ^_^ and just lmk if you wanna be apart of my permanent tag list!!!

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress @iovepoem @piastri-fvx

[pppeachyyys]

*ೃ༄ bllk boys + cliche love tropes!

ft: isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, mikage reo

✩ what cliche love trope are the blue lock boys?

female reader, so much fluff, i got a lil lazy..., hc + small drabble!!

ISAGI YOICHI - childhood friends to lovers 

✩ everything is a "do together" activity. this includes (and is not limited to) throwing woodchips in the playground, studying, eating bentoes, sleeping, even taking baths.

✩ naturally, you both are very protective of each other!! the years of bonding gave you two an unbreakable connection.

✩ had fake marriage ceremony behind the slides in the playground, and you both just kind of stuck to the idea of "husband and wife" ever since. (you were both 6)

✩ despite it being so long, isagi still gets so flustered around you!! he has that sweet grin every time he greets you in the morning. 

✩ always waits outside your door to walk together to school. sometimes when it's cold, he'll even offer his extra scarf for you, wrapping it around your face.

✩ when people ask about you, hes so quick to simply go "oh, n/n? we're gonna get married for real one day!" with that cute smile and blush.

✩ it even gets to a point where when he goes pro, he ALWAYS makes sure to mention your name in every single interview.

↳

sweat dribbles down to isagi's chin, his chest heavy, rising up and down in attempt to catch the oxygen he's so desperate for. despite it not even being 30 minutes after one of his biggest games, he's getting bombarded with the press and their eggy questions.

the man closest to him raises his mic towards isagi and the cameras zero in on the two. it's hard to hear his voice due to the pumping of blood through his veins, but he manages to catch the basic idea. 

"who are the people who have supported you to becoming the star player of the game today?"

isagi is quick to think of one particular person. despite feeling absolutely milked, a smile forms on his face. with heavy breathing, he replies, "well, obviously my parents and my teammates, they always pushed me to be better and improve, but there's a special girl out there who has always been my biggest supporter." 

the crowd audibly coos, the flashes simply getting even brighter. isagi can tell that everyone is begging for him to continue, so he does, his desire to brag about you growing. 

"she's always been there for me, watching me since i managed to find my love for soccer. and  i don't think i could be here if it wasn't for her." he ponders if he should say the next sentence, but the swell of his heart overtakes his brain.

"thank you, y/n. and when i come back home, i'll make sure you're the happiest girl in the world."

ITOSHI RIN - forced proximity

✩ when i say forced, IM TALKING FORCED!! like- you're the foreign exchange student living in his own house!

✩ at first, its awkward. little word is exchanged between you two, and the only interaction you get is a simple "it's your turn to shower" or "come down to eat dinner". 

✩ he also never walks with you to school either despite living in the same house and attending the same school.

✩ eventually, you're convinced that you're never going to befriend rin, but a small upbringing makes you realize that he's just shy and closed off.

✩ once you slowly gain understanding of rin's true character, it's a little easier to talk to him. and even he starts to warm up a little.

✩ living in the same house brings so many opportunities and it's impossible to avoid not getting close!!! 

↳

a fun fact you've learned about rin is that he is always on schedule and has a strict routine. this includes everything from his well kept diet, sleeping at 9pm sharp, and even his devoted time to reading a book for 30 minutes once it hits 7pm.

everything about his life has set rules and orders, and once again, this includes his showers. 

it's not like you're purposefully trying to learn what he does every minute of the day, it's just that he's so prominent with his ritual that you simply learn it without realizing. after eating dinner, he always thanks his mother for the meal. then he heads towards the bathroom to wash up for exactly 45 minutes and heads over to tell you the bath is free at 6:50 on the dot. 

so why is it taking longer than usual today?

for some odd reason, you're worried. rin has practically mastered his way of living and to think that he's behind on something as simple as a shower makes you wonder if he decided to drown himself in the sink. should you check up on him? you guys aren't close like that but you can't help but stand up and make a beeline to where the shower is.

you hesitantly knock on the door. "uh... rin? you okay? it's been pretty long since you've been in there." 

it's silent for a few seconds until the door clicks. you're met with the sight of messy wet black hair, grey sweatpants hung low, and a white tee that simply adds to the masculinity of rin. 

at this time, you also remember that the boy you're temporarily living with is jaw droppingly handsome, and you can't help but avoid eye contact. 

"sorry, we ran out of shampoo so i had to replace it."

his response is short. simple. you just nod and let him pass, still trying to refresh your brain. you're confused. has he always been so charming?

MIKAGE REO - loser bf and cool gf / shikimori is not just a cutie trope

✩ yeah, your boyfriend is pretty cool, but he's not as cool as you!

✩ you're KNOWN to do good at everything and also look absolutely stunning while doing it.

✩ sure, reo is popular. people are fawning over him 24/7 and so many people wish they could be him. but behind that facade, he's truly reduced to a love struck loser who is completely whipped for his girlfriend.

✩ i mean- you can't blame him! you're always there to save the day for him.

✩ he somehow forgot his notes (he's usually an organized person)? you have yours to share! he forgot how to tie his own tie for some odd reason? don't worry, you can always tidy him up!

✩ he realizes that ever since you guys started dating, he's simply turned into a lost puppy without your aid. and honestly, he's okay with that.

✩ he's still the confident, talented, charming guy as always. it's just that he would rather let you save him and take him far away to a distant land.

↳

reo comfortably situates himself next to you, the grass of his schools soccer field tickling his ankles. he's lost in listening to your rambling and also staring at your face, simply smiling whenever you would look at him mid rant.

in fact, he's so far gone that he fails to notice the screams of people on the field warning the both of you of a soccer ball on it's way to decimate you both, and he also fails to notice that you catch on to the warnings. 

"reo, watch out!" practically in slow motion you yell, using your hands to push him onto the ground and then lifting them to catch the ball (which was going at an unreasonable crazy speed) smoothly onto your palms. 

he blinks once. twice. the shock factor has made it hard for him to process what just happened and he can only stare as you return the ball back to whoever. he watches as you return back to him, your fingers reaching to brush away his lilac hair.

you help lift him back up. "are you okay reo? that ball was moving so fast, i thought we were both gonna be dead!" your fretting makes reo smile. 

"well, i'm just fine, knowing you're always there to save me."

[1980shorrorfilm]

eyes without a face

please click! happy 2025 :]!! may this year bring u so much joy i love you

pairing…ellie williams x fem!reader x abby anderson

in which…your relationship with abby doesn’t stop ellie from liking you.

before you read…angst. modern au. pathetic losertron 5000 ellie :[ this is just me really wanting to write #that scene from tpobaw which is a warning within itself. truth or dare trope. established messy relationship with abby. dina gets mistreated by ellie </3 did i mention ellie is a loser

it’s not hard to make ellie uncomfortable.

throw her in a crowded party or put her in a room where you’re clinging to abby, and it’s done. easy. like now. her eyes are betraying her, not daring to blink or look away, while abby’s whispering shit in your ear that has you giggling sweetly.

she can’t hear you, the music and chatter are way too loud, but she already knows what the noise sounds like. it’s when she makes a stupid geeky pun as you’re studying in her dorm, that the light laughter turns her face beet red— another thing that’s not hard to earn from ellie.

not from you, at least.

when your fingertips trace her fern tattoo, leaf to leaf, ellie holding her breath and arm in place. showing up to hang out in one of her hoodies you have assumed are yours by now, she’ll let you believe it, because she doesn’t want to change it.

telling her how smart she is. how funny she is. and some vulnerable, teary-eyed, post-argument with your girlfriend nights, how you wish abby were more like her.

compassionate...understanding...kind. things your girlfriend lacks, you had told her. it was one of the more severe arguments and surely said out of resentment, but ellie secretly and happily took it as a win.

if she was blunt, free from nerves that taunt her regularly, ellie would agree. maybe free you from her. become a villain to abby and her friends, the loved group that already despises ellie and her too close proximity to you, and her entire ‘no good’ existence.

but she would be your hero. that’s how she would like to think of herself— but ellie is very self-aware and knows that’s not a reality in any universe. her confidence is nonexistent, and reaching out to you would be reaching for the stars. two things she will only dream of.

you’re with her, that ellie cannot change that. she shouldn’t even be so fucking invested in you or your relationship.

she almost has her own, after all. sort of. it’s complicated, her and dina never put a label on what they were. she couldn’t use the term ‘distraction’ without seeming like the biggest jackass in history, but that is what she is.

searching for the qualities that you beautifully possess, in an entirely different person, and being disappointed she cannot find them. ellie feels bad about it, but somewhere in between those guilty thoughts, she wonders if it’s the same for you.

if you looked at abby and tried to find her in there somewhere, if the same sad realization that they were nothing alike, and you're with the wrong person, hits you as it does her.

shamefully, the idea makes ellie happy.

watching abby lead you away, out of her eyesight, did not make her happy.

“got us drinks,” dina chirps, plopping down onto the couch beside ellie, the auburn-haired girl honestly not noticing dina had ever left in the first place. she hasn't been paying attention to much besides you.

“thanks,” ellie makes sure to tell her, taking the red solo cup, sniffing it, and scrunching her face. the fuck is in that punch? she doesn’t know, but the brunette doesn’t seem to mind, sipping while nodding her head to the beat of the music playing throughout the house.

ellie, trying to be normal, shows a smile and brings the cup to her lips, gulping down the harsh alcohol all at once. she hates it, and she’s surprised she doesn’t throw it up immediately.

“thirsty?” dina jokes, earning an awkward chuckle from ellie, who is still eyeing the crowd before her, waiting for your reappearance.

maybe it will be without her, and she can finally talk to you alone, free from the prying and judgmental eyes of your damn girlfriend. she could barely even greet you when she arrived, the blonde's arm wrapped around your shoulder, subtly pulling you away after ellie got a ‘hi,’ in. asshole.

she will never know what you see in her. why you complain about her one night and then fuck her the next. she understands you with everything, besides your relations with her— unless she is your distraction. she’s hot and everyone with working eyes can tell. you two look great together, but you don’t work great together. not in ellie’s opinion, anyway.

ellie starts to drift now, the muffled noise of whatever story dina was telling and the noisy crowd blending, a headache of a symphony. or perhaps it’s the vile drink already hurting her head. or both and she should just ask dina if they could leave this stupid fucking party.

then she sees you. alone, visibly upset, locking eyes with her for a split second, but that’s all she needs. you don’t stay still, you’re walking away once more, but ellie thinks of it as an invitation. you liked to be with her when you were sad, even if ellie sucked at processing emotions, or giving any sort of advice regarding them.

you noticed this when she kept her mouth shut after ranting about something wrong abby had done, and poor ellie just didn’t know what to say. she never seemed to. you didn’t take issue with it, because the most important thing was, that she listened to you. she let you sob and held you in her always welcoming arms. it was enough for you, and why you’ll always appreciate ellie’s friendship.

you find yourself in the snowy backyard, colorful lights thrown messily on a large tree that young adults stand beneath, smoking a joint. you’d join them if you had the energy to be around people, but your previously high spirits had now gone. it was something little-- but the little nitpicky things somehow always led to a dramatic feud with your girlfriend.

you let out a deep sigh, taking a few steps away from the door and leaning on the house, everything a bit more quiet. your thoughts aren’t, though, not until you see her from your perpetual vision, making her way toward you. her gaze is heavy, examining you and keeping a small distance as she also leans against the brick exterior.

“something happen?” ellie asks, knowing both the answer and the cause.

“what do you think?”

“right…” ellie nods, face flushing red at your bitter sarcasm, which you regret immediately. all she’s trying to do is help. ellie doesn’t take it to heart, though, recovering quickly with a joke. half joke. “want me to beat her up?”

it earns a light chuckle from you, ellie smiling to herself as result.

“no…no…she just…never mind.”

she chews her lip, keeping her focus on her scribbled converse, wishing you would elaborate. not because she specifically wants to hear about what happened, but so you would. you would say the words aloud, rehashing it, rethinking where your relationship stands with her. that’s what ellie wants most.

“i understand,” ellie says, a safe response. much safer than where she’s about to lead this conversation.

“where is she?”

“hm? i don’t know?” you ask back, confused about abby’s whereabouts being relevant to right now. you don’t even care, you don’t want to see her. you turn to ellie, “why?”

she opens her mouth, then shuts it, and opens it again.

“i mean…if my girlfriend and i fought at some stupid party…i wouldn’t leave her alone…” ellie speaks quietly, nervously, fiddling with her fingers, “especially you…”

you don’t get the last part. not how ellie wants you to, green eyes parting from her shoes and to your face, waiting for a reaction— for the realization that you’re standing out in the cold with her, not your girlfriend, who is seemingly pretending nothing happened while mingling with her group of ghouls.

but after letting her comment linger, you laugh slightly. “isn’t your girlfriend alone in there right now?”

“she’s not my—” ellie corrects you too damn fast, gulping, “we’re just friends.”

just friends. dina would probably wear that desolated frown if she heard ellie say that, the brunette was more interested in ellie than ellie to her, it makes sense ellie could never really help you with your relationship.

she was struggling with hers, or whatever she had going on with dina. you just hope she’s happy, and being taken care of, and feeling loved. you wouldn’t know, she doesn’t talk to you about any of that. like it’s too personal, but nothing was ever too personal between you and ellie. you hadn’t thought so.

“well, your friend is probably wondering where you are…you should go back in.”

“i want to be with you.”

again, she speaks too fast. you’re looking at her with unreadable eyes, and it makes her feel weird.

“i-i want to make sure you’re okay,” ellie adds, your lips curling into a soft smile that turns her pupils heart-shaped. always so selfless, putting you before her or anyone else.

you're not surrounded with many people like that, like ellie, making you feel like a priority instead of a burden. wanting to be with you, instead of feeling like she needs to simply because you're not okay. she's the sweetest girl you know.

“you’re my favorite friend, you know that?” ouch.

ouch ouch ouch. yeah, that’s what she is, but when you say it it sounds wrong. as if it’s diminishing what she truly is to you, which is so much more than that cursed f word. and still, she smiles, only half fake. at least she’s your favorite something, she thinks.

“dina is a lucky girl.”

the words take ellie back for a moment, mouth parting slightly despite not having a thing to say. it’s almost teasing her, surely not intentionally, but ellie would forget about dina— or any single person if you had wanted her to. if you wanted her. do you?

there’s a comfortable beat of silence between you two, the snow now beginning to fall lightly. it doesn’t bother you, but you do shiver, and ellie takes notice. she’s already peeling her brown trucker jacket off before you could protest, knowing if abby had seen it, it would start another fight.

abby thinks you’re closer than you should be, and if you truly believed it was solely a concern because of your relationship, you’d be a respectful partner and listen to her complaints. but it’s not.

it’s personal, a vendetta against ellie and everything that she was that you admired. a loser with hardly any friends, a nerd that doesn’t even belong to this party tonight, a freak that’s obsessed with you...abby wasn’t kind to her.

you defend her, but usually, it makes it worse. you couldn’t fix that— them. especially because it’s mutual, though ellie never flat-out said anything cruel about abby. she just never said anything nice either.

“thank you,” you tell ellie as her jacket engulfs you with warmth, and the spicy scent of sandalwood that you only associate with her. it makes you feel like you’re being hugged tightly by her.

it’s the perfect moment. the party is dying down, and the muffled chatter is even quieter. everything is hushed currently, the blanket of snow coating the ground making sure of it. it’s so peaceful— and intimate. maybe even romantic, ellie mesmerized by how beautiful you appear next to her.

she was always amazed by winter images, how the pale snow has a magical contrast to whatever object is in focus. and right now you look like an angel, one she'll be sure to draw in her journal when she gets the chance. immortalizing a nice memory while also impressing you. a win-win.

and the moment is interrupted. “there you are!”

both of your heads turn to dina, an enthusiastic smile on her face as she approaches you both. she notices ellie’s jacket on you, but unlike abby, dina doesn’t care. she had started messing with ellie well aware of her close relationship with you, actually finding it adorable how much ellie cared for you. dina thinks she’s a great friend; that’s it.

“here i am,” ellie responds, showing a tight-lipped smile. a cup is given to her from dina, the brunette then looking to you. “do you want mine?” she motions to the drink in her hands, “i would’ve brought another but—”

“oh— no, designated driver,” you inform her, dina letting out a quiet ‘oh,’ in return.

“okay, well,” dina redirects the topic, eyes drifting to ellie, “they are playing truth or dare and i want you to play with me.”

“i don’t—” “c’monnn.”

dina places her hand on the sleeve of ellie’s flannel, a gentle grip on her forearm as she attempts to pull her away. from you. ellie really doesn’t want to leave, especially to play a stupid fucking no-good game with people she barely knew, but her feet are already moving with dina.

“have fun,” you tease ellie, catching the rolling of her eyes.

then you’re lonely, again, and you despise it.

you accept the defeat of who will apologize first, pushing yourself off the wall and going inside the house. the music is turned off, a few people talking from the living room, and you scan the area hoping to see her.

you don’t— it’s her friends, a few faces you’re not too familiar with, plus ellie and dina. your eyes meet with ellie’s first, sitting on the wooden floor crisscrossed like a child. then her eyes drift behind you.

“hey.”

abby’s voice nearly makes you jump, hip brushing against yours as she stands next to you. she takes in the same sight, people giggling in a circle on the ground, while ellie williams is staring at her lap, appearing so out of place. abby snorts quietly to herself— you pay no mind to it.

“hey,” you copy, shifting out of the doorway and slipping into the kitchen, not wanting this conversation to be held in front of everyone, and ellie. she follows, somehow only now noticing the jacket that doesn’t belong to you clinging to your body. she forces herself to drop it for the time being.

“i didn’t mean to cause a fight. was stupid,” she apologizes without apologizing, folding her arms, bomber jacket tightening around her biceps. she’s right, it was stupid, so stupid you don’t even remember the exact reasoning, as it was so insignificant— a reason to just let it go.

“it’s fine, baby,” you reassure both her and subconsciously yourself, closing the gap between you two. her head is lowered, still feeling unsure about it, not looking you in the eye.

your soft hand cradled her jaw, tilting it upward, finally meeting those stormy irises of hers. they seem so distant, like you cannot look through her and understand anything she is feeling— or thinking. you can’t help but wonder if it’s due to the slowly fleeting tension, or something more. something too much to unpack in a house party.

your lip twitches, “we’re okay.”

abby accepts that, as do you.

the room over is suddenly and loudly in an uproar, abby and you sharing an exchanged look, knowing it was probably something very stupid— and probably abby’s friends. your friends.

“they’re having fun,” abby points on the obvious, a switch in her demeanor that you recognize. she’s tipsy and hungry for you.

you sigh her name when her hands find your sides, dipping her head into your neck to kiss the area. she's taking advantage of the empty kitchen, subtly walking you into the nearest counter, still devoted to the soft flesh of your throat.

you give in, shutting your eyes in bliss for a split moment, before the room over is once again in a loud fit of laughter. it’s too distracting for a make out session.

“let's just—” you gently push her away, ignoring the groan that came with it, “—join them.”

“wha—”

you pull her with you to the other room, dragging her to where ellie sits, and inserting yourselves in the game of truth or dare.

you, of course, next to her, knees nearly brushing, while abby is on the other side of you, a gap between you. the women meet eyes briefly, but leave it at that.

ellie is agitated— she feels hot, not in a good way. maybe it’s the mysterious alcohol, or maybe it’s the fact abby is by your side again. a sight she already dreads, but now, after you made it abundantly clear she had upset you, and you just move on from it. it was easy, and so hard for ellie to witness again and again and again.

dina puts her hand on her thigh, squeezing as she chuckles, bringing ellie back from her dire mind. she tries to mirror everyone else in the room, a bleak smile that doesn't make it obvious she's not enjoying her time here.

this is boring. she doesn't care about someone being dared to suck the toe of another or having to reveal some dumb secret from a truth. she cares about you— yet looking in your direction only bothers her; the girl next to you bothers her.

ellie hates this.

“earth to ellie,” her head snaps to the direction of the voice, recognizing it as one of your better friends made through abby, nora. “truth or dare?”

“i— uh,” she wants to say truth, but she means to say truth, but it doesn’t leave her lips. “d-dare.”

you’re surprised. she's surprised. ellie is often shy in settings like these, especially around your friends where she feels the need to watch everything she says and does. luckily, she's cheered on, everyone expecting her to play it safe, or in meaner terms, be a pussy.

you’re also glad ellie’s fate is in the hands of someone you trust, someone who wasn’t harsh on ellie or your friendship with her. it’s an easy dare, something that doesn’t embarrass her at all, and make her the laughing stock.

“i dare you to…” nora speaks, looking between ellie and dina, “kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”

such an easy dare, it’s almost lame, those aware of ellie and dina being a duo now, groaning to themselves.

but ellie doesn’t do anything.

she’s frozen, not even looking in dina’s direction, but rather yours. you think she’s searching your eyes for courage, but you don’t know what for. this shouldn’t be difficult. seconds are passing, everyone waiting for her to get it over with so they can continue the game.

just kiss her.

ellie can’t. she can’t break eye contact with you. and it’s not hard to understand why that is, your cheeks burning up while the rest of the room seems to go dead silent; also realizing what was playing out before them.

“i’m…i’m sorry,” she speaks hardly above a whisper, low mumblings from around her that embarrass her even more. judgement. it is possibly the worst thing she could’ve done, an awkward tension now between her and dina, and you and her. ellie wasn’t working up the courage to kiss dina in the first place. it was you.

but she wouldn’t do that— only in her head, watching the scene play out while everyone is watching her.

ellie quickly gets up, muttering something you don’t catch, and swiftly walks away. she heads to the front door, everyone’s short attention span already moving on, continuing the game. you cannot.

you stand up, a hand on yours holding you in place, preventing you from moving. you look down at abby and her pleading eyes, letting them do the talking. don’t follow her. stay.

you don’t. you retreat your hand, glancing at a distracted dina who was sipping on her drink, probably trying to ignore what ellie had just done, and you leave the living room.

you too exit the house, spotting ellie approach her truck across the street. you call her name out, the woman hardly turning her head over her shoulder, continuing to get inside the red vehicle. you understand she doesn’t want to show her face now, but she cannot hide from you. no, this has to be addressed.

even if you don’t really know what to say, or how to say it. you jog to her car, welcoming yourself inside, boring your eyes into her, while hers are on the windshield, snowflakes coating the glass.

“what was that, ellie?” you ask her, a soft tone as if you’re trying to understand her, rather than pass judgment. she’s sensitive, and she’s also shown empathy to you in times you’ve made mistakes. but that’s the problem— it wasn’t a mistake. she wanted to kiss you. there was no doubt about it.

“i’m with abby,” you continue when she stays quiet, “and you’re with—”

“no, i’m fucking not,” ellie cuts you off before her name leaves your lips, finally finding the strength to look at you. her brows are lowered, shaking her head, visibly irritated. “we aren’t— i don’t want —i want you.”

there it is. you mentally flinch at the confession, a confirmation on her feelings for you; something that cannot be undone and now will haunt you moving forward. it’s not like you can say the words back, because what you said is true. you are with abby.

your friendship with ellie is a friendship. you sigh her name, lowering your head. for some reason, ellie had hoped this moment would come and it would be different. something out of a coming-of-age film, you coming to terms with feelings she’d like to pretend you had for her. abandoning your girlfriend for her.

but you’re too sweet, and that simply is not happening.

“you...you know that i love you.”

she makes it worse. it has been said between you several times, but not like this. she means it in an entirely different, much deeper, meaning.

you don’t reply.

her brows tilt down, tears beginning to form as her body feels on fire. she’s not overcome with pure sadness, she’s frustrated. really fucking frustrated and confused and feeling alone with the feelings, wondering why you’re so calm— like you don’t care.

she thought you did, but she thinks lots of things about you. the idea that maybe, just maybe, it was mutual. you treated her like it was, you made her feel the most loved compared to everyone else in her life, because you knew the most.

the things that brought her joy, that you went out of your way to fill her life with.

a trading card from ebay. a vinyl she spoke about once. her gas station order after getting high together. the kindest things done with the purest intentions, and nothing more. she’s not ungrateful— she just doesn’t get it. she doesn’t want to.

“y-you can’t not feel something,” ellie sounds like she’s trying to convince you, stages of grief already settling inside her. denial, lots of it.

“ellie—” “you can’t.”

“i don’t,” you rush the words out, voice raising an almost unnoticeable level, but still makes ellie sink into her seat. those building tears are now free, a silent cry while she watches you, avoiding to look at her.

“i’m with abby,” you repeat, wondering why it feels like more of a reminder to yourself, than ellie. why it seems like a shield, protecting some sort of lie, or a truth. you take it further, “there was…never…anything between us…”

she talks beneath her breath, “fucking bullshit.”

“ellie.”

“you’re a liar,” ellie doesn’t care for the stern tone in which you spoke her name, a dark cloud of negative emotions hanging over her head. “she’s not fucking here and you’re trying to spare her feelings…what about me?”

you finally look at her, her glossy green eyes appearing so desperate. like you’re her life line. her heart in your hands. but you can’t give in, or give her what she’s yearning for. you cannot give yourself to ellie.

“you’re my best friend, ellie,” you say, watching whatever light leave her eyes at the comment, “and i love you…just not…”

you stop.

ellie holds her breath. a car honks in the distance. an intoxicated person shouts something inaudible. a chill from the cool wind seeps into her truck. the world is moving quickly while everything feels in slow motion for you. then she swallows thickly, “right.”

she wipes her tears, and you take off her jacket that was still on your body, holding it in your lap momentarily. your fingers trace the fabric, a small gulp before you speak in the quietest voice, “you should go…i need to get back before she gets mad.”

there’s a short, dry, scoff laugh from the girl beside you. “wouldn’t want that,” she mutters, “who would you run and cry to?”

there’s venom on her tongue that you’re not familiar with, hell, ellie doesn’t even know where it came from, biting her lip when you look at her with wide eyes; a cold stare that is equivalent to spitting in her face.

“i’m sorry—”

“i’ll tell them you were being stupid. they’ll forget about it next week.”

you had cut her off, a monotone voice that she despises. you open the car door, exiting despite ellie using your name, not wanting the night to end like this. the winter air sends chills down your spine, and yet it’s more comfortable than sharing the same space as ellie in her truck.

“y/n—”

“drive safe.”

her mouth hangs open, watching you shut the car door and walk away, no hesitation or looking back.

you return to the house, to your girlfriend, while she sits lonely in her pickup truck, not being able to turn on the engine. she can’t move. all she can do is cry; but she’s freezing and the tears feel like frost.

she wishes she had you to wipe them away, as she did for you.

[dilf-docs]

Le Pedí Al Mar Y Al Sol Que Te Trajera

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: vacations are supposed to be fun! and with a hot older famous boyfriend? now we're really talking.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (yum), pwp, p. in v., fingering, pussy spanking (ooc i'm sorry i just want a man to do this to me), creampie, virgin!reader (sorry if this is kinda unrealistic for a first as i two i'm a virgin; in the curb we all fam), aftercare, spanglish ofc!!!

word count: 2,865 words

side note: so, i modified the request a bit bc idk pedro's friends like that (i just know omar apollo can tower over me wait what). check the og request here. reqs still open as we enter 2025! happy new year, dilf town citizens: pushed this drabble last minute as a lil' gift for you before the year ends! :) thank u sm for being part of it, my journey on tumblr is just getting started!!!!!!!!!!

Hace tiempo que quería yo sentir esto que siento.

They say dating a star and having to share him with everybody else is the hardest part, but to you, it's having both of your vacations occur simultaneously.

Finally, after months of shooting so many projects for the next year, your boyfriend is free.

Vacations are fun! They're supposed to be relaxing, especially after leading such a busy life as yours: juggling between work, studies and a relationship with world-renowned actor, Pedro Pascal. Yet, you can't help but feel nervous, fiddling with the loose strands of your skirt.

Pedro wants you to go alone, which means just the both of you: a little escape before Christmas Eve, as he and his friends have already planned their holiday together.

Doesn't matter how many times you tried to excuse yourself, he was determined to make you go with him. Besides, let's get real: it's not like you can say no to him. So now here he is, both of your passports in hand as you both are ready to board your plane to Mexico, where the rest of his friends will meet you a week later. Yes, more nerves to add on the schedule.

"If you don't quit that shaking of yours, I'll extend our vacation two more weeks" Pedro threatens once you're seated, but it's devoid of any malice. He's a bit far from you (he also insisted on the VIP flying part; you're just fine flying tourist, but can understand why he isn't), so you can't count on his touch to comfort you. "Didn't know you were afraid of planes"

You sigh, "I'm not"

"Ay, cariño. Are you afraid of me then?"

"No" you laugh nervously. You are, but not for the reasons he thinks.

It's the very first time the two of you will be fully alone. For obvious reasons, a whole week at the beach is much more intimate than just the dates you've been in. But here you are, already seeing the sand and water beneath you.

"Like what you see?" he jokes.

"Yeah" you look back at him, sincerity washing over the expression on your face. "I do"

If there is one thing you're sure of, is your love for Pedro. You'll just have to wait and see how this goes.

As of now, everything has gone well: sun, water, diving and lots of new photos and videos on your camera roll. You've gone swimming and danced on the bar of the hotel you're staying, some extra drinks on your system. You've also sunbathed under the same sun you've watched go down, in the most beautiful sunsets you've ever seen in your life.

But here comes the hardest part: the night. Sharing a bed isn't hard: it's something that's happened before, one time even staying in his house for two days, all because he insisted.

This time is different: the way his gaze lingers over your bare legs, the same way he's looked at them when the droplets of water slide down them. The way he licks his lips, like he's starving and the most deliciously tempting meal stands before him. Mantaining eye contact like it's some kind of dare, just as he's done since you've landed, using it to disarm you little by little.

You don't think you can't take it anymore.

You lay down on the bed, and he leaves the book he's reading on the night table next to him, all his attention directed towards you. Yeah, you're afraid, he can sense, but apparently not that afraid to wear a dainty nightwear that gives a delicious peek of your breasts.

"Something you want to say?" you ask, almost daringly so.

"Say no" voice low, barely a whisper that could come across a breeze of wind entering through the open window as it stirs the courtains. "Want, yes"

You gulp. "What do you want, then?"

Shouldn't taken the bait.

"You" comes quick, like it's the easiest answer there ever is.

The rest of his answer comes in the form of hungry lips capturing yours, devouring them in a clash of desire against your own, even struggling to breath due to the animalistic borderline savage way Pedro's eating you out, his tongue battling inside your mouth while trying to explore every corner just to taste all of you on his palate.

"Pedro" you moan his name out when he bites your lip with a bit too much force, metallic filling your taste buds. It's all so hot, and you're too turned on to think.

His roaming hands itch to touch every available spot of soft skin your body offers, tracing first through your collarbones, and then leaving the task for his lips to complete. There goes a trail of kisses that go down your neck, teeth nibbling the sensitive skin until it turns red. You whine against his hold, big hands keeping you under him, back pushed against the soft mattress and silk sheets.

You gasp for air, lost in the fire, when suddenly his forgotten hands touch you down there.

"Wait!" you shout, mentally slapping yourself.

"¿Qué pasó?" he exclaims, scared. "Did I hurt you?"

"N-no" you're quick to deny, voice wavering as you seat up on the bed. Your cheeks soon flush, as there's regret when you say. "I'm sorry"

"Sorry for what?" he tenderly cups your cheek. "Just tell me what happened"

"What happened is, I fucked up the vibe. I'm sorry, P. Didn't mean to stop you like that"

"¿No te estaba gustando, cariño?" he's questioning again.

"No" your answer is more firmly this time. His face morphs into a bit of hurt, and then you think your answer a bit more. "Ah, no. I mean, yes! I was liking it. I meant no as in no, it's not that why I stopped you"

"Then, why is it?" he grows a little impatient, but shows no such thing, rather focused on helping you out. "You know you can trust me, right?"

"I know" you smile sadly, insecurities washing over you like cold water.

"Then, tell me" he scoots closer, his perfume getting in your nostrils. Had he wore it again for this? God, what an evil little horny creature.

"I'm scared" you confess finally, the warmth of his receptiveness giving you a sense of security. His brown eyes soften, and you feel tears brim in the corner of your eyes.

"I know" he repeats your words, kissing you softheartedly, nothing compared to as before.

"No" you look directly at him, ready to take in every reaction his face will have. "I don't think you do"

"Amor, por favor-"

"I'm a virgin" you cut him off, panic rushing your answer.

"You are?" almost immediatly, giving no opportunity for silence to settle in.

You nod, slowly.

He sighs, sounding relieved. "And here I thought you didn't love me. Que te daba asco acostarte con un viejo como yo"

"No!" you deny hastily, then laugh. "Of course I love you, P. On the contrary, I was the one scared. Don't want to fuck it up on my first"

The energy changes again, as a flame sparks within your orbs. He looks surprised.

"Just because I said-" he cuts himself off. "Look, y/n, mi vida. I don't want to force you, yeah? I didn't know you hadn't- Listen, if you aren't ready, I'll understand"

"I am ready" clear and convinced, without a doubt.

His eyes circle between lust and love, "You want me to be your first, mmh baby?"

You nod, and he's back at the kissing and nibbling on your neck and collarbones.

"Please say it"

"I want you, Pedro. Quiero que seas mi primera vez"

Those sweet words of yours, an invitation not even the strongest man could deny.

"Let's start slow, yeah?" his fingers travel down to your panties under the nightwear, removing them and tossing them out of the bed, even with your pout. He kisses it off, wasting no time after to see your clit exposed. "Looking so sweet, angel. And needy" he gets closer, taking a better look at the wet mess that coats in between your thighs. He takes a whiff, intoxicated with the smell of your arousal dripping in waiting need. "Tell me if this is okay, yeah? I'll stop if it hurts"

Your breath hitches the moment his middle finger touches your puffy clit. Pedro runs his finger up and down, not adding much pressure to let you get used to it (kissing and eating each other out was all you had ever done). You whimper at the feeling as he repeats his action a few more times.

"Please, keep going" you plead, barely managing to not squirm at the overwhelming new sensations that shoot right through your cunt.

He begins to rub slow circles, making sure to add the right pressure onto your clit, then circling it, all while keeping eye contact, adoring the new expressions and sounds he's getting from you. You realize and shy away, embarrassed all of the sudden at the way he looks at you.

"Don't" he holds you by your chin with his free hand, "I want to know how you look when I please you"

You whimper, letting him do his own thing. He starts leaving sweet little kisses around your quivering pussy, enjoying the sight of your hole clenching at nothing.

"Think you can take more?" he asks, "want more?"

Two of his fingers dive straight in between your folds, coating them with your juices.

"Good girl" he praises when you only yelp, savouring the new feel of his digits inside of you. Then, he drags his fingers back to his mouth, tongue licking them clean. "Taste so sweet too"

"N-need more" you whine, desperate beneath him.

"Yeah?" This your first and you're already this greedy? I think I can get used to it" he laughs in adoration. "Let's try something better, yeah?"

Your body suddenly jolts, his big palm flat against your pussy. Pedro circles his whole palm across your cunt, middle finger pressing tightly onto it. You moan, back arching at the overstimulation.

He feels a little pervy, enjoying the way your tiny young body squirms beneath his caging body for of him. Nonetheless, he continues to rub you while you release more dirty sounds cascading out fo your filthy greedy lips. Your arousal keeps dripping like a broken pipeline, now smeared all over Pedro's palm, filling the room with slippery sounds.

"Mhm" you can't even speak, the exquisite combination of pain and pleasure reducing you to a moaning mess.

Pedro slaps your pussy twice, wet smacks bouncing off the walls.

"That's my girl" he then gently blows on your swollen bud, pressing a light kiss on it after. "Ready for it?"

It meaning his hard tent hidden under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it. He sees the hesitation in your eyes, but you're quick to dissmiss it.

"Are you sure you are ready?"

"Just do it" you demand, without knowing the consequences of your words, or the effect you have on him. Overall.

With needy fingers, you're fast to strip him out of it, admiring the size as much as you admire his now sculpted body. Jesus, you could build a cult out of it.

"Now" he cups your cheeks, fingers digging onto the skin, "I want you to look at me when I fuck you, yes? Don't dare to look away"

Pedro positions himself between your legs, aligning himself with your entrance. Then, he thrust inside you, filling you completely. You cry, trying to adjust to his size while your nails dig on his broad back, as he claims you, makes you his. Only his. Pedro'hi's hips snap forward with precision: every thrust is deliberate, each movement calculated to make your first as pleasurable as he can, despite the pain that's shown in your tears or the little drops of blood that fall onto the sheets.

"Shit" he pants, "tendremos que pagar por eso"

He grips your thighs, holding you steady as he pounds into you.

"Fuck, you feel so good" he moans, your tight untouched walls now stretching to adapt to his girth, "like you were made for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping around his waist as he firmly holds you. Your vision goes foggy, mind numb at the burning and pleasing sensations. Despite that and lack of experience, you meet his every thrust, your bodies moving as one.

Your core contracts around him with every motion. "You fuck me so good" you mewl, music to his ears.

"I know, baby" he chuckles, "sólo lo mejor para mi princesa"

Fingers dig into your skin as he guides you with precision, right as he wants you to be. You feel the intensity of his deep inside of you with every movement, his hot laboured breath against your ear.

"Doing it so good" his voice is low, almost a growl, sending shivers down your spine. "Just for me"

"Just for you" you mindlessly pant out, the sensation of having all of him inside you, nothing separating the skin from skin, igniting a fire that spreads through your core. Your breasts bounce with each motion, Pedro's eyes never leaving yours, dark orbs locked onto your gaze as you urge him to go faster, drawing in a sharp breath as your body adjusts to the new rhythm he's providing, rapidly obeying.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your bodies clashing onto one another, flesh against flesh echoing softly.

"Your body is perfect, so wet, so tight for me" His words send a wave of pleasure crashing over you, making you moan loudly, your head falling back, "me tienes loco"

Pedro's weight grounds you as he begins to thrust deeply, each movement deliberate and unrelenting.

"Tell me you want this, us" the words catch you off guard. "Will you take all of me?"

"Yes" without a thought or doubt, answering as you whine and clutch at his shoulders with his more urgent thrusts. "All of you, always"

You notice his hips snapping forward, more energy as he pounts into you. "Good girl" praising you again, voice thick in arousal and rough, "so good for me"

Despite being your first, you can feel what would be your orgasm building, closer and closer until there is no holding it back.

"Pedro!" you scream his name, body collapsing around him as you come, stars reaching your closed eyelids.

His movements become more intense and sloppier, breathing ragged as he chases his own release.

"Espérame. Stay there for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping tighter as he continues to pound into you. "Ya casi" his thrusts become erratic as he nears his climax, "almost there, baby"

You feel his body tensing as he comes inside you with a deep groan, seed spilling into you without wasting a drop.

"That's right" whispers against your sweet neck roughly, voice breaking as he collapses over you, trying to level his breathing. "Eres mía, only mine"

You're whimpering, body exhausted from the whole session you had.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired" you sigh, "but I don't think I can walk"

"We'll get you a wheelchair someway" he jokes.

"You think is funny? Ruining my holidays?"

He leans down to press a sweet kiss on your forehead. "Come on, we'll get you cleaned up" you mumble out a tired no, but Pedro's picking you up with his strong arms, taking your body to the bathroom. You wrap your legs instinctively around his waist, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

"You know what? Your fans were right: you do have a slutty little waist" you mock.

"Right" he blushes, embarrased as he takes you inside the bathroom, then placing you on top of the toilet. "Open up, baby" he grabs some tissues, trying to clean up the mess you've made between your legs. "Así, justo así, bebé" he parts your hair to the side lovingly, fixing it for you before pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. "Done, my pretty baby, look at you"

You hum, eyes threatening to close.

"I see you're not an after-sex talker. Come on, I'll take you back to bed" he picks you up again, your head leaning against Pedro's V line as he caresses your head. "Hope you don't mind the smell"

"I love how you smell" you mumble out in a drunk like state.

"Okay then" he chuckles, "let's go back to bed" taking you out of the room, gently placing you the mattress. He then pulls a pair of fresh panties from your suitcase, dressing you in them. He coos at the sight of you, sleeping peacefully despite what you did before.

He finally lays next to you, lovingly lifting up your arm to put it around his waist. He pulls the sheets over your bodies to keep you both warm, in the chilly room thanks to the beach's air.

He feels you move, snuggling closer to his chest to seek warmth.

"I love you" whispered, not expecting you to answer or hear it.

When you snuggle closer, he's sure you do.

[wroetominter]

Close - George Clarke

In which George and Y/n are good friends, and a really shit bet makes them get even closer.

Pairing: George Clarke X FemReader

Warnings: none

———

The YouTube friend groups were always a bit odd weren’t they. A few people who just got along well would end up filming together consistently to the point where it was almost weird to see them filming alone. I had ended up in a weird mix of people. I occasionally filmed with larger group settings for challenge videos, or adventures but mainly stuck with my core group. This consisted of ArthurTV, Arthur Hill, ChrisMD, George Clarke, and Italian Bach.

We had found each other through mutual friends on TikTok, finding we made similar content so it just sort of worked out. I didn’t fully anticipate becoming such good friends with them, though.

I had moved into the same apartment complex as Chris, Arthur Hill, and George a few months back, and since then it had become quite the regular occurrence for us all to hang out together and watch movies, play games, or even just have dinner together.

I found myself most friendly with George. We sort of just understood each other. We had similar personalities and humor, so we got along the best in the group. He would come around to my flat more often than anything, mainly to escape the chaos that was sometimes their flat.

Today for instance, I was in my kitchen, making myself some breakfast when there was a knock at my door.

Walking towards the noise, I was met by George standing there with a mug in his hand and his laptop tucked under his arm.

“D’ya mind if I edit here? Chris is recording a voice over and I can’t even hear myself think.” George asked, looking incredibly annoyed at the shorter boy.

“Don’t mind at all, make yourself at home. Do you want some toast?” I asked him, figuring it was rude to eat in front of my new guest.

“Nah I’m alright thanks. Just ate.” We sat together at my kitchen island in a comfortable silence, both focused on our own things.

Nearly an hour later, I felt my back aching from the way I was sitting.

“I’m moving to the couch, my back is killing me. Care to join?” I asked him.

He simply nodded and I already made my way to my sofa, stretching my arms above my head and maneuvering around until I could feel some of my muscles relaxing.

I felt George’s hands on my shoulders, thumbs working their way into a few knots at the base of my neck. I welcomed the kind gesture, humming at the way it was unwinding my knots.

“You’re a lifesaver George. What would I do without you?” I asked.

“Be really tense probably.” I laughed at his joke.

—

A few days later, sprawled out on the couch in the boys flat we all were watching one of the lord of the rings movies. By watching, I did mean I was trying really desperately not to fall asleep.

“I just don’t understand the appeal of this movie series” I commented aloud, being met with nothing but “shhh!” From Arthur and Chris who were sat on the opposite side of the couch from me.

George patted my legs that were laid across his lap, grabbing my attention.

“I don’t get it either. Falling asleep to be honest.” He mumbled, crossing his arms across his chest. I decided to take him up on that offer, and pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, scooting to the side on the couch and patting the space beside me. George gladly occupied the space and I threw the blanket over us, snuggling in to get some sleep.

“Fucking wankers, honestly both of them. Can’t even stay up for one of the greatest movies of all time.” I was woken up by Arthur shouting at George and I.

“If by greatest you mean greatest lullaby, then yes Arthur it’s a smash.” I grumbled, trying to get myself to fall back asleep. George’s chest moved beneath my head as he laughed at my joke. A pillow was then thrown at us. We just moved it and continued our slumber.

—

Going out for the evening usually meant George and I babysitting the boys. I wasn’t too heavy of a drinker, usually enjoying only one or two drinks, and we were all aware that George was just an incredibly tolerant individual when it came to his drinks.

The other boys? Not so much.

We had been to two pubs thus far on our journey through London, and both of the Arthur’s were already pissed from about 3 drinks each.

“How many drinks do you reckon they’ll be able to get down them?” George asked me, lazily throwing his arm over my shoulders.

I instinctively snuggled into him, noting the soft smell of his cologne.

“I bet 4 more each and they’re gone.” I said. George stuck his hand out to me.

“I’ll take that bet. I think they’ll only need three more.”

“What are we betting?” I asked him.

“Ah I don’t know, we’ll think of something later. Maybe loser has to make dinner or something.” He suggested.

I watched as the boys necked drink after drink, and unfortunately for myself, Arthur Hill threw up in a bush on our way home after having only three additional drinks. ArthurTV did me justice however and kept himself together decently, although he was stumbling like crazy around the streets.

“Are you sure you’ll make it alright?” I asked ArthurTV for a third time as he booked himself an Uber back to his flat.

“M’fine. Bach is going to make sure I get home safely.” I gave him a quick hug goodbye and followed Arthur and George into our building.

Arthur was slumped over George’s shoulder, stumbling like crazy.

“How are you this drunk?” George asked him.

“Had a few secret shots. Shhhh don’t tell Y/n!” He said, completely oblivious to the fact that I was in fact, in the hallway with them.

“I’m going to put him to bed. Do you want to watch anything together or are you off to bed?” George asked me. I peered at the time, it was only 11:30pm, and I had had some caffeine. I was good to stay awake quite some time longer.

“We can continue watching that cooking show if you like?” He nodded.

“Sounds like a plan, I’ll see you there in a few.”

I made my way to my flat, leaving the door unlocked for when George made it over.

I changed into some pajama pants and a loose tshirt, getting my makeup off and face washed for a cozy night on the sofa.

I made some popcorn, putting it into a bowl when George entered the flat.

“Did you want to watch in here or in the bedroom?” He asked. I pondered this for a minute. The tv in my room was better, and I would probably be much comfier in bed.

“Let’s do bed, then if I crash we don’t have to move.” I brought the popcorn with, grabbing some extra throw pillows and making us a good spot to rest our backs.

George lifted his arm, letting me cuddle into him as he flicked the remote to the cooking show we had been watching together.

About half way into the episode, George paused the show, moving the now empty bowl to the side.

I looked up to him inquisitively, only to find him already looking at me.

“Do I have popcorn on my face?” I asked, feeling a little silly if I did.

“I didn’t get to cash in on my bet win earlier.” He responded.

I tilted my head “go on then, what do you want?”

He paused for a minute, then reached his hand out, caressing the side of my face. He leaned forward, closing the small gap between us and kissing me.

It’s not that I hadn’t ever thought about George this way, I mean, being best friends with someone this attractive you’re bound to have some thoughts here and there. I just didn’t know he felt them too.

We pulled back for air, and I saw a cheesy smile creeping across George’s lips.

“What?” I laughed with him, smiling back at him.

“Didn’t expect you to kiss me back to be honest. I’m just really relieved you did.”

“Of course I’d kiss you back. I’d be stupid not to wouldn’t I?”

“I think I’d be the stupid one if I waited any longer to make a move on you.” I laughed and snugged closer to him, pressing a few more kisses to his lips.

“I think you made the right choice.”

[mattysprincess]

Love me like it’s the last thing you’ll do.

This is the prequel to this Drabble

SMUT! MDNI!!

It’s not proofread so if you find any mistakes don’t be shy to DM me!! And I’m always open for criticism and tips!

You and Mattheo had been dating for around 1 month, you kept your relationship Private for now because as much as he loved you… he was still scared of others viewing him as weak for actually having feelings, for being in love.

For the record, Mattheo Riddle has never been in a relationship nor romantically involved with any girl ever, it was all hookups and one night stands and so you understood that he wanted to take it slow, understanding his worries and fears.

The problem with that however is that you can’t show affection to eachother in public, leading to others thinking you’re single and free to hit on… which Mattheo can’t seem to handle very well.

Mattheo shoots you a quick text after some overly confident Gryffindor tried flirting with you.

‘My dorm. Now.’

That doesn’t sound too good… You immediately make your way to his dorm, not bothering to knock, as always, you slowly push the door open revealing a frowning Mattheo pacing in his room. “Why were you so close to him?” He immediately shoots and his tone confirms your bad feeling. “Mattheo-“ “Why the fuck were you even with him? Did he make you laugh? Is he better? Did you flirt with him-?!” “Mattheo.”

Your firm voice cuts through his questions and he looks at you as you step closer, standing right infront of him now. “Will you let me speak?’’ He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but nods. “Thank you.. no, I did not flirt with him, no he didn’t make me laugh and no he isn’t better than you. He came up to me and tried to flirt but I told him I’m not interested and to use his awful flirting skills with someone else.” You cup his cheeks, rubbing your thumb back and forth gently. “You know you’re the only one I allow to flirt with me…”

Mattheos expression soften at your words and touch, feeling guilty for even thinking you would. “I’m sorry I just- I don’t know… I hate when guys think they can flirt with you and have a chance with you.” He lifts one hand to cup yours that’s on his cheek, squeezing lightly. You smile at his little gesture and apology, letting out a soft breath.

“It’s okay Matty… just next time let me speak first, yeah?” you chuckle softly, leaning up to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose, making him let out a chuckle under his breath.

“I don’t deserve you…” he mutters lowly, looking at you like you’re the most precious living and breathing thing. You feel a light pink dust your cheeks, yet a frown finds its way to your lips. “Matty… you do deserve me.” you say softly, voice barely above a whisper and he just shakes his head. “Baby… you’re everything I never will be. You’re soft, delicate, sweet… you’re like a ray of sunshine wherever you go. You make people happy just by smiling at them, your voice brings others comfort and warmth. You’re every good thing bundled up into a person and I'm-" he sighs and sits down at the edge of his bed, looking down "and I’m me.” he murmurs.

The frown on your face stays as you walk up to stand between his legs, cupping his cheeks to coax him to look up at you. “look at me please my love..” you say softly, so much warmth in your tone that he can’t help the way his heart flutters, the way he looks up at you so willingly. He’d do anything if you’d just asked with that sweet voice of yours, one word, a simple syllable is enough to make him forget about everything else. “Mattheo you’re you and that’s what makes you so special.” you whisper, like sharing a secret with him “you say you’re not sweet, kind nor soft… but when you touch me it’s like I’m made out of the finest porcelain, when you talk to me I feel like I’m floating, you go out of your way to do anything that might make me crack a smile and you always help me with everything even if I keep telling you I can do it myself.” You smile at him, stroking his cheek and he smiles back lightly “I know you can do it yourself.. but I’m your boyfriend, I want to do it for you. You shouldn’t have to lift a finger when I’m around.” He takes one of your hands that’s on his cheek and brings it to his mouth, brushing his lips against your knuckles. “This is why you deserve me Mattheo… me and so much more.” You whisper, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

The kiss, supposed to be sweet, quickly gets deeper as he tangles one of his hands in your hair and his other pulls you onto his lap, pressing you flush against him. He nudges his tongue against your bottom lip, asking for entrance that you grant him so willingly. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, exploring you like he’s done countless of times yet it still feels different. Softer, gentler, more passionate and like he’s pouring all of his love and affection into a single kiss. It’s making both your heart swell with love as well as make your pussy throb with excitement and desire and you know Mattheos feeling the same because the second you grind your hips down onto his you feel his bulge pressing flush against you, the only thing separating you being his pants and your panties.

“Fuck… baby I need you.” He murmur against your lips, his hands slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt, thumbs striking the undersides of your breasts as his mouth moves down to press hot opened mouthed kisses from your jaw down to the column of your throat.

“Then take me, Matty… I’m only yours to take.” You breathe out, Mattheos eyes darkening as the words leave your mouth. “That’s right… mine.” He murmurs against your skin and lifts your shirt up and over your head, leaning back to admire you. “Merlin… you’re beautiful. My beautiful, beautiful girl.. all mine baby.” He says under his breath, more to himself than to you.

His hands roam your body, squeezing and caressing whatever he can, all the while whispering sweet nothings against your skin. You let him, sitting in his lap all soft and pliant and patient, just letting him feel you and worship you however he wants. His hands reach your thighs, going up and under your skirt, his fingers playing with the hem of your panties. “You gonna be a good girl and let me worship your pretty little body, baby?” He murmurs against your neck and all you can do is nod as your stomach flutters in the best way possible. “So perfect, such a perfect girl for me hm?” He grins, pulling your panties down your legs and patting your thigh, silently telling you to stand so you do. He pulls them down completely, then slowly unzips your skirt, letting it drop and pool at your feet. You stand before him, bare as he finally unclasps your bra and removes the last piece of clothing that’s preventing him from seeing all of you. He stands, towering above you as he grabs your waist and lays you down on the bed. “You’re beautiful… fuck you’re so perfect, baby, I could look at you forever and never get bored of it.” He whispers under his breath, looking at you with soft eyes yet you see the hunger behind them, the simmering heat of desire he’s only ever had for you. You reach up, fingers tangling in his curls before coming down to cup his cheeks “I wanna see you too, Matty… please.” The second you utter please, whatever it is, Mattheo will always give you. So he leans down to peck your lips, a lingering kiss, before leaning back and taking off his shirt. Now it’s your eyes roaming over his body, unashamed desire on full display as well as admiration for his trained and scarred body. His hands go down his belt, undoing it quickly and then unzipping his pants, kicking them off and leaning back over you. “That needs to go too.” You whisper with a smile and point to his black boxers, he grins back at you amusedly “someone’s impatient.” You raise a brow at him “as if you want to wait any longer?” He chuckles at that, pressing kisses from your forehead to your cheek and then finally to your lips “I wanna take my time with you tonight, Angel. Let me show you I love you… how much you mean to me.” Your lips part slightly as you look up at him, he sounds so vulnerable and genuine… you could never deny him anything, not that you wanted to anyways so you nod, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m yours, Mattheo. Tonight, tomorrow, always.” He closes his eyes for a moment, heart beating dangerously fast and a smile graces his lips “and I’m yours, Angel. Tonight, tomorrow, always.”

With that he starts pressing open mouthed kisses down your body, taking a nipple between his lips as he reaches your breasts, making you moan as he swirls his tongue around it, sucking, licking and kissing while his hand is caressing the other bud. Your hands tangle in his unruly curls, tugging slightly as he gently bites you, not being able to resist it. He releases your right nipple with a pop, blowing cool air on the wet bud and making goosebumps raise on your entire body. He moves to the other, giving it the same attention before moving further down to your stomach, kissing and licking whatever he can. When he gets down to your hips, he sucks a hickey right above where your panties would be.

He moves lower and lower but right past where you need him most, making your squirm slightly and he smirks. “Be patient, baby… I’ll give you what you want, just be good a little longer.” He murmur against the inside of your thighs, biting you there gently and making you yelp slightly and tug at his hair. His tongue goes over the spot he bit gently, soothing the sting and saying sorry. He litters your thighs in hickeys and bite marks until your legs are clenching and trembling from the heat that’s pooled right between your legs. “Matty please…” he chuckles slightly, looking up from between your legs “such good manners for me…” he licks a long stripe up your pussy, making you moan out as your head drops back against the pillow.

He eats you out like a man starved, his tongue reaching whatever it can. He lifts your legs over his shoulders, his arms wrapping around your hips, one hand sprawled over your stomach possessively. Moans and whimpers tumble from your lips, his name on your tongue like a prayer as he devours you whole. The only thing on his mind is your pleasure, how to make you feel good… how he wants to be the only one to ever see you or make you feel this way, driven by those thoughts the dives in with even more fervour “I can feel you clench angel… cum for me, right on my tongue like a good girl.”

Those words push you over the edge, your whole body tensing up as you clench your thighs around his head and he swears he’s in heaven. He laps up your release, making you twitch and only when he’s made sure he’s got every last drop he lifts his head, crawling back over you and licking his lips “I might just need to give you a new nickname… you taste so sweet, fuck I’d give up every meal on this planet if it meant I got to eat you for the rest of my life,” he murmurs with a smile and you look up at him, chest heaving with pants, small smile on your lips “so what will you call me?” He grins at that “I think sweetness would fit you quite well, wouldn’t it?” That tears a small giggle from your lips, making Mattheo grin wider.

After calming down a bit, you tense up again as you feel his dick prodding at your entrance “oh you didn’t think we’re done, did you?” He grins “I’d be disappointed if we were, Matty.” And with that he slowly pushes in, making sure you feel every inch of his rock hard cock as he splits you open. You gasp, clawing at his back, it was always difficult to take him but with his gentle words and soft coos it somehow seems so much more intense then all the times before.

“Shhh I’ve got you angel, I’ve got you… relax for me, can you do that? Can you be a good girl and relax for me?” He coos softly on your ear, making you want to do whatever he asks without question so you try your best to relax for him. He feels your walls unclench the slightest bit and smiles, peppering soft kisses along your face and jaw once’s he’s fully inside you. “So good for me… you’re doing so good, I’m so proud of you.” He whispers against your skin and you can’t help but clench around him again, making him groan.

He lets you adjust for a couple seconds before he pulls back until only his tip remains and pushes back in, making you let out a loud moan. He grins and does it again, setting a slow rhythm, each thrust hard and deep, you swore you could feel him in your stomach. He grunts above you, small hisses and pants leaving his lips and it’s the hottest things you’ve ever experienced.

He slowly picks up the pace, grabbing your hips with one hand while the other goes to your neck, squeezing lightly which oddly brings you comfort. “Matty..!” Your breathless voice rings out and Mattheo cant help but go harder, almost pounding into you before pulling out completely, a whine slipping from your lips. But before you could get any word of protest out he grabs you and turns you around, hands and knees digging into the mattress as he slips back inside on one long thrust. “I’m gonna take you like this and you’re gonna love it, okay?” He leans down, his chest pressing against your back as his one hand slips down to press against your stomach while he moves in and out of you. “F-fuck… Mattheo oh my god..!” You feel him deep inside you, so much more intensely then before and your face drops into the sheets as he pounds into you from behind.

“Fuck you’re amazing… I love you much, can you feel how deep I’m inside you? No one will ever get that deep because You. Are. Mine.” Each word is punctuated with a hard thrust, your eyes roll back and in that moment all you think about is him, how he makes you feel and how you’ll only ever be his for the rest of your life. The hand on your stomach reaches down, playing with your clit as he pounds into you impossibly faster “come with me, sweetness. Come on my cock while I come inside you.” He breathes into your ear and you all but comply, clenching around him tightly and coming for the second time that night with a loud moan of his name.

He rides out your orgasm, his thrusts growing sloppy and with a few more his body jerks and he sheaths himself deep inside you, filling you up with his hot cum as you twitch from the feeling. You fall onto the mattress and he rolls you over onto your back before collapsing on top of you, his head buried in your neck as you both try to catch your breaths.

“I love you…”

Im so sorry for being inactive guys, I’ve been a bit stressed lately. Take this as an apology and happy New years! Love all of you <3

~Princess

Taglist: @revesephemeres @ur-local-wizard

[simplepotatofarmer]

happy new year to you all <3 <3

this past year hasn't been the easiest but i got through it, we all got through it, and i really wanted to thank you.

despite how bad things got sometimes, everyone here has always been wonderful and kind and it's always been a bright spot for me. it's coming up on four years of being in this fandom soon and i really wouldn't trade it for anything.

as much as the cruelty and pettiness has frustrated and drained me, that's only a small bit of it. the people here that are kind and understanding are the ones i'm so glad to have met and i'm really looking forward to another year of creating and writing and sharing it all with you. <3 <3

[spacequokka]

With a Note (I Meant It)

Pairing: Mingi x Reader Genre: f2l, second chance Rating: G Summary: You run into an old friend on your way back home. Word Count: 1.2k Warnings: mentions of underage drinking (wine coolers, which is a no no)

A/N: Last one for the event! I tried to make the song harder to guess. Thanks for reading and happy holidays! <3

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is a flight delay announcement for flight 118 to Seoul. We regret to inform you that due to the weather, we're expecting a delay of approximately eight hours. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause and we appreciate your patience and understanding…"

You stopped listening as the other passengers seated around you groaned and complained. It was Christmas Eve, and after the flight being delayed for the third time, you were at the stage of acceptance. Maybe you should've booked the flight months in advance instead of last minute. Or chose a different company. Honestly, it wouldn't have mattered much since it'd snow no matter what and the likelihood of being stranded at the airport was a given.

Eight hours.

The terminal was buzzing with families reuniting and friends celebrating, while you sat alone nursing a cup of lukewarm coffee. You contemplating buying overpriced fast food when you heard your name. You turned your head and gaped when you saw the man's face.

"Mingi?"

"It is you!" He took the seat across from you. "I thought I saw you earlier but I figured my glasses were smudged up or something." He licked his lips and took a breath. "Are you heading to Seoul, too?"

You nodded. "I really thought I'd avoid being stuck here all night."

He smiled bashfully. "I was supposed to catch an earlier flight but got held up with work. My mom's gonna strangle me when—no, if—I get there. She kept telling me to fly out before the snowstorm hit."

"At least someone had some sense. I didn't really give it much thought when I bought the ticket." You pushed your cup around on the table.

Mingi stretched his long legs out accidentally brushing against yours. Mischief sparkled in those warm brown eyes as he pulled out his cell phone and a bag of chips. The last time you'd seen him had been your high school graduation when things got weird and you both drifted apart. It was weird seeing him now, acting as if he didn't avoid you that summer before going off to college. Did he not remember?

"Want some?" He held out a bag of honey butter chips, his silver rings catching the fluorescent light.

What kind of mind game was he playing? "Thanks." You reached for the bag, your fingers brushing accidentally. Just like old times, except nothing was like old times anymore.

You munched on the chips quietly as people filled and left the terminal, coming to see that their flights had also been canceled then going off to find food or a place to stay for the night.

"I wonder if it'd be better to get a hotel room." He mused aloud.

You shook your head. "There's a convention going on. Every place is fully booked through to New Year's. Anything you find will be far out and you might not make it back here in time for your flight. Then your mom'll kill you for sure."

He barked out a laugh. "You're right." He fiddled with his phone, turning it over and over before asking suddenly, "Remember when we used to stay up until three in the morning? You'd always fall asleep on the phone and I'd have to wake you up so you'd put your phone on the charger."

You smiled despite yourself. "You weren't much better. You'd fall asleep mid-sentence then insist you weren't snoring."

"Yeah, but I had a good reason. I didn't want to hang up." His voice got softer, more serious. "I wrote you a letter senior year."

Your heart stopped. "What?"

He nodded. "I wanted to give it to you that morning before the graduation ceremony but I thought it might ruin what should be a happy day for you." He ran a hand over his white beanie and tugged at it. "So, I slipped it in your purse at Wooyoung's party that night. Blue envelope. You never said anything so I guess…I guess you never found it?"

The memory hit you like a thunderbolt—getting home slightly buzzed from wine coolers, digging through your purse, finding a blue envelope with smeared ink illegible in the dim light of your bedside lamp. You'd thrown it away without a second thought then passed out the second you touched your bed.

"Mingi, I—"

"It's okay," he cut in quickly. "It was a long time ago." He adjusted his glasses. "But being stuck here with you…maybe it's a sign or something." He laughed, but it sounded shaky. "Wanna hear what it said?"

The airport speakers crackled with another delay announcement, but you barely heard it. In that moment, it was just the two of you—Mingi with his gentle smile and nervous hands, you and your heart doing backflips in your chest.

"Tell me," you whispered.

He took a deep breath. "Why is everything so effortless with you? Smiling, laughing, being happy. You're the first thought in the morning and the last one when I fall asleep. I know our plans for life are taking us in different directions, but I want you to know that I'll think of you constantly. Is that love? If so, I love you more than I can express. One day, if you'll let me, I hope to stay by your side not as a friend but as someone you love in return." He looked you in the eyes. "When you didn't call or even text me, I figured you read it but didn't feel the same. I was a little dumb back then. Avoiding you so you wouldn't have to let me down easy. Then sometime in my sophomore year in college I realized I'd rather you tell me you didn't feel the same over never knowing how you felt about me…Then Yunho asked me if I was sure you'd read it." His expression turned to embarrassment. "So I asked around if you'd said anything about a letter to anyone and no one could recall you talking about it."

"I was a mess when I got home that night! I couldn't read the words on it and threw it away. By the time I woke up, I forgot all about it. I'm so sorry!"

He nodded with a chuckle. "That's way better than what I imagined." He reached out and touched your hand. "It's okay, though. Really. And I'm sorry for letting us drift apart without telling you why. Feels like I wasted a lot of time, like I missed out on a lot of important moments in your life."

Melancholy wasn't a word you'd ever associated with Mingi and you weren't going to start doing it now. You squeezed his hand. "Then we'll make sure you don't miss anything else from now on. Okay?" You pushed away from the table and stood up. "Come on, I need to get you a Christmas present."

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Chapter 14 Premium Story

Chapter 14

Thank you @passthechloroform for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

When I returned to the solitary desert castle, Azel was waiting for me, looking down from the upper floor.

His mystical, inhuman eyes were initially lit with a cold color, but perhaps noticing the change in me as I rubbed my eyes repeatedly, the air around him shifted.

Azel: Are you... crying?

Emma: There are circumstances–

Azel: What on earth did they talk about with you to make you cry so much?

Azel: No, is it about me...? I can't understand why you would cry over that little bit of information.

(What do I do, I think he's misunderstanding.)

Just as I opened my mouth to explain, he quickly disappeared into the depths of the building.

Azel returned shortly, holding a wet linen cloth in his hand.

He forcefully wiped around my eyes with the tightly wrung linen, and I let him.

(This isn't an illusion or anything. If this warmth is an illusion, then I won't be able to believe anything I see.)

Azel: Stop crying already, it's an eyesore.

Azel: Did they tell you that I was brainwashing you like some spoiled rich kid?

Azel: But as you know, I only control with money.

Azel: I haven't done anything like secretly burning some strange incense to brainwash you.

Azel: In the first place, people can be controlled much more easily without resorting to such underhanded tactics.

Azel: –No, that's not right. Anyway, you're not the kind of woman to be swayed by others.

Azel: Have some confidence. And stop crying. It makes me look like the bad guy... Well, I might be the bad guy.

Azel, who continued to speak without pause, seemed at a loss for how to deal with a human who kept crying.

(He's probably... trying to comfort me, right?)

(I'm the only one who knows this side of him. That's why no one can believe in Azel.)

*earlier*

Clavis: Emma, do you recognize the scent of this fragrant wood?

A few hours ago – Clavis opened the lid of the small bottle containing the wood piece and handed it to me.

Emma: I don't... recognize it.

Clavis: That's good. If you did, I was prepared to confront God myself.

Emma: ...You're concerned that I might also be under some kind of mind control, aren't you, Clavis?

Clavis: No, no, I'm certainly not doubting love, but...

Clavis: Since we found this, it's better to be safe than sorry.

Clavis: It's quite possible that God is pulling the strings behind the scenes of that gathering.

Emma: But Azel seemed to dislike the apostle.

Emma: Their ideologies are different, I can't imagine them joining hands...

Clavis: Oh? That's news to me.

Luke: Even if what you're saying is true, God didn't stop that riot.

Luke: Even though he could have...

Emma: That's...

Luke: Whether they get along or not, God is condoning the apostle's actions.

Luke: At that point, you could say he's an accomplice, right?

Emma: ...Maybe there's some reason.

Silvio: Ha, you're awfully quick to defend him, ain't ya? Do you like that greedy bastard that much?

Emma: Maybe I've grown attached to him after being around him for so long.

Clavis: Love, huh?

Emma: It's not!

Clavis: Haha, don't be shy, don't be shy. Believe me, I want to support you too.

Clavis: But the situation in Tanzanite is changing by the minute.

Clavis: If God has no intention of stopping the riots and is tolerating the apostle's indirect guidance...

Clavis: It wouldn't be strange if he was plotting something.

Silvio: I think the riots are disadvantageous for God, though?

Clavis: Azel might be finding some benefit within this "disadvantageous situation."

Luke: Whatever the purpose, the scale of the riots might increase in the future.

Luke: Wouldn't it be dangerous for you to be by God's side then?

Emma: ...

Clavis: Your safety is far more important than exposing God's secrets.

Clavis: The infatuation incidents have calmed down recently, haven't they?

Clavis: With the two maids severely punished, no one bothers you unnecessarily anymore.

Clavis: I don't know what happened to you, but now, including Silvio, the three of us can protect you.

Silvio: Don't drag me into babysittin' a woman.

Luke: Don't you want to come back now, Emma?

*back to present*

(Originally, I ended up staying at this temple because of the aphrodisiac incident.)

(I think if I return to the castle now, I'll be treated with respect as the woman God is infatuated with.)

(I don't like that, but as Clavis and Luke said, the situation is changing by the minute.)

(Even aside from those circumstances, it must be a nuisance for Azel to lend me a corner of his private room for a long period.)

(I'm only here because of my selfishness, so I could brace myself and choose to return to the castle... but...)

Emma: I'm... sorry...

Azel: What are you apologizing for? What are you apologizing for?

Emma: I'm not crying because I'm sad.

(...If my selfishness is allowed, I want to stay here a little longer.)

(Until the day I unravel the mystery of the Triple Alliance, break through Azel's illusions, and see the truth–)

Emma: Sand... got in my eyes...

Azel: ...

When I confessed honestly, the linen slipped from Azel's hand.

Emma: It was windy on my way here.

Emma: It hurts... and the tears won't stop.

Azel: ...........

Emma: What should I do in times like this?

Azel: ...I don't know, goodbye, please don't expect God's mercy ever again.

Emma: I'm really in trouble!

Azel: I don't care, damn it.

Emma: You were the one who jumped to conclusions, Prince Azel–

Azel: You're the one to blame for being misleading.

Azel: And stop rubbing your eyes! If there's sand in them, you'll scratch your eyeballs. Are you that much of an idiot that you don't even understand that?

He grabs my hand firmly and pulls it away from my eyes.

Despite his harsh words, he can't hide the hints of worry that surface.

Emma: Hehe... Thank you.

Azel: Shall I torture you with water?

Emma: That's not something a God would do!

Azel: An evil God might.

(Then I'm sure it'll be alright.)

(He's just greedy for money, I can say for sure that he's not an evil God.)

-

After taking a bath, the tears finally stopped, and the foreign body sensation in my eyes disappeared.

Emma: I've calmed down... Thank you.

When I returned to the room, Azel was silently moving his pen at the desk.

Perhaps still sulking, he only glanced at me and didn't reply.

Emma: Is that a divine message?

Azel: Don't ask if you already know.

Azel is always serious when writing divine messages to deliver to the people in the castle in the morning.

He continues to spin instructions without stopping, occasionally checking reports.

Despite calling it a "divine message," I've never seen him use any divination tools, and everything he writes is left entirely to Azel's mind.

Azel: ...What are you staring at?

Azel: You'd usually be reading a book in the corner.

Emma: That's true, but my eyes hurt today, so I don't feel like reading...

Azel: Then sleep.

Emma: It's too early to sleep...

Azel: Then meditate.

Emma: Is there anything I can help you with?

Azel: No.

(...There isn't, huh?)

Even as we speak, Azel's hand doesn't stop.

Only the pleasant sound of the pen melts into the desert night.

(Azel didn't stop the people's conflict. That's a fact.)

(The riot might eventually become the beginning of Tanzanite's collapse.)

(But, if he were a God who didn't care about Tanzanite...)

(I don't think he would be facing official documents like this late at night.)

Living in Tanzanite, you can see that people's lives are surprisingly affluent for a desert country.

This is because trade with other countries is successful, ensuring a minimum standard of living without any shortage of food or water.

Whether it's foreign or domestic affairs, Tanzanite is politically successful.

A part of it – no, all of it is probably thanks to Azel.

The great ship that is Tanzanite is entirely steered by the God.

Listening to the conversations with the messengers who come every morning, I felt like that wasn't an exaggeration.

Emma: ...Prince Azel, you're truly amazing.

Azel: Huh?

Emma: There's no divine message that is completed in an instant with mystical power.

Emma: Since I learned that a divine message is created only after putting your heart and soul into it like this every day, I've come to respect you.

Azel: Well, I'm not putting my heart and soul into it, but...

Emma: You continue this every single day, without rest.

Emma: Not just anyone can do that.

Azel: That's because I'm a God.

Emma: I think it's because it's you, Prince Azel...

The pen, which hadn't stopped no matter what I said, came to a sudden halt.

Azel: Isn't it the same meaning?

Emma: No, it's completely different.

Emma: You said the difference between a God and a human is whether they can predict the future, right?

Emma: Even if predicting the future is what makes a God, it's you, Prince Azel, who puts that into policy.

Azel: ...

Emma: So, it's not the power of a God, but your power, Prince Azel.

Azel: ...I haven't thought about it that way. It's common sense in this country that it's only natural for a God to be able to do it.

Azel: There's almost no one who thinks like you do.

Emma: ...Have I imposed the values of a foreign country?

Azel: Ah, at least it's better not to say that to the people of Tanzanite.

Azel: What you just said is tantamount to denying the mystical.

(Did I make him uncomfortable?)

Azel: But...

Azel: ...I like it.

Emma: ...? I couldn't hear you well...

Azel: It's nothing.

Emma: Wah!

Azel stands up, picks me up, and throws me onto the bed.

As I try to get up, he forcefully holds my head down, burying it in the pillow.

Emma: What are you doing!?

Azel: I'm trying to put you to sleep because you're so noisy.

Emma: I'll be quiet now!

Azel: No, you'll never be quiet.

The hand holding my face down isn't rough, and I can tell he's being careful.

It's unbearably ticklish and unsettling.

Azel: ...Haah, I thought I could finally sleep peacefully alone again from today.

Azel: I can't believe those guys in Rhodolite would send you back to an evil God.

Emma: I was the one who said–

*earlier*

Luke: Don't you want to come back now, Emma?

Emma: I'm sorry for making you worry. But I think I'll stay at the temple a little longer.

Clavis: So love wins after all–

Emma: It's not like that...

Emma: If I'm gone, God will surely cry.

*flashback over*

Emma: –So in order not to make Prince Azel cry, I'll stay a little longer...

Emma: That... hurts, it hurts!

Azel's fingers tighten, and I thrash about.

Azel: That's slander, I'll sue you for damages again. This time it'll be a huge amount.

Emma: But really, isn't it a shame to let go of someone who can cook?

Azel: Not at all.

Emma: It's a shame, isn't it? I could see the tears in your heart, Prince Azel.

Azel: Go see a doctor tomorrow. You're in a serious condition where you're seeing hallucinations.

Emma: ...Hehe.

Azel: What's so funny?

Emma: It's strange, isn't it? Even though you're a God right in front of me...

Emma: I feel like I can be more myself when I'm with you than with anyone else.

Azel: ...

(This is a dilapidated solitary castle, but it's much more comfortable than the royal palace.)

Emma: Maybe it's because you have such a bad personality that I can say anything without holding back...

Emma: Eek...!

Azel, who usually pulls my cheeks, doesn't get angry or reprimand me, but laughs in exasperation.

However, it was a soft smile, like the moonlight.

Azel: Slander again... You're really good at accumulating debt, aren't you?

Emma: ...That might be true.

My heart skips a beat at the gentleness in his mystical eyes, at the sweetness in his voice, and I dive under the blanket.

Perhaps Azel also thought I intended to sleep, as he didn't say anything more, and the calming sound of the pen started to echo through the room again.

(What was that just now...?)

-

(Azel's POV)

I roll the pen on the desk, close the lid of the ink, and head for the bed.

The first occupant was curled up at the edge of the bed.

She was maintaining a precarious balance, just barely avoiding falling off, but a single slight movement would send her tumbling to the floor, prompting a click of my tongue.

Azel: Can you please stop this, day after day?

I carefully lift her body so as not to wake her and move her to the center of the bed.

She's probably unaware of this nightly routine that has become a habit.

Azel: Even so... I bet her eyes will be swollen tomorrow.

Even with her eyelids closed, the area around her eyes, illuminated by the moonlight, was tinged with red.

There's no sign of her waking up even when I lightly trace it with my fingertip.

Azel: Well, it's none of my business.

Azel: ...It's none of my business...

Azel: ..............

As if struggling with something, I furrow my brow deeply—

And then, I gently brush aside the bangs of the sleeping lodger and lightly kiss her eyelid.

Azel: ...There's no such thing as God's protection in reality.

Azel: If this heals by tomorrow, I'm really not human.

Azel: ...........

Azel: ………… What am I doing?

.

.

.

Chapter 15

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[tigersharkapologist]

thank you for popping off I absolutely love having these discussions

You make a seriously great point on how the Septimius twins see Macrinus as the closest thing to an actual father figure they’ve ever had—tbh I didn’t even account for that at first but it makes so much sense. They see an older male individual giving them genuine advice and direction and immediately latch on and pour all of their trust into them. Which would be understandable if you yourself never felt that kind of fatherly love before.

This also implies that they have literally not even felt a smidge of fatherly love before because what Macrinus gave them was not even CLOSE to the bare minimum that a father should. They can’t even recognize it’s the bare minimum because they’ve never had anything real. They were that desperate to be given less than a fraction of what they were owed in childhood and that rat milked it all the way up the social hierarchy ladder. Im genuinely shocked how much watching Macrinus lie to them in their faces and them feeling completely safe around him honestly made my heart twist way more than I thought it would. If you’ve ever seen that image of a leopard holding a baby gazelle hostage and the baby doesnt know it’s in danger because it assumes the leopard is safe—it’s literally that same situation. Geta and Caracalla have no idea, not even a hint of distrust in this man because its the most amount of real attention they’ve been given—like ever. And you’d think one would actually be distrustful in said “care” initially, but it’s just that they’re so desperate they’re taking scraps with greedy hands.

As for Geta’s death, Caracalla does claim that it was his father’s guiding hand that caused this—but how could Caracalla know that? He was anything but Lucid during his episode, including the adjourning of the senate. I doubt Caracalla even felt anything physically during the attack—he was that lost to the throes of nuerosyphilis and what honestly looked like a ptsd attack. What if —to save his neck from Caracalla’s current line of fire— Macrinus, ever the despicable rat bastard, lied to Caracalla that his father’s spirit was the one who guided his hand, not Macrinus. What if Macrinus was the one who told Caracalla that this same spirit told Macrinus that Dondas should be first consul (as electing himself would be too obvious) and that he should be second consul. And Caracalla would believe him easy. Why? Macrinus was “comforting” him when he was alone, under the table. Macrinus obviously cares for Dondas, he said Geta was a threat to her! Macrinus must be telling the truth! After all, it’s the least he could do to reward and thank his friend for being so understanding and patient with him. Macrinus would never pass up an opportunity to manipulate Caracalla in such a vulnerable state if it meant more political power. Whatever the interpretation, Macrinus was always playing the long game. The murders of Geta and Caracalla were premeditated for months ever since Lucius was really starting to gain traction. This man had a plan and followed through till the very end. Macrinus is far too vile, calculating and cruel hearted to have added “murder the emperors and assume power” only recently.

Pivoting, shoutout to the director for actually making a villain I dislike fully in every sense of the word. I never rooted for Macrinus once. He was so wicked towards these poor boys that I just can’t help but literally feel contempt when he’s on screen. That’s some powerful character writing right there. He had zero hesitation and was SO ready to emotionally play with the fragile hearts of two seriously young men who were never given any meaningful love and attention. He was so ready to manipulate them. He didn’t even kill them mercifully he killed them in the most horrific ways possible! Good thing a point is a point and that scumbag got what was coming. Geta and Caracalla deserved so much better than the cards they were dealt.

Look at this face.

Look at how genuinely distressed Geta looks.

Not only does he have to deal with the very present reality that Caracalla—his only real family and friend—is suffering from an incurable disease, but he’s woken with a start to discover that his most trusted and prized general was plotting a coup against him. I don’t think Acacius has the heart to actually kill the young emperors—to dethrone them and put them in prison seems more his speed. But Geta doesn’t know that. For all he knows Acacius just conspired murder against his brother, as coups usually result in the murder of the head.

Geta is stressed out of his mind. He can’t trust his military, he can’t trust his senate, he can’t even feel safe in his high tower without armed Gladiators nearly killing him. He can’t even really trust the Praetorian either since their loyalty is literally based off of if they think you’re a good emperor or not, and from what we know that remains up in the air. So threats are coming at him from all sides and he feels as though he’s the only one who can truly protect his brother. There’s nothing he can really do against the conspirers, there’s nothing he can do about Caracalla’s mental descent, there’s no one he can ask for help, no one who can fix this for him. He’s on his own completely. And just when he thinks he’s received a warm helping hand, that same hand grabs his brother’s wrist and “guides” Caracalla’s knife into his jugular. Imagine how heartbroken he was in those final moments. Your new friend who you thought you could actually trust, turns the most important person in your life against you in order to brutally murder you. Wow.

Even with all the power, with all the might of Rome, Geta was powerless. Powerless against his father, powerless against his brother’s aggressive disease, powerless against the people of Rome, powerless against his own gluttony and poor choices. This man has probably never felt less safe, if he’s ever truly felt safe and at peace at all since he’s been crowned.

What a tragic character

[barblaz-arts]

Hello!

I would like to start with the fact that your art style is amazing, same goes for the design of the characters. (They look yummy tbh)

I have been wondering if you ever got some kind of art block, if yes what did you do?

If you see this, I hope you have a great day.

Thank you!

Most of the time, when I wanna draw but cant quite know WHAT i wanna draw, I redraw stuff. Like, screenshots. Or old drawings. Or even memes. Those are especially fun for drawing expressions I might not usually draw. Or I take scenes from fics I like or fics I've written and draw them. It helps that I get to move my pen with only half the brain power needed to picture what I want drawn.

But sometimes when I really cant overcome it, I usually just wait it out. Do my other hobbies like read or write or churn up another meta analysis. You cant force yourself to overcome that block sometimes and that's ok.

Oh but sometimes tho! Something that works unintentionally is when I'm like really really upset. I dont like to show it much, bcuz I understand that I'm getting old and I have a significant amount of followers that I dont wanna be a bad example to... But I can have quite a temper on me and can get really petty. But instead of exploding, I try to draw with those feelings.

Like, a while ago, I got really upset about stuff with an AI art fraud. And im just like, you know what this person can claim they're an "artist" all they want, but they still havent even shown a paper drawing as concrete proof. all just excuses and shit. The next moment I drew this, just to reassure myself that I'm an artist and I know what being a real artist is. That unlike AI frauds, I can show I dont need a computer to draw. All I need is a pencil and paper and I'm good.

(Then I proceeded to draw more than I usually do on paper because of that lmao)

And then when Youtooz came with an announcement that they're gonna release four figurines, half of which was 2 versions of Alastor and NO sign of Vaggie, I drew four Vaggies. Yes. I drew all this angry. Until yunno. I got so happy over how nice this ended up looking instead.

And then the last art I posted with the Harem Hotel AU? That's been in my drafts since november but I only got to finish it recently because I got upset over all the people in my notifs leaving hate comments about Vaggie lmao. Just told myself that they can claim to be objective critics who arent misogynistic, but at the end of the day all they could do is leave mean comments on twitter. Meanwhile, I can create! It's borderline horny gay shit, but hey! At least I'm doin' something productive! I can show female characters like her are are worth so much love to the point of making art!

Just. Idk. Maybe next time you feel negative feelings and shit, use art as the outlet for that negativity. Make something out of it. It doesnt have to be pretty, but hopefully it could make you feel good.

Or you know. Like I said, just wait it out.

[szoboobszlai]

THEY DON’T KNOW ABOUT US

word counter: +1,8k

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x physiotherapist!female reader

warnings: none!

author notes: hey everyone! first of all, i just wanted to wish you a very happy new year; 2024 was absolutely amazing for me, and having your notes and feedback on my writing is something that really made me grateful, so, THANK YOU!

this is a new part of my one direction lyric-based writing series, that you can find here. also, click here for my full masterlist.

liverpool football club has always been more than just a job for you. as the team’s physiotherapist, you loved every moment, every pass, every win and loss. it was your place, your purpose. but what you didn’t expect was that football would bring you face to face with a completely different kind of challenge.

trent alexander-arnold. his name echoed in your head constantly since he started being your patient. the young player, with an impressive skill, an unwavering dedication to the team, but also a quiet, enigmatic energy, something you always noticed but never dared to explore.

it all started with an ankle injury trent had. the need for more intense care meant you were the one who treated him most often. the physiotherapy sessions became moments of conversation that went beyond what was necessary; you talked about games, the team, the season’s expectations… but slowly, you started sharing more than just that.

“do you really think this injury is going to take us out of the title race?” trent asked one day, as you applied ice to his ankle, his brown eyes meeting yours.

“you’re strong enough to overcome this, and you know liverpool needs you.” you said, smiling at him, trying to stay professional, but there was something in his gaze that made you feel there was more to it. “you can’t give up now, trent.”

he laughed, a genuine smile that made your heart beat faster. “you know, you always talk like you’re our mental therapist, not just the physical one.”

“i am, i am.” you laughed back, trying to push the growing tension between you both aside.

but, in your hearts, you knew it was more than just a professional relationship. with every touch during the treatment, every furtive glance, the connection grew stronger. you couldn’t deny what you were feeling, but you both knew that something so delicate needed to be kept secret. what would people say about a physiotherapist and a football player being involved? the club, the teammates, the fans… no one would understand.

the view of his smile echoed in your mind when you thought about what was beginning to grow between you two — you had shared so many moments, but never in front of others. on the field, he was the icon, the standout player. you, just the physiotherapist who, with skilled hands, helped the team stay on their feet. but when you met in private, away from the curious eyes and microphones, it felt like the world was too small for the two souls that had found each other.

it was on an autumn night, after a hard game, that the tension between you two finally overflowed. liverpool had won, but trent, still exhausted, was feeling the pain in his legs. you followed him to the locker room for one last check, knowing he was in good shape, but also aware of how physically affected he might be.

after the treatment, you found yourselves alone, a rare moment in the busy routine of training and games. he looked at you, his brown eyes deep, locking with yours. the silence between you both grew heavy.

“y/n…” he began, his voice low, hesitant. “i need to tell you something.”

you felt your heart race, the professionalism you always maintained starting to waver in the face of the intensity of the moment.

“i have something to tell you too.” you smiled, trying to stay calm, but the anxiety took over you. you both knew what was about to happen. you were about to cross the thin line between what was acceptable and what was risky.

trent took a step closer, his hands now intertwining with yours. “they don’t know about us, y/n. no one knows how real this is.” he moved even closer, until your lips met for the first time, softly, like a silent promise.

the kiss was quick, but it was etched in your memory. it felt like time had stopped. but when you pulled away, the world started spinning again, and you were back in reality: you were hidden.

“i think we need to be careful,” you whispered as you pulled back slightly, trying to breathe.

“i know, but i can’t act like it’s not real anymore.” trent said, sincerity in his eyes. “i need you, y/n. but if this is too much for you…”

you interrupted him, smiling at him. “i need you too. but let’s keep this between us. just the two of us.”

in the following days, the tension grew in a different way: the chemistry between you was more visible than ever, but no one spoke of it. you and trent continued with your routine, keeping up the professional facade in front of everyone else. but with each meeting, each furtive glance, the connection between you two grew even more. you were being careful, trying to hide what no one could know.

this is how things had to be. a secret shared only between you two. when trent felt weak, you were his strength. when he won, you were there to celebrate, silently, always by his side, but never visible to others.

and even though the outside world didn’t know, you both knew what you had. a love no one could understand, but that remained strong despite the external pressures. a love that, no matter how much the world tried to ignore, was unbreakable.

and maybe that’s what made what you had even more special. the secret you shared in the glances and the silences. you both knew that, in the end, what mattered was what was between you. and that, no one could ever take away.

[impala124]

Bad Buddy Ep 9

My thoughts on Ep 1 | Ep 2 | Ep 3 | Ep 4 | Ep 5 | Ep 6 | Ep 7 | Ep 8

Me, at the end of this episode:

Well, I finally got to know what Patshottiversay is about, which started this whole Bad Buddy liveblog thing. So, there's that. As for my thoughts on the entire episode, here we go:

Wai was feeling hurt that Pran lied to him about his relationship with Pat and decided to out them as a form of retaliation. Still don't know if he's the one who saw them leave in the car together, though.

Okay, cut to the final play; Pat is smiling and clapping, but Pran appears to be a bit more subdued and peeking glances at Wai. Now, I thought Wai couldn't be a part of the play because of time constraints, which was the reason why Pran's ass was anywhere near this play.

Don't tell me that Wai is giving Pran the silent treatment after pulling that stunt. THE AUDACITY!!! He is. Pran is apologizing, which I kinda understand, but Wai really needs to get off his high horse. Are you sure you want to pull the best friend card here, Wai? After what you did in response?

Oh no, Pat became the faculty pariah; at least that's what Korn is saying. I'm sure it must've felt good for Pat to (supposedly) have Korn on his side.

I would actually pay good money to watch Pat talk to Wai for Pran. Thank you, Pat, for calling out your boyfriend on his avoidant behavior.

Awwww, Pat asking if Pran wants him to post a status saying that they broke up to get Wai to talk to him is 😭😭😭.

Guys, I don't feel good about this rugby practice. Okay, Pat's fine, at least physically.

I mean, Korn is being fun and playful, which must feel nice for Pat, but I'm still reserving judgment. His reaction just doesn't seem genuine, you know?

Pran is waiting in the bleachers for his jock boyfriend to finish rugby practice.

I have to admit that I let out a chuckle at the inhaler product placement in this tense atmosphere.

I'm sure their flirting is just pissing Wai off. Oh Wai, you really showed your attention-seeking ass there, didn't you?

So, let me get this straight: Pran only came to rugby practice to make his boyfriend sniff on an inhaler. ASFSHGF—

Yay, double date with Pa and Ink. My darlings. Okay, so, let's settle this once and for all. WHO SEDUCED WHOM? I'll have to go with Pat seducing Pran because Pran would have never taken the first step.

Ink trying to stir up the pot by asking Pat if he were lying about having feelings for her is just chef's kiss.

See, Ink saw PatPran coming from a mile. I mean, since Ink knows about their parents rivalry, even if she didn't want to broach that subject with the guys, I expected her to bring it up with Pa. Am I showing my nosy ass over here?

Ink, babygirl, I hope you weren't going for subtle with the "Are you being hit on by anyone?" Because it wasn't subtle, at all. These girls will be the death of me.

Ink, girl, what are you playing at? Please don't toy with Pa's feelings.

The domesticity!!!! "Can you stop being a big, clingy dog for one second?" Don't be lying now, Pran; you like him exactly like that.

Pa is the ever-suffering child that has to witness her parents PDA.

Wai is still mad, and Pat is kind of done seeing his boyfriend being sad.

I just hope the drink sales went through the roof after the episodes aired because they worked hard for the product placement to seem natural.

What in the what now, you take a sip of the drink and lose control over your bodily movements?! Maybe I'm not the target customer for this.

We are back to their regular flirting now. Pran saying, "All I know is if you lose, you won't get anything," in response to Pat's, "If I win, will I get more than the drink?" AAAAHHHHHH!

Game time!! I just have this feeling that Pat's going to end up getting hurt. Hope I'm wrong.

Okay, so none of Pran's friends are talking to him.

What crawled up Wai's ass now? This is a team sport; remember your rugby scholarship? Why are you half-assing it?

Pat, baby boy, a fight is what he wants, and you're giving it to him.

I think Pat is smart for saying, "I'll ask the coach to not send me onto the field if you can guarantee a win," to Wai—it indicates that the team winning is the thing that matters the most to him.

WAI PASSED THE BALL TO PAT!!!Pran also moved closer to his friends on the bleachers. And they won!!!

Pat definitely deserves to get whatever he wants from Pran after leading the team to victory and bridging the gap between Pran and his friends.

Well, Wai is still sulking, but at least it's off the field, and that's expected and normal atp.

I'd be worried if he were treating Pat like a friend now.

The other team seems like they are a bunch of sore losers. God, I hope they won't plan a sneak attack at night for revenge or anything like that. I don't know; I just have this gut feeling that someone will end up getting hurt.

All Pat wants is just to be babygirled by Pran. Is this the more you were talking about earlier, Pat? The reward after your win? Well, they got cockblocked by Korn.

They are at a bar celebrating their win. I don't want anyone injured at the end of the night, but my spidey senses are tingling.

Oh no, the losing team is at the place where Wai works, and the guy recognized him. I smell trouble in the air. HE DID NOT JUST PULL A GUN ON WAI. WTF???!!!

Thank God that Wai is trying to de-escalate the situation. Thank you, good stranger, who was just carrying his drunk friend out and inadvertently helped Wai.

Now, Pat's friends are also at the same place. So, the sore loser isn't done yet.

Oh, this takes me back in time. Remember when Pat's friends did the same to Wai? Pat remained passive back then, but he's butting in right now. Wai is asking Pat to back off, and he did, but I don't trust the look on that sore loser's face.

Pat, bestie, where are your friends? Why are you walking alone on a deserted street at night after that interaction?

Pat, RUN! Why are you trying to fight them? You are outnumbered.

Okay, Pat's friends are here.

Oh, no, he pulled the fucking gun. Are you shitting me right now??? This is how PAT GOT SHOT??!

I'm sorry, but why was that one of the funniest gunshots I've ever seen?

Guys, it's just so surreal. Why did it have to be a gun? I think it would've made more sense for it to be a knife the way they fought over it. You know, a knife stabbing instead of the gunshot wound. I would've taken it more seriously then, maybe.

Pran's in the hospital, on his way to cuss Pat's ass out, I hope.

Why are Pat's friends acting like that? Pat, sir, why are you breathing like that?

To kiss your boyfriend?! I'm softening up to Pat's friends a bit. They are just immature but don't mean any harm.

Apparently no one is taking this seriously because a gun went off in the middle of the night and the patient was just brought to the hospital. WHERE ARE THE COPS? Did they contact his parents?? Pat is 19 at the max. They should inform someone, RIGHT?!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S JUST A GRAZE WOUND AND A BANDAGE IS ENOUGH, Pat? Huh? I feel like I'm going INSANE!!

Thank God the cops showed up. Now, why are the cops being dumb and assuming that Pat shot himself with his own firearm?

How about an investigation? Maybe send it to the lab for fingerprint analysis or check if the gun is registered under someone's name?

Why do I have to tell the cops how to do their job? They're charging him already. Man, what is this???!

Well, I guess it's good that Wai told everyone that Pat helped him the previous night.

I'm sorry, but what do you mean they are charging him without any investigation?

"Without any proof to confirm it isn't his, he's over." Is this how the justice system works? Aren't the cops supposed to provide irrefutable proof that the person committed the crime before they charge them?

Did they take witness statements? Do the police even know that others have fled the scene?

Now, why are these college kids trying to bring the others who fled the crime scene in? Shouldn't the police do that?

Since they played a game against them with a referee and all, they must have a record of their government names somewhere. Why don't they just turn the list over to the police?

Okay, I guess Wai is going to use the footage where the guy pulled the gun on him to prove Pat's innocence.

I mean, good, but why aren't we sharing this information with the police?! Why are you doing the work for them?

Why are the police acting like they are the fucking debt collectors and not public servants?

Well, at least Pran is getting his morning cardio in.

I'm not taking this seriously anymore. Now I understand the jokes; it's a way of coping with the absurdity of the situation.

Pran saved his boyfriend's ass, I guess.

Can someone explain to me like I'm five years old what the purpose of this whole thing was? I will expand upon this later.

Is it to show that Wai is okay with their relationship? I got that feeling after Wai asked Pat to step away from the fight the previous night.

Wait a second. Pat got shot, and no one informed Pa, you know, his sister who lives with him?

Okay, Wai and Pat are bantering now?! "My friend almost became a widower there."😂😂 These are not serious people.

God, they're so sweet with each other that it's almost making me forget about what all has transpired.

PAT'S FAMILY FINALLY SHOWED UP. Pa, sweetheart, you could've sent your brother a message that you're coming with your parents to visit him.

Now, why is the father acting like Pran shot Pat? Uncle, I'm sorry, my brain is already fried right now; I can't deal with you and your decades old rivalry at this moment.

Okay, real talk now. I honestly feel a bit let down and disrespected. The series has been building up to something extraordinary, and now I get this?! Did something happen in the writers room? There was an underlying tonal shift almost as if they were laughing at me for taking this show seriously. I mean, someone needs to answer for this. Now, let me try and summarise what all they tried to accomplish this episode:

Everyone in the university knows about their relationship and they face consequences for it.

They wanted Wai to be okay with Pat and Pran being together.

They wanted Pran to face Pat's parents and them being suspicious of his relationship with their son.

Cool, got it. Let's examine how they went about achieving each of these now and how else they could've accomplished the same because honestly this is how I'm feeling right now:

So, the whole university knows that these two guys from all-time rival faculties are now dating, and almost nothing happens? Pat gets treated like an outcast for 2 seconds. I mean, he was selected as class president by his seniors. If they really wanted me to take their faculty rivalry seriously, I would've gotten at least one scene where Pat was forced to make a choice between his relationship with Pran or his position of power in the faculty. I don't know, maybe my expectations were a lot higher for what the fallout for each would be. At least there were some repercussions for Pran dating Pat and keeping it a secret from his friends. The whole response to the reveal felt very anticlimactic (to me).

Now, let's talk about Pat getting shot. It was just unnecessary. Wai was already okay with Pat after Pat intervened in the club when Wai was being mistreated. He would've stopped being mad at Pran eventually and come around about their relationship given some time.

What about Pran running into Pat's parents and them being suspicious of their relationship? Could they have accomplished it without having Pran run into them in the hospital? Yes, I don't know why we are forgetting this, but they live in the same dorms and are neighbors. Given how frequently they have sleepovers, Pat's father could've just dropped by like he did previously in Ep 2, if I'm not wrong, and maybe find some of Pran's things lying around and take it from there. Instead of going through all that, given Pat's dad's propensity for just dropping by the university to meet one of his professor friends, he could've just seen them holding hands on a bench outside, somewhere, anywhere.

We still don't know who actually saw them leave together in Pat's car. Wai didn't recall it when he was going through his montage of Pran lying to my face about his relationship with Pat moments. I thought I'd see Pran's mom at the play because she apparently gets a bat signal whenever her son is near a musical instrument with Pat, but maybe not in this case?

Okay, I'm being snarky now, but it's because I feel duped. Maybe I'm taking this show too seriously, but until Ep 8, the show told me that it wants to be taken seriously. I hope it's just a one-off and they'll find their footing with the next episode.

Tagging the usual suspects: @shortpplfedup, @incandescentflower, @starryalpacasstuff, @7nessasaryevils, @greenteadumplings, @grapejuicegay, @madworld-bbs, @usodeshou, @tao-moonb, @fanatic-freakshow @desi-yearning. If anyone wishes to be tagged in the future, let me know.

[mimble-sparklepudding]

OC Language and Vernacular Questions.

Is your OC a confident speaker? Do they find it easy to express themselves verbally? Or do they stutter or perhaps easily lose their train of thought?

Does your OC use any expressions or slang terms that are unique to the area in which they grew up, or a specific community of which they were once a member?

How often does your OC swear? Is it something that punctuates their everday speech? Or is it so unusual to hear them use "bad" language that it would shock those around them?

Does your OC have a particular accent? Do other people ever judge or stereotype them on the basis of their accent? How do they feel about this?

Can other people recognise when your OC is angry or serious by the tone of their voice? Or does their language become coarser? Or perhaps more formal?

Does your OC show courtesy in their language around others - do they routinely thank others, or do they only do so if they percieve that person as being of a higher social status?

Has your OC much experience of public speaking or any formal training in rhetoric? Do they find such things easy or intimidatingly difficult?

Did your OC's parents or other caregivers use any specific terms of endearment for them as a child? Do (or would) they use similar terms for their own children?

Does your OC consider their voice particularly "sexy"? Do they try to adopt a more seductive tone in romantic situations? How successful are these efforts?

Does your OC often punctuate their speech with filler sounds, such as "um" or "er"? Or words such as "like" or "you know"?

Has your OC ever made a conscious effort to change their voice? Perhaps by trying to rid themselves of a particular accent or making themselves sound more assertive?

Are there any particular words that make your OC cringe? Is this due to negative associations? Or second-hand embarrassment? Do they try to conceal their dislike?

Is your OC talented at creative writing, whether poetry or prose? Would they ever show their work to anyone else?

Are there any concepts or activities which are taboo in your OC's culture of origin, which they prefer to refer to euphemistically? How do the respond to others who do not share these taboos?

What is your OC's favourite or "go-to" swearword when under duress?

Does your OC's body language sometimes give away what they might prefer to conceal? Or are they practiced at ensuring that their physical presentation matches their stated positions?

Has your OC ever found other people struggle to understand them because of their accent? How did this make them feel? Did they resent the listeners? Or feel bad about themselves? Or both?

How does your OC feel about other people with "posh" or "upper-class" accents? Do they feel a natural deference to them? Or a resentment? Or do they not even notice?

To what degree does your OC amend their language and/or tone when speaking to children (or in front of them).

Does your OC ever use technical or academic language when discussing their specialist interests? Do others ever need them to translate these terms?

Does your OC like to ascribe nicknames or pet names to other people? How well does this usually go down?

What is your OC's singing voice like? Does it surprise other people by being better (or worse) than they expected?

How confident is your OC at writing? Do they regularly write letters or even academic papers? Or is their writing stilted, awkward - or even a source of embarassment to them?

How does your OC's voice change when they are trying to persuade someone else to let them have their own way? Is this particularly persuasive? Perhaps only to certain people?

Has anyone ever mocked or made fun of your OC's accent or the words they use? What was the impact of this upon them?

What kind of compliments might your OC bestow upon another person? Elegant flattery? Crude sexual banter? Measured, but positive feedback?

Does your OC ever use deliberately offensive or abusive terms towards particular social or cultural groups?

How easy does your OC find it to say "no"? Do they prefer to prevaricate? Is this out of courtesy? Or from a fear of rejection?

Are there any words or terms that your OC finds particularly offensive? Is this unique to their own experiences or something on which most people would agree?

Is your OC particularly vocal during sex? Do they tend to use actual words or even full sentences? Or just noises? How much control do they have over this?

How often does your OC raise their voice? Is this always deliberate or can they sometimes not help it?

Does your OC ever make idle threats? Or do they only state very precisely exactly what the consequences will be?

How long are the sentences your OC usually uses in conversation? Do they tend to communicate in brief, or even terse, pieces of dialogue? Or are they prone to flowery language - or even outright verbosity?

Does your OC yell or scream during arguments? Or do they become quiet and withdrawn?

Does your OC ever talk to themselves? How aware of this are they?

What is your OC's laugh like? Is it a genteel titter? A hearty belly laugh? Or a snorting noise like a constipated donkey?

How wide is your OC's vocabulary? Do others consider them eloquent or well-read?

If confronted by someone who cannot - or will not - speak how would your OC respond? If they cannot - or will not - speak themselves then how do others respond to this? How do they make themselves understood?

Is your OC particularly loud in combat? Do they yell? Roar? Or are they a silent and deadly presence?

Does your OC challenge others for perceived discourtesies? Or are they unwilling or unmotivated to cause a scene?

Does your OC ever wish that their voice was different? Are they ever embarassed or ashamed of their accent or the volume of their voice?

Does your OC find any particular voices or accents especially alluring or stimulating?

How often does your OC add new words to their vocabulary? Do they hungrily pick up new terms and words? Or do they struggle to remember such things?

How eloquent is your OC? Is their use of language beautiful, or at least skillful? Or do they struggle to communicate without sounding clumsy or awkward?

Does your OC ever change their language or tone when moving between different cultures or social settings?

What (if any) are your OC's go to "polite" expressions of disappointment or frustration? Do they ever substitute words like "sugar" or "darn" for stronger language? Under what circumstances might they do this?

Does your OC find it easy to talk about sexual activities or bodily parts? Or can they only speak about them using twee euphemisms or obscure slang terms? Or can they not speak about them at all?

What would be the most offensive word or term to use about your OC? How would they respond to this being used towards them? Would it matter what the intent or understanding of the person using it might be?

Was your OC quick to learn how to speak as a child? Was their grasp of language encouraged by those around them? Did anyone read with them? Or recite poetry or stories to them?

Does your OC ever revert to baser, perhaps even coarser, ways of speaking when under stress or anxiety? Or are they consistently poised and self-controlled, no matter how difficult the situation?

[genderqueerdykes]

Sorry to bother you, based on what I've seen your blog is a place to ask that kind of stuff. A blog recently followed me - I'm suspecting pretending to be a medical professional, insisting they can provide hrt. There are at least a few more, one of them apparently using likeliness of another, legitimate medical professional, but his name is misspelled. I'm almost 100% sure it's a scam (remembering that one time then a dangerous drug which could increase production of testosterone was advertised for transfems in a lethal dose) but I couldn't manage to see any information online on if their scam was exposed yet or not. You seem to be more experienced in this regard, and the closest I have to personally knowing a queer elder. I'm hesitant if I should use those blog's usernames, I'm just confused and uncomfortable and don't wanna get in contact with potential scammers to resolve this. Sorry for not being very comprehensive, and thanks in advance for your answer

oh yeah that is for sure sketchy and a scam. if anyone is approaching you with this kind of thing, it's a scam, and a really weird one at that.

you cannot legally obtain testosterone in most countries without a prescription. you cannot buy testosterone online.

estrogen you find online can also be sketchy because you have no way to verify what is in those pills/vials. estrogen isn't a controlled substance in most places, so while it's technically not illegal to purchase it, it's really important to understand the risk that comes with trusting a stranger with things that are going into your body

if you live somewhere where you cannot legally obtain HRT i understand being tempted, but there are other ways that are honestly safer. im not saying people who literally can't obtain it legally shouldn't have it, but if you live some place where you have a good chance of being able to get a prescription, that's really the safest way to go

rule thumb: someone approaching you first about any kind of drug or substance online is a scammer. they do this with psychedelics, hallucinogens and other drugs. stay safe out there