#i just want to be a part of this crowd once

[theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter]

Meet and greet 📫⚽️ pt.2

Alexia Putellas x reader

pt. 1

warning : fluffy 💭💗

summary :

After exchanging numbers at the meet-and-greet, you and Alexia finally meet for coffee, and what starts as a casual chat turns into something deeper.

The coffee shop Alexia suggested was tucked away in a quiet part of Barcelona, away from the usual crowds. When you walked inside, the warm scent of roasted coffee beans and freshly baked pastries filled the air, making you feel instantly at ease. But no amount of calming ambiance could quiet the butterflies in your stomach.

You were early, fifteen minutes early, to be exact. The nerves had gotten the best of you, and you had left home far too soon, anxious about the fact that you were meeting THE Alexia Putellas for coffee. As you sat at a small table by the window, you fidgeted with the sleeve of your jacket, trying to steady your racing heart.

This was real. Alexia had texted you yesterday to confirm the meet-up, and now, you were actually going to sit down with her. Not as a fan, not as someone in the stands, but as someone she wanted to get to know better. That thought alone sent a surge of excitement through you.

Just then, the door chimed, and you looked up. Your breath caught as Alexia walked in, wearing a simple but stylish outfit, jeans and a fitted black sweater, her hair loosely tied back. She looked effortlessly stunning, just as she did on the pitch. Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, and then she smiled, that warm, familiar smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“Hola” she greeted, walking over to your table. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

You shook your head quickly, standing up to greet her. “No, not at all. I got here a bit early.”

Alexia chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling as she sat down across from you. “Same. I just took a detour around the block to kill some time. I didn’t want to seem too eager.”

You laughed at her confession, feeling a wave of relief that she was just as human and down-to-earth as you had hoped. “Well, I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

Once she settled in, you both ordered your drinks, Alexia took a black coffee, while you went with your usual. As you waited for the coffees to arrive, there was a brief moment of silence, not awkward, but filled with a mix of excitement and nerves. You could feel her watching you, her gaze soft but focused.

“I’m really glad we’re doing this,” Alexia said, her voice genuine. “It’s not often I get to meet people like you. Outside of football, I mean.”

“People like me?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

She smiled, glancing down at her hands for a moment before looking back at you. “Yeah, people who see me beyond just a footballer. I could tell when we met that you really care about the game, and… I don’t know, I felt like we clicked.”

Her honesty caught you off guard. You had always admired her from a distance, but hearing that she had felt some sort of connection as well was something you hadn’t expected. “I’ve always admired you. Not just because you’re an incredible player, but because of who you are off the field too. You’re a leader, and it’s inspiring.”

Alexia’s cheeks tinted slightly pink at your words, and she smiled in a way that felt almost shy. “Thank you. That really means a lot coming from you.”

Before you could respond, the server arrived with your drinks, setting them down in front of you. You wrapped your hands around your cup, the warmth calming your nerves as you both settled into the conversation.

“So, tell me,” Alexia said, leaning forward slightly. “How did you get into football? You mentioned at the meet-and-greet that you’ve been watching us for a while.”

You smiled, thinking back to when your love for the sport began. “It started when I was a kid. I grew up playing football with my friends in the neighborhood. But it wasn’t until I watched Barça’s women’s team play for the first time that I really fell in love with it. And, well… you were a big part of that.”

Alexia chuckled softly, her eyes brightening. “I’m honored. That’s amazing to hear. I love knowing that we’ve been able to inspire people like you.”

You spent the next hour talking about everything. Football, travel, life outside of the sport. The conversation flowed effortlessly, as if you’d known each other for far longer than just a couple of meetings. Alexia listened intently whenever you spoke, asking questions and sharing stories of her own. It was easy to forget that you were sitting across from one of the best footballers in the world.

But every now and then, a small reminder would hit you, a flicker in her eyes, the way she smiled, or when she’d laugh at something you said. The ease with which you two connected felt surreal.

At one point, Alexia glanced down at her phone, checking the time, and sighed softly. “I hate to cut this short, but I have a team meeting in a bit.”

You nodded, though a part of you wished the afternoon could stretch on forever. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

She hesitated for a moment, then looked back up at you, her eyes soft. “But… I’d really like to do this again, if you’re up for it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the invitation. “Yeah, I’d love that.”

You looked up at her, your face flushing with warmth, and Alexia gave you a small, playful smile. “See you soon" she said, standing up and giving you one last lingering look before she left.

As you sat there, a smile crept onto your face. You had come here expecting to get to know your football hero a little better, but now it felt like you were on the brink of something more. Something real.

Alexia Putellas wasn’t just your champion anymore. She was becoming a part of your life in ways you’d never imagined. And you couldn’t wait to see where it led next.

💕 @lovewomensfootball @wososapologist 💕

[murdrdocs]

thinking about taking care of jack after a LOOONNGGG day. hes spent hours networking, chatting up crowds etc and all he wants to do is come home to his (controversially younger!) girlfriend and let her jerk him off as she asks about his day

i feel so much shame. slight power dynamics; handjobs; pet names (honey and baby); clothed sex; MDNI 18+ w/ JACK SCHLOSSBERG

you've always thought that jack looked pretty when he was all dolled up. when his hair was swept off of his clean-shaven face and his slim body perfectly filled up a suit that was tailored just for him. when he unlocked a part of himself that you rarely see, even though it's such a big part of who he is. jack's always pretty to you, even if he glares in the mirror and turns his head this way and that before an event, nonverbally expressing how jarring it still is to see himself like the ones who came before him.

you'll tell him he looks good—whether that be via the words coming out of your mouth, or a restrained kiss that worked to transfer as little makeup as possible. maybe a gentle press of your fingers into his shoulders, or wrapping your arm around his back. either way, it was always honest.

but you truthfully prefer jack when he's like this—leaning back against the bathroom counter, his hair fallen out of the swept back wave, curls visible thanks to the late-summer humidity as well as the heat swirling in the bathroom from the previously running shower. you'd shut it off once jack breathlessly complained about wasting water.

he was right, but you still appeared a little upset about having to stop your task to reach a hand into the water and turn the dial off. you were back on jack within the minute, though.

your hand wrapped around his cock, while you stared up at him attentively, smiling and nodding as if you weren't languidly jerking him off and you both were just having a regular conversation. he's keeping up well, only faltering every so often, usually whenever you twist your hand around his tip every few strokes.

but he recovers quickly, clearing his throat and blinking a few times before picking up where he left off.

"then i had the meeting with my editors after lunch..." he continues detailing the events of his day, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time, only drifting off to the side whenever he has to think about something.

you could've undressed him completely, you probably should have, but you like how he looks like this. his pants unbuttoned and shoved down just enough for you to reach into his briefs and tug his dick free. his white shirt—no longer as crisp as it was this morning when you kissed him goodbye—unbuttoned to give way to the thin undershirt he wears. it's been lifted up now by your irreverent hands, sitting towards the top half of his midriff. you have a perfect view of the hair leading down towards his cock, along with his abdomen which tenses and relaxes periodically.

"uh-huh," you nod, glancing down for just a second before bringing your attention right back up.

you're the one getting him off, but his gaze still makes you feel a little hot. the intensity in his dark eyes which are framed by shadows of long lashes. the prominent furrow of his brows when he hesitates, paired with the flicker of his tongue over his lips.

he's so pretty. you don't think you'll ever get tired of looking at him.

"i got a drink from that place we wanted to try." this snaps you out of your daze.

"what? without me?"

jack smiles a bit and your attention is briefly brought to the grooves along the side of his mouth. he speaks through a grin. "sorry, it was on the way!"

"you're a traitor."

"if it makes you feel any better the drink was really—" his words taper off into a moan. it's satisfying to see his eyes screw shut, his mouth falling open.

you would wait for him to continue, to either confirm your suspicions and tell you that the overpriced drink was the best thing he's ever had, or that it wasn't worth his money, but you can tell he's lost his train of thought.

one of his hands lift off of the counter and flail uselessly in the air for a second before it finds you, wrapping around your forearm and then drifting to gently cup your elbow.

"close. 'm close."

as if you needed him to tell you. you can tell, it's written all over him; from the way the center of his eyebrows reach for his hairline, to the way you can feel his dick throbbing in your hand.

the audible slick! gets louder as you increase your pace just enough, determination driving your movements. you keep going, trying to push him closer and closer, waiting for him to tell you what he wants.

his lips hang open, not a single word coming from them, and then he speaks. "talk to me. c'mon, honey. help me out."

you're quick with it. "you're so pretty, baby. i love it when you let me do this. i can feel you, y'know? can feel how bad you wanna come. go ahead. please? for me?"

it gets him every time.

he curves away from you at first, his head falling back, resting between his shoulder blades as the initial spurts of cum shoot out onto your hand. and then he slumps forward, large frame swaying in the air until you catch him. you stumble from the weight, but you're struck still by a long arm winding around your waist, keeping you right there as jack comes into your hand and a little onto your belly.

[simplygojo]

Public Display of Humiliation

Author’s Note: Hey friends!!! I wrote this little blurb a while ago and figured I’d post it now since I am just working away on a few of y’all’s requests! TYSM to everyone who has requested something, I love all the ideas so much and I LOVE Y’ALL!!!

I hope you enjoy this short blurb, this is my first shorter piece of writing!:) Also, heads up for you beautiful people, I am doing something super special to give back to y’all when I reach 1k followers (we are 140 away!)!!!

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!reader

Inspiration/summary: Gojo gets a kick out of embarrassing you—he likes to watch how flustered you get trying to shut down his antics—he likes to watch the pink warmth rush to your cheeks as he makes you the centre of attention, at all times.

Word Count: 0.8k (blurb/hc)

Warnings: Second hand embarrassment hehe, not even edited once

Requests are open! Please read the Request Guidelines before submitting a request <33

Gojo absolutely lives to embarrass you in public. It’s like he makes it his personal mission to see how red your face can get before you explode from sheer humiliation.

Whether it’s dragging you through busy malls, crowded streets, or even your local café, nowhere is safe from his antics.

It usually starts off innocent enough—just the two of you grabbing coffee or shopping for the day. You’ll be holding his hand, trying to pretend like he isn’t up to something (which, of course, he always is), and that’s when it happens.

Out of nowhere, Gojo stops in the middle of the crowd, wraps your arm around his waist, pulling you closer as he trapped your hand.

“Excuse me!” He’d shout, catching the attention of every passerby.

“Can someone help me? This woman’s trying to kidnap me!” His voice echoes through the busy walkway, and you feel every single pair of eyes turning toward you.

People whisper, some are confused, others look concerned. Your heart drops, and you try to pull away, but his grip tightens as he grins down at you with those impossibly blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Gojo, stop it!” You hiss through clenched teeth, trying to maintain some dignity. But he just tilts his head, giving you the most innocent look he can muster.

“Why? Are you denying that you’re my kidnapper? Look at her, everyone!” he laughs, holding you even closer.

The worst part? People start smiling, realizing it’s all a joke, and suddenly you’re the center of attention while he’s just standing there, thriving off your embarrassment.

And when he’s not making you the subject of some dramatic performance in public, he’s pulling his other favorite move—telling strangers you’re related. Just as you’re about to pay at the cashier or make a casual purchase, he’ll lean in casually, completely straight-faced, and say,

“Yeah, she’s my favourite cousin.” The poor cashier or barista just looks between the two of you awkwardly, especially since you both *look nothing alike*. But before you can even open your mouth to correct him, he grabs your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands, and plants the most obnoxious, lingering kiss on your lips.

You go completely still, your face burning hot as you feel everyone around you pause in shock, wondering what kind of "relationship" you two really have. And when Gojo finally pulls away, he does it slowly, like he’s savoring every second of your mortification.

“What? I can’t kiss my *cousin*?” he’ll say, feigning innocence while the smirk tugging at his lips betrays him.

“Oh my god Satoru please shut up—That’s not true!” You’d shout, trying to hide the visible embarrassment you were in.

The people nearby exchange confused, amused glances while you stand there, frozen and speechless, torn between wanting to crawl into a hole and slap the smirk right off his face.

His favorite stunts are always the unexpected ones. You’ll be walking side by side, and out of nowhere, he’ll scoop you up, throwing you over his shoulder like some kind of damsel in distress.

“Help! Help! Someone call the cops, I’m being abducted by this woman!” He’d yell as you pound your fists against his back, furiously kicking your legs while people stare, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

He’d carry you around like that for a good minute or two, even stopping to chat with strangers while you’re still dangling over his shoulder, your face practically glowing with embarrassment.

And of course, no one ever takes him seriously.

They laugh along with him, completely entertained by his theatrics while you’re left to deal with the humiliation. Every time you beg him to stop, he just grins and says, “Aww, come on, y/n. You look so cute when you’re flustered.”

It’s infuriating, the way he can so effortlessly push your buttons and have you turning red in seconds, all while he’s cool, calm, and utterly shameless.

But as much as you hate to admit it, you know that deep down, he loves it. Seeing you flustered, watching you get all worked up, is his favorite kind of entertainment.

And no matter how embarrassed you get, no matter how many times you threaten to never go out with him again, he never stops.

Because, in Gojo’s mind, teasing you in public is just another way of showing how much he loves you—even if it does mean turning you into a blushing mess in front of half the city.

[kisses4reid]

not our scene | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, - part 2

summary - an undercover mission causes realisations that otherwise would be squashed in denial

genre - fem!shy!reader x spencer, forced/wanted proximity, fake relationship -> real relationship, awkward idiots, fluff

warnings - awkwardness, mentions of trafficking and manipulation, realisations of love

w/c - 1.9k

a/n - second part!!! sorry for the cliffhanger that’s my favourite thing to do NOBODY COME AT ME. maybe third part/epilogue?? who knows. love y’all

The instrumental music that poured from the live band on the elevated stage came to a close, you and Spencer hovering on the opposite side of the expansive floors, discreetly keeping an eye on two large kitchen doors. The room erupted in applause, which you joined into, for the band, the man you assumed to be the main musician stood and bent at the hips with a sly smile - he knew he was good. The room quieted down to a small chatter from the abundance of people that filled the room. Women with large hats, velvet gloves, and bright lips cornered tall men in grey suits (or the other way around) and laughed like they’d known each other for many years. Men with peppering beards whispered to each other before letting out howls and pointing towards women who were not their wives. The wives stood silent. 

Spencer cleared his throat, breaking you out of your trance, “He’s been in there for around 10 minutes now. I’m gonna call it in, in case they’ve already got the tracker on him.” You nodded with a tight lipped smile, still recovering from the rollercoaster of emotions that dancing with Spencer had put you through. He glanced at you once more before holding down a button on his cuff and speaking out loud. You nodded along, in case anyone was watching - and also as a kind of self-soothing motion. 

You didn’t drink - well, not often. So when a different waiter came up to you both every 10 minutes asking if you’d like a variety of alcohol, you had to kindly decline each time. And each time you became more irritated. People laughed loudly, people danced in quick blurs, people came up to you both and stared at your dress for a little too long. Thankfully, Spencer took your hand (you’re still in love after all) and nodded with a smile that almost made you forget you were on a mission. 

The two of you escaped onto a balcony with a cold breeze accompanying the faster music that both of you wanted to avoid. Your night was already over, just as it started. One dance. You scolded yourself for wanting more, a longer night, for Webley to continue manipulating people. But you’ve done your job, you’ve completed your mission, and now you have to go home and act like all of it never happened.

“Great job, the officers have been notified and we’ve got a tracker on him now. You two can leave whenever-“

“I think we’ll stay for a bit.” Spencer spoke up, and it shocked you. It must’ve shocked Morgan too as the line went dead quiet. “Right, Y/n?” He gulped and eyed you with pleads. His tie was slightly askew, the wind flapping his jacket lightly, his eyes reflecting the stars that now hung high in the sky. 

“Y-yeah. This party’s actually…” You looked over the over-crowded floor, to your red and sore feet, to the bad alcohol standing on the waiter's trays. But then you looked over to Spencer. His eyes, his hair, his small smile, his red tie. “The party’s actually not that bad.” You say with a smile.

“Okay… don’t stay for too long. We don’t want everyone to be hung over for a flight home tomorrow.”

The balcony was made of white concrete pillars and marble floors, sconces of warm lights and vines of ivy that wrapped around the pillars and balcony like waves of seaweed. It was beautiful, just like the rest of the establishment, it was unfortunate its main use was to take advantage of innocent people. But you weren’t out there to think about that - at least that’s what you assumed. Spencer wouldn’t want to stay to talk about trafficking or crimes surely. 

In that moment, even after watching his small smile of excitement that you agreed to stay with him, all you wanted to do was kick off your shoes and take a goddamn breath. 

You walked over to the parapet of the balcony and was glad to see the top was a flat slab of concrete, just wide enough for you to pull yourself up and sit down. 

You sighed in relief, taking off your heels and letting them fall onto the shiny marble. 

Spencer followed your movements, standing next to you and looking out onto the view. City lights and stars blended in with each other from this angle. 

“Are you okay?” He asked gently. You smile, “That’s the third time you’ve asked me tonight. Do I look troubled?” He stood for a moment before turning his head towards you, his hair sweeping across his eyebrows in the breeze. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” “Was it really that obvious?” “To me, yes… I think that if I didn’t pretend to enjoy tonight people would’ve been suspicious of us.” You frown slightly, “You didn’t enjoy the night?” “I didn’t enjoy the reason, nor the location. I enjoyed the people though.” He sends you a smile that makes your heart flutter and your cheeks redden. You hope he doesn’t see it in the dim lighting. 

Inside, the dance finishes and people clap, and you do too. Spencer glances at your hands and smirks slightly. “You don’t think they’re suspicious now? We danced once, and now we’re out here watching them like weirdos.” 

Spencer turned to lean on the balcony and look into the ballroom, shrugging. “We’re two young people in love,” he turned to look at you, eyes warm and deep, “alone time is what we need.” 

You bit the inside of your lip and stared at Spencer. His suit, his matching (skewed) tie, his hair and his eyes. He did the same to you, before gulping and looking down at the floor. He bent and picked up your shoes, turning them in his hands and observing. “These are too small for you.” You laugh at the obvious fact, “They’re JJ’s. She’s got the tiniest feet I’ve ever seen.” “You’re only one size above her.” “She wears high heels much more often than I do.” “You swap between sneakers and converse. You’ve only bought new shoes two times since I’ve known you. This is the second time I’ve seen you wear heels, and even then they were practically ballet shoes.” He smiled to himself like it was an inside joke. “Oh…” You looked down at your feet and realised he was exactly right, “I’m surprised you’re not wearing your black converse right now.” “Morgan didn’t let me. He said he was pressured to make me look good by all the girls.” He lifted a finger and turned fully towards you, “Did you know that sleeve buttons on suits were created to help doctors who worked in the war keep their sleeves up? Now, they’re a sign of intelligence and wealth. Also, a few weeks ago, you called me a grabologist because of my collection of ties, but did you know that the largest collection of suit ties is owned by a New Zealander woman called Irene Sparks. Now, I think I’d like to oppose that not with my own collection, but with Morgans.”

You smile at the memories of the girls dressing you up, fueling the sisterhood that the childhood version of you missed out on. You thought about Morgan, Hotch and maybe Rossi, and how they were probably dressing him up as well. It was truly a found family, something that you felt you belonged to. They knew your habits, they knew when you were lying, they knew a good portion of your past. And you knew all the same for the rest of them. But Spencer? 

Mentally, without realising, you had been creating essays for him since the day you met him. You made journal entries for everyone else, but for Spencer it was books on books of mental notes and facts and aspects of him and his life that you kept in the back of your mind, ready at any point to bring out and use. Why he wears mismatched socks, why he likes purple, why he can’t handle too many people talking at once, why he feels uncomfortable at hospitals, why he hasn’t contacted his father in years. And he knew no doubt even more about you. He had a talent for knowing your emotions and feelings like no one else could, and it made your heart palpitate every time he did it.

“I mean, you’ve seen my collection of ties but jeez, you’d think a guy who mainly wears t-shirts would keep his collection small. You’d like one of his, it's a green that matches that bedside table you painted once. Like those socks you got me last Christmas. But anyways, he somehow had a perfect red to match your… dress. Which by the way, I noticed a lot of people looking at you - and I don’t blame them. I think you look, um, I think you look incredible.” His rambling quietened down for a moment as he tried to avoid eye-contact with you, before he cleared his throat and continued on with his rambling (which mixed with compliments every second sentence). 

And suddenly, you realised this was all an excuse. You were in denial, so badly, that you thought of him as a subject of your devotion without stepping back and seeing the real picture. 

“Spencer…” You cut him off and he looked up with big eyes, surprised you spoke up. You were the only person that let him ramble, it may have been the only time you stopped him. “Wh- You wanna go home?” He saw your eyes, you looked in pain, in shock, in… “No, Spencer, I… Um.” You pressed your lips together and looked down - were you really going to say this? Were you really going to admit you loved the man in front of you without any evidence that he felt the same way? He was your coworker, your best friend. Everything could be ruined in just a few words. Suddenly, you wanted to take your train of thoughts back, to let him continue on with his rambling - it always calmed you down anyways.

Suddenly, his palm was held out in front of you with a small mint in the middle. You looked up at him and his worried but genuine smile. “Here,” he said softly. You took the mint in your hand and simply stared at it. To be loved, is to be known. “Um, Spencer. I…” His eyes were wanting, curious, they were so goddamn beautiful, “I… I love you.” 

His mouth gaped slightly and his cheeks reddened. Spencer gulped and fiddled with his fingers before chuckling nervously, “I was supposed to say it first.” “What?” “I was supposed to say I love you first.” You hopped down from the concrete railing, dress falling to cover your shins again. “I can take it back if you want.” You responded quickly. “No, no don’t take it back, even if you did I don’t think I could mentally accept that you had taken it back.” You covered your mouth with your hand and looked up at him in shock, “So you-” “I love you, too.” He nodded and took your hands from your mouth, holding them in his, “I have since the third week you’ve worked with the BAU.” 

“Oh, that’s great um…” You looked down at your intertwined hands and furrowed your eyebrows, “What do we do now?” “We could go to the McDonalds that’s a 10 minutes walk away or, I could kiss you.” He stared into your glistening eyes and wanted to pinch himself to see if this was actually happening. “I don’t-”

“You don’t like McDonalds, sorry, my brain is-”

“Just kiss me.” You replied exasperated.

“Okay.” He nodded and placed his hands on your waist.

taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502

[tetsuissohot]

Toji Fushijuro ONESHOT

☆summary. After a painful breakup, Y/N thought she had moved on from Toji Fushiguro, but when he reappears in her life, old feelings resurface. Toji, determined to win her back, confesses his regret and desire for a second chance. As the two wrestle with unresolved emotions, Y/N faces the struggle between her lingering love for him and the fear of getting hurt again. In the midst of their heated confrontation, passion takes over, and Y/N must decide if Toji’s promises are enough to trust him once more.

☆warning/tags: 18+fem!reader, casual, SFW, building up tention, ex's to lovers?, part 1

☆a/n: This my first work lol, please be kind and tell me where I can get improve! I'm thinking of doing a second part for this oneshot where things get a bit spicier. I hope you enjoy!

☆☆☆

The dimly lit bar was buzzing with the low hum of chatter and clinking glasses, but Y/N barely registered it. She stared blankly at the glass in her hand, swirling the amber liquid inside as her thoughts drifted elsewhere. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind—missions, responsibilities, and emotions she had long since buried.

But all of that seemed insignificant when he walked in.

Toji Fushiguro.

Y/N’s grip tightened around her glass at the sight of him. Even in the crowded bar, his presence was commanding—tall, broad-shouldered, and carrying an aura that both attracted and warned people to stay away. His dark green eyes scanned the room with a predator's calm until they landed on her. A smirk tugged at his lips.

He walked toward her, his steps confident and sure, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. And maybe he did—Toji had always been direct, never one to beat around the bush. But it wasn’t his confidence that made Y/N’s heart race; it was the fact that seeing him again brought back memories she had worked so hard to suppress.

“Mind if I sit?” His voice was deep, gruff, and achingly familiar.

Y/N didn’t bother looking up as she took another sip of her drink. “It’s a free country.”

Unfazed by her cold response, Toji pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down, his eyes never leaving her face. He leaned back casually, arms draped over the chair like he had all the time in the world.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, his tone casual but his gaze sharp.

Y/N finally met his eyes, her expression unreadable. “I’m not avoiding you, Toji. We’re just... done. I thought we both agreed on that.”

Toji’s smirk faded, and his face took on a seriousness that Y/N hadn’t seen in a long time. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Maybe you did. I didn’t.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, but she forced herself to stay composed. “You were the one who walked away,” she reminded him, her voice steady. “You were the one who said this—we—weren’t meant to last.”

Toji’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening. He remembered that day all too well. The bitter words he had thrown at her, the way he had convinced himself that he was better off alone—that she was better off without him. But now, sitting across from her, the regret felt like a weight pressing down on his chest.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he admitted, his voice softer now, laced with something Y/N wasn’t used to hearing from him—vulnerability. “I thought it would be easier for you if I wasn’t in the picture.”

Y/N scoffed, setting her glass down with a clink. “Easier? You think walking out without an explanation made things easier for me?”

Toji winced, his usual unshakable demeanor faltering. He wasn’t used to this—wasn’t used to being the one in the wrong. But he knew he couldn’t sugarcoat it, couldn’t charm his way out of this like he did with everything else.

“You deserved better,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I was messed up. Still am, probably. But…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “I’m not here to make excuses. I’m here because—dammit—I want you back.”

Y/N stared at him, shock flashing across her face before she quickly masked it with indifference. “You don’t get to just come back after disappearing, Toji. I moved on.”

Toji’s eyes darkened, the idea of her moving on hitting him harder than he anticipated. He wasn’t used to losing—especially not to someone else. The thought of Y/N with anyone else made his blood boil, but he forced himself to calm down.

“I know I don’t deserve it,” he said slowly, his voice rough with emotion. “But I’m asking for a second chance.”

Y/N shook her head, trying to keep the walls she had built around her heart intact. “You can’t just walk back into my life whenever it’s convenient for you. I’ve been fine without you, Toji.”

He leaned in closer, his presence overwhelming. “Have you? Because I haven’t been.”

Y/N felt the weight of his words settle over her. Toji was never one to admit weakness, never one to let his guard down. But here he was, laying it all out in front of her, as raw and honest as she’d ever seen him.

“You think this is easy for me?” he continued, his voice rough. “It’s not. I’m no good at this… at us. But I’m trying, Y/N. I’ve spent every day since we split wishing I hadn’t walked away.”

Y/N could feel the cracks forming in her defenses. She wanted to be angry—was angry—but there was something in Toji’s eyes that made it hard to hold onto that anger. She’d never seen him like this, so exposed.

“Toji…” Y/N began, but her voice faltered, unsure of what to say.

“Just tell me there’s still something there,” Toji said, his voice almost pleading now. “Tell me I’m not too late.”

Y/N’s heart raced as she searched his face, her emotions swirling in a storm of confusion, anger, and longing. She had loved him once—loved him deeply. And even though she had tried to move on, a part of her had never really let go.

But was that enough?

“You hurt me,” Y/N said quietly, her voice barely audible over the noise of the bar. “And I don’t know if I can go through that again.”

Toji’s face softened, his hand reaching out across the table, hesitating before he touched hers. When his fingers finally brushed against her skin, it was tentative, as if he wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch her anymore.

“I know,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto hers. “But I won’t make that mistake again. I swear.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken feelings. Y/N looked down at his hand on hers, feeling the warmth of his touch, the sincerity in his gaze.

She had every reason to push him away, to tell him it was too late. But in the depth of her heart, she knew that despite everything, she still cared for him.

“I need time,” Y/N finally said, her voice soft but firm. “I’m not promising anything, Toji. But… I’ll think about it.”

Relief flooded Toji’s face, and for the first time in a long while, he smiled—really smiled. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

As they sat there in the dim light, their hands still touching, Y/N realized that maybe second chances weren’t always about forgetting the past. Sometimes, they were about finding a way to move forward—together, despite the scars.

And maybe, just maybe, Toji Fushiguro was worth the risk.

Thank you for reading xoxo

let me know if you want part II!

[totowlff]

many fade, but i'm still here

➝ you kept your side of the street clean. they will never know what it means.

➝ word count: 2,2k

➝ warnings: mentions of health issues.

➝ author’s note: you can read the part one here.

The young man sitting in front of the reporters looked uncomfortable. Watching him from a corner of the Mercedes motorhome common area, you could tell he wasn’t at ease in that position. However, he needed to get used to the flashes, the clicks, and especially the attention directed at him.

After all, Andrea Kimi Antonelli was now a Formula 1 driver.

— Kimi, how do you feel being officially a Mercedes driver? — a journalist asked.

— It’s an incredible feeling to be announced as a Mercedes driver alongside George in 2025 — the young man replied in a measured tone — It’s a dream I’ve had since I was little, and even though I’m still learning a lot, I feel ready for this opportunity.

“Of course you do”, you thought to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest. The tests with Kimi had been numerous, with various types of single-seaters, all to make sure of what you had known since the day you first saw him in Lonato del Garda, back in 2018.

— I want to thank the team for the support they've given me in my career so far and for the faith they’ve shown in me — the young man added, scanning the crowd of people present. His eyes finally landed on you — If it wasn’t for the trust Y/N and Toto placed in me, I wouldn’t be here, living this dream.

Your lips curled into a smile as you nodded in acknowledgment of the new driver’s words. Handing him over to Mercedes had been a desperate move on your part, made in the face of Ferrari’s stunning refusal to bring Kimi onboard, contradicting everything discussed in the previous meetings before his visit to Maranello.

However, you couldn’t live with yourself knowing you had crushed the dreams of such a talented boy like Kimi. He deserved that chance, and if you couldn’t give it to him, let Mercedes be the team to do so.

— Toto, what are your impressions of this new duo, which we could say is the first composed of athletes from the Mercedes academy? — a blonde woman asked.

— Our new pairing is perfect to open the next chapter of our history. It’s also proof of the strength of our junior driver program and our belief in homegrown talent — the team principal replied, turning to the young man next to him with a smile — Kimi has consistently demonstrated the talent and speed necessary to compete at a high level in our sport.

Placing a hand on the driver’s shoulder, you noticed there was a certain pride in Toto’s voice, as well as in his expression. And, in a way, it was justified, considering all the energy and resources invested in Kimi’s development. Toto was seeing, right there in that room, that he had made the right choice once again.

— George, could you share your thoughts on your new teammate? — an older journalist asked, hand raised — What can we expect from this partnership?

— I’m excited to have him as my teammate. His results in junior competitions are impressive, and his promotion is completely deserved — the Brit responded — He’s a fantastic young talent and has also been part of our driver academy. I hope I can use my own experience to help him in this step into Formula 1.

“I have no doubt you will”, you thought, searching for Kimi with your eyes. It was impossible not to notice how anxious he seemed. His attention shifted between the two men beside him and the beaded bracelet on his wrist, almost tiny compared to the team watch. It was easy to forget that he was just an 18-year-old boy — newly turned 18, in fact — taking his first steps into adulthood.

The press conference continued smoothly, with the occasional light-hearted comment from Toto, clearly trying to help Kimi relax in front of all those people. But you knew it wasn’t easy, even for someone older and more seasoned in these environments, like yourself.

When Bradley wrapped up the press conference, you noticed Kimi exhale in relief, as if trying to release all the tension. As the journalists left the motorhome, you approached the young man, who was listening attentively to Toto.

— Nice answers, kid — you said, placing a hand on his shoulder. When he realized it was you, he smiled.

— Did I do well?

— Really well. A true Mercedes driver.

A little chuckle escaped his lips.

— I’m glad you liked it, Mrs. Wolff — Kimi replied, making your cheeks warm up.

— For you, it’s Y/N, okay? No ‘Mrs. Wolff’.

— Is there something wrong with my last name, Mrs. Wolff? — Toto asked, raising an eyebrow.

— No, I just think he should call me the same as always.

— Kimi’s just being respectful to my wife — he retorted, moving closer to you and slipping a hand around your waist.

It was still surreal to you. The night after the unexpected meeting you’d had at the hotel bar, you two had gone out for dinner. But, unlike what you had expected, Toto had turned the supposed negotiation for a position in the driver academy management into something more intimate and personal. The exchanged glances and suggestive comments had eventually turned into a kiss at the end of the night, as well as an invitation for another dinner, this time in Monaco.

It didn’t take long before you ended up in his bed, as well as on the Mercedes payroll. Maurizio had tried, but Toto had already convinced you to leave Ferrari behind and dive headfirst into his project, both for the young drivers and for your lives together.

The marriage was a natural step, taking place in an intimate ceremony in Sardinia two years later. Before Toto and a dozen guests, you became Y/N Wolff to the world. But that didn’t mean you had stopped being responsible for the boys and girls in the junior categories.

— Before that, I’m the development advisor for this team’s young drivers.

— Well, it was more or less at the same time — Toto muttered, making you shake your head.

— You’re not helping, Torger.

— Damn — he replied, causing everyone around to burst into laughter.

The conversation went on for a few more minutes before Bradley invited the four of you to head up to the terrace of the motorhome to take some more pictures and record a few interviews for the company’s official channels. However, while Toto was being photographed talking to Kimi, you felt your phone vibrate.

"Your results are available," read the subject of the email you had just received.

Pressing your lips together, you unlocked your phone and clicked on the envelope icon on the screen. There was a strange tension building in your shoulders, a sense of anticipation you knew you shouldn’t have, especially considering what the tests you’d taken were about.

The discomfort you had been feeling over the last few weeks had led you to schedule an appointment with your general practitioner before leaving for Monza. It seemed to be just a severe cold, likely due to the sudden temperature changes during your travels. However, he had you take some basic blood tests to ensure there was nothing wrong.

As you read through the sequence of complicated names, "normal levels" and "negative," one title made you roll your eyes. "Why a pregnancy test?", you wondered as you scrolled down. It was obvious that would never happen — the malformation in your uterus, discovered when you were a teenager, had ended any possibility of you having your own family.

Until a single underlined word made your heart skip.

You felt the blood drain from your head, leaving only the echo of your pulse pounding in your ears. Air seemed not to reach your lungs, no matter how hard you tried to breathe. Your legs felt weak, as did the rest of your body.

— Y/N! — you heard someone shout before everything went dark.

When you opened your eyes again, there was no sun or clouds above you, only a gray ceiling and a fluorescent light. On your left side, a man in a white coat, apparently a circuit doctor, was checking your blood pressure with a serious expression, while someone outside your line of sight was stroking your head.

— Where... I — you mumbled, trying to get your bearings.

— I’m here, my love, I’m here — Toto said, leaning in to look at you. His eyes were filled with concern.

You blinked a few times as your husband murmured something you didn’t pay attention to. The words you had read on your phone’s screen were burned into your mind, echoing back and forth in your head.

The doctor removed the blood pressure cuff and slung it around his neck.

— It seems to be due to the heat — he said, looking first at the team principal and then at you — It’s important to stay hydrated and avoid being outside during the hottest hours.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Toto was quicker.

— Yes, we’ll be more careful about that, won’t we, my love?

You couldn’t speak. You just nodded, still a bit dazed. The doctor also recommended getting you something to eat to help you recover, which Toto assured would be done right away.

After the doctor left the room, you stared at the ceiling for several long seconds in silence, trying to process everything that had just happened. Sitting beside you, your husband brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his worry still evident.

— Are you feeling better? — Toto asked softly.

— Yes — you replied — Did I faint?

He nodded.

— Everyone was scared. No one realized you weren’t feeling well before — the team principal said — If it hadn’t been for Rosa, you might’ve hit your head on the ground, and it could’ve been much worse, but the doctor said it was the heat...

Toto’s words were lost in the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your head. Seeing him talk about what had happened, the care he was taking with the situation, filled your chest with something warm and familiar.

— It wasn’t the heat — you murmured.

— What? But the doctor said...

— Toto, I got the results from those tests I took on Monday.

He blinked, processing the information for a few seconds.

— Is it serious?

You smiled gently.

— We’ll find out in nine months.

The concern on Toto’s face turned to shock. His mouth dropped open, and he hesitated for a few moments before asking the question you had been waiting so long to answer.

— Are you... Pregnant?

— Yes — you finally said, with tears streaming down your temples.

A disbelieving laugh escaped his lips, his brown eyes shining with emotion.

— But how? You told me about your malformation, the nearly zero chance of conceiving naturally, the whole issue with treatment and risk...

— I know, I know, but I did the test and... Oh my God — you paused, trying to take in the enormity of the moment. After years of dreaming about something you could never have, trying to heal that pain with your work in junior categories, you were going to fulfill the desire that had so often brought you to tears before sleep.

— We’re going to have a baby, Y/N — Toto said, as if he knew the affirmation that was repeating itself in your mind.

Nodding, you placed your hands on your husband’s face and pulled him into a sweet kiss, just like everything that was about to come into your lives. A life of diapers, toys, and a love you had never stopped wishing for, not even for a second.

You were still hugging when you heard a knock on the door. After being invited in, a pair of familiar brown eyes peeked through the gap.

— Toto — Kimi said quietly. When the team principal looked at him, the young man hesitated — Are you crying? Did something happen? Is Y/N okay?

You smiled, sitting up slowly on the sofa.

— Yes, I’m fine — you replied, wiping your nose, sniffling.

— You’re both crying — he noted.

— It’s just that we got some news — Toto began, sitting beside you.

You noticed Kimi’s expression shift to something resembling concern, his lips pressed into a thin line.

— And what is it?

You and Toto exchanged glances with a shadow of a smile on your lips.

— Well, we weren’t supposed to say anything just yet, but I guess it’s okay if it’s you...

Kimi moved closer and crouched in front of you, resting an arm on the side of the sofa.

— Is it bad?

— No, dear, it’s not — you replied, looking to the team principal, giving him a cue to continue.

— It’s just that Y/N is expecting a baby.

His eyes widened.

— Sei serio? — he asked in Italian.

Nodding, you confirmed the news.

— Cazzo, that’s amazing! — Kimi exclaimed, breaking into a wide grin before pulling you into a tight hug.

— No swearing, Kimi — you said, pulling away from him — You know you can’t say things like that, especially now.

— Sorry, mamma — he replied playfully. Your nurturing attitude toward the junior drivers had never gone unnoticed by them. Your care and attention, even off the track, had made you a safe harbor, not to mention a maternal figure. It wasn’t unusual for one of them to be at your house, whether for a quick visit or a weekend before competing at a nearby track.

— She’s right, Kimi, you need to watch your language. You have to be a good example for the younger ones — Toto said, placing a hand on your belly — Especially now.

— I will, you can count on it — the young man replied, with the enthusiasm of someone who had just found out he was going to have a younger sibling.

And you couldn’t wait to see him embrace that role.

[gilverrwrites]

at this point we should give dick a sionis!reader and call it a day 💀 all the batboys have one now except for him (but I have no idea what his plot would look like compared to the other three)

Yeah, Jason and Tim dating with his kids and now Bruce sleeping with his ex-wife, Roman’s hatred of them is becoming more and more justified. . Can I also just add that Roman would be the most miserable girl dad. Imagining him with his 3 bastard girls and ex wife who he's still hung up on but can't win back fills me with joy and its becoming a full on AU in my head.

Anyway, okay, so hear me out with my pitch; Jason/The Rebellious child, Tim/The Favourite child, Dick/The forgotten child

Specifically, one who has tried so hard all their life to not be. Even more specifically, a dancer, a singer, maybe a triple threat. It’s not that you need the attention, you’re good at what you do, you get the parts, you have a small fanbase, you’ve won some minor awards. But just once you’d like to look out into the crowd and see your father or your siblings out there cheering for you.

You try so hard to be supportive of the rest of your family, always there for everybody. You listen to your rebellious sibling and your father bitch about each other constantly, you help them mend their bridges. Rebel is notoriously flaky, but you always step up and cover for them.

You help the favourite study. You were the only one who knew when they started seeing Tim and you helped keep it a secret.

You attend all your fathers parole hearings, all his club launches. You wear the stupid clothes and play the happy, smiling child whenever he wants to show his kids off at events.

But no matter how much you do for everyone, they never return the favour. As soon as you bring up an audition you need help with or a new show you’re in, everybody dips. Nobody takes you up on the free tickets you can get them. When you were training, Roman footed the bills and told all his buddies about his kid the dancer/singer/whatever, but not once did he show up to a single one of your recitals.

But one day, at one of his stupid galas, Dick Grayson catches you dancing by yourself on the patio outside and is instantly smitten.

“Where’s your dance partner?”

“Oh, haha. Can’t you see him? He’s right here.” You jokingly gesture to the air.

“Ah of course, hello sir. Mind if I cut in? Not at all, please be my guest.” He puts on a silly voice as he answers himself before offering a hand to you. “May I?”

And you’re sceptical at first, but you take his hand, and you let him whisk you off. You dance around in circles all evening, laughing and joking, and getting to know each other. You have the night of your life, but dating Dick Grayson seems like a bad idea, it’s not that you don’t want it, it’s just that your dad would so not approve. So, you resolve to move on, but will always remember that magical night.

Until a few weeks later, you step on stage and spot him front and centre in the audience looking elated. And although it's downright euphoric for you to see him there, you're not prepared to face him. Alas, he comes to your dressing room straight after the show anyway. Reaching you before you can sneak out, and confronting you about never calling him back.

You explain your hesitations and that golden child part of his brain understands, his heart aches for you. But he so selfishly wants to see more of you, so he gently mentions how your dad doesn’t seem to care what you do... and hey, maybe he’s out of line here and if you want to tell him to take a hike he will but all he wants is a chance to be a part of your life, can’t you spare him one date? Please?

And damn is he hard to say no too. So, you concede. And one date becomes two, then three, and so on…

It doesn’t take long for you to fall hard and fast for him. C’mon who wouldn’t?

He’s handsome, and charming, funny, smart, and superb dancer to boot.

But what really does it for you is how badly he really does wants to be a part of your life. Dick Grayson wants to dance with you anywhere and everywhere; At galas, in the rain on the way home from a date, in your kitchen at 3AM.

Dick Grayson could listen to you talk about anything and everything all day long. Doesn’t have to be performance related, but he likes it best when it is. He especially loves reminiscing about his circus days with you.

And though his job may get in the way sometimes, Dick Grayson wants to be front row at every single one of your shows. He wants to clap the loudest, and bring you flowers, and tell all of his friends, THAT’S MY BOO up there! From the moment he met you, Dick Grayson could never, ever forget you.

How we feeling about this concept?

[vermilionsun]

Headcanons about how the LIs would kiss the MC for the first time? Definitely not ideas to draw-

oMG— HI HI HIIIIIIIIIII 🙋‍♂️🙇‍♂️ *exploads*

𝓐𝓲𝓼

✩ Probably happens in a dimly lit, secluded part of Eridia—perhaps an alleyway where the air is thick with the pungent stench of rotting garbage and decay. The narrow space between the crumbling buildings offers a rare moment of solitude in that God-forgotten city.

✩ Ais's eyes, usually sharp and alert, soften as they linger on the MC.

✩ In his defense, emotions were running H I G H. It's not his fault they were right there, looking so beautiful and absolutely enticing.

✩ His gaze remains locked on theirs, searching for something—maybe permission, maybe a sign that they feel the same pull that he does. When he finds it, his resolve seems to crumble, just a little.

✩ With a deep breath, as if steeling himself, Ais reaches out. His hand, usually so steady and sure, hovers for a moment before finally brushing against the MC’s cheek. The touch is surprisingly gentle.

✩ Yeah, the consequences could wait

✩ The kiss is slow at first, almost tentative, as if he’s testing the waters, unsure of how far he can go. But when the MC responds, the kiss deepens, becoming more intense.

There’s a rawness to it, an urgency that leaves them both breathless.

✩ Ais’s other hand comes up to cradle the back of the MC’s head, pulling them closer as if afraid they might slip away. The world around them—the decay, the danger, the darkness—melts away, leaving just the two of them, lost in the moment.

✩ When they finally pull apart, Ais’s breath is ragged, his forehead resting against the MC’s as he struggles to regain control. His eyes, once so unreadable, now shimmer with a vulnerability he’s never shown before.

✩ “Don’t make me regret this,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, a plea wrapped in a warning.

𝓚𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓼

✞ The bitch /affectionately has been dropping shameless hints the moment he met them the very same day

✞ It is a wall. A very nice wall, if he has a say. He's the type to trap them between a rock and a... hard place [you guess which is which]

✞ "Well, he looks at me and I look at him And he looks at me and I look at him And he looks at me and I look at him" And it goes like that for a few agonising long moments. Mfr is like :3

✞ His expression is gentle, but there’s a depth of emotion there that he hasn’t fully expressed before. Eventually, mister giraffe leans down for a long peak. There’s no rush, giving the MC all the time in the world to decide if that is what they want.

✞ He kisses them with a kind of reverence, as if they’re something precious, something to be cherished.

✞ Oh, don't get me STARTED ON THE HAND PLACEMENT

✞ One hand on the small of their back, firm yet gentle, guiding them closer to him. The other hand tangled in their hair, fingers softly caressing the back of their neck.

✞ When they eventually pull apart, Kuras’s eyes remain closed for a moment longer, as if savoring the feeling, the memory of their lips on his. He smiles, but it’s tinged with a kind of sadness.

✞ Next moment, he's holding them tight against his chest, allowing them to feel the steady beat of his heart.

✞ “Thank you”

𝓛𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻

🗡 Takes place in The Wet Wick, buzzing with its usual crowd—a mix of unsavory characters, mercenaries, and those looking to drown their troubles in strong drink.

🗡 Leander leans in his chair, his posture relaxed. His fingers tap lightly against the rim of his glass, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

🗡 “You know, I can’t tell if you’re doing this on purpose,” his words, like always, are laced with that effortless charm.

🗡 Leander watches them for a moment longer, then, with a slow, deliberate movement, reaches out. His fingers lightly graze the back of the MC’s hand, sending a shiver up their arm. Leander’s touch is warm, and his lips even more so as places a soft kiss upon the bare knuckles, emerald eyes gleaming with adoration.

🗡 He then moves their hand to cup his cheek, leaning in...

🗡 The kiss is everything the MC might have expected from him—confident, intense, and undeniably passionate. His lips move against theirs with a kind of practiced ease, as if he’s done this a thousand times before.

🗡 His hand comes up to the small of their back, pulling them closer, his body pressing against theirs.

🗡 When he finally pulls back, his breath is ragged, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. His eyes are darker now, filled with something deeper.

🗡 He gives a small chuckle, though it’s softer, more vulnerable. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this”

𝓜𝓱𝓲𝓷

🕊 rOOFTOP KISS

The night sky is overcast, casting a muted gray glow over the city. A cool breeze rustles the MC’s clothes as they sit beside Mhin, both of them watching the distant lights flicker across the chaotic city below. The two of them sit in silence, a silence that’s not uncomfortable but rather familiar.

🕊 Mhin's shoulders are slightly less tense, their gaze lingers on the horizon rather than avoiding eye contact. They mightt be on the edge of letting something slip through the cracks of their defenses.

🕊 “Why are you still here? With me?” It’s a question born of clear curiosity, neither insecurity nor doubt.

They turn to face the MC, their heart beating a little faster.

🕊 For a moment, Mhin looks like they might pull back, might retreat into themselves the way they always do. But instead, they hesitate, their breath catching slightly as they move closer.

🕊 “Because I want to be.” It’s not an elaborate answer, but it’s the truth, and Mhin values honesty above all else. “Are you sure?” Mhin asks, their voice quieter still, almost like they’re asking themselves more than the MC. The MC nods, their gaze steady. “Yes.” 🕊 That’s all it takes.

🕊 Mhin is the one to close the final distance between them.

🕊 The kiss is delicate, almost fragile, as though Mhin is afraid to break something—perhaps the walls they’ve built around themselves [too late for that tho---] It’s not rushed or passionate, but slow and measured, like they’re trying to make sense of it.

🕊 Mhin’s hand hovers near the MC’s cheek, as if they want to touch but aren’t sure they should.

🕊 When they finally break the kiss, Mhin pulls back slowly, their gaze searching the MC’s face for any sign of regret or hesitation. There's definately color in their cheeks.

𝓥𝓮𝓻𝓮

✦ The alleyway behind The Wet Wick, where the flickering light from the tavern barely reaches. It's late, the streets mostly empty except for the occasional passerby, and the two of them have just slipped out of sight, away from the bustling noise of the tavern.

✦ “You really should be more careful around me, you know,” Vere says, his voice low and lilting, dripping with mock concern.

✦ He steps closer, his movements smooth, almost predatory, like a cat toying with its prey. He tilts his head slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes as he closes the gap between them.

✦ His hand moves to brush lightly against the MC’s arm, the touch barely there, more of a tease than a real caress. It's intoxicating, his scent a mix of something sweet and dangerous, like poisoned honey.

✦ They can’t tell if he’s about to kiss them or kill them—and that’s exactly how Vere likes it.

✦ His lips are soft, but there’s a dangerous edge to the way he kisses them, his teeth grazing their bottom lip just enough to send a shiver down their spine.

✦ His hand comes up to cup the side of their neck, his fingers lightly pressing into their skin, holding them in place as he deepens the kiss.

✦ It's as much a test as a promise, a dance on the edge of something darker, something dangerous. It isn’t just about fun for him—it’s about control.

✦ When he finally pulls back, his breath is ragged, his eyes w i d e and hungry. He lingers close, his lips still barely brushing theirs.

✦ “You’ve managed to exceed my expectations,” Vere murmurs, his voice soft but dripping with intrigue. "Kiss me like that again, and I might actually start to like you.”

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 21

Hey guys!! The story is starting ramp up to the finish line! I hope you guys are still enjoying it as much I enjoyed writing it.

In this we have Steve taking back his agency, Eddie and Jeff having a little chat and Abbadon leaning on his friends.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

~

As soon as Abbadon grabbed the mic, the audience knew they were going to be in for a ride.

“Las Vegas!” he roared to the crowd, who roared back. “There seems to be some confusion about how naughty I got with Eddie Munson in Denver.”

The crowd went wild, screaming and jumping up and down.

“I never do anything without prior consent,” he grinned. “I’m a gentleman, until you tell me you want it otherwise.” He winked and the crowd screamed back. “I’m not saying I’m coming for Asmodeus’s job,” Abbadon said, draping himself over his guitarist’s shoulders, “but I’m no innocent. I don’t need protection.” He walked across the stage to Astraeus. “I’ve always been affectionate. But I think it’s time to be put the rumors to bed.”

“Oooooohhhhhh!” Asmodeus and Astraeus shouted and got the crowd to say it with them. Once they were loud enough, Azrael started rapidly tapping his drums to further build up tension.

Just when Abbadon was sure the tension couldn’t stretch much further he said, “I’m not a slut. I’m the slut!” The throng of people roared back. “And I’m not going to hide who I am to make myself palpable to people I’ve never met or no longer have any connection to me. I am Abbadon! I AM THE FALLEN!”

Waiting in the wings was Jeff and Eddie. They had gathered to watch Steve do this in person instead of watching it live in the green room.

Jeff cocked his head to the side and clicked his tongue. “Whatever else you think of Abbadon and the rest of the band, you have to admit the man has charisma.”

Eddie pressed his lips together and nodded. He was proud of Steve. Of course he was, but it did sting a little that it took Shane to get him to talk about it. Not him, Not Robin. Hell, not even Simon, whom Eddie thought was unhealthily close to Steve. Shane. Of all the band members, Shane had the least in common with Steve. Spence had the EMT thing, Simon, the upper class upbringing. Other than them liking metal, they couldn’t be further apart then if God planned it that way.

Shane came from a middle class liberal family with an older sister he was close with. Hell, he even still talked to his parents while Steve definitely did not. He was a giant nerd who loved history and myths. Steve struggled in school and only made it out alive because he was on three sports teams and captains of two of them. Shane even slept around to Steve’s search for ‘the one.’ Which Eddie really, really hoped was him.

But maybe that was it. Maybe the reason Shane could get through to Steve was because they didn’t have much in common. Maybe their connection were their differences. That they were friends in spite of the gap between them.

Eddie almost wanted to get Steve into therapy like Gareth was. Because even though it always seemed to him that Gareth was one drink away from destruction these days, the therapy did appear to be working.

Steve could really use something like that.

They watched the set a little bit longer.

“Are you sure you’re okay with Abbadon flirting with Gareth?” Jeff asked.

Eddie blinked for a moment wondering where the comment was coming from. Because, sure, Gareth had talked non-stop about Abbadon being his favorite member, even going as far as to tattoo Abbadon’s mask on his left bicep. But Gareth didn’t seem interested in Abbadon as a person.

And it wasn’t like Steve was really interested in him that way before or after becoming a rockstar.

“Gareth and Abbadon both say it’s fine,” he murmured after a moment or two. “And I trust Abbadon.”

Jeff hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah okay. So this time it’s not going to be the duet?”

“No, I don’t want a repeat of last time. Abbadon is going to be taking the lead vocals on ‘Might as Well Fly’, I think he’ll lend a haunting quality to it.”

Jeff pursed his lips. Steve definitely had the pipes for it, but it wasn’t the song out of their discography that he would have chosen for Abbadon to shred.

Eddie huffed beside him and crossed his arms in front of him. “Let me guess, you have other ideas?”

“Can Abbadon play guitar?” Jeff asked rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Eddie shrugged. “I mean, I guess. He’s like able to play piano, violin, and guitar. Can he play the song you’re thinking of is the real question.”

Jeff turned to him with a grin. “Oh, if I know our friend as well as I think I do, he knows it.”

Eddie frowned at him and cocked his head to the side. “Which one?”

Jeff told him and Eddie rubbed his lips, skeptical. It was a good song. Harder than ‘Might as Well Fly’ and faster too. It had an extra guitar to it because it originally featured a famous guitarist. But it was also the lead guitar on that song.

“Do you really think he can do it?” he asked, licking his upper lip slowly.

Jeff scoffed, “Why? Do you think he can’t?” Eddie just shrugged. “Because holy hell, dude, I was talking to Asmodeus and he was telling me they formed their band over their love of our music. I’m betting if you asked Abbadon he could list his favorite albums alphabetically, chronologically, or which one is best musically. Even before you guys got together, before their band, before we even got a record deal, he’s been your number one fan. And he’s got the chops for it. You know he does.”

Eddie looked around to make sure no one had heard Jeff’s impassioned speech. He ducked his head. “Have Abbadon meet us before we go on to discuss the change while they setup our equipment.”

Jeff grinned and licked his lips. “You won’t regret this. And neither will they.” He jutted his chin out at the roaring crowd.

And yeah, Eddie knew he was being ridiculous about the song. He was trying to play this safe, but Steve didn’t need safe right now. He needed to take back his agency and Eddie knew that this song? It was fucking perfect for Steve. They would be able to feed off the roar of the crowd and give Steve a chance to really show them how good he is.

~

Steve loved the idea of the change in song. Don’t get him wrong, he loved ‘Might as Well Fly’. It just wasn’t the vibe he was trying to send today. Steve already was flying. Now he was raging at the people who were trying to clip his wings. And fuck them.

It meant that he couldn’t start on Gareth’s lap, but that was okay. This was going to be better. A hell of a lot better.

He pulled on his Corroded Coffin logo lined coat and swapped his mask for the lighter everyday one. He was going to need the extra movement for these vocals. He started in the middle again, this time in front of Corroded Coffin instead of between them.

“Hey, Las Vegas!” Eddie cried. “You bitches ready to rock?”

The crowd screamed back and Eddie laughed. “We’ve got a treat for you tonight!” The crowd screamed even louder. “We don’t usually play ‘Nightmare Killer’ because we don’t have that third guitarist.”

The audience went wild, screaming and whistling and stomping their feet in excitement.

“We asked Asmodeus,” Eddie continued. “But he’s too cool for us!” The crowd made teasing booing noises and oohhed. “But that’s okay, we found someone else willing to play.”

The room fell to a hush as Abbadon’s spotlight came on. There was some uneasy wrestling from the audience as he stood with his ear mic and white guitar. Something that eagle-eyed fans would know about Eddie and Jeff was that they didn’t own a white guitar. And all The Fallen fans knew that all of Asmodeus’s guitars were red and vaguely devil themed. This wasn’t his either. This was clearly Abbadon’s.

Abbadon began the opening riff and the crowd took a massive intake of breath as he sailed perfectly through the chunky bits of the original artist’s style. Then he began to sing, the haunting quality of his voice filling in the gaps of the silence that seemed to stretch on from the audience.

Eddie didn’t even bother trying to hold back the look of admiration on his face as he joined Abbadon for the chorus. Their vocals mixing beautifully to the backdrop of a hell beast looking for more from life than the violence it was weaned on.

Throughout the song the only sounds from the crowd were clapping in time to the beat. Eddie had never seen anything like at their concerts before. It was like there was this reverence for what was happening on stage.

Abbadon ate it up and played it up as he enticed the members of Corroded Coffin to him. Each of the members resisted. Then Abbadon handed his guitar off to a roadie and climbed the stairs to the platform that Gareth was on. He straddled Gareth’s lap and drumming cut out as his bandmates played on. From behind it looked like they were kissing, but with Abbadon’s mic off they were making fun of each other. Then suddenly he whirled on Gareth’s lap and hit the drums right on the last note with a crash.

Then in an instant the crowd thundered to life, cheering and stomping and clapping.

Abbadon blew Gareth a kiss and leapt off the platform to take his bows. The flutter of the coat revealing the Corroded Coffin logo again and the crowd screamed even louder. He blew kisses to the crowd and continued to bow. Eddie whistled loudly and Abbadon laughed.

Eddie grabbed the microphone. “Abbadon everyone! One very talented son of bitch! Another round of applause everyone!”

The crowd continued to go wild. Abbadon let out a whoop and jumped up and down, laughing. It was exhilarating, everyone just feeding the energy back to Abbadon and just feeling high off that. Eddie and Jeff shared a glance and Jeff winked. Eddie shook his head. Because yeah, Jeff won that bet.

Abbadon waved goodbye and walked off the stage. Once he was out of view of the audience Hopper swooped in and immediately threw a cool, damp towel over his head and Steve nearly sank to his knees in relief. Because try as they might, the hoods were still fucking hot. Hopper lead him to the dressing room where the rests of The Fallen were waiting.

As soon as the door closed tightly behind Abbadon, Steve pushed back the hood and ripped off the mask. His hair was wet and sweat clung to his face and neck. He let himself sink slowly into the soft cushions of the sofa and laid his head back.

A bottled water was being pushed into his hand and an ice pack was placed on his brow. He let out a small shuddering breath. He opened the water and dumped half of it on his face and the rest into his mouth.

“Thanks, guys,” Steve muttered, his eyes fluttering shut. “How did I look out there?”

Simon huffed a little a laugh. “Like fucking rock god.”

“I’m with Simon,” Spence said. “It won’t silence the naysayers but it’ll drown them out which is even better.”

Steve laughed. “Fuck that was so much fun. Gareth called me a queen. So I called him a bitch. I honestly don’t know if he likes Abbadon more now, or less!”

“Considering how little time you had to prepare,” Shane said, sprawled over an armchair instead of on the floor for a change, “I say you kicked ass. You’re going to get people saying you weren’t really playing but, they can suck your dick!”

Steve lifted his head, the ice pack sliding into his hand. “I hate doing this without you guys, though,” he admitted. “But as Shane pointed out, I’m already super affectionate with you already and short of French kissing Simon, they aren’t going to believe shit.”

“Nothing against you, Steve,” Simon said with a wince, “but I really don’t want your tongue down my throat.”

Shane raised his hand. “I volunteer! I volunteer!”

They all laughed. Then Robin as Celeste slipped in and sat next to Steve. She grabbed the ice pack and pressed it to the back of her neck. They all waited as she let her defenses slowly come down. She pulled off the wig and tossed it Spence who caught it deftly.

“Vickie has been working tirelessly tonight to keep an eye on social media,” Robin began, “she even has two of her assistants watching all the accounts, constantly refreshing.”

Steve turned on the couch to face her. “And what are they saying?”

Simon and Spence immediately moved over to her to sit on either side of her and Steve. Shane sprawled over the back like some Renaissance painting. He rustled her hair and she huffed out a laugh.

“You’re getting the trolls from both fans shit talking about how Abbadon is better than Corroded Coffin and should have turned them down like Asmodeus,” she continued, pausing only for Simon’s huff of laughter. “The Corroded Coffin fans were whining about how Abbadon’s vocals ruined the song and that he probably faking the guitar playing for the views.”

“I’d like to see them fake that bridge,” Steve scoffed. “It’s insane.”

Simon nodded. “I don’t think I could do it.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s what I’ll do. I’ll post a Tiktok of me trying to play it.”

“Wait!” Spence said. “Have Steve do it first, showing a close up of the hands dancing on the frets. Then you stitch it with your version. That should kick them in the ass.”

Steve and Simon fist bumped each other. “Hell yeah!”

“But the rest of the tweets and shit coming in is overwhelmingly positive,” Robin finished. “So that Tiktok should silence the Corroded Coffin fans.”

When Simon did his stitch of Steve’s video he made sure to admonish their fans about thinking who’s better than who. He was friends with the boys in CC and the being ‘too cool’ was a fucking joke.

Then Eddie did a stitch of both of their videos and showed them again how complicated the riff was for Abbadon to play by playing it himself. Abbadon and Asmodeus’s videos racked up a lot of views and shares, but Eddie’s really did the numbers. It blew up and completely overshadowed all the haters.

Steve made sure to thank Eddie for that later in the privacy of Eddie’s hotel room.

`

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina @garden-of-gay

[covidsafecosplay]

Do you have any general advice about being Covid safe at conventions? I've been under the impression that visiting any con, big or small, masked or not, immunocompromised or not, is a big no-no, since it's a place where several people gather indoors.

I, personally, will not go to cons right now, and it's a big part of why this blog exists in the first place.

I live in a household of disabled people, one of whom has a respiratory disease, and it's just not worth the risk to any of us. We are 100% avoiding anything with crowds. We don't even go to the grocery store if we can avoid it, and thank our lucky stars we live somewhere that we can access reasonably-priced grocery delivery. People call us paranoid, but none of us have gotten covid once, so I have no real desire to change what we're doing.

Every time I think, "hm, local covid numbers are dropping, maybe I can go to something" there's another spike in infections, so I've just kind of...given up. I used to perform at the local medieval faire, my husband used to do burlesque, and my entire household was generally really big into the local performing arts scene. We gave up trying to participate in anything when it became clear nobody was interested in hosting or attending virtual events anymore.

That said, I know "everybody please just stop going to cons" isn't exactly an effective covid safety policy. The "get back to normal" urge is strong, and as much as it pisses me off, people are going to do what they're going to do. I also know multiple people who pretty much have to go to cons because their income depends on artist alley profits, or they're employed in the industry and have to make con appearances as part of their job. Cons are back in full-swing, for better or worse.

For those who have to go to cons, or just really, really want to and can't be swayed, I recommend reading through the People's CDC's Safer In-Person Gatherings Guide. It was originally published in 2022, but the information is good. It covers things that event organizers can do to make events accessible, as well as personal safety precautions attendees should take.

If someone is going to attend a con, they need to:

Check if the venue has upgraded ventilation and covid policies in place (if possible). If the venue has poor ventilation and nobody else is going to give a shit whether you catch covid, maybe reconsider attending that particular event.

Mask up using a properly-fitted, NIOSH-certified N95 or better for the entirety of the event. Wear it properly over the mouth and nose.

Avoid crowded indoor areas as much as possible, sticking to smaller groups in outdoor areas where available.

Stick to small, consistent groups you can contact after the event in case of exposure, instead of mingling in large crowds of strangers.

Get vaccinated and boosted in advance of the event.

Avoid high-risk activities for at least five days prior to the event.

Complete a daily symptom checklist leading up to the event.

Take a covid test the day of the event to ensure covid-free status.

Complete a daily symptom checklist for five days after the event. Test immediately if any symptoms present.

Take a covid test five days after the event, even if no symptoms present. Asymptomatic transmission is still possible.

If testing positive for covid, alert other attendees so they can get tested.

All this info is taken from the People's CDC link, which has become my go-to covid information resource. I and this blog are totally unaffiliated with them, but following their guidelines has helped keep my family 100% covid-free for the entire duration of the pandemic.

If anyone needs inspiration for covid-safe cosplay activities outside the convention scene, or ideas for making your covid mask match your cosplay, I have a post about that here. I also have a post with links to free mask patterns and tutorials here.

[kairoot]

⌞ 𝐍𝟏𝐋𝐇 ⌝ ★ l. close enough, drop the album.

★. young rockstar Kim Hongjoong is absolutely infatuated with you, a global star and known singer. he seems like a player to the public eye but no one knows him personally. well, he doesn’t stick around for people to get to know him.. he makes multiple attempts at stealing your heart but you just won’t budge. you thought it would be easy to open up again but your past slowly catches up to you with an unloving father and one crazy ex.

— ★

“what do you mean i have to go?” you whined to your manager and best friend, binna. she sighed, not wanting to repeat herself once again.

“y/n, you have to.”

“but i’d rather not. this isn’t fair, binna!” you ran your hands down your face, whining again.

“you’re acting like i’m the one making you go. these are the company’s orders!” binna argued, taking a seat next to you on the practice room’s floor.

as of right now, you were trying your best to get out of having to go to the big soirée you were invited to. it’s not like you weren’t grateful for the invitation. you were just exhausted. and there was too much going on in your head. you hadn’t been to one of these events since your brother, jaehyun, was sent away.

it was hard for you to be social. maybe it was the anxiety. there were rumors that you were one of those rude celebrities because of the way you isolated yourself at parties and such. but of course that wasn’t true. you just didn’t know how to put yourself out there. everyone expects you to be extroverted and outgoing because of the way you display yourself on social media. but that was all of your company’s doing.

no one ever knew the true you, except for jaehyun and binna.

you sighed, giving up on your escape. binna sent you a soft, reassuring smile.

“at least mr. kim hongjoong’ll be there.” she nudged you, wiggling her eyebrows. you groaned, rolling your eyes.

“what is your obsession with him?” you shook your head, standing up and grabbing your things.

“uhm, he’s like the biggest rockstar of our generation! and he loves you.” she emphasized the ‘love’ part, poking your side playfully. you shook your head, smiling a bit.

“i don’t even know the guy, bin.”

“but you could get to know him. tonight!” she said as the both of you walked toward the door.

you ignored binna’s comment as the both of you walked to the company car. she continued to poke and prod at the interaction that could be made, but you continued to show no interest. your mind was already occupied, dreading the night ahead and the socializing that came with it.

the pressure of performing off-stage, having to mingle with strangers who saw you as nothing more than the glamorous image curated by your company, weighed on you. none of those people knew you nor did they care to.

your arrival at the event was swift. the venue was as extravagant as you’d expected, chandeliers casting a soft glow over the guests’ heads. the air buzzed with small talk and laughter, your stomach starting to churn with each step you took.

“see? not so bad, right?” binna whispered as she looped her arm through yours, pulling you toward the bar.

you nod half-heartedly, scanning the crowd for any familiar faces. it only took a moment before your eyes landed on a blonde. the rockstar himself, kim hongjoong. you quickly turned your head back, not wanting binna to think you were interested all of a sudden.

“is that him?” binna gasped, starting to tug you toward him. your eyes widened as you tried pulling your arm out of her grip.

“binna, no,” you said quietly.

“oh, c’mon, y/n. it’ll be fine, he’s soooo nice!”

“oh? and how would you know?” you quirked an eyebrow.

she paused for a moment, “erm.. just a thought?”

you shook your head, smiling. you turned around to go back to the bar, leaving binna and her hongjoong-filled brain alone.

after ordering your drink, you took a deep breath, willing your nerves to settle. you were used to performing on stage, but mingling in these kinds of social events always left you feeling out of place.

binna’s excitement was palpable, and you couldn’t help but smile despite yourself. you turned to the bartender, signaling for another glass of sparkling water. just as you brought it to your lips, the background music suddenly cut off, replaced by the distinct feedback of a microphone being tapped.

“ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention please,” the emcee’s voice boomed across the room, causing everyone to pause their conversations. you turned toward the stage, your brow furrowing in confusion. “we have a special treat for you tonight. our favorite star, y/n, will be performing for us!”

your heart dropped.

the crowd erupted in applause, and you stood there, frozen, the glass slipping from your hand and shattering on the floor. binna’s eyes widened as she grabbed your arm.

“binna,” you whispered, panic setting in. “what is he talking about..?”

“i—i don’t know!” she stammered, equally bewildered. “no one told me anything about this.”

your breath quickened as you felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. the emcee continued, clearly expecting you to make your way to the stage.

“y/n?” he glanced around, searching for you in the crowd. “come on up!”

binna squeezed your arm reassuringly. “you’ve got this, okay? you’re a pro.”

“but I’m not prepared,” you hissed, but there was no time to argue. you took a shaky breath, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. before you knew it, you were being gently pushed towards the stage by well-meaning staff members.

the room seemed to blur as you climbed the steps, the lights too bright, the applause too loud. you somehow made it to the center of the stage, heart pounding so fiercely you thought you might faint.

“i—i wasn’t expecting to perform tonight,” you said into the mic, your voice small and uncertain. a few people in the crowd chuckled softly, and you swallowed hard. “but i do have a new song that I’d like to share with you.”

the audience applauded again, and the band began to play a familiar melody. the opening chords of one of your newest single, ‘black mascara’ filled the room, and you forced yourself to relax. this was your element. slowly, you closed your eyes and let the music take over, the initial panic subsiding as you began to sing.

you voice soared, clear and powerful, weaving through the lyrics that had once been your lifeline. as you sang, the room seemed to fall away, leaving just you and the music. you could feel the weight of eyes on you, the intensity of the gaze almost palpable. despite yourself, you risked a glance in hongjoong’s direction.

he was watching you intently, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—a glimmer of admiration, maybe? or curiosity? you couldn’t be sure. he bobbed his head slightly to the beat, his presence both comforting and unnerving at the same time. the cameras swarmed around him and the other celebrities, capturing their reactions. hongjoong didn’t do much to react except nod along, but his focus was unwavering.

the song drew to a close, the final note hanging in the air before fading into silence. the applause was thunderous, but all you could think about was getting out of there.

“thank you,” you mumbled into the mic before quickly stepping off the stage. you ignored the people reaching out to congratulate you, heading straight for the exit.

“y/n, wait!” binna called after you, but you couldn’t stop, couldn’t breathe until you were outside, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin. you spotted the company car waiting for you and practically ran to it, throwing yourself inside.

“take me home, please,” you instructed the driver, your voice trembling with exhaustion and irritation. As the car pulled away from the venue, you closed your eyes, leaning back against the seat. the performance had gone well, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being blindsided, of being watched so closely.

it wasn’t until much later, as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, that you realized: the intensity of hongjoong’s gaze had left an imprint on you, one that you weren’t sure you could forget.

and the thought terrified you.

•

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

[ 🧾 ] 𝓣𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @dioll @minihong99 @dollschan @asherthehimbo @kur0kki @elysianiki — send an ask to be added !

[aziraphales-library]

this is going to sound slightly stupid i’m begging you to bear with me

you know those fanfics from like 2013, the rpf’s that (usually) were about musicians like harry styles or brenden urie?

they’d go something along the lines of, ‘not-like-other-girls’ sitting in the crowd of a concert her friend dragged her out to, but she just doesn’t care about the music it’s so not her thing so she reads a book during the concert (cue the groans). then the lead singer sees her and is totally taken by her uniqueness and calls her out from the stage or asks to see her after the show yada yada.

anyway, i saw some fan art of rockstar!crowley and normie!aziraphale, and i thought it’d be fun to see if there’s anything similar to those kinds of rpf’s but instead for crowley and aziraphale!

We have a #famous crowley tag you can check out. Here are some fics in which Crowley is famous and Aziraphale is not...

A rockstar's love by The_boxhead (G)

Crowley had a lot of problems finding someone to have a relationship with as the famous rockstar that he is. But that day when he entered that coffee shop and saw that blond haired man behind the counter, he didn’t want more than to get to know that beautiful angel with that cute smile.

Star Crossed by AppleSeeds (T)

When Crowley, the lead singer of wildly successful rock band The Sixth Circle, agrees to take part in a radio show discussion feature, the last thing he expects is to come away from it completely smitten with a man who must be the world's most adorable magician. Crowley's uncharacteristic behaviour towards Aziraphale during the show doesn't go unnoticed by the listeners, with speculation soon running rife online. Only one thing for it - Crowley just needs to engineer an opportunity to see Aziraphale again. All in the name of generating publicity, of course.

Never Too Late by AppleSeeds (T)

It's been thirty-five years since the height of Aziraphale's enormous crush on rockstar Anthony Crowley, but when he sees that Anthony is still performing, Aziraphale feels he owes it to his younger self not to pass up the opportunity to finally hear him sing live. The last thing he expects is for Anthony to actually approach him once the concert is over, extending an invitation that surpasses every fantasy Aziraphale harboured about him as a young man and resulting in the most memorable night of his life.

The Only One I Still Know How to See by Furuba_Fangirl (E)

Aziraphale has been an admirer of Anthony J. Crowley for years. However, the gap between audience member and stage actor begins to thin when they are given the chance to officially meet.

Soho by Lurlur (E)

Aziraphale lives a quiet kind of life, running a quiet specialist bookshop in one of the liveliest districts of London. He's content with his lot, happy with his friends, tolerant of his probably-human housemate, living vicariously through the gossip pages. One day, a chance encounter with Anthony Crowley, lead singer of wildly successful rock band The Demons, threatens to turn his whole world upside down.

Find the Light by klikandtuna (E)

I saw a collection of gifs on tumblr combining David Tennant as a rock star and Michael Sheen as a school headmaster (see the notes of Chapter 1 for a link to the post!) and someone said that it ought to be a fic, sooooo I've made it a fic. Here's a heapin' helping of rock-star Crowley and headmaster Aziraphale! Now with shiny new cover art, also by me!

Win a Date With Anthony J. Crowley! by Caedmon (E)

Crowley is a world-famous rock star who sells out arenas. His name is synonymous with 'rock-n-roll', and he thrives on the spotlight. When he agrees to raffle off a date with himself for charity, he's expecting to meet an overzealous fan that wants to wear his skin and very well might try to roofie him. What he's not expecting is to be instantly attracted to the quiet man with the unusual name who shows up for the date at the Ritz... and he's certainly not expecting for Aziraphale to have no clue who he is...

- Mod D

[joosthead]

7 or 29 with joost from the otp questionary please 🙏

₊˚⊹⋆ prompt: 7. what’s the first thing that changes when they have feelings for each other?

₊˚⊹⋆ cws: none

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: gn!reader but normal au coded

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: a little cheese for u anonnie thank you for requesting :3 i’ll be answering 29 in a diff post bc someone asked 29+30 and they go together p well so stay tuned 👀 p short drabble tbh but i just wanted to make it look pretty

RPF/REAL PERSON FICTION BELOW CUT, DNI IF ANTI-RPF

the first thing that changes when you start having feelings for each other is… nothing at all, really, in terms of behavior. he already loved making you smile, loved making you laugh—the romantic feelings were just a plus, and an even bigger reason why he wanted and needed you around. you were already the first person he showed his music to, the first person on his speed dial.

the hardest thing to adjust to was honestly the physical aspect of it all; how was joost going to hold back from someone so beautiful? how did he ever back when he didn’t have feelings for you? touch was already a large part of your friendship. always an arm around your shoulder, or a loose hand around your waist when you walked together.

still, just friends, though.

when you’d come to shows, you’d fuss over the finishing touches on his outfits—the first show back once he’d realized he liked you, he wore a dress shirt and a tie, not realizing you’d come up and adjust it for him after he tied it in the mirror. pretty fingers handling him delicately, your eyebrows knitting together at how haphazardly he tied his tie. “so many years of practice, joosty, you still can’t do it better?” you quipped quietly, so focused on helping him.

he’d known how to do it perfectly most his life—then you came along.

for once, he was quiet, just watching you as if the roar of the crowds outside and the voices of rushed roadies and security weren’t right outside your door.

“so handsome, joost. you’ll do amazing,” you said, and it was enough to tune out the noise. you hugged him around the waist, and he knew how far gone he was.

after that, he tried to keep away from you physically out of respect, but you two always orbited around each other regardless—stopping himself from walking with you, cuddling with you, taking your hand and squeezing it just once before letting go… that was impossible, and even with all the new feelings floating around, he wasn’t going to stop himself.

so yeah :3 he gets all bashful smile looks down at ground when you call him out “where my hug at” style cuz he always does that to you when you don’t hug him … the hypocrisy!!! /j

[brodygold]

The Water Boy

Max wasn’t thrilled about his new living arrangement. That might be a bit of an understatement. After a string of bad luck and a breakup with his girlfriend that left him without a place to stay, his only option had been to move in with his old colleague Brody. The problem? Brody was an athlete—through and through—and Max had never gotten along with jocks super well. He didn’t understand their obsessive drive, their fixation on training, or their constant talk about “the game.” And it’s not like Max was homophobic, but Brody having trouble bringing any guy he wanted to his bedroom hit a sore spot.

Brody, of course, was part of the Golden Army, the top-tier soccer team everyone in the city knew about. Their shining gold jerseys, their camaraderie, their relentless work ethic—it was all lost on Max, who had no patience for any of it. Brody, though, was unfazed by Max’s disdain, always inviting him to hang out with the team or come to a game.

But Max wasn’t having it. He spent most of his time in his room, away from Brody and the other Golden Army guys who sometimes dropped by. He just wanted peace and quiet, but it was hard to find that in a household that lived and breathed soccer and all kinds of other sports.

One evening, Brody approached Max in the living room, holding a gleaming golden jersey in his hands. “We could use some help at the next match. Just as a water boy. No pressure, no running around, just help out with the bottles and towels.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’m cut out for that.”

“Come on, it’s not that bad. Plus, it’s just a way to hang out. You don’t have to love sports, but you’ll get to see the team up close. Maybe you’ll even like it.”

Max sighed. Brody was impossible to refuse when he got that encouraging, boyish grin. “Fine, but I’m not wearing one of those jerseys.”

Brody chuckled. “You might change your mind.”

The day of the big game arrived, and Max found himself on the sidelines, watching the Golden Army warm up. Their gold jerseys shimmered under the stadium lights, and the crowd roared with excitement. Max couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something—a pull he hadn’t expected. Even if he didn’t care about the sport, the energy was contagious.

As the match kicked off, Max went about his tasks, handing out water and towels, keeping to himself. But then, Brody jogged over, looking a bit winded. “Here, take this,” he said, tossing Max one of the spare golden jerseys. “You’re part of the team now, whether you like it or not.”

Max stared at the jersey, reluctant at first. But something compelled him to put it on. The moment he pulled the fabric over his head, something strange happened. It wasn’t just the smooth texture or the comfortable fit—it was as if the jersey changed him. His mind relaxed, the frustrations and irritations of living with athletes melting away. He felt a connection to the team, to Brody, and to the spirit of the Golden Army. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he started seeing them in a new light. Max found himself hoping to spend some more “quality time” with the team after the game. Especially with his good friend and roommate Brody.

Suddenly, being a water boy didn’t seem so bad. In fact, it felt like the perfect place for him. He smiled as he ran to refill the bottles, his steps light and easy. The crowd, the game, the team—it all mattered now. And when Brody scored the winning goal in the final moments, Max felt a surge of pride unlike anything he’d experienced before.

After the game, as the Golden Army celebrated their victory, Brody found Max near the bench. “How’s the water boy life treating you?”

Max grinned, still wearing the golden jersey. “Not bad, actually. I think I could get used to this.”

Brody laughed and pulled Max into a tight hug. “I knew you’d come around.”

The team celebrated into the night, and Max found himself surrounded by new friends—people he once thought he’d never relate to. But now, with Brody by his side and the Golden Army embracing him as one of their own, he felt like he belonged. For the first time in a long time, Max wasn’t just watching from the sidelines—he was part of something bigger, something golden.

Later that night, when the stadium was quiet and the celebrations had died down, Max and Brody stood together, looking out at the empty field. “Thanks for pushing me to do this,” Max said softly.

Brody smiled. “I always knew you had it in you. Now you’re one of us.”

Max chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

The two of them walked off the field, the bond between them stronger than ever. And Max knew exactly how to pay him back.

[winxanity-ii]

IT'S ME, MARIO!

ship: itadori x fem!reader warnings: non-explicit word count: 1.7k a/n: idc idc idc, yuji would definetly make a fool of himself if he knew you were nervous

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Since living on campus, you'd adjusted to being on your own. It had been… interesting, to say the least.

Moving from the comfort of your hometown, where you knew everyone and everyone knew you, to a sprawling university was like stepping into another world.

But you'd managed. Slowly but surely, you'd found your rhythm.

You'd been pushing yourself to attend those countless events and programs that the campus threw at you, dipping your toes into the waters of socializing at your own pace.

Sometimes, it was easier to just be a face in the crowd, observing from the sidelines, taking mental notes of how people interacted, what made them tick.

You'd practiced small talk like it was an art form—commenting on the weather, complimenting someone’s shirt, asking what their major was—and for the most part, you'd gotten better at it.

It was a slow process, but you were learning to navigate the chaotic dance of college life.

Currently, you were sitting in your honors open communication class, trying to remember how to breathe without making it seem like you were hyperventilating.

The classroom, with its cozy size of about ten people, should have felt intimate, manageable. But instead, it felt like a pressure cooker. Every word, every glance, every single goddamn breath felt magnified.

You were staring blankly at the front of the room as your classmate, Akane, wrapped up her presentation on how to cook a traditional Japanese breakfast: tamagoyaki, miso soup, grilled fish, rice, and even a beautiful spread of pickled vegetables.

It sounded extravagant, yet she made it look so simple.

Probably because she didn't have to wrestle with the invisible, clawing beast of anxiety like you did every time you so much as thought about public speaking.

Your palms were sweaty, knees weak—okay, maybe not that dramatic, but still. You were jittery and nervous, your pulse a steady drum in your ears because you were up next. And Akane, bless her, was finishing up with a flourish, her smile bright and confident.

You tried to take a deep breath, feeling your throat tighten. Yuji, sitting right next to you, leaned over slightly, his shoulder brushing yours, and whispered, "Hey, you okay?"

You managed a stiff nod, mumbling out a barely audible, "Yeah." But you didn’t dare look at him, because you knew the concern in his eyes would undo you. Instead, you stared hard at the scratched-up desk in front of you, willing yourself not to freak out.

Yuji knew about your anxiety. You'd confided in him more than once, spilling the mess of thoughts that spiraled in your head before you had to speak in front of people.

How your heart raced, your mouth went dry, your hands shook. How no matter how much you prepared, how many times you practiced, your body still froze up.

It was like your brain and body were in this weird, dysfunctional relationship where neither of them wanted to cooperate.

"L/N-chan?" Your professor, Nitta Akari, said your name with that polite, expectant tone that sent another jolt of panic through you.

You opened your mouth, but before you could make any sound that resembled a response, Yuji spoke up.

"Sorry, teach, but is it alright if I go first? I'm a little shy…" His voice was as smooth and casual as ever, and you turned to look at him, utterly confused.

What the hell?

Nitta-sensei blinked but nodded, clearly caught off guard. "Uh, sure, Itadori-kun. Go ahead."

Yuji stood, giving you a quick wink as he made his way to the front of the room. You were still processing what just happened when he started speaking, but instead of launching into the well-thought-out paper on global warming you helped him prepare, he began with: "Mario, the Idea vs. Mario, the Man."

You blinked. Once. Twice.

What the fuck?

"Everyone knows Mario is cool as fuck. But who knows what he’s thinking? Who knows why he crushes turtles? And why do we think about him as fondly as we think of the mythical (nonexistent?) Dr. Pepper? Perchance…"  

You couldn't even react properly because he was already going off, delivering the opening lines with this bizarre mixture of enthusiasm and conviction, as if he was genuinely pondering the existential meaning of a pixelated plumber's life.

Everyone in the room, including Nitta-sensei, was staring at him with varying degrees of confusion.

There was a couple of snickers, and you saw one of your classmates, Yuki, already recording this on her phone, probably for TikTok.

Yuji, however, was undeterred, fully committing to the bit as he paced slightly, gesturing with his hands like he was giving a TED Talk. "Why does he crush turtles? Is it because he's saving the princess? Or is it because he's trying to save himself from his own internal void? Is it about the princess or the chase?"

You were sitting there, mouth slightly agape, because this was not what you spent hours helping him research. You'd spent countless nights, coffee-fueled and sleep-deprived, going over statistics and climate change projections, not pondering Mario’s deep-seated motivations for stomping on Goombas.

"And those mushrooms. Seriously, who decided that eating weird fungi would make you bigger? What kind of metaphorical bullshit is that? Some kind of growth narrative, maybe? Mario, the eternal underdog—"

"—Itadori-kun," Nitta-sensei interrupted, her voice carrying that unmistakable tone of an adult who's trying very hard to stay patient. Her eyebrow was twitching ever so slightly, and you could almost hear her internal scream as she tried to make sense of whatever the hell Yuji was talking about. "What point are you trying to make with this?"

Yuji blinked, completely unbothered, like he'd only just noticed he'd wandered off into another dimension of thought. "I dunno, but I think…" he trailed off, his eyes flickering around the room like he was looking for the answer somewhere in the air.

It was almost endearing, the way he tilted his head like a confused puppy, his lips pursed as if deep in thought.

There was a pregnant pause, the kind that stretched on just long enough to become uncomfortable. Nitta-sensei exhaled, the sound barely restrained, and she muttered his name again, "Itadori-kun." There was a warning there, a gentle push for him to get back on track, but you could tell her patience was wearing thin.

And in that moment, something in you snapped, like a rubber band stretched too far.

You knew you should let him flounder in his awkwardness, let him take the hit because, well, he put himself in this situation. But instead, you heard yourself saying, "I think Itadori-kun is trying to say that Mario isn't just a game character. He's a symbol of all the pointless shit we chase in life, only to find out the reward wasn't even in the castle—it was in the journey..." The words tumbled out in a rush, your voice wobbling slightly, and you felt the eyes of the entire class on you.

There was a beat of silence, then another, before Yuji broke into a grin, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Yup! That's what I was trying to say!" He clapped his hands together, looking almost proud, and you couldn't help but feel a little heat rise to your cheeks.

How does he make everything sound so simple, so obvious?

Nitta-sensei just sighed, rubbing her forehead like she was trying to ward off a headache. She looked at Yuji, then at you, then back at Yuji, her expression caught between exasperation and something almost like amusement. "Alright, thank you, Itadori-kun," she said finally, her voice dry. "For that… unique interpretation."

She waved a hand, clearly done with the whole ordeal. You could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, like she was trying not to laugh, and it made you feel a tiny bit better.

At least she wasn't mad.

Just as she opened her mouth again, probably to call your name, the bell rang, loud and obnoxious and utterly glorious. You nearly sagged in relief, your muscles unwinding all at once.

The class collectively began to shuffle, packing up their things with the sluggish enthusiasm of students who had made it through yet another class.

Nitta-sensei sighed again, louder this time, and you almost felt bad for her. "Those of you who didn't present today will need to submit a recording since we spent too much time on…" She gestured vaguely at Yuji, who grinned sheepishly, "…this."

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, relief flooding through you as you started packing up your things, all the tension and worry melting away like snow in the spring sun.

You glanced at Yuji, who was already waiting for you by the door, his bag slung over one shoulder, looking like he'd just casually won the lottery.

As you walked over, you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at him. "What the hell was that, Yuji? Why didn't you read the presentation we practiced?"

He shrugged, giving you a lopsided grin. "I saw you were nervous, and I figured if I made a fool of myself first, maybe you wouldn't be so worried. You know, like, break the ice or something."

Your heart gave a little flip at that, and you couldn’t help the small, soft smile that tugged at your lips. He'd always been like this since you met him—considerate in his own goofy, unpredictable way. "Thank you, Yuji..." you murmured, feeling your face heat up a bit, the corners of your mouth curling up despite yourself. "Seriously, that was… really sweet."

Yuji beamed at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "No problem! I like being there for you, you'd do the same for me."

You giggled, the tension easing out of your shoulders as you nodded. "Alright, how about I buy you lunch at The Den to fully show my appreciation. Deal?"

"Deal!" He practically bounced on his feet, his energy infectious, as he reached out and took your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours in a warm, comfortable grip.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but his touch was gentle and familiar, and you found yourself relaxing, your hand fitting perfectly in his.

"Come on, I'm craving those teriyaki burgers!" he said, already pulling you into the hallway, the two of you blending into the sea of students rushing off to their next classes.

You couldn't help but shake your head, a fond smile playing on your lips as you let him drag you along, your heart feeling a little lighter, your worries a little less daunting.

Maybe public speaking wasn't your thing, but having someone like Yuji by your side, you figured you'll be just fine.

A/N: hahaha i just couldn't help myself after seeing this meme going around online...

[euniexenoblade]

Choose Your Own Smutty Halloween Adventure - Prologue

"Hiiii everyone! It's me, Mordred! Breaking the fourth wall to bring you an all new fun smutty adventure! Let me welcome you to The Fucking Game!"

Curtains, that you previously never noticed on your screen, rise up to reveal a game show set. On the left side of the set there sits five yellow, cushy seats. On the right side are shackles chained to the wall, the only part of the set where the yellow striped wallpaper is disturbed. Between the two is a small wall to prevent the sides from seeing each other.

"Now, I know what you're asking, 'Mordred, what is The Fucking Game, and why the fuck are you breaking the fourth wall?!' Well, my dear reader, it's very simple, it's like the The Dating Game, except it's fucking, and you're reading it. And, it needs a host, and who better than me?"

"Oh, and did I mention it's a Halloween special? So, ya know, monsters and shit."

"Shall we meet our lovely slut I mean, bachelorette?"

Two hooded figures pull a girl out by the ankles, she seems to have been knocked out, sliding across the floor as they drag her. The hooded figures take the shackles and close them on the girl's wrists before walking away.

"Allow me to introduce you to-" Mordred turns around. The girl is unconscious on the ground. Mordred turns back to the camera. "Hmm. Hold on one second folks." Mordred walks off screen, but can be heard somewhat, "Go wake her the fuck up I have smut to write you dumbfucks!"

Two hooded figures walk back on stage, one has a stun baton. The figure lightly taps the girl with it. The girl screams, jumping awake and puts her back on the wall, cowering. The hooded figures walk off screen.

Mordred now walks back on screen. "Now! Allow me to introduce you to Delilah!"

"Where am I?! What is going on?! I want to go home!"

Mordred looks disappointed. "FINE! I'LL DO THAT TOO!" Delilah is a 30 year old trans woman from California. She's a college dropout, has had only one relationship with a cis dude and it ended badly, and now she's looking for love in all the wrong places~"

"I am?"

"Yes. You are. Today, Delilah will find true love. Or die trying I suppose, I don't know, it's not up to me. I'm just a host."

"But now, let me introduce you to the people she's gonna fuck!"

"Fuck?"

Mordred groans. "Yes, fuck, it's The Fucking Game, keep up girlie."

"Anyways, our first contestant, hailing from the forests out east, Gerold the Werewolf."

A big wolf walks out onto the stage. He stands at about 9 feet tall on two legs, covered in fur, hunched a bit, his big teeth obvious despite his snout being closed. He sits in the first yellow chair and looks into the camera and speaks, "My name is Gerold, but I go by Gere, because there are hundreds of werewolves, but there's only one Gerewolf." Crowd laughter is heard. What crowd? Who knows. "I deserve to have this girl as a personal fuck toy, because I am loyal and devoted. Though I may have a thousand victims, I'll have only one fuck toy. You'll never worry about where I am or who I'm with, I'm a werewolf, not a WHEREwolf." More crowd laughter.

The camera pans back to Mordred. "Ha ha ha isn't he a hoot? Now here's our second contestant, Lilith, the Demon Queen from Hell."

The camera pans back to the chairs, a tall woman with red skin walks onto stage. She plops into the second yellow chair, she has a black bra and black panties on, black hair to her shoulders, and big horns sticking out of her head. As she speaks, you can see her razor sharp teeth, "Hi there, I'm Lilith, and I'm a bat outta Hell." Mordred can subtly be heard saying "I don't think she knows what that phrase means...." Lilith continues, "I like long walks on the lava beach, I love to fuck, and baby, I know hell, so I have the experience to make this relationship work." The mystery crowd claps.

Once again, the focus is on Mordred. "Isn't she just lovely? A true romantic if I've ever seen one. And, now, our third contestant, Priscilla the Ghost Girl."

Back to the stage, a blue-ish, translucent being floats over to the middle chair. She looks like a cartoon ghost, big black circles for eyes, a mouth that's a line and moves to a circle shape as she talks, "Hello everyone, I'm Priscilla, the ghost with the most! I don't go out often, since I'm stuck to the house I'm haunting. But, that said, I'm a homeowner, I read a lot, and I love to stay home and give you all the attention you need." The mystery crowd can be heard going 'awww.'

"Wait she's done already?" Mordred whines before noticing the camera is back on her. "Oh, hi there, isn't she just the best?! Now, let's move on to our fourth contestant, Slosha the Slime Princess!"

Camera pans back to the chairs, and a green, moist, almost slug shaped being moves across the floor, leaving a trail the whole way. Once she gets to the fourth chair, she morphs her body into a humanoid shape, big breasts, big belly, even fake slime hair. As she sits down into the chair you can see the chair get moist through her body. "Hiiiiiiiiiii! I'm Slosha! I am the Princess of the great slime empire! I lovvvvve to eat, so you know I'm gonna have so much fun digesting you! But I love to play with my foooood, so if you become my sex toy I'll never leave you alone! And, since I'm royalty, you have to do whatever I tell you to do or I will have you executed ^_^"

Mordred speaks to the camera, "Holy fuck, isn't she just beautiful? Actual royalty on our show? That's so cool. Anyways, thank you readers for being patient, we're almost done. One final contestant, possibly the charismatic of them all, allow me to introduce you tooooo: Pumpkin!"

Back to the stage. A pumpkin falls from the roof into the last chair. It has no other discernible features. It can not speak. It is just a pumpkin. The mystery crowd goes crazy with applause.

"Isn't Pumpkin just lovely, folks? Now for the the game to truly to begin. Delilah will now pick which contestant she wants alone time with. And by pick, I mean she gets whatever you tell her she gets."

"Wait, what? I don't want this-"

"Did I tell you to speak?" Mordred says in a stern tone. Delilah goes quiet.

"That's right! It's you" Mordred points at you, the person reading this, "who gets to choose who Delilah gets fucked by!" Delilah gulps. "Now, reader, it's up to you, begin the game."