#MADE ME SO HAPPY TO SEE THE RED NUMBER ONE POP UP AND IT WAS THIS

[tervaneula]

HAPPPPYYYY BIRTHDAYYY TOOOO YOUUUUUUU

AW GOSH BANJOOOO THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!

[buzz-in-your-veins]

Oops, did i do that?

Accidentally sending a spicy pic to your crush.

The reader is more fem dressed and has a vagina in this- if you want a part b where they don’t have outfits just let me know!

CW: Gender Neutral reader with a vagina and fem-like fashion, reader wears bras, no mention of having boobs.

Vox

Vox hadn’t known you for very long, you were one of the newer demons working for him. You’d applied for the job a few months ago.

In that time he’d seen you about four times, but he was honestly thinking of promoting you, you were amazing at your job, good with both the data and the customers, the only thing it seemed you couldn’t do, was look at your contacts.

You weren’t working tomorrow, so you’d gone out with your friends, you’d purposefully gone to one of the only clubs in the pride ring that wasn’t owned by a member of the V’s, in an effort not to run into your new boss.

You’d gone all out tonight, spurred on by your friends, see, you had a minor crush on the TV demon, not that you’d ever entertain it. However, your friends had picked your outfit tonight, and you ended up in a gorgeous (if a bit slutty) royal blue dress, sleeveless and short, with a glittery tulle overlay, and some beautiful electric red heels.

You were messing on with your friends in the bathroom, taking photos and just genuinely having fun, already beyond tipsy now. You were sending a photo of you and another friend in the mirror to your group chat, your friend had taken the time you were fixing your hair to add Vox onto the ‘send to’ people, you never noticed.

You also didn’t notice your phone go off when Vox opened it.

If only that was the worst part.

You finished the night absolutely trashed, your friends working together to walk one another home, most living near one another. You, of course, were the odd on out, and the odd number.

You assured your friends it was fine, you lived in VVV tower for Lucifers sake, you’d be fine! Your friends wouldn’t hear it.

One of your friends, less drunk, had messaged one of Velvettes models, whom she used to work with and asked for them to walk you back.

You got back safe and sound, still not having realised you’d sent Vox the bathroom photo, or seeing the demon’s expression as Velvettes model walked you in.

You weren’t quite tired enough to sleep when you were dropped back in your room, so you messed on on your phone for a bit, before undressing. You hadn’t got to taking your make up off or undoing your hair, you’d gotten your dress off, and just.. stopped.

You were in an ethereal lingerie set, clearly made with Vox in mind.

Pretty blue panties hugged your hips, red electric bolts providing straps, the lace comfortable against your pussy, your chest coved with a light blue bralette, lace spilling against your skin, and the most beautiful glitch effect chain snug around your belly.

You matched this with a black thin choker with a hanging blue electric bolt, and posed against your bed, taking a few photos, changing poses and taking more.

Your favourite was one where you were laid flat, the photo taken from above, you could see your entire body, including the heels you still hadn’t taken off, and you were stairing straight at the camera with your painted lips parted.

Satisfied you went to save your photo.

Never noticing you’d sent the same photo to your boss.

Afterall, you hadn’t know to take him off your list.

You were cuddled up asleep, still in the underwear, when Vox opened your photo.

You never noticed the power surge then go out, nor did you notice Vox’s name pop up on your phone.

Angel Dust

Angel had seen you around the hotel more than usual, Charlie said you’d recently quit your job to work for someone else, and it gave you more free time and flexibility.

Angel was happy for you, your boss had been a real price of work.

Still riding the high off getting a better job, you’d invited your friends out clubbing, having received a handsome final salary.

You had chosen to go to Hyper-Tech, one of Vox’s clubs, and one of the best. They had some off the greatest drinks, and, unbeknownst to you, that night they also had Angel Dust dancing.

You friends teased you relentlessly about your crush on the porn star already, and they played this off as purposeful on your part, even though you’d had no idea.

You had started the night feeling confident and pretty in your oulfit, but seeing the spider you felt a flash of self consciousness, after all, your outfit was styled on the spiders own colour theme, an off the shoulder soft pink velvet crop-top, above-knee white loose pleated skirt, and pastel pink heels with a hot pink belt and nail polish.

You friends quickly took care of that, telling you how wonderful you looked, that anyone would be lucky to see you.

And getting you drunk definitely helped, the endless stream of cocktails bought with your money, and eventually dipping into your friends supplies brought on a happy buzz.

They also greatly diminished your ability to think critically.

You never saw how Angel Dust watched you the entire time you were in the club, as you progressively got drunker, to the point Angel was shocked you could still stand, never mind walk.

Your friends however, saw how the renowned demon was watching you with concern and admiration.

They quickly concocted a plan without your input.

Angels set finished around 2 in the morning, he waited in his dressing room for you to leave.

You had planed to walk home with your friends before splitting off to the hotel, but one of your friends changed the plan, stating there was no need for you to walk them home, after all, didn’t you like live in the complete opposite direction? Another friend had ‘needed the bathroom’ and had walked right by Angels door, talking about how you were leaving with the third friend.

As you were arguing about the principle of walking your friends home, Angel Dust came out of club, and said he didn’t mind walking you home, you lived together anyway.

Your friends quickly agreed and left, not allowing you to argue.

The whole walk back you were showered with compliments about your outfit, your dancing, your hair, your ability to drink, everything.

Angel walked you all the way to your room before leaving you.

You started to undress, but decided you wanted a photo for this occasion.

In your underwear, a pretty pale pink push-up bra, and a silky white thong, still in the hot pink heels, you took a photo in the mirror, sat on your knees staring in the mirror.

For some reason, you decided to send that to yourself instead of just saving to camera roll.

Only, you never send it to yourself. After the walk home, Angel had messaged you to sleep well, meaning he was your top contact.

Never thinking to check, you simply threw on a pale pink baby doll, took your heels and make up off, and went to bed.

Alastor

Alastor showing up to help at the hotel had never been in your plan.

The radio demon was always an unobtainable shadow, someone you could safely crush on from your own mind, because he would never be in your reach.

Except..

Now he was.

Now not to be foolish, you had figured from his interactions and reactions that Alastor was most likely somewhere on the Ace or Aro spectrum, and you would never push anything onto him.

But you could never even get close enough to talk to him, never mind ask about the possibility of him being on the spectrum.

So you hid. Everytime Alastor was around, you weren’t.

Alastor was cooking? You weren’t hungry. Al was helping with the daily running? You had work. Alastor was in the library? You didn’t want to read anyways.

Alastor always noticed your absence.

Instead you poured over everything and anything about the radio demon.

When he appeared, what he did, where he could have been in the seven years, his rise to power, his ability’s, his domain, everything.

Your crush on the radio demon was a foolish one, but that didn’t stop you from having it.

From dreaming of picnics and ice cream dates, of long walks down the streets of hell, to him taking you apart with his words alone, voice wrapping around you.

And when he stopped those muggers?

You went weak.

So, yea, your crush was unobtainable, in the highest scene.

You could still dress up though.

And you did, frequently.

In pantsuits of dark crimson, to the bloody scarlet ball gown, for the party.

Alastors eyes never left you that night.

Mostly, it was under your clothes.

Pretty crimson baby dolls. Black lacy thongs. Scarlett bralettes. Everything. Your camera roll was full of photos of yourself in the underwear, posing this way and that, full of imagination and hopes you would never act on.

Oh how you’d positively die if anyone saw.

That didn’t stop you.

Right now you were dressed in a darling crimson corset, embroidered with darker lace, tied tight, paired with dark scarlet panties, pussy damp against the lace as you lost yourself slightly in a fantasy, black heels and a black necklace, you had posed side on to the camera, staring straight ahead, knees folded underneath you and head tilted slightly up, arms held behind your back.

You heard your shutter go off and stood, getting dressed in a black lace camisole, taking of the corset and heels before heading to bed.

Picking your phone up on the way, you saved the photo to your folder.

Surely, you should have expected naming your folder ‘Alastor<3’ to backfire, but..

Maybe this was a Freudian slip?

It’s not like you even noticed you’d sent it, and you were asleep by the time your phone when off.

Lucifer

You’d seen the King of Hell maybe twice, once in passing, and once when he came to the hotel.

It was more than enough for you to crush on the child-like King, falling in love with his attitude and personality, drawn further in by his looks and kindness.

By the time the charity ball came around, you were completely lost for him.

Lucifer showed up in a white suit, not too different from his normal attire, only more fancy, more Kingly, so to speak.

You had taken Angels advice and dressed to impress.

Angel Dust was the only one who knew about the feelings you had for the fallen angel, and he took every opportunity to tease you for it, but he was also your biggest supporter.

You and Angel had knows each other almost as long as you’d been in hell, so his help was soothing for you, and you smiled as the spider laced up the golden gown you’d picked.

It was a golden off-the-shoulder ball gown, with a soft cover of glittery tulle over the top, the skirt flaring out, reaching the floor, covered in rose embroidered embellishments, and paired with bloody red heels, and a glittering clutch.

Charlie had told you all to go all out, and you and Angel did not disappoint.

The two of you descended together, and you caught site of the King before quickly moving your eyes, your blush almost matching your clutch.

Charlie swanned around you, telling you how amazing you looked, and look at your hair!

Angel got you a flute of champagne before leaving you to find Husk.

Traitors.

You walked around the party, dancing with people here and there, doing your best to avoid looking at the King.

You never saw that his eyes never left your form, or how he glared at everyone who touched you.

The king had tried more than once to get close to you, if not to dance with you, to at least tell you how amazing you looked, but you always seemed to move at just the right time.

Charlie had been snapping photos of you the whole night, sending them to her dad, even she saw the two of you pining for one another.

Your flute was never empty, and unfortunately for you, Angel could always recognise when you were about to bolt, and he and Husk would step in to talk to you and prevent it.

Did you mention traitors?

By the time you were finally able to leave, you were definitely tipsy, clutching Angels arm as the two of you ascended the stairs, congratulating yourself on managing to avoid the King.

Angel saw the way Lucifer was watching you, but you didn’t.

By the time you were in your room and Angel had left after unlacimg your dress, ‘we went all blessed with long arms, A——y!’, you wanted a special photo.

So you got ready.

You kept your heels on and striped to your underwear, a strapless golden bra with a red bow in the center, trimmed in lace, and panties to match, also trimmed in lace. You kept the sparkly fishnets on too, and your makeup on, before finiding a pose you liked.

Finally settling on a pose wherein you were laid on your back, your knees up and tilted slightly to the side, one hand on your breast, the other just above your head, and your face tilted towards your phone, positioned slightly higher than you, and just above your head.

You smiled at the photo, and went to save it.

You never looked.

Lucifer had got your number of Charlie to tell you how nice you’d looked. Your response?

A photo.

You were asleep by the time Lucifers own response came in.

Husk

Husk hadn’t taken much notice of you at first, only that you seemed to come and go with Angel, Husk later learned you were Angels shadow so to speak, Valentino payed you prettily just to follow and protect the star.

Husk noticed you more as you came out more without Angel, not being needed as often when you were in the hotel.

You and the barcat had had some quite good conversations, and some even better discussions.

You knew your way around cards that was for sure, and the cat loved talking with you about card tricks.

Sure no one could match him in card tricks, but hearing you talk about them? Something just felt different.

Husk worried about you and Angel a lot, especially when you both came back late, Angel looking trashed, and you looking slightly high on those nights. It took Husk months to realise Valentino was drugging you both, more so Angel. On those nights, Husk would stay up late to make sure you and Angel ate and drank before going to bed.

Husk never brought it up, and Angel didn’t remember, so you never spoke about it. If the cat didn’t want to bring it up why should you?

Husk did notice his favourite snack appearing on the bar in the mornings however.

Your crush on the cat had started before you even began talking to him, but those conversations, the way he treated you, how he never made you seem unimportant, the way he looked after you and Angel after Val had been upset?

You were gone.

And the cat was your new home.

Not that you’d ever tell him of course, you would never risk ruining such a wonderful friendship like that.

Of course, there were also nights like these. When Val needed Angel for publicity, those were the best. You both got to dress up and basically just party, no forced drugs or alcohol, just fun.

You’d dressed in an orange one-shoulder skin-tight slip dress, with a split up-to your thigh, paired with glittery purple heels, a clutch and jewellery, with black card themed earrings.

Husk had seen you just before you got into Vox’s limo and dropped his bottle of cheap alcohol, sending Niffty into a cleaning/laughing fit.

You and Angel didn’t get back until 1 in the morning, both of you slightly buzzed, but pretty much sober, not having been forced to fed any drugs and having eaten at the gala.

Husk had tried to stay up.

You feel deeper when you realised the barcat was asleep at his post because he was waiting for you. Sending Angel to bed, you walked over to the barcat and gently shook him awake, telling him he could go to bed.

From here Husk noticed the earrings, and flushed, jolting backwards and falling.

You giggled a little before apologising for startling him, which he waved off.

He headed to bed and you got back to your room. Taking your dress off you caught sight of your self in the mirror.

Pretty orange panties with a tiny club embroidered in at the side, deep orange plunge bra with a spade on the left cup, purple bracelet, necklace, and shoes, pretty orange make-up, and a heart and diamond earring set.

You needed a photo.

Fussing around a bit you finally settled on a pose with you laying slightly over the end of the bed, head and chest tilted down, knees pulled up to the side, camera angled too capture everything, arms by your head, and full body on display.

You changed into some sleep clothes after the photos, and in your sleepy state sent them to Husk, instead of simply saving them.

You didn’t wake up until well after Husk responded.

Lute.

Lute had noticed you as soon as you’d joined Adam’s ranks.

Of course she had.

You were the prettiest exterminator Lute had had the pleasure of seeing.

She pestered Adam until he agreed Lute could have her own assistant.

That of course, was you.

Lute loved having you work with her.

Yes all your conversations were about work, and you treat her like your boss, not a colleague, but it wa a better than when you weren’t talking at all.

You were still reeling from the change in position so fast, and now having to deal with the angel you were crushing on at all hours of the day?

Your poor heart couldn’t deal.

You were a blushing mess under your mask every time Lute spoke to you, praising yourself every time you got through an answer without stumbling or stuttering on the words.

Your friends were relentless with the teasing, going as far as to create hand signals to tease you even on the training fields.

Regardless you excelled.

You had to be the best.

And so you were.

Lute often asks what fuels you, and you always stumbled through a bullshit answer, never remembering what you’d said before.

You never gave her the same answer.

You couldn’t exactly tell your now boss the reason you did so well was so she would notice you, could you?

Shadowing Lute meant shadowing Adam. He usually left you alone for the most part though.

It meant going to fancy angel party’s. With out your mask.

You forced your friends to help you get ready.

Gorgeous black knee length dress, clinched at the waist, with silvery heels, a silver necklace, a silver clutch, and purple earrings, your hair done all nice and make up to compliment the outfit.

Your friends told you you looked stunning, and when Lute saw you, she had to agree.

You spent the entire party following Lute around, you didn’t know any of the people here and you were anxious.

Lute kept your champagne topped up, eventually switching you to something a little harder when it became clear you wouldn’t settle on the sparkling liquid alone, not used to the alcohol you got drunk fast.

Adam allowed Lute to leave early, so she could take you home.

Lute got you in safely and even placed an aspirin and water on your bedside table, before leaving you, messaging your phone to let you know what’s happened.

Meanwhile, you’d striped down to a gray lacy bralette, with matching high waisted panties, pretty silver heels, make-up still on and earrings still in.

You wanted a photo.

You set your phone up, and posed, on you knees on your bed, heels just visible, leaned back slightly, one hand behind your bed in a stretch and one on the bed, eyes looking just beyond the camaraderie.

Happy with the results, you went to save the picture, instead, sending it to Lute, who opened it as soon as she got home.

Bye the time Lute replied, you were curled up ontop of your covers, heels still on, sleeping deeply.

Feedback is always appreciated <3

If you want more people added feel free to ask and I’ll do a part two!

Comments are my high.

They make me write faster.

~Vyrus

[janluxe]

VDAY ACTIVITIES – JASON TODD

– word count; 1.3k

– contents; fluff, angst(?) & mentions of violence but nothing too graphic.

– summary; the day's activities don't go as planned when Riddler holds you hostage.

– a/n; This was rushed. there might be mistakes, and I will most definitely update it asap. Happy Valentine's Day everyone, taken or not all that matters is that you're satisfied with being with yourself first, so give love that person you see in the mirror before you expect anyone to do so. have a nice day ♡

Jason was never big on the holidays. In his eyes, such occasions were simply another way for companies to earn more money in a short time span, plus they never held much meaning to him. Until he met you. A big part of him felt inclined, not pressured, in trying to follow the rules each tradition set – or at least he tried to. If that was what would bring a smile to your face, he was willing to put in the effort.

Hence why he was putting his vigilante identity on the side for the day and found himself among civilians instead, surrounded by an ocean – the term sea would be an understatement of what his poor eyes had to endure – of red products.

Using a day as an excuse for one's ignorance of their partner's need for affection and attention with buying gifts was one more society thing he couldn't, and had no intention to, understand.

His gaze wandered, hoping he'd find something suitable. An idea popped into his mind the second he set eyes on a heart-shaped box and immediately knew what he had to do.

The trip to a local flower shop made this whole shopping spree feel like a personal Odyssey, but just like the epic poem; in the end, everything was worth the suffering. The harsh red of the roses balanced out with the softness and pure white of the lilies better than he could've imagined, almost looking like a crime scene so elegantly executed on ground in which the earth was hiding under a veil.

His hands worked effortlessly since he had already pictured everything already set up, each little detail serving its purpose. Jason was the kind of person who would prefer expressing his affection privately, through small acts such as this when he wasn't clinging by your side.

There was a faint feeling of pride cursing right through him while he spared a moment to admire his work; the dining area tidied up, the table perfectly looking with the bouquet and petals resting on the soft surface of the tablecloth – he even considered lighting a few candles to set the mood, like they do in the movies, but he settled on the city lights that were brightening the room from the big window next to the TV.

However, as the saying goes, ‘good things don't last forever’ – Jason's soft breathing was interrupted abruptly by his phone ringing, his shoulders slumped as he practically dragged his feet all the way over to pick up. An unknown number, how lovely. Maybe it was just a grandma who messed up the number. He seriously didn't need to worry over this.

Before he could properly greet or ask who dared disturb him, a familiar voice broke through the other side of the line. “Riddle me this, Red Hood,” Definitely not a wholesome grandma, dammit, plan A aka try-not-to-worry just crumbled to the floor. A small grunt escaped the back of Jason's throat, pressing his tongue against the softness of his cheek and then clicking it. “A ticking clock, a burning fuse. One wrong move, and you will lose. Its final toll a deadly chime. Solve me fast or say goodbye. What am I?” Riddler continued, his voice doing what it does best at pissing Jason off.

Throwing out empty threats during dangerous situations wasn't one of Jason's characteristics. And with that in mind, who would be surprised that he was already out the door; armor and equipment waiting for him in the car – he didn't need any more bullshit Riddler would give him, he'd figure out your location in half the amount of time.

It was no secret to anyone how many sadistic tendencies Nygma had alongside the most inconvenient timing of all time. You were completely isolated in a room filled with bright green clues on the walls that surrounded you, clues that made no sense whatsoever, especially when you felt the space closing in on you. The timer bomb he had locked around your wrists was not much help either. Your skin burned an angry red and grew heavier and heavier the more time went by.

Despite your body's protests, you didn't put an end to your attempt to get out of this God awful place. Dizziness eventually caught up to you as you felt a familiar warmth trickle down your face – filling your eyebrow with a reddish color that matched the scheme of the occasion.

On the other side, the Riddler watched – he always did. His taunts echoed in your ears. Even the static didn't stand in his way to humiliate other people for not being as bright as he was. But, he was no star. He was a mere match, burning up faster than he was aware of.

Was Jason's newfound impatience mentioned in this story?

The lock of the door was shot off. The sound bounced off the walls, startling the guilty and giving a sense of hope to the innocent. And if that wasn't good enough for a dramatic entrance by a former theater kid, he had the best ideas for ending a play. The place remained dead silent, with the only interruption being the ticking of the time bomb when Jason threw a bag at him, soaked and filled with the heads of those who tried to stop him. He had done Riddler a favor, making sure that this narcissistic bastard got his hands dirty by the blood of his thugs.

Jason Todd wasn't Batman. Mercy was never his cup of tea, and it wasn't tolerable when it came to his loved ones.

Many often seem to forget that part, but the Red Hood will remind them. He never took off without leaving a mark behind. In this case, it was a bullet to Nygma's leg – a gift as he would call it, for he spent a bullet on a lowlife.

“How badly are you injured, love?” The pitch in Jason's voice reminded you of how much worry he had within him throughout the whole process. From his point of view, the possibility of losing you was a valid reason for him to never forgive himself. Without waiting another second for you to mutter a response or some pathetic excuse, he slipped his hand under your shirt, gently running his fingers over your skin – mindful over his touches and small taps, not wanting to stir any overwhelming sensations in you.

Jason allowed a soft sigh to escape hum, his shoulders relaxing the moment he had ensured you hadn't endured any physical pain. His eyes fluttered shut, letting himself bask the bittersweet moment of not being there on time and of ensuring your safety at last.

“I'm sorry, love.” Not allowing you to tire yourself out as he kept talking, his voice barely above a whisper while he buried his face into your shoulder and found some comfort in the scent he was very accustomed to.

Even with the corner of your eye you could spot the preparations he had made in your shared apartment; bright heart-shaped balloons decorated the usual darkness of the kitchen, the table was already set for two and he had already cooked your favorite but it had gone cold by now. The small movement of your head caught his attention, and almost immediately, he knew what you were looking at as well as the kind of thoughts that were going through your mind.

“I'll make Valentine's day up to you, I promise.” Jason muttered and gently tightened his embrace around you, protecting you from anything unexpected even for this passing moment.

[repulsiveliquidation]

Thorn in My Side || Jessie Fleming

warnings : mentions of injury and surgeries. insinuations of cheating and false accusations. angst. happy ending and smut will be in part two.

summary : you get injured, its Jessie's fault. or so you thought.

a/n : as i type this, i think i've figured out how to incorporate the smut! i'll get to writing as soon as this is posted! i'm not sure if it makes much sense, here's to hoping. enjoy.

“for your UCLA Bruins, number 21, Jessie Fleming!”

Jessie steps forward and smiles, waving to the flood of Bruins fans in the stands cheering them on. You clap with a scowl on your face, watching as the girls in the stands ogle and fawn over her. You’re admittedly jealous of her for reasons unbeknownst to you, but seeing the 5’5’ Canadian made your blood boil.

She was good on the football pitch and was smart to go along with it. Jessie had it all. Being called up for most of her time in school and playing for her national team made her well-known in the soccer world from the moment she was here in America.

She was ferocious on the grass, a fearless midfielder who put everything out there.

The game was a close one, tied at the half 2-2. There were lots of contact, tackles, and battles that made it clear to anyone watching that there was tension between you and Jessie. One always found the other; if one had the ball, the other wanted it.

You had possession, running towards goal. There was a flash of blue and you were on the ground yelling in pain, hands clutching at your ankle. There was a loud pop and your ankle began to swell. The trainers came over and were hauling you off on a stretcher almost immediately, the ref showing Jessie a yellow for the unsafe tackle. It wasn’t a red card because really you fell a little weird and her studs were nowhere near your ankle.

She looked genuinely sorry, taking your hand in hers as you were stretchered off. You were in too much pain to care, shoving her hand out of yours and your teammates pulling her away from you.

A broken ankle was what they said. It was a clean break but you needed surgery and that meant no more soccer for the season.

Just great.

They put you in a wheelchair before you head to the hospital, your parents are already at the stadium to take you. You hear the final whistle blow and your teammate rolls you in, the girls all feeling sad when you tell them the news. There’s a little Bruins blue in the sea of Trojans in front of you and there’s a Canadian standing there digging her cleat into the grass, wanting to apologize.

Megan and Kasey stand beside you just in case things get a little heated. Jessie steps forward and looks more sorry for you when she sees the bandages and you in a wheelchair.

“Is it broken?” she asks genuinely, looking at your leg and then at you.

“No thanks to you,” you snide, rolling your eyes at her. “What do you want now, Fleming?”

“I wanted to apologize, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she says sincerely but you’re too bitter to hear her take ownership of her actions.

“You knew what you were doing, Fleming. You’ve always been out to get me our entire college career and now in our final year you finally get what you want!”

You don’t know the tears were starting until they did, pouring down your face hot and fast. She looked a little mortified and pale, backing away and saying she was sorry over and over before a sea of Bruins pulled her away to celebrate their win.

The whole car ride to the hospital you spent weeping, thinking about how you’re not going to be able to play your senior year out like you had hoped. But more so of the look of pure horror on Jessie’s face when you accused her of hating you so much that she would purposely hurt you.

She looked on the verge of tears. Like hurting you scared her.  

You scared her.

||

“The break is clean, but rehab will take a while if you’re not careful,” said Dr. Jeff, the attending podiatrist.

“How long?”

“You’re looking at 14 to 16 weeks, kiddo. Two years if you’re stubborn like most of my patients are.”

“16 weeks sounds great.”

“Smart kid you got here,” the doctor tells your parents with a smile, “I’ll schedule you in for surgery today, you should be out of here by the end of the week.”

The doctor leaves and your mother begins to fuss, propping up pillows and getting your nurse to bring you more jello. Your father, on the other hand, has a look of all-knowing on his face.

“I’m sorry Dad,” you begin, head hanging low the moment your mother leaves the room.

“Don’t be sorry, peanut. These things happen. Better now than when you’re on a professional team, yeah?”

“She didn’t really make me break my ankle did she?” you ask, looking up at your dad who was rubbing your back as the tears filled your eyes again.

“It was the perfect tackle, kiddo. You just fell a little funny is all.”

“She looked so horrified when I said she did it on purpose,” you sob, leaning into your father’s stomach. He held you tight and cradled your head, your heart hurting more than your broken ankle, the face Jessie made when the words left your mouth etched behind your eyelids.

||

There are plenty of flowers in your room the moment you wake from surgery. Lots of cards and get well soon balloons hung from the ceiling. You were still groggy when your teammates visited, Megan was sure to bring lots of Sharpies to sign your cast with, all the girls leaving a nice note for you on it.

There was an hour left for visitations and your parents just left to wash up at home. You were mindlessly scrolling through the terrible TV channel selections while finishing your 5th Jello cup when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” you yell, thinking it was a nurse coming to check your vitals again. What you didn’t expect was to see a brunette Canadian poking her head through the door.

“Hi,” she said sheepishly, standing by the door unsure if you really would want her to come in.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as kindly as possible, eyes flickering towards the clock above the door, “it’s late, why aren’t you back at school?”

“Spring Break, my parents are down from Canada so I asked to see you before we drove back,” she says quietly, stepping in a little more. “Can I come in?”

You nod, unsure if your mouth would be polite enough. Anger still seethed in your bones but the look of sheer horror on her face was still fresh in your mind.

“How bad was it?” she begins, still standing near the now-closed door.

“Clean break, should take 16 weeks if I’m careful.”

“That’s good. The doctors here are great.”

“They are quite convincing, they know how to get a patient to stay on their medical plan.”

“Did you get Dr. Jeff?”

“He accused me of being stubborn.”

Jessie laughs and you smile, a light blush creeping up your cheeks. It’s an adorable sound and her face of laughter replaces the one of fear you had burned into your mind.

“I’m really sorry for all this,” she begins but you cut her off.

“It wasn’t your fault, my dad said it was a clean tackle. I just fell funny.”

You looked up at her and saw the relief on her face and she stepped forward, taking your hand in hers. You took a deep breath and reciprocated her ownership of her mistakes, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders the moment you looked her in the eyes.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said the other day Jessie, that was not fair to you.”

“Heat of the moment love, don’t worry about it.”

Your heart clenches hard when the pet name slips out of her lips and you smile, hoping she didn’t see your eyes dilate and feel your skin warm up. She nods and bids goodbye just as her phone rings which tells you her parents are waiting outside.

You sit there giddy and a little starstruck as she disappears out of view. Your hand is warm from her touch and you can still feel her hand holding yours. You thump your head back and curse loudly, before grabbing your leg in pain temporarily forgetting that you were actually hurt.

You giggle and bite your lip, shaking your head when your phone dings.

Maybe: Jessie Fleming.

“You look cute when you’re flustered.”

You clap a hand to your mouth and smile, face heating up with a dark blush.

“You did this, you better fix it.”

“I think we can make that happen, love.”

You don’t think you slept much that night, texting till the sun came up. Your parents came in to check on you in the morning and found you with your phone still on call with Jessie but you two were asleep. You woke up to your doctors talking to your parents and discussing your rehab plan. There was another text from Jessie, making your heart skip a beat.

“You’re also very cute when you’re sleeping.”

Over the next few weeks, you two talked constantly. Jessie kept you company when you were bored at rehab and you kept her company while she was training on her own. You called her every night before bed, giggling and laughing well into the night most nights.

“How is rehab coming along?” Jessie asked as you were lying back on the examination table to relax your ankle. She was in her bed, looking as stunning as you had been denying yourself the chance to admit.

“Good, looks like I can put pressure on it by next week if Tiff lets me,” you say, side-eyeing your trainer Tiffany who was doing cupping on another teammate’s back.  

“Girl, I will hold your papers hostage, don’t test me,” Tiffany jokes, waving the lit fire stick at you.

“Yes ma’am I’ll be super-duper extra careful!” you answer with a salute, making Jessie laugh so loud it rings through the room. Most of your teammates know the thing you’ve got going with her and think it’s cute.

All but one.  

Megan.

She stood at the door listening to you ramble on about Jessie this and Jessie that, her blood boiling at the thought of you being buddy-buddy with the girl she believed to be the one who hurt you.

Megan was a freshman who was from Florida. She was a great pick from her high school team, and the best defender on the East Coast. She made the team here at USC and to say the least, she fit right in.

There was homogeny that wasn’t there before she joined and the linkup between you and her helped you take her under your wing. She looked up to you and was so ecstatic to play with you after watching you on TV.

She felt that Jessie took away her only chance to play with you before you graduated.

Jessie needed to pay.

“Hey, weird question,” Jessie starts, one night while you two were tucked in bed and on the phone with each other.

“Yeah?” you ask, turning over onto your side. Jessie looked a little concerned but you shrugged it off, the girl was known to constantly look worried.

“Someone sent me this photo but it’s from an unknown number, I thought it was weird.”

Sent.

You looked at it in shock.

It was you. Kissing a girl on the basketball team.

“Jess this isn’t me.”

“I’m not blind you know, that’s you.”

“Jessie, I swear this was doctored! I’ve never talked to this girl, let alone fucking kissed her!”

“Then why did the fucking photo come with a text that said, “She’s not who you think she is,”?”

“I don’t know! No one else but the girls know about you and me! I promise Jessie please!”

“I need some time to think. Leave me alone.”

She hangs up.

The tears fill your eyes as you stare at this photo. You don’t even think you’ve crossed paths with this girl, having not been the biggest fan of basketball. But your face was clearly there and hers was too. Her lips were on yours and you looked like you were enjoying yourself.

You think and you think hard. You didn’t go to any parties lately with your leg and you haven’t been to any games of theirs. You stared at the photo for hours, wracking your brain for some kind of explanation.

An explanation as to why Jessie looked so hurt at the thought of you with someone else.

[mvltisstuff]

meet me at our spot - c.f

summary: after a text from conrad asking y/n to come over, she could never say no.

conrad fisher x reader

a/n: soooo i’m like a year late to the tsitp game… but i just finished it and i cried like a baby omfg and conrad’s #1 protector!!

conrad (10:45 PM)

come over, i’m on the dock

the second the notification popped up on her screen, she was out of bed. she was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, laying in bed but not being able to sleep. she’d been the one to paint a smile on conrad’s face this summer, and susannah knew that. she was happy to have y/n over whenever she could, noticing oldest son’s face light up when she walked in.

y/n was conrad’s soldier. she fought battles for him when he felt like he was too weak to do it himself. he cried on her and his best days were spent with her. the second they kissed last summer, he knew they were in it for the long run. no one could point out a cause for conrad’s recent misery. all they wanted to do was find a light for him in this tunnel. y/n was well aware that he had been struggling. he wasn’t opening up, but she knew that just being there next to him in bed was enough for him. no one has ever gone through the trouble of loving him so much, instead of just reaching over for a condom. he felt trapped everywhere he went, and the dock is where he decompressed. y/n always found him there, the only person he really wanted there. belly and jeremiah had come out there, but something about y/n’s hand in his made his heart balance.

as much as he wishes to forget all his thoughts, he was so happy with her all the time. she was like an eraser to the spelling mistakes and a bandaid on the cuts. she was more than just a girlfriend to him, she was a lifesaver.

y/n decided to just walk over to the fisher’s beach house. she hadn’t driven, knowing he’d probably want her to stay the night as well. despite the sun being out of the sky, the air was still warm and wrapped you in like a hug. you could smell the salt of the ocean and the damp grass in their yard. the sky was clear, just the high crescent of the moon reflecting on the water. something about it was therapeutic, reminder her of the boy waiting for her in the backyard.

she shuffled through a few patches a grass before carefully making her way down the dock to meet conrad. she greeted him as he had a joint in between his lips, lighting it up before releasing the smoke. “hey,” y/n says, sitting down next to him.

“you came,” he replies, almost sounding surprised.

“of course i did,” she grins. she takes the joint and places it between her own lips, inhaling and then blowing out a puff. the dock smelt like weed, but it was no secret that they’d been smoking. besides, susannah did it with laurel all the time. “you ok?”

“yeah, just wanted to see you,” he looks into her eyes and smiles. “i couldn’t sleep.”

“explains the pot we’re smoking. i couldn’t sleep either.” she hands it back to conrad. “even if i was sleeping, you know i’d come to you whenever.”

“i know. i’m always just eager to see you in person.”

“why?” she questions, teasingly. she knows the answer, but wants him to do it for himself. he leans in, pulling the joint back and landing a passionate kiss on her lips.

“because i can’t kiss you like that over the phone.”

she blushes like a middle schooler when her crush just looks at her once. like they haven’t been seeing each other since last summer and like she isn’t the only thing getting him out of bed in the morning. she looks deep into his red eyes, admiring every thought and feeling inside his beautiful head. “i’m always here for you, conrad. winter, spring, summer, and fall, i’ll be there.”

his lips curl into another thrilling smile, wrapping his arm around her as they pass the joint around a few times. they sit there for a while, glaring at the calm ripples in the water. it was just before midnight when they checked his phone again, seeing the bright numbers illuminate their faces. he gives y/n a mischievous look. “are you hungry?”

she directs another look of confusion to him, “what are you saying, fisher?”

the two stumble inside, stoned as they walk into the kitchen to take out a box of mac & cheese from the cabinet. they look over to jeremiah and steven, both slumped on the couch with their controllers on their stomach and the TV on a screensaver. “don’t wake them up, they’re gonna want some!” conrad attempts a whisper, but his small giggles pass through instead.

“shut the fuck up, we’re trying to be quiet,” y/n replies. as soon as she opens the drawer to get out a pot, a few of them clatter around and steven shuffles in his sleep. they both crouch down on the floor in hysterics until they hear the light snores from steven again.

“don’t worry about jeremiah, he’s slept on the bench at six flags once,” conrad says, peeking over to the two sleeping teens on the couch. they slowly fill the pot up with water and wait for it to boil. they don’t turn the timer on, just calculate the times on their phone as the water almost boils over to edge.

“shit, i told you to watch the water,” conrad says, turning the burner down.

“no, we both agreed i was gonna look at the phone.”

“it’s whatever, baby, just pour that cheese in here,” conrad requests after straining the flavorless pasta out of the water. they both pour each others bowls before running upstairs to conrad’s room. “we fucking did it!”

“finally, oh my god,” y/n speaks, sitting down on his bed as she places her bowl on his nightstand. “wanna watch shitty reality tv?”

“what type of question is that? of course, i want to,” he says sarcastically, throwing his hands up in the air before laying down on his bed and pulling y/n into him. her head was on his chest as his arm wrapped around her. they watched some old reruns of the kardashians before they were both eventually knocked out on his bed.

the sun had finally risen, and everyone else was up and ready for the day. they’d been eating their breakfast, and the kids were asking where conrad was.

“i’ll go check on connie, i’ll be right back,” susannah says, sweetly as she walks up the stairs she walks in to conrad and y/n on the bed, their bowls abandoned on the floor as her head is on chest, and his arms were around her. susannah laughs and debates whether or not to shake them awake, but she just nudges conrad a bit as he stretches and opens his eyes. “hey, we’re making breakfast if you want to join us?”

“oh, yeah. i’ll be down in a minute. she was tired, i might let her sleep for a little longer,” he says, looking at y/n.

“of course, she’s always welcome, connie,” susannah leaves the door open a crack and goes back downstairs. if y/n made conrad happy, then y/n made susannah happy.

[paladin--strait]

Hi! Can you please do singer reader with Matt Rempe ❤️

anthem - matt rempe

the crowd is ecstatic as i walk out onto the ice, the rug on the ice keeping me from slipping. the number and name on the back of my blue rangers jersey are bedazzled, the 'rempe 73' sparkling under the bright lights. i smile as i hold the microphone up to my hand, the words of the national anthem leaving my mouth beautifully as i sing.

once the song is over, i give a wave to the camera and turn around to make my way off the ice. i smile at the staff member, handing them the microphone and making my way back to my seat. normally, celebrities sit in a vip section somewhere in the arena, but i've always preferred to sit right at the glass.

the players continue their warmups, the sounds of their skates gliding across the ice and their sticks hitting the puck fill the arena, along with the excitement of the crowd.

the game goes smoothly, both teams are about equal so it's a pretty close game. during a timeout, the screen flashes celebrities across the screen, all of them repping some sort of either teams merch. once it gets to me i smile and wave, turning around to show off the back of my jersey, then cheering as i turn around.

the camera cuts to matt rempe, who's seemingly looking up at the jumbotron, a large grin on his face at my actions. he sees himself pop up on screen and i swear i can see his cheeks flush red before he turns away from the camera. i laugh, covering my mouth as i watch.

the game ends not long after, the rangers have won so i'm happy. the staff invited me to come back and meet the players, maybe take some pictures with them for social media and stuff like that. i follow them back, my boots clacking on the ground as i walk. we finally make it back to the locker room and the staff makes sure they're decent before i walk in.

i step in the locker room, a soft smile on my freshly glossed lips. i wave and greet them, the meeting a little awkward. we take multiple pictures, some with the whole team and some in little groups. then i get to matt rempe, who's standing a little awkwardly off to the side.

he smiles at me as he walks up to me, his hand extended. i shake his hand, returning his smile. "matt rempe.." i say, a little dumbfounded that i'm meeting him. sure, it's an honor to meet all these players since they're so amazing on the ice and since i'm a fan of the team, but meeting matt rempe is different.

he laughs, "nice jersey you got there." he observes, "want me to sign it for you?" i immediately nod at his words, turning around for him to sign the back of the blue jersey. i feel his hand on my back, smoothing out the area on my upper back where i soon feel the tip of the silver sharpie glide across.

i thank him, blushing softly. he gestures for me to wait a moment, walking to his cubby and grabbing a puck, wrapping the edges in white tape, then writing something down on it. he hands it to me, his signature written on the top and some numbers on the side. a little smiley face is drawn off to the side of the numbers, and i soon realize it's a phone number.

i look up at him, my eyes full of surprise. he winks at me sneakily, an almost smug expression on his face. i blush immediately, looking back down at the puck. i've been given many numbers before, but none of them have made me as nervous as this one.

"don't lose it." he whispers, looking down at me. i look back up at him, noticing his still nervous expression. he's more awkward than i thought he would be, but he seems really sweet.

"i won't." i smile sweetly, a silent promise for me to text him later. we stare quietly at each other for a few moments, before the lady taking photos asks if we'll pose for a picture, to which we immediately do. i stand closer to him, feeling the warmth radiating off his body.

his hand rests on my lower back, pulling me closer carefully. i smile, leaning into him slightly. after i finish taking pictures, my manager signals its time for us to leave and i wave goodbye to all the players, wishing them good luck on the rest of the season.

my eyes lock with matt's once more, the puck still clutched in my hand. he smiles at me and nods, and i smile back at him immediately.

the next morning, i sit at my kitchen island with my breakfast on the plate infront of me. my phone rests in my shaking hand, a short message on the screen. i take a deep breath before i press send.

-

me

hey! is this matt?

8:34 am

maybe matt?

who is this?

8:37 am

me

it's y/n, from the game last night?

8:38 am

matt 👊

oh, sorry about that, it is! how are you?

8:40 am

me

i'm great! how are you?

sorry i didn't message you last night, it was pretty late when i got back to my place and i didn't want to bother you.

8:43 am

matt 👊

it's okay, you wouldn't have bothered me. and i'm doing good, thanks for asking. :)

also, you looked really good wearing my jersey last night. you should wear it more often. blue is definitely your color.

8:47 am

me

oh, thanks! i was thinking about adding a new outfit for my tour, maybe blue is the way to go?

8:49 am

matt 👊

definitely. you should just wear my jersey instead of having to buy a whole new outfit. the one you have is sparkly so it might work? 😂

8:53 am

me

sounds like a plan to me :)

8:55 am

matt 👊

how much longer are you in ny for? i know you have two concerts back to back, but what about after that?

i was just wondering because i don't want the only time i see you again to be at your concert, we won't even get to talk.

9:01 am

me

aww, you're coming to my concert? :)

i have a few days off after those concerts and i was planning on checking out some stuff around here.

9:05 am

matt 👊

i can show you around if you want?

9:12 am

me

that sounds awesome! i'll have to get back with you on specific times, though.

9:15 am

matt 👊

it's a date :)

only if you want it to be, of course!!

9:21 am

me

i'm absolutely okay with it being a date! ☺️

9:24 am

-

matt and i chat a bit more, and i can't help but be really excited for our date.

the day of our date finally comes a few days later, my concerts having gone well and i have no interviews lined up for the day. matt and i have a wonderful time together on our date, him showing me around the rink and some fun attractions, then we went to get dinner.

as i'm sitting across from him at the restaurant, i can't help but hope this goes somewhere. all the people i've dated before have either wants me for my fame and money, just to mess with me, or to take advantage of me.

but i could never see matt doing such a thing. though he fights a lot and is a little scary on the ice, he's such a sweet guy out of the rink. i can truly see a future with him.

maybe i'll come back to new york after my tour ends.

[greenorangevioletgrass]

fever pitch (b.b) - prologue

soundtrack: mastermind - taylor swift pairing: footballer!bradley x popstar!reader synopsis: Bradley shoots his shot in public, but will he fumble when he meets you in person? warnings: language, drinking, meet cute notes: my first series in a while! this is shamelessly based on the epic Taylor Swift/Travis Kelce saga currently happening rn, and combine that with my innate love of football (the kicking kind, not the NFL kind) and... voila! I hope you enjoy this. Let me know what you think in the comments, reblogs, and asks. Happy reading! <3 ✨I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notification to get the latest update on my fics✨

Soccer Sensation Bradley Bradshaw Fails To Shoot His Shoot With Y/N At Her Concert?

Arsenal captain Bradley Bradshaw may be among his club’s top scorers this season, but even he misses a chance in romance like the rest of us.

The 29-year-old athlete spoke about his missed opportunity with the multi-platinum songstress Y/N while speaking to his former teammate Héctor Bellerín on the latter’s podcast, “More Than A Footballer”, earlier this week.

When asked about any fun stuff he did last weekend, Bradshaw replied,

“I went to the Y/N concert at Wembley [Stadium]... it was awesome. It was pouring rain, but it was amazing. I don’t remember Wembley ever being that electric aside from, like, cup finals. She was sensational.”

Bellerín nods in agreement, having heard great things about the famed singer-songwriter’s live concerts.

Unprompted, the American midfielder then continued,

“If you’ve heard about the tour, there’s this tradition of trading friendship bracelets. And I actually made one with my number on it, hoping I could give it to her after the show…”

The Cockney-raised Spaniard cackled in surprise and teased him, “But she didn’t wanna see you, bruv? [That is] legend!”

“No hard feelings!” Bradshaw raised his hands in defense over the Zoom call. “She needed to dry off and get warm. Gotta make sure she stays healthy, protect those vocal cords. But yeah, I was a bit bummed out about it.”

Bellerín laughed and jokingly addressed the camera, “Y/N, if you’re watching, give my boy a chance, will you?”

Mononymous pop sensation Y/N is hot off of her Kaleidoscope North American Tour, which wrapped in September. Her six-show run at Wembley Stadium this November officially kicks off the European leg of her sold-out tour. 

Will they be the next pop royalty and conquer the stadiums with their own crafts, or will this fizzle out as this week’s viral anecdote? The ball is in your court, Y/N.

Y/N’s representatives have not responded for comment.

***

Your Miu Miu heels click and clack against the ground. The pavement gleams after the rain and glistens under the streetlights. Everywhere you look, your eyes hurt. Down, and you worry about slipping into a puddle and falling on your ass. Forward, and a million camera flashes are ready to give you an aneurysm.

All in the name of reporting your night off of work, performing live in front of 90,000 people in a stadium.

In other words, all in a day’s work.

There’s a moment of reprieve, when the silvery white blitzes disappear into the dim tangerine lighting of the lobby. The flight down the stairs is so dark, you’re seeing green. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, but as soon as they do, the thumping bass line of some dance music hits your ears. Clashing perfumes doused on the dancing, dressed-up bodies that you have to weave through.

You are seriously regretting your girl friends’ invite to a night out. You could’ve just had them over to your hotel, open a bunch of red wine, and you would’ve still had a blast. But no. You had to say yes to going to the Cuckoo Club with Lacey, Amara, and Jo.

And this evening is making you feel quite cuckoo.

There’s champagne at your booth and you’re much too eager to take a glass and start a toast. “Cheers, bitches!” you yell over the music, clinking your glass against theirs before downing the whole thing in one go.

It’s nowhere near enough.

There’s not enough buzz to dull the assault to your senses—not even after the three glasses of wine at dinner earlier. Everything is still too loud, too bright, too crowded, too… much.

“Hey!” you nudge Amara, who is sitting right next to you. “Let’s do shots!”

She turns to you, eyes widening at the slightest. “I thought you wanted to take it easy tonight!” 

“Changed my mind,” you shrug, as you get up to the bar.

While you make your way through the crowd on the dance floor, Bradley Bradshaw looks up from his booth and does a double-take at the girl who just walked by. Even in a high-end club full of the well-dressed and well-heeled, people still get starstruck. And why wouldn’t they? You’re about as famous as an iPhone. 

His eyes widen and immediately whips out his phone to shoot a text to his oldest and most trusted friend Natasha Trace.

‘Dude, I’m in the club and Y/N just walked in. What do I do??’

Natasha thankfully texts back almost immediately. Then again, maybe being a Communications Director for a major company requires her to be a good texter. ‘Wdym what do you do? Just go talk to her.’

‘You were supposed to introduce us!’ Bradley replies, eyes darting between his phone and you at the bar, conflicted.

Natasha is a mutual friend of yours, too, and when the Bracelet-gate clip went viral, she laughed in his face for a full 5 minutes before deciding to set the two of you up. But the schedule never really aligned, so he hasn’t got a chance to see you. Not even after he went to your concert with a friendship bracelet and a dream.

And now, seeing you here in the same room at the same time as him…

‘What do you want me to do, get down there and do it for you?’

‘...Can you?’

He senses the judgment even as the three dots appear on his screen. 

‘Stop being a pussy, Bradshaw. Let me Netflix and chill with my gf in peace.’

Bradley scoffs, half-annoyed and half-fond. ‘Asshole. Have fun.’

The dance floor clears up, just enough to see that you’re right there. Leaning against the bar in your dress like a dirty daydream, talking to the bartender, and he couldn’t just let you go without a word. He thought about it, and he simply couldn’t.

“Oi, where are you off to?” His teammate Martin hollers, while the others watch him make his way to the bar in determined strides.

He squeezes past patrons across this jungle of a club, hoping to God that somebody hasn’t beaten him to talk to you yet, or you haven’t ducked out completely. Oh fuck. You’re still there, though. Good. You’re still at the bar, still glimmering under the mirrorball. Just a tap on the shoulder away. You can do it, Bradshaw…

“Excuse me, I—”

You feel the hand on your shoulder just as you turn and stand up, and in a flurry of miscoordination, looks up just as the other person moves in.

In a stroke of dumb luck, Bradley feels the top of your head slamming up against his nose and he groans in pain. “Ohh!”

“Shit! Oh my God…” you gasp, reaching out to the man in front of you. He’s tall, very tall, and you can’t quite see his face with his massive hand clutching his nose. “I’m so sorry…”

“No, it’s okay. My bad…” It really doesn’t seem like it, so he lets go of his nose and smiles sheepishly. Gosh, he must’ve looked stupid right now.

But you see it differently. What you see is a dashing man in a sleek tieless navy suit and a well-groomed mustache, straight out of a Cinemascope flick, ever so handsome despite his reddened nose from the way you just accidentally headbutted him. “No, that was totally mine. Are you okay?”

Your eyes are crystal clear even in the dim light, the concern is palpable in your gaze—and rightly so. It’s just that he’d take the headbutt any day, if it means he can look at your beautiful face. “I’m… I’m swell. Y/N, right?”

There’s a shift in your gaze. First, alert—you’re assessing how much of a potential threat this person is, whether they’re gonna be weird about you— and then it relaxes. Not a threat. Then a slightest hint of mischief, like she wants to know what kind of dynamics they would have. “Have we met?”

And boy, can he.

“We haven’t, actually. But I went to your show at Wembley earlier this week. You were amazing.” He offers a handshake. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

You didn’t quite catch his name over the blaring music, although you shake his hand anyway. “Sorry?” 

He leans into your ear, “I’m Bradley Bradshaw.”

You don’t know which one makes your heart skip, the sudden close proximity, the warmth of his timbre, or the whiff of his perfume.

“Right. Nice to meet you, Bradley Bradshaw.” You accept his handshake, hoping he doesn’t see how flustered you are in the strobing purple light.

“Likewise.” He nods with a smile. “And may I just say… you look stunning.”

“What, this old thing?” You brush down the art nouveau-inspired Balmain dress on your body. You’re just being modest, of course; you know you’re dressed to the nines. You have never been much into facial hair, but somehow that mustache suits him very well. “You don’t look so bad yourself. You remind me of a… young Robert Mitchum. Or Paul Newman— or one of those Golden Age leading men.”

His face lights up. It’s hardly the first time he received that kind of compliment, but when it came from you, it feels… different. It feels special. It makes him just a little bolder. “Yeah? Maybe after a few drinks, I’ll be quoting lines from Butch Cassidy. Or would you prefer Cat On A Hot Tin Roof?”

This piques your interest. A man of culture, it seems. But of course, you can’t be too sure. “I’m more of a Paris Blues kinda gal, I’m afraid.”

Gosh, you don’t swoon so easily and he likes you so much for that. “Makes sense.”

“How so?”

“It’s a good underrated musical movie, for the musically gifted… And Sidney Poitier was just fantastic in that.”

“Huh.” You raise your eyebrows. You honestly thought he was just spouting the famous titles. But the fact that he has likely seen this hidden gem might just mean he’s really into it. “Aren’t you full of surprises.”

He leans in to speak in your ear yet again. “If you stick with me for a bit, I might show you another surprise or two.”

The music drowns out your racing heart just barely, and the bartender places a whole set of tequila shots on the bar top, and it snaps you out of your reverie for a moment. 

“Wanna get some air?”

He seems surprised, but of course he wasn’t gonna throw away this shot. “Sure. Why not?”

You instruct the bartender to send the shots to your booth, not even spending ten seconds to ponder staying in this deafening hell hole. Not when this man looks like peace. Perhaps an undercurrent of mystery underneath, but his whole demeanor is as calm and comforting as those old-school movies you put on to fall asleep. At the same time, something about this person pulls you in, it’s almost magnetic, and you can’t help wanting to see this through.

[novvabee]

the day you post the next chapter of the marauders band au will be the day i cry happy tears

well let those tears flow baby, new chapter is here!!! some new faces as well 🎸

The Boys in the Band

word count: 3k

cw: swearing like once, really nothing else this one is a filler until the next chapter

You had never heard so many screams in your life. If it weren’t for your earpiece, you probably wouldn’t know what the fuck was going on. You got through your entire performance entirely by sheer adrenaline. 

These past few months had been a whirlwind. You went from performing in dive bars and opening for small artists to opening for the Emmeline Vance, the biggest pop star in the world. She has gone on five sold out world tours, has multiple number one albums, and has1 2 Ollivander Awards, the most prestigious and sought after award in all of the music industry. 

And she hand selected The Pixies to open for her on her UK leg of her newest world tour. You and the girls could not believe your luck, you were getting to play for thousands of screaming fans every week. These fans were of course there to see Emmeline, but the longer you toured with her, the more the fans learned all the words to your songs and were screaming them back at you. Some of the fans in the audience were there solely because The Pixies were there, and that was what amazed you and the girls. 

You had grown your fan base in this short time, and had gotten enough attention to land you in the spot you’re in now. 

“London, you have been absolutely amazing tonight!” you shouted into your pink microphone. You were met with screams and applause, enough to make your chest rumble with the sound. “We have one last song for you, then we can all enjoy some Emmeline!”

You chuckled as the sound grew impossibly louder, the crowd all adorned in bright colors, tassels and sparkles. Your kind of people.

“So, this last song is probably the one you’ll know, even if you don’t know who we are, you have definitely heard this song.” You said into the mic, trying to drown out the noise of the crowd as you made your way center stage. You caught a glimpse of yourself on the screen amplifying your image to the crowd and smiled. This, you could definitely get used to this, the crowd, the stage, the lights, the production of it all. Hell, there was even a VIP section in the front row. You made eye contact with a few actors and actresses that you had idolised for years, high fived a very famous socialite, and saw artists that you had listened to since you were a child scream your lyrics back at you. It was enthralling to say the least.

You placed yourself in the center of the stage where the screen could pick you up perfectly. Lily and Mary to each side of you, Marlene behind and elevated with her drum kit. All of you matching in pretty red dresses, reminiscent of 1950s swimwear. Though you all matched, you were all giving different vibes and made the dresses your own. You were styled in matching platform heels, Lily had a sheer red long sleeved bodysuit under, Mary had fishnets and black heels, and Marlene was of course in her pair of beat up converse and wore her ripped black tights. You all looked individualistic while obviously being a group.

“Although you may know this song, there is a little dance that goes along with it.” you said, screams erupting yet again, some people already understanding which song you were about to do next. “But the thing is, everyone has to do it or the song doesn’t work.” you said with fake sadness. Mary chuckled beside you.

“So, I’m gonna teach you all the dance now! Marlene, could you give us a beat?” you asked. The crowd’s volume was possibly the loudest it had been all night as Marlene started playing the beat of HOT TO GO! “Ok, ok, the dance goes something like this. H-O-T-T-O-G-O,” you said, using your arms to spell out the letters of HOT TO GO! then finished the dance with, “You can take me hot to go.”

You looked out into the crowd and the whole arena was moving. Every single body was doing your silly little dance and you couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face.

“Ok One more time! H-O-T-T-O-G-O, you can take me hot to go!” You instructed. Lily and Mary beside you, both helping show off the dance. Everyone seemed to pick up the dance fairly easily, but you couldn’t help but notice the front row not joining in. There were a few people who notably stood out because they weren’t doing the dance, and though you had a literal arena to focus on, somehow that held your attention. You made out about 10 VIPs in the front not dancing, and within this crowd, you clocked a few familiar faces.

It took you a moment to recognise where you knew these faces from, but you remembered, these were the boys from The Marauders. The one with long black hair was the one looking the most sulky and upset, and this irked you. Sure, you had only met them a few months ago, and you knew the history with James and Lily, well, you sort of knew, but you thought that they would at least support you, not sit VIP and look miserable and jealous while you were performing. You knew there was a little rivalry, both your bands being from the same town and all, but they had just as much, if not more, success than you girls, so why were they seeming so sour. This bothered you, probably more than it should have.

So you skipped your way all the way to the front of the stage.”It’s so weird that VIP thinks they’re way too cool to do this!” You announced to the crowd. You saw the shocked faces on some of the lame VIPs who weren't dancing, so you decided to address them directly. “You’re not fun!” You shouted then turned and skipped back to where your girls were starting the song. And nevermind, that was the loudest that the crowd was all night. You saw Lily double over with laughter, trying her best to keep it together and keep playing. Marlene’s mouth was hanging open and Mary gave you a wink of approval. “Do it or I’m calling you on stage.” you threw over your shoulder as one last jab.

You decided that the rest of the song you were going to perform for the back of house, where you could see that people were dancing and having a good time. 

I could be the one, or your new addiction It's all in my head but I want non-fiction I don't want the world, but I'll take this city

Who can blame a girl? Call me hot, not pretty Baby, do you like this beat? (Na-na-na-na, na) I made it so you'd dance with me (na-na-na-na, na) It's like a hundred 99 degrees (na-na-na-na, na) When you're doing it with me, doing it with me H-O-T-T-O-G-O Snap and clap and touch your toes Raise your hands, now body roll Dance it out, you're hot to go H-O-T-T-O-G-O Snap and clap and touch your toes Raise your hands, now body roll H-O-T-T-O-G-O

This is when the whole crowd erupted in the dance, hands and arms waving in the air everywhere. So many faces smiling back at you, everyone you could see having an amazing time.

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go H-O-T-T-O-G-O You can take me hot to go Well, I woke up alone staring at my ceiling I try not to care but it hurts my feelings You don't have to stare, come here, get with it No one's touched me there in a damn hot minute And baby, don't you like this beat? (Na-na, na-na-na) I made it so you'd sleep with me (na-na, na-na-na) It's like a hundred 99 degrees (na-na, na-na-na) When you're doing it with me, doing it with me

H-O-T-T-O-G-O Snap and clap and touch your toes Raise your hands, now body roll Dance it out, you're hot to go H-O-T-T-O-G-O Snap and clap and touch your toes Raise your hands, now body roll H-O-T-T-O-G-O H-O-T-T-O-G-O You can take me hot to go H-O-T-T-O-G-O You can take me hot to go

You walked to the front of the stage again, dancing your way and stopping to look straight to the back of house and make sure they were feeling the love as well. You saw so much glitter and so many colors flashing in the lights of the arena, the crowd looking like a rainbow colored night sky.

What's it take to get your number? What's it take to bring you home? Hurry up, it's time for supper, order up, I'm hot to go What's it take to get your number? Hurry up, it's getting cold Hurry up, it's time for supper, order up, I'm hot to go H-O-T-T-O-G-O You can take me hot to go (oh, yeah) H-O-T-T-O-G-O You can take me hot to go (hot to go) H-O-T-T-O-G-O You can take me hot to go (oh, yeah) H-O-T-T-O-G-O You can take me hot to go Whew, it's hot here, is anyone else hot? Whoo, you coming home with me?

you pointed to Sirius in the crowd, still sulking with his arms crossed in front of his body, his friends, James and Remus, looked at you shocked.

Okay, it's hot, I'll call the cab

The arena erupted yet again with screams and cheers. You took a moment to take it all in and savor the feeling. This is what you want to do for the rest of your life, not just opening, but headlining shows just like this one.

You and the girls gave your final bows and started to exit the stage. You and the girls waved and blew kisses as you made your way into the wings.

Once you were off the stage and fully out of view, you all hugged. The four of you giggling and squealing and jumping up and down like schoolgirls, but you didn’t care, you just played the biggest show of your life. You could feel your future shift at that moment. You knew that big things were on their way, everything you and the girls had worked for was going to come to fruition. 

“What was that about?” Marlene laughed, breaking away from the group hug and looking directly at you.

You smirked and blushed. “Look, it just made me mad, they were just standing there and looking so pissy,” you laughed. “I had to call them out a little.”

“You know who was in VIP?” Mary mused to Marlene. 

Marlene rolled her eyes as she said, “Marauders?”

“The Marauders.” Mary confirmed. 

Marlene chuckled and turned her gaze back to you. “Well then the outburst is validated.”

“I hope they’re not mad.” you admitted. You did feel slightly bad for them, calling them out in front of an entire arena full of people, potential fans of theirs.

“What?” Mary asked. “No, they deserved it. You know they’re jealous that we got this spot instead of them.”

“Well,” Lily interjected, “We all know only one of them is pissy about it. Remus and James wouldn’t care and were probably enjoying the performance just fine. It’s Sirius ‘Bitchy’ Black.” she laughed. This caused you all to giggle.

“Still,” you said, “We should all be like a united front or something, you know. We're all from the same areas, we’re all up and coming. It couldn’t hurt to be friends with them.”

You couldn’t finish the conversation with the girls or hear what they had to say because Emmeline came up to you girls.

“Oh my God! That was amazing, girls!” she praised. She hugged you all individually and stood with you for a moment before she had to go out. “No joke, you have been the best openers I have ever had with me.”

You and the girls smiled and thanked her, your heart was pounding out of your chest. You still couldn’t believe she even knew who you were let alone that you just opened for her.

“Thanks for whipping VIP into shape, they were looking a little boring.” She winked at you. All of you girls giggled with her. The stage techs were giving her a ‘hurry up’ motion, signaling her to take her position on stage. “Anyways, I’ll see you after the show, thank you so much again. Love you girls.” She said in a rush as the house lights went down and the crowd began to roar and chant her name. She was whisked off to get into place.

You girls decided to head to the dressing room to change quickly so you could come back and watch the rest of Emmeline’s show. 

“I can’t wait to see what becomes of your little… outburst.” Marlene said from beside you, nudging you slightly. You stopped just short of your dressing room as you turned to her.

You rolled your eyes in response to her. “It was not an outburst,” you giggled, “and it is not that big of a deal.” you pulled open the door to the dressing room, about to usher the girls in as you heard an unfamiliar voice come from behind you.

“Actually, it can be.” You turned to catch a glimpse at where the voice came from. A small, platinum blonde girl stood just outside your dressing room, leaning on the brick wall of the hallway, not even looking your way, just twiddling with her fingers. She had the most interesting outfit on, ruffles and patterns, strange yet beautiful. She had the craziest glasses sitting atop her head, holding her blonde locks back; reminiscent of an owl's feathers, one eye glass blue and the other pink. Must be designer.

“Sorry?” Mary said from beside you, the whole group turning their attention to the strange blonde girl.

“She said it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. And it absolutely can be.” the blonde said, turning her attention finally to you four, her round eyes so piercing. She couldn’t just be a fan, the security wouldn’t allow her access this far, even with a VIP ticket. Either she is a crazed fan who snuck past security, in that case bravo to her, or she is someone important enough to be allowed back here. 

The four of you only stared back at her, not quite sure what to say.

“Pandora Rosier,” she introduced herself with a smile. Pretty name.

“Wait, you’re a Rosier?” Marlene asked. Pandora smiled and nodded. You three looked to Marlene for an explanation as to who this girl is and how she somehow knows of her. “Mr. Rosier is the manager for a bunch of different artists… a bunch of successful artists. She’s basically industry royalty.”

You all paid more attention to the blonde now, still standing and smiling at you. “I know that you were just being cheeky, that you were having fun on stage…,” She began, her voice airy and light. “But we all know how the media is. Especially when you offend some of the most popular musicians and actors in the game.”

Offend, you didn’t think of it like that at all. “Wait, no. I wasn’t trying to offend anyone, I was just-”

“Having fun?” Pandora cut you off. “Yes, we all know that, but the media loves to take the fun out of everything. Especially when it is young, talented women. I’ve seen it hundreds of times. The Daily Prophet is exceptionally keen on trampling the fun out of everything, making every small thing a scandal.” She explained. You began to feel a sinking feeling in your stomach. Did you actually offend anyone? Would the media actually write about something as small as this? Surely not, but what if…

“And what? If it does cause a scandal, then what?” Lily asked.

“Well, if you were to have a manager, they could be in communication with the media, you know, work with them on things they write about their clients.” Pandora said.

“Wait wait,” Mary interjected, “Are you trying to become… our manager?”

“You don’t have one, right?” Pandora asked, smiling yet again. That perfect, whimsical smile.

“We don’t,” you answered. “But, we’ve done just fine without one so far.” it was true, up until now, you and the girls worked your asses off to be where you are, hell, you booked this job without one.

“Of course you have!” Pandora said enthusiastically. “But think of what you could do with one. Record deals, albums, world tours. I can negotiate all of that for you.”

“But, why do you want to manage us?” Lily asked.

“Because I see something in you. You’re all destined for stardom. I’ve seen you perform, seen the crowds and the feeling that you bring. It’s like magic.” Pandora answered, a gleam in her big shiny eyes. 

“Say we agree, what do you want out of it?” Mary asked. “What’s the deal, you want like 20 percent or something?”

Pandora thought for a moment before saying, “Honestly, this isn’t about the money.” You four looked at each other, slightly bewildered. What was she after then? “I don’t need money really, my father has plenty of that. What I really want is success. What would you think about something like 5 percent.” 

“Pardon?” Marlene said.

“I want to help you get to the top. I want you to see the success you deserve. I have seen many artists in my life and none of them have made me feel like you four do.” the blonde explained. "You are a group of very talented girls, I don’t want to see that talent extinguished as I often have. This industry burns those who have it out, fast and hard. You four have something that I can’t quite put my finger on but… I think that you may be the first of a kind.”

Something about the way she was talking, it just felt genuine and… like she really meant that she wanted you all to succeed. 

“Well Pandora, you are definitely one of the most interesting people I have ever met,” Mary started, “but you seem to really believe in us.”

Marlene smiled and finished for her, “We would definitely love to have someone like you in our corner.” 

Pandora smiled back, that whimsical smile that you knew you would be seeing a lot more often now.

this was so long and not a lot happened but... stay tuned for the next chapter because I am planning something juicy.

Taglist⭐️: @adharalikethestar @mayuwolfstar @ieatboysalive @maraudereestauderelb @bugg06 @slytherinambitious @cadenceisdelulu @champomiel @theenorthstarr @navs-bhat

[i-want-men-i-cant-have]

𝒿𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒹𝑒𝓊𝓍. 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑜𝑒.

✿ summary: getting stranded at a party might not be the best thing ever, but meeting the famous french striker under mistletoe is definitely a plus

✿ ft. noel noa

sitting alone at the bar at a christmas party you weren't invited to wasn't the best feeling in the world. your best friend, who used you as her work partner's plus one, had left you, preferring to "work." the poor athletes were almost running from her if they saw her, leaving her to wallow in the corner without you.

the non-alcoholic drinks you were forced to consume as the designated driver weren't exactly helping you pass the time, only making your bladder feel smaller and smaller. getting up from the bar, you ventured deeper into the party to find the bathroom.

as you walked, your eyes couldn't help but wander around, trying to find your friend, but to no avail. you slowly remembered what happened right before you entered the party.

"[y/n]! you have to keep your eyes open!"

"what? take a breath-"

"i can't! not when noel noa is here!" she frantically flicked her head from side to side, scanning the empty streets like he was going to appear like magic. 

“that’s the famous striker, right?”

"only the number one striker in the world! you have to find him and call me. if i see him here and interview him, i could get that promotion." she sounded hopeful, a smile on her face, but it dropped, her rbf shining through her happy persona when she saw your skeptical expression.

"pwease [y/n]~" she grabbed your hands and begged, almost getting down on her knees. 

“ok, ok! i’ll help you find this guy. just please get off the floor. someone could have puked on that.”

"thank you, [y/n]!" her bone-crushing hug knocked the wind out of you. once that bodyguard let you in, she ran around like a chicken without a head, trying to find the mystery man. too bad you didn't know what the famous striker looked like. you didn't know his nationality or team; you just knew his name and the position he played. not very helpful.

the tinkling of martini glasses and the sound of heels across the marble floors echoed across the room. popping champagne bottles, squeals, screams, and forced laughter would occasionally pipe up, always sounding the same. a massive christmas tree filled with tinsel, ornaments, lights, and anything else you could imagine decorated the room perfectly, lighting up the space and almost brushing the towering ceilings. you felt like an ant in the room, as if the room knew you didn't belong here.

the bathroom line felt like eternity, like when you were younger and had a nightmare, that stupid clock ticking every second going on until you finally fell asleep under your blankets. soon the line dwindled and dwindled down until you finally could get in and out. you dried your hands on the air dryer and shook your hands to get any remaining water off as you walked out the door.

now, you have nothing to do. you didn't work for this company, hell, you didn't even know what they did. everyone here looked rich and reeked of money. at least when you were in line for the bathroom, you had a purpose. but now you were just standing there. you felt like a ghost, people passing through you, not even acknowledging your existence.

you just wanted to go back to the bar; who cared what look that bartender would give you. so that's what you did, walking past women with candy cane red lips and men who smelled like more than you would ever make in a lifetime. suits and dresses that seemed so foreign to you.

but out of the corner of your eye, you saw your friend in that velvet low-cut tight dress on the second-floor mezzanine. she was talking to some expensive-looking man with a girl probably half his age on his arm; she was putting on that fake smile and laugh.

she had left you for a solid two and a half hours; you were going to hang out with someone. and that someone was going to be her.

so you made your way to the luxurious stairs, cascading velvety carpets that could rival the British monarchs. you excused yourself when you bumped into someone and finally reached the stairs, some men coming down them.

while passing a rather tall and muscular man, one of his friends whistled and laughed at the man who paused, along with you. both of you turned to see his friends; the one whistling and giggling looked way too drunk to be going anywhere near stairs. the man was holding onto a bland-looking one with blue eyes who looked rather nervous, trying to steady the swaying one.

you shot him a confused glance, your eyebrows raising in confusion, before turning your attention to the man standing beside you. his head was tilted upward, his gaze fixated on an arrangement of ferns- mistletoe, delicately suspended above. the soft glow from twinkling fairy lights adorned the surroundings.

in that moment, realization dawned upon you, and your eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and understanding. the air around you felt harder to inhale. you instinctively took a step back, caught off guard by the situation. however, the man beside you moved quicker than you’ve ever seen, his eyes widening in concern.

time seemed to slow as his arms encircled you, preventing any further descent down the stairs. the touch was both reassuring and electrifying. as you looked up into his eyes, you couldn't help but notice the subtle warmth that lingered. it felt so cliche. 

"are you alright?" his voice was filled with genuine concern, and you could feel yourself relax into his arms with those words.

but even with his words, your mind trailed off, going to admire him. what was he? a model? his cologne smells expensive, like every other perfume and cologne here, but at the same time it was distinct. there was an underlying uniqueness, a grounding minimalism that set it apart. you couldn't quite pinpoint it, but it held an allure that was nothing like you ever felt before.

you felt gross, disgusted even at what you were doing, taking him in like this, memorizing the details- his scent, the curve of his lips. god, you felt like a pervert. you chided yourself, feeling a twinge of discomfort at your own actions.

"i'm fine... sorry about that," you stammered, breaking the spell of your silent observations. awkwardness settled in, magnified by the awareness that his friends, the blonde one with a sly smirk and the black-haired one appearing uneasy, were keenly observing the exchange. your gaze flickered between them, questioning the dynamics of the trio.

"it’s fine. as long as you’re alright." the moment ended with him helping you back onto your feet, looking you over to double-check if you weren't lying.

"it's fine. as long as you're alright," he reassured, gracefully helping you back onto your feet. his lingering concern painted a genuine sincerity across his features, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of gratitude. as the moment concluded, his eyes scanned over you once more, ensuring your well-being. 

“don’t forget-” hick “to kiss you two,” the drunk man laughed hard, almost falling off of the bland one's shoulder who grabbed him quickly.

"don't forget-" a hiccup interrupted the drunken man's proclamation, “to kiss you two,” he abruptly erupted into laughter, teetering dangerously on the edge of his bland companion's shoulder. 

who the hell was this guy? your life wasn't some circus to watch, forcing you to kiss this random stranger.

"i'm sorry about him," the boy apologized, his eyes reflecting a mix of embarrassment and genuine remorse. "come on, let's go." he attempted to drag the blonde one down the stairs, who continued to whine about wanting to witness some "action." eventually, the duo disappeared, leaving you and the intriguing white-haired man alone on the stairs.

the silence that followed carried a unique tension, the remnants of an awkward encounter mingling with the loud ambiance of the surroundings. The mistletoe above seemed to cast a soft glow, as if nature itself was conspiring against you two.

"that guy’s something," you remarked, breaking the quietude with a light-hearted tone, attempting to diffuse the lingering discomfort. The white-haired man offered a wry smile, his eyes holding a subtle amusement that hinted at shared bemusement.

“so… why are you here?” you ask him to try to prolonged the conversation for as long as possible.

"They're organizing this celebration for my team."

“you’re team?” you ask a little confused.

“Bastard München” he responds curtley.

Realization finally dawns on you, and you recognize the man in front of you.

“are you- are you noel noa?” you stammered, feeling like some teenage girl. you didn’t even know much about this guy, but your friend went on and on about him. you always tuned her out, but she seemed so passionate about him.

“kiss! smoochie smoochie time~!”

“kaiser!” 

"get-" a loud grunting noise left the blonde, and a squawking noise left the other, "off of me, isagi!" they struggled against each other, arms reaching out to try and push them off each other.

“i thought they left,” you tried to laugh but when you looked back at the famous man in front of you, you stopped. his face almost seemed blank with a tinge of surprise if you could even call it that.

“it can’t be helped,” he sighed, his voice carrying a gentle undertone that resonated with unspoken emotions. as he reached up, his fingers delicately traced the outline of your face, tenderly tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. his eyes, a reflection of emotions too deep for words, held yours in a silent conversation.

a quiet pause lingered in the air, building anticipation, before he slowly leaned in. in that moment, time seemed to suspend, and the world around you faded away. 

his breath, warm against your skin, and as he closed the distance between you, his lips met yours in a soft, lingering kiss starting with a tender press of lips. both of your arms remained at your sides not wanting to overstep the invisible boundary. even without hands, it was as if each touch was a gentle caress, a delicate deliberate pressure. the sensation was feather-light, a sweet brush of affection that spoke volumes in its subtlety. each movement was a caress, as if exploring the contours of your lips in a sweet, unhurried dance. it was the opposite of forceful, a slow, deliberate exploration, leaving a lingering warmth.

even when he pulled away, cheeks dusted pink, promising his manager would send you tickets to the next match, you could still smell that expensive cologne after he left.

[tiny-brass-bot]

Hi! I saw a post where you had a game made in godot with old school rendering, do you maybe have any tips on how to make godot render a game like that instead of its normal rendering method?

I'd be right happy to!

I'll try to make this concise lol, I always end up overexplaining and then getting lost in the weeds. Buckle up, it's a loooooot of little little things that all add up.

First off, you should decide which look you're going for. N64 and PS1, the two consoles I'm emulating, both had drastically different specs. (plus, there's plenty of other early 3D systems I've not even touched!)

The N64 had texture filtering (textures were interpolated aka "blurry"), it had floating point vertex precision (points moved correctly), it had perspective correction on its textures (no warping)

The PS1 had no texture filtering, no floating point vertex precision (vertices snap and pop around), affine texture mapping (textures warp weird). I also think the color space they operate in is different? Don't quote me

So you can go hard one way or another or pick and choose what you think looks good! We don't have anywhere near the hardware restrictions they did in the 90s so go nuts.

RESOLUTION

To get a low resolution window, I set the window size of the game and the window override size to different amounts

In green is actually how big the window is on my screen (4k monitor) and in red is the retro resolution I want. If you set the stretch mode correctly (an option a little further down the Window tab) then it'll make the pixels big

COLORS

Now the PS1 had the capability of showing you over 16 million different colors, but it could only display 50,000-150,000 at a time, so in order to get more fidelity out of it, the engineers implemented a dithering effect to better blend the otherwise sharp edges between colors.

I used this shader to achieve the dithering effect. If you don't understand shader languages, that's fine. There are a few different pre-built ones for looking like the PlayStation 1 out there.

TEXTURES

Textures for the PS1 could be as big as 256x256, but they were typically 128x128. And they would squish everything a model needed into there usually, at least with like player models and objects and such.

As mentioned, if you're not good with shader language don't worry. There are countless resources out there that people will either let you use or teach you how it works. But I'm gonna touch on it a little bit here.

PS1 textures had no pixel filtering, so you could see individual pixels.

This is what determines that in the shader code. If you want it to look like the N64 (blurry lol), the proper hint is "filter_linear". Note that it won't be 1:1 with N64, cuz they used bilinear filtering (which kinda sucks and causes weird quirks) whereas now you'll only find linear or trilinear filtering. It's a negligible difference imo.

PS1 textures also were only saved using 15 bit color. I'm told that Photoshop's "Posterize" filter set to 32 can achieve this, but don't use photoshop if you can help it. I use GIMP, and while a newer version might have a posterize filter, or there may be a plugin out there, my version doesn't so I cluge it a little.

Change your color mode to "indexed", set color dithering to how you like it, and the number of colors in the palette to a number to get a good result. Usually I'll do 16, 8, 32, but occasionally I'll cheat and do a non-multiple-of-8 teehee >:3c

You can change it back to RGB after to make further editing easier.

LIGHTING

N64 and PS1 both implemented vertex lighting, as opposed to the more modern and (now) ubiquitous per-pixel lighting. Godot as it is right now (4.2 i think?) claims it has vertex lighting that you can set as a shader property but they're lying and it doesn't work yet.

The old consoles could only handle like, 2 lights though so it doesn't matter much.

The real star of the show, and in my opinion the one thing that makes a game most look like the 90s is the inclusion of vertex colors.

By multiplying the color of your texture by its stored vertex color, you can do all the shading yourself!

Plus you can reuse textures like crazy just by coloring them differently. The N64 also made heavy use of vertex colors by forgoing a texture on models entirely and just painting them using verticies. The only textures on SM64 Mario are his eyes, stache, hat emblem, buttons, and sideburns. Everything else is done with vertex colors.

Here you can see this level from my Crock Land with no vertex coloring, with some of the vertex colors only, and then with the two combined.

Rare loved this. Look at how colorful that cliffside is in Jungle Japes. It makes it so much more interesting than just a brown cliff face. Plus you can see the vertex coloration instead of textures at work on DK and the Gnawty.

My go-to example for PS1 is always Spyro, what a gorgeous game. All of those colors there are not made by a light or an environment. They're hand painted babey! Also! With spyro! The skyboxes are actually just huge domes made up of vertices that are colored in different ways! That's how they can look so colorful and "hi-res".

There's plenty more you can do, like adding a CRT filter or a little bit of chromatic aberration which I haven't gotten into yet.

The way I've learned all this is just by being curious as to how the old consoles did their thing, and slowly accruing the knowledge over time. There's still infinite stuff I don't know too.

I hope that helped! And wasn't too longwinded or confusing! Like I said, it's all about piling up tons and tons of little things, small details, weird graphical quirks that really bring out the retro 3D feel for me.

And I didn't even get into the modeling side of things! That's an entirely different "color-of-the-sky"-sized post though.

I'd be happy to re-explain or explain more about any of this!

[tojiwrd]

4: fate is fickle ; gojo satoru

pairing gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary when satoru breaks off your engagement, you understand and accept it. but when he marries someone else, you don't understand because he didn't want to be tied down.

content warnings family problems, bad, sad, emotional infidelity, dangerously short chapter im sorry getting you ready for the next one &lt;;33 flashback flashback y did satoru end it with u??

word count 1.3k

a/n i'll beat both of them up i promise

send thoughts ↞ prev next ↠ to be added to taglist

People said promising yourself to someone you love was euphoric; it was a feeling you couldn’t achieve through any other form of happiness or drugs. Satoru believed that because when he asked you to marry him and you said yes, he felt as though he could rearrange and hang every star in the sky to spell your names for the rest of eternity. It was electric, the feeling, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

But Satoru wasn’t somebody who was ever in the midst of two lines; if he was happy, he was so fucking happy, and if he was sad, he was so fucking sad. 

Growing up in his home hadn’t taught him many things, but he’d come out of it with two lessons he’d always abide by:

Never, ever make promises you can’t keep.

If you can go against Gojo Takayashi’s wishes, do it.

He knew that he should wait to tell his parents about his engagement with you until you were with him, which is why he didn’t let it slip during the first dinner he had with his parents since he put a ring on your finger. When his father said he’d invited a guest over, Satoru felt more at ease to keep his mouth shut because, even though his parents were not his favorite people, he was itching to see their reaction. The little boy that lived somewhere in the abyss of his mind expected them to pop champagne, for his mother to immediately call each and every one of the people she knew to tell them the good news, for his father to pat him on the back with a gleeful smile that made him feel like he’d at least done one thing to make him proud.

And, even though his second rule was to always strive to go against his father, he felt it would be some sort of a twisted poetic number for his father to be proud of him for loving you. For you loving him back.

Kimura Hana was pleasant, and her parents even more so. Despite that, both children on the dinner table that night had a hard time trying to entertain themselves with the dull conversation. Their fathers droned on about their next upcoming business ventures, constantly toasting to the point they’d made a toast to the art of toasting, claiming that it was the best excuse for people to down more alcohol with good intention. 

Hana kicked his leg underneath the table from beside him and Satoru, Y/N-loving, elated-over-his-engagement-in-private Satoru, almost sent her a glare for being so close to him. But he covered it when he noticed a small napkin she passed his way, a small giggle leaving her lips. 

He opened it, and there he read, in pretty and small handwriting with red ink:

this is sooooo boring.

He looked around and patted his pockets subtly when her lithe fingers reached out, right above his lap, and offered him a pen. He gave her a small smile before replying:

If i have to hear another stupid toast, I’m going back to my room

She scanned his reply, and he noticed her lips curve up upwards as she did. Satoru leaned back, fork mushing the leftovers of his desert as he waited for her. Her hands reached down, and placed it right on his thigh and he almost jolted at the slight hint of her fingers against his jean-clad thighs.

He shakily opened the response, a misplaced sense of guilt ravishing his brain.

what about me???

He tried not to think much before he replied, reminding himself that this was friendly. She was being friendly.

You can come up too. I’d hate to leave you here with the wolves.

“Gojo,” Hana said, her voice loud enough for the entire table to hear. Satoru turned to her, raising his brows. “You wanted to show me that book, right?” She turned to her mother. “Ma, do we have enough time for me to go up and check it out?”

Her mother smiled a very specific kind of smile, and Satoru once again reminded himself that this was friendly. 

“Oh, of course. With the way things are going, I think we have about twenty more toasts to go.”

Satoru glanced back at his father who, in his drunken stupor, paid him no mind while his mother barely looked his way, eyes focused on the empty plate below her. 

When Hana went through his small bookshelf, something he didn’t think she’d actually do, he sat on his messy bed and watched her. She stopped at one of the books and pulled it out, a small smile on her lips as she turned back to look at Satoru. 

“What is this?” she asked, plopping down on the bed as she scanned a CD he’d placed in the middle of all the books. It was something Geto had given him once after a fight he’d had with you two months into your relationship, and if he remembered correctly, he’d written, on top of the case with a thick, black marker: move on bro!! Geto had brought it up in one of your recent conversations and said he wasn’t right in the head to think either of you could ever move on from the other, and followed that statement by saying you were meant for each other.

“Uh, my friend gave it to me after I had a… well—”

“A breakup?”

It was a small falling out, but he didn’t correct her because it was so long ago. So, he nodded. 

“Breakups are so—they’re so annoying.”

Satoru chuckled, curious. “Got your heart broke or somethin’?”

She shook her head vigorously, as though she hated that statement with every fiber in her bones. “No, at least not recently. Probably because I hate the idea of meaningless relationships.”

Meaningless relationships? “Elaborate.”

“I don’t know! Like, I’ve thought about it and I just don’t see the reason to tie myself down to someone, you know? I’m young and I have a lot of time to get serious and have joint bank accounts but now? I feel like if I ever tied myself down, it’d end sometime because we end up hating each other for holding each other back while we’re so young.”

He tried not to think about her words too much, but it was hard. He was sure she’d say something completely different were he to tell him about you and your engagement, sugarcoating her words and saying stuff like not you! I’m just talking about me, of course. And that was what he didn’t want. He appreciated her brutal honesty because she was unknowingly giving her perspective on something he hadn’t thought about before getting engaged. 

You love her and you’re her fiance, a part of his mind told him, holding him back from probing further. But another part, the part of him that was always scared over one thing or another pushed him to ask her more. 

And he did, he asked until he was unconsciously convincing himself that the two of you shouldn’t go through with this, but not enough for him to break it off with you. 

What did convince him to break it off with you was something that happened around a month later, after he and Hana had hung out plenty of times due to the increasing closeness of their parents. It was because he found himself shifting his chair closer to hers during dinner. It was because he unconsciously raised his thigh everytime she passed him a note and didn’t reach out his hand so her fingers would graze over it. It was because he was texting her more than he was texting you, and a part of him didn’t seem to mind it. 

He knew it was wrong, despite the plethora of times he tried to convince himself that it was platonic. He couldn’t deny that there was something so utterly wrong about how he didn’t want to tell Hana that he was engaged to you. He didn’t end it with you after doing something that would instantly cross the line he’d been teetering over the edge of for a month, he ended it with you when he felt like if she would cross that line unknowingly, he wouldn’t stop himself from giving in. 

And Satoru didn’t want to cross that line.

[thehusbandoden]

A Day Off -Dad! Dabi x Mom!Reader

It's really late but I finished this a little while ago and wanted to post it now.

Fluff | 1,471 words

Dabi's real name used + (spoilers below)

An au where Touya doesn't become Dabi the villain, but instead a loving father to your three kids. (Plus the number one hero)

Touya grinned as he finished breakfast, happy to help you out and give you a well deserved break.

You and Touya have been married for eight and a half years. You two met at UA high, and an epic love story commenced. You two were made for each other, finding one another again again, no matter how many times you thought things were entirely over.

Touya gave you happiness in life, and you gave him sanity. He almost ran from home many times, and even got seven miles out of the city on foot before you found him, panting on your bicycle.

Touya was quite mad at you for going so far alone at night, and you were utterly livid that he just tried to leave you.

Before Touya could scold you, you blew up on him, tears running down your cheeks as you cussed him out, telling him if he ever tried to leave you again you would hunt him down and break his legs.

Even as you threatened him he hugged you, rubbing his hands up and down your back for comfort.

You two called a friend to pick you up, and you went on with your life. A little more in love with each other than before.

And here you two were, twelve years later. Married, with three kids.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Haru squealed, pulling on Touya's "kiss the chef" apron, red pig tails bouncing up and down.

"Yes, Pumpkin?"

"Mommy awake"

"Already? Go show her your picture, try to stall her, mkay?"

"Okays!"

Touya smiled as the four year old ran off to stall her mother, heart melting at her innocence.

Going back to cooking, Touya hoped you would be distracted for at least a few more minutes.

~Your pov:~

Confused, you picked up your phone to check the time.

7:51

Panicking, you bolt up from bed, sprinting towards the door, stubbing your toe on a toy.

Inwardly cursing, you open the door to your shared bedroom, making your way into the hallway.

"Mommy! Wook at my dwawing!" Haru exclaimed, heterochromatic eyes shining as she shoved the paper in your face.

"Oh it's so pretty! Why don't you go show Daddy while Mommy goes to get your brothers ready?"

Haru smiled and ran away with a giggle, making her way to the kitchen.

Sighing, you made your way to your boys' room. Opening the door, you were surprised to see their beds empty.

"Taro, Riku~!" You call, walking towards the kitchen.

"We're in the entrance mom!" Taro calls, bringing you towards his voice.

"I'm sorry I woke up late, let's get ready quickly, and I'll buy you guys breakfast on the way there." You coo, stepping into the entrance of your home.

"But- we're not gonna be late. And we already ate!" Riku replied, popping his (h/c) head out to look at you.

"Hey mama, I already got everything handled, go get some more sleep." Dabi hummed, eyes soft as his head popped out as well, turquoise eyes soft as he smiled at you.

"You... You are amazing." You sigh, smiling up at your husband as he hummed, walking towards you.

"Well if you think I'm that amazing, you could always reward me with a kiss?" Touya smirked, leaning towards your lips teasingly.

Chuckling, you slowly closed the distance.

Right as your lips met your kiss was interrupted by your kids' squeals.

Haru was squealing in joy, always happy to see her parents show affection to one another.

Riku was disgusted, never wanting to see anybody receive any sort of affection besides what he got from both his beloved mommy and daddy.

And Taro- the only one who didn't squeal.

He was beet red.

He dreams of the day when he finds the perfect woman -much like his perfect mama- and has a family of his own.

He loves both of his parents. And strives to be the perfect husband and dad -like his daddy- and find the perfect wife -like his mama-.

You smiled as Riku wailed in despair, shaking Haru as she jumped up and down, Taro only staring at his parents in awe.

"Ri-ri, you'll give your sister a headache, quit that. Ru, you're gonna pass out if you don't calm down, and Ro, for the sake of your ma, you need to breathe." Touya sighed, a smile on his lips as he eyed his gorgeous mismatched children in adoration.

Taro, the seven year old eldest by forty three minutes.

He has crimson red hair resembling Touya's. He got his grandma's eyes, but also a splash of yours. Resulting in gorgeous steel gray eyes with a breathtaking splash of (e/c) around the pupils. His facial structure is most similar to Touya's, but he takes after your personality, attitude, and tendies.

Though it would be hard to tell by someone who's not close to your family due to his shy nature concealing it.

He's known for his respectful, peaceful, and polite nature. The calmer of the twins, and the least likely to cause any sort of problem.

Riku, the younger, rambunctious twin.

Riku has (h/c) hair and turquoise eyes. He looks almost exactly like his mum, and gets his fiery personality from his dad.

He's known as the trouble maker, but he does have his gentle moments.

And the four year old youngest, Haru.

Haru has crimson hair like her daddy and big brother. And, like her uncle Shoto, has two different eye colors. Her left eye is the same gorgeous color of her mama's, and her right eye is the same breathtaking turquoise as her dad's. She looks identical to her dad, and has a fun, very very bright personality.

She's known for her sweetness, creativity, and selflessness.

Touya was snapped out of his thoughts as Haru and Riku pulled at his sleeves, warning him that they'd be late if they didn't hurry.

Laughing he pecked you on the lips before following his darlings out the door, telling you that he'd be right back.

~~

It was half an hour later when Touya walked back in, immediately finding his place on top of you as you laid on the couch.

"Oof- hey baby.. where's Haru?"

"She's at uncle Shoto's house. I thought we could use some alone time."

"Oh? And what are you planning on doing?"

Shifting his way so he could look you in the eyes, he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

"Guess."

~~

Twelve minutes later you were laughing in the kitchen as Touya licked the brownie mix off of the side of your mouth, holding your waist to keep you steady.

"To-To-Touya!" You laugh, pushing your beloved back playfully.

"Hmm?" He asks, pulling you in for a chocolate tasting kiss.

"We need to finish these so we can have room for the cleaning, cuddles, and movie date." You breathe against his lips, making him groan.

"But you taste so good!" He wails in despair, falling against the fridge dramatically.

"Help me get these in the oven and I'll reward you with a kiss~." You coo, instantly seizing the pro's attention.

~~

Two batches of brownies and one marathon of cleaning later, you and Touya were cuddled up on the couch, remote and brownies in hand.

"Oooh! Let's watch (f/m)!"

"UGHH~ we are xnotx watching that again!"

"Why not? It's a great movie."

"And we've seen it forty thousand and a bajilion times."

"You are xsox immature To."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am no-"

"This is exactly what I'm talking about!"

"You're doing it too~!"

"Fine! What movie do you want to watch?"

"Princess Bride."

"No way."

"And why not? Princess Buttercup~."

"Because we've seen it seventy thousand, bajilion times~!"

~Bonus~

"I have no idea who you are talking about. You own no child here." Shoto stated, voice as monotone as ever.

"Umm what the fu- fudge! Fudge!" Touya growled, rubbing his side where you just elbowed him.

"Sho we need Haru." You smile, pinching Touya's arm playfully, causing him to yelp.

"Haru is mine now."

"Oh no she is not. Give me back our daughter." Touya growled, stepping close to the menace of a little brother he has.

"You do not have a dau-"

"Shoto dear.. give us our Haru or we will personally burn your favorite cold soba restaurant, all the others and all of the factories producing the ingredients and instant noodles." You smile, eyes holding an evil only a protective parent or lover could produce.

Shoto's face paled as he stepped inside, quickly returning with a sleeping Haru in his arms.

"I- I was kidding.. please don't burn my soba." Shoto pouted, usually monotone voice holding a certain fear.

".. we'll count this as a warning." You drawl, staring Shoto down meaningfully.

Slightly nodding, Shoto quickly closed his door, shivering at the thought of no soba.

Similar to this: Anything For my Queen

Dabi's masterlist | Main masterlist | Navigation

Tips <3

Comments, Requests, and Reblogs are always appreciated<33

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

[bethanydelleman]

There’s a new book out called The Darcy Myth that says in the summary that P&P is actually a “horror novel” about how scary love is for women… I know the Bennet sisters’ situation is precarious but to call it a “horror novel” ? :P

Okay... so... ug.... did this woman even read Pride & Prejudice? Because from the news coverage I would say no. Let me highlight some passages from the article:

Darcy should be considered the main antagonist of the famous love story

Not Wickham? Not the man who runs off with literal teenage girls?

Darcy pays Wickham to marry Lydia, saving her reputation, and later tells Elizabeth, “I thought only of you” when acting. For Feder, this phrase is proof of the hero’s self-interest. Darcy condemns Lydia to a life with an amoral man, all so the Bennets don’t become so disreputable that he won’t be able to marry the woman he loves.

Um, sorry, but no. Darcy tried to get Lydia away FIRST, she refused, he respected Lydia's autonomy as a human being. Becoming brother-in-law to Wickham was probably worse for Darcy personally than Lydia being "ruined"

I found Feder’s exploration of “Pride and Prejudice”as a Gothic novel — rather than a comedy of manners — far more compelling than her critique of Darcy.

Wut? No. Not even a little bit, what? That is a different genre.

“Darcy helped codify the dominant expectation that potential romantic partners — especially heterosexual men — are not only still eligible but in fact more appealing when they play a little hard to get, even if playing hard to get involves cruelty, insults, expressions of disinterest, ruining your beloved sister’s chances of happiness, and other red flags,” she writes. Women spend their time, energy and emotions on men who, quite simply, are not worth their effort.

Okay, except ELIZABETH NEVER TRIES ANYTHING WITH DARCY. She just sits there and he falls in love with her. If she did put effort into any relationship it was with Wickham, who again, is presented as a massive red flag in the end. This line of argument is wild.

Yet, seeing the sheer number of times women pursue cruel men in pop culture laid out one after another — in Disney movies, Taylor Swift songs and much more — is affecting. Feder concludes convincingly that this cultural conviction harms women in the same way the patriarchal boundaries of the regency did. She writes: “If we zoom out, we see that the Darcy myth also helps to prop up and fortify a very Gothic, patriarchal universe that is, and always has been, scary for anyone who is not a very particular type of man. After all, if we are trained from childhood to invest ourselves in men who treat us poorly, aren’t we more likely to end up in abusive situations and under threat of assault?”

Okay, so this is a valid point, but it also is based on a misreading of Pride & Prejudice or is heavily influenced by adaptations. Darcy isn't cruel, he's snobby and somewhat rude but definitely NOT cruel. Wickham is exactly the type of man you want to avoid: charming until he isn't.

ALSO WHAT DISNEY PRINCE IS AN ASSHOLE??? @princesssarisa? Can you be offended at that one in my stead?

So... this book sounds like rage-bait insanity and I won't be reading it until proved otherwise. Putting it on the avoid shelf along with Secret Radical.

Last note: There is a valid point to be made that jerks or dark broody men have been romanticized, but Austen DOES NOT DO THAT. That is not an Austen thing. Use an actual problematic Gothic or Byronic hero.

[the0p]

First date

fluff, awkward cheesy stuff, mlm, reader is given a specific outfit DEAL WITH IT😡, first date type thing, none idol au (I don't remember in jongho has his license or not let's pretend he does if he doesn't okay?? okay!!) (also idk what happened to the first paragraph and why it looks different from the rest of the text)

the clock red '6:00pm' and I was getting ready for a date with a guy I met during work. I worked as a batista at a local coffee shop, and we had a regular that always came in exactly at 8am on the dot, ordering the same drink every time. he had caught my eye months ago thanks to his amazing looks and the simple conversations we had. few days ago, I finally grew some balls and asked him out on a date, not expecting him to agree, just wanting to shoot my shot, but surprisingly enough, he agreed we enhanced numbers and made plans for Saturday. I didn't want to go too over to the top, so I went relatively simple with a white button-down, some black baggy jeans, my newrocks, a black lethal suit jacket, and some silver jewellery. he insisted on picking me up tonight, so now I just had to wait for a message. After a few minutes, my phone buzzed, and a text notification popped up on my screen from jongho. it was a simple "I'm here" text. I didn't bother opening it and bolted straight out my apartment door, going down to the ground floor and walking outside the cold air a bit unpleasant. I saw him parked not that far away, so I made my way over.

he stepped out of the car, waving at me with a bright smile on his face. it was a cute sight, making me much more excited for the upcoming night. "Hey, jongho." I said, returning the smile he gave me once I got close enough to not need to yell. "Hi y/n." his words held an obvious nervous tone to them, but I was nervous as well, so we were in the same boat. I got inside the car after we greeted each other him following after me. we didn't really have much of a plan for the date as neither of us wanted to do something too expensive. we both trew out ideas a few days before trough text, but at the end, he insisted on planning it promising he would make sure it's enjoyable. the ride was quiet for the most part as we drove around town for a bit until I chose to break it, wanting to have some sort of conversation to ease the tension. "So...what's the plan??" I asked, carefully glancing at him. "Well, my original thought was a coffee date, but you work at a coffee shop, so I chose against it." I laughed, finding the amounts of thought he put into this endearing. he laughed along as he pulled to a stop. "So I booked us something to do." I was a bit surprised. booked us something?? "Wait, isn't that like very expensive?" he brushed me off, getting out of the car as I followed after him. I felt bad as I didn't want anything expensive, let alone for him to spend the money on me "jongho if it was expensive I will pay you back you didn't have to do all that. I would have been very happy even with a coffee date, you know." he again brushed me off, putting his hands in the pockets of his coat as he looked at me. "Don't worry. it was a decent price, and I think it's a good way to get to know each other." he turned a corner and went inside a small building. I followed inside the whole place, smelling sweet and warm.

I looked around, seeing a few other people, most seeming to be couples having separate stations, a bunch of cooking supplies around them, and a piece of paper in front of them, which seemed to be instructions. I watched as jongho took off his coat and hung it up with the rest of the coats running a hand through his hair and rolling up the sleeves of his grey jumper. I was so mesmerised by his looks that I completely forgot why we were here. he caught my gaze, a shy smile on his lips as he gestured for me to take my jacket off as well. "I'll go talk to um, you know, the workers." he said, stumbling on his words as he left to talk to one of the workers. I took off my jacket, fixing my hair and shirt and regretting the white shirt now, but it was worth getting dirty. shortly after, he came back with two aprons in hand, handing me one of them as we put them on. one of the workers came over leading us to a free station and explaining what we can and can't do before handing us a recipe for brownies. everything we needed was already prepared and on the counter for us, so now we just needed to get to work.

the process itself was easy as we talked and got to know each other more. the warm and cosy atmosphere, making it less awkward than I originally thought it would be as I let my guard down and enjoyed the date to the fullest. we learned a lot about each other from the typical things to soke deeper things. After two hours, the baking process being dragged out a bit too long thanks to us messing around, we finished and the workers packed up the brownies for us in two bags so we could each take some home. "This was genuinely the best date I've ever been on thanks jongho" I said as I took the apron off looking at him as he nodded doing the same "I'm glad you had fun y/n I enjoyed it as well thanks for trusting me with the planning" I hummed a smile on my face as we each got our bags and got ready to leave. it was 8pm by now the sky dark and streets still as busy as ever people going to parties and clubs left and right. "I'm planning the next date, no questions asked." he looked at me as we approached his car, a teasing smile on his face. "Go all out." I nodded a pleased look on my face as he unlocked the car and got in, driving me back home. in all honesty, I didn't want the night to end, but I wasn't planning on saying anything cuse I had some things to do tonight anyway. the car ride this time wasn't as awkward compared to the very beginning when he picked me up. the conversation was so easy going with no awkward silence, just laughter. my apartment building was slowly coming into view as he parked right in front of it turning to look at me "I guess that's it for tonight" nodding, i undoing my seat belt turning to look at him as well holding eyecontact "I guess so."

"thanks for tonight y/n. Next dates on you"

"next dates on me."

i opened the door, stepping outside the car, waving bye to him as he did the same with a smile before he drove off and I went inside my apartment building.

[lovelyflora21]

Strangers

Summary: She was still herself, he was still him. In the same place. Yet, isn't it strange how people can change?

Pairing: Leon S Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Tags: Angst, hurt, no happy endings (?) 

A/n: A rather lengthy continuation to my previous fic, inspired by Celeste - Strange. Would recommend listening to the song whilst reading this to really get the feel of it ;)

Wc: 1,8k

P.s. Let me know if anyone wants to be added to the tag list! <3

Tag list: @lysa1201 @lysol1201

I tried for you. 

What Leon said that night, the way he looked at her with complete utter disdain; mixed with a cacophony of heavy breathing and slurred speech of spiteful, venomous words spewed her way–safe to say, it was enough to turn that tiny little voice inside her head louder. Ten times louder than the conscience, the soft spot she’s always held for him. 

That maybe everything she did for him was, in fact, all in vain. That it was a complete waste. She was wasting her precious, precious time and energy; her life, on a drunkard. An asshole of an alcoholic, once applauded for his bravery and prowess as an agent–akin to that of America’s very own zombie-killing, man-made Superman. 

God, mama was right! I should’ve dumped him. What was I thinking?!

Were what had crossed her mind as she skipped down the stairs of his apartment’s fifth floor’s stairwell. She clung onto her bag and pride, more on her pride (what was left of it anyways) than her bag really, as she rummaged through the tote bag for her car keys. She had tears welling up in her eyes, her throat burning and constricting in a measly effort of holding herself together. From sobbing her poor heart out. From breaking down on the stairs and pitying herself.

Tried to see through all the smoke and dirt. It wouldn't move.

Everything else was a blur then. The drive back home. The whole thought process on deciding to finally and completely vanishing from his life. All that in a span of minutes. Most would criticize her for being too overboard with her impulsivity, for making a big deal out of nothing! 

Oh spare me the theatrics! She could still hear Leon’s voice; nagging in the back of her mind, it would have been his reaction, if he had known of what she was about to do to him or saw an ounce more of her true reaction in response to his cruelty. 

But as she drove through the traffic and streets of DC’s avenues, her heavy-with-tears eyes dropped to see his name popping up on her phone; his number texting and calling her numerous times–his picture flashing, showing off his stupid fucking cocky grin–it silenced the other voices that were doubting her decision. And suddenly what she was about to do was justified and she saw nothing wrong with it. 

So when it turned red, she reached for her phone; looked at his number and picture one last time before she blocked it–blocked him, and shoved the phone back inside the bag. 

The first night, she couldn’t cry at all. She tossed and turned in bed then eventually fell asleep. But the next few days? Oh they were torture. Hardly sleeping, hardly eating; the blunt of the impact finally hitting her head on. Her feelings, emotions and sound mind were colliding against one another. Everything was everywhere all at once. Anger, disappointment, hurt, sadness, grief and shame. Surging all at once then fading away just as quick into numbness and denial. Then she’d crash out again, and again, and again. Rinse and repeat. 

So she did what Leon S Kennedy would’ve done. Drown herself in work, overtime after overtime. Back to back meetings, projects, RnDs. Anything to get her mind off of him and that night. One thing for sure though, she was done. 

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Before she knew it, she earned herself a promotion, alongside an offer to relocate somewhere else; she was given the liberty to pick the spot. To pick which branch of her office she would be relocating to. 

Without doubt and further, deeper questioning; she said yes. Again, some would have considered her impulsivity a major flaw but to be fair, this was the opportunity she had been looking for. Especially after that night and after Leon. 

Albeit the suffering and grief it brought upon her; that night brought her an epiphany. A revelation, that her whole life had revolved around him and him alone. She was never the center of her own universe, no–it had been Leon. 

It was a mistake. 

So now, with Leon gone and out of the picture; she had nothing to revolve around. There was nothing left for her here anyways…

She was never one for spirituality but it got her thinking– that the opportunity presented itself just in time. It was perfectly aligned with her, as if the universe had given her its blessings to move forward. Even without him.

As if it was a way for the universe to tell her.

He’s very dreamy, but he is not the sun. You are.

So when it was all said and done, when everything’s packed into the back of a moving truck and she’d bid farewell to friends and colleagues; she moved. Out of DC and to Francisco. 

And things were okay again. Late nights weren’t so heavy and she wasn’t so burdened with all-consuming thoughts of him. Mornings came by easier for her. She began liking the way coffee smelt, the way the flowers bloomed and the plants flourish, she began liking the taste of sourdough bread with runny eggs on top.

Casual dates were a thing for her now. Enjoying herself and her time as an individual rather than a thing attached to him. 

And before she knew it, a year had passed. 

Life was great. She was flourishing, bright and blooming. 

The sun was high above, her locks cascaded like waters down her neck. She wore a white dress, the patterns were small flowers in the color of muted salem. She had the day off, needed to pick up on groceries and flowers for her vase in the living room and kitchen island. She’d grown to fall for flowers ever since she’d moved to Francisco. 

As she was looking at the arrangement of fruits set before her, smiling at the older lady; she couldn’t help but to notice a man staring at her then approaching her. 

Hey there.

So when her eyes found him, clad in blue instead of black; they widened for a second. Taking in the phantom of what once was the man she’d loved and devoted herself to. 

They stood there, just…staring…

Then there was silence. 

Say, isn't it strange? I am still me You are still you.

—

So they sat there, across one another. This was their second meeting. In a cafe, her favorite. She’d suggested the place. They opted for the outdoor seating instead, feeling as though the walls around them were too overwhelming for her. Too suffocating, especially when she would be near him. 

Her white shirt was slightly crumpled, tucked inside her blue denim jeans that clung to her perfectly. Her bag was set by her ankle, under the table.

She crossed one leg over the other, her eyes never leaving Leon’s. Who had his own ocean blue eyes on her.

Leon had begged her for this chance. Said he wanted to talk to her, needed to talk to her. And she gave him the same grace she would’ve wanted people to give him. Less of a second chance and more towards the urge for a proper closure, really. 

Leon Scott Kennedy was never one to be curious. He’d learnt from his line of work that curiosity can and will kill the cat. And yet when it came to her, he was as curious as ever. So many things he wanted to say, to ask, to question, to find out, to know and last but never should be the least; to understand. Why did she disappear on him like that? Where has she been?Why San Francisco? How did she end up here? Is she with someone else? Is that why she was here now? Was she now a happily-married woman living the white picket fence dream?

But only one thing came out of his now slightly chapped-lips and dry mouth.

I am so sorry. 

Back to our roots What did we lose? What did we lose?

He began, stammering as he leant forward across the table that barred him from feeling her warmth. From feeling her kindness, her love, her tenderness and the familiarity of her.

It’s in the past.

Her voice was…soft. But it lacked the love and gentleness she once held for him. Her eyes were distant…as if staring at a far away dream instead of him.

I shouldn’t have said what I said, I was an alcoholic and an asshole and I didn’t deserve you.

You really didn’t. 

Then there was silence again. Leon’s breath caught as he heard her utter those simple words with such indifference it sent shivers down his spine. 

There was no malice, no anger, no bitterness lacing her words yet all the same it wounded him so. In ways he never thought nor imagined possible. 

Isn’t it strange? How people can change. 

Give me one more chance, let me make things right. 

His pleading was met with silence. Then there was a soft tapping noise against the table, Leon’s blue orbs flitted to her manicured nails for a second before coming back to her face. They were painted beige.

If I could, I’d pull your strings for one more dance.

I…I’ve changed. I’m not drinking anymore and I’ve been going to therapy and I’m not missing out on them anymore. I swear.

It was pitiful how he dragged on and on about how he was a changed man. But seeing she was not budging at all, made Leon’s stomach twist and turn. 

I can’t.

Tell me what I need to do to make this work, to make things right.

She simply shook her head, a defeated and reserved smile graced her lips. God, those same lips Leon had missed so much. How he wished he hadn’t taken her for granted. 

It’s for the best.

And with that, she gathered her bag and herself. She mustered up enough courage and willpower to heave herself up to her feet. Even outside with the wind breezing past them and the world still revolving around them, she felt just as suffocated and as still as ever. She refused to look him in the eyes, refused to study the way his face fell and his eyes glazed with tears. 

I look at you, with nothing to say.

Leaning down for one last kiss, she placed a chaste and small peck on his cheek. Feeling the stubble caress her skin and mouth. She dared not bid him farewell, nor did he. Neither lovers dared to lift their faces to meet one another’s gaze, afraid it might shatter whatever defense they had left.

Isn’t it strange? How people can change From strangers to friends Friends into lovers

So she walked away, never looking back. 

And strangers again.

[xas24]

number 30 (pt. 2) ~ pablo gavi

pt. 1

summary: pablo sees y/n again and doesn’t let the opportunity slip.

the first thing pablo did when he got home that night is search her up on instagram. clearly he knew that he wouldn’t really find anything with just her first name, but still he typed it into the search engine and saw as a range of accounts popped up.

he scrolled, looking at each profile picture to see if he could find any resemblance of her. he was browsing for atleast a minute when his eyes widened, landing on a profile picture that looked exactly like her.

he clicked on it and his excitement dissipated when he saw that her account was private. however, she did follow him and the “follow back” button was tempting him. she didn’t have many followers and no one he knew followed her. as his finger hovered over the button, he thought twice.

it would be completely unexpected if he just randomly requested to follow her. she probably didn’t even know that he remembered her name, or even noticed it, seeming a little stalker-ish that he went home to specifically find her instagram and request it.

so he swiped off of the app with a sigh, opting to waste some of his time on tiktok instead.

•••

“¡aquí están nuestros asientos!” (here are our seats!) y/n’s little sister stated as they finally stopped walking. y/n turned to look back up at the many, many rows of seats and her brows furrowed when she turned back to see her sister already getting comfy in her chair.

“¿cómo conseguiste estos asientos?” (how did you manage to get these seats?) y/n asked, sitting down. they were so close to the front of the pitch, practically front-row seats. they could see all the players’ benches, the managers, everything so much more clearly.

her sister shrugged, “papá me quiere más.” (dad loves me more)

y/n rolled her eyes. “muy divertido. estoy siendo serio.” (very funny. i’m being serious)

“yo también.” (me too)

y/n left it at that as she turned back to the front when the players started walking out. the stadium erupted with cheers and screams, her sisters probably being the most loudest one there - sometimes she loved how vocal she was about her love for the football club.

they’ve both had a passion for football when they were younger, both growing up loving barça, their home club. it was their uncle who first got them into football. he loved taking his two favourite neices to all the matches he visited, buying them little custom made jerseys and scarves to match their love for the club.

as they all grew older, it was more y/n and her sister who took their uncle to the matches. a few years ago, when he died due to cancer, the two were most devastated. none of their other family members loved football as much as him, no one else wanted to love it for them, no one else would’ve been able to replace him.

the two went to every single barça match after that, knowing how happy it would’ve made their uncle to see they still had that pride and happiness for their club.

although they usually sat on one of the top rows, y/n did not know what possessed her father to pay extra money, on behalf of her little sisters pleads, to sit right at the front today. she didn’t question it though, the view was amazing.

the bright colours of red and blue illuminated the whole stadium and y/n smoothed out her own blaugrana jersey as she cheered along with the rest of the camp. the jersey she wore held a special moment in her life, small but meaningful, as she remembered how her favourite player had interacted with her on the day of the champions parade.

it was only a week ago but she couldn’t stop thinking about it after that, her heart rate quickening every time she thought about it. the way he had stared up at her, asked her what number was on her back, cheered and smiled when he saw his own, held eye contact with her until he literally couldn’t anymore.

she was delusional. it was completely meaningless from his side, just a star player interacting with a fan. however, it meant so much more to her - even her sister couldn’t stop talking about it for a few hours after.

it was now halfway through the match when majority of the stadium erupted with protests as they all watched gavi fall to the floor. the referee came over and y/n was at the edge of her seat as she saw the players arguing on the pitch. it was a clear red card for the other team but it was gavi who recieved a yellow card.

he was injured, held up by one of the medical staff as they tried to get him off the pitch. pablos breaths were heavy, his jersey sticking to his skin with sweat and he felt pissed and upset. his foot was in complete pain and he’d just recieved a yellow card when it wasn’t even his fault.

he slightly lifted his head, eyes scanning the benches as he limped away from his teammates with the help of the staff member.

that’s when his eyes landed on her.

y/n. the girl from the balcony. the girl with the number 30 on her back. the girl who he could not stop thinking about. she was here and she was sat right in the front row with the same screaming girl from the balcony, who pablo assumed was her sister.

she was wearing the blaugrana jersey again and pablo hoped it was the same one from that day, the big number 30 boosting his pride.

he could immediately feel the heat coating his cheeks as his eyes tugged on hers for a second longer than he should’ve looked. she was talking with her sister before she turned back to the pitch and her eyes instantly landed on his, as if she knew he was staring at her.

pablo could see the concerned look on her face, probably due to his injury, and he tried to straighten up. show her its nothing. tell her he’s alright and it’s nothing major. along with her slightly furrowed brows, he could see the light tint of blush on her cheeks as she held eye contact.

his heart was now practically screaming in his ears, telling his fogged brain to just go over and talk to her. forget the fact that there’s a game on. forget his injury. forget how all the people around her will start swarming at him the moment he walks over there.

shaking those thoughts off, he looked back towards the tunnel and let the medical staff take him to check out his injury. he’d seen her again and he didn’t want to let that opportunity slip. he’d have to find another way to talk to her.

y/n knew that he remembered that moment the instant he held eye contact with her as he was taken off the pitch. he probably just recognised her, but that was enough for her sour mood from his injury to lighten slightly as the game resumed without him.

she just hoped today would be the day she’d finally get to talk to him.

•••

the game had ended and barcelona had lost. it was clear how defeated the fans felt as they started making their way out of camp nou. y/n and her sister started making their own way out once everyone in their section had already left. it was too crowded and they’d both rather make their way to y/n’s car whilst not having to worry about being squished between bodies.

whilst walking out, y/n tugged on her little sisters sleeve.

“aquí.” (here) she held out her car keys to her. “espera en el coche. necesito ir al baño..” (wait in the car. i need to use the bathroom.)

her sister nodded and walked off towards the exit. y/n turned and started making her way towards the bathrooms. she could still hear the chatter of fans all around her, some disappointing talks, some accepting talks. of course, she was a little upset about the loss herself but she’d grown to realise that they couldn’t win everytime.

it just wasn’t their day today. there is always a next time.

her mind also could not leave gavi’s injury. he’d returned around five minutes after leaving, looking perfectly fine. he didn’t have any sort of cast on, but he wasn’t put back on the pitch, so she’d only hoped he was okay.

a few moments of fixing her hair and her jersey, she walked back out. it was getting much later in the evening and she’d had to get home. however, after seeing the large crowds still walking throughout the camp, she decided to just go another way. there were multiple exits towards the parking lot, she could take any.

turning a corner, it was quick and unnoticed as she bumped into someone. “ay, mierda.” (oh shit) she said as she stumbled a little from the impact.

gavi felt himself stumble a little before taking a step forward and catching himself and the person he bumped into. when he looked towards them, he instantly felt his eyes slightly widen and a light blush fall onto his cheeks.

“lo siento.” (i’m sorry) he said towards her.

there was no way he was actually standing infront of y/n right now. he couldn’t believe it, it was as if he’d been given another chance.

“lo siento. no miraba por donde iba.” (i’m sorry. i wasn’t watching where i was going) y/n felt her heart rate starting to pick up as she realised pablo gavi actually had his hand on her arm.

“esta bien.” (it’s okay) he shrugged it off, awkwardly taking his hand off her arm as he gave her a warm smile, trying to contain his grin as she blushed and gave him a shy smile back.

“lo siento por tu lesión. se veía mal.” (im sorry about your injury. it looked bad) she stated, straightening up and attempting to mask her stutter.

“esta bien. lo revisaron y dijeron que no era nada importante.” (it’s alright. they checked it and said it was nothing major) pablo replied. his brown eyes took in her features. she was so much more beautiful up close. he could see every single feature so much more vividly, her long eyelashes coated with a little mascara, her perfect nose, her rosy lips painted in the perfect tint of light pink lipgloss.

he had to physically hold himself back from reaching forward and moving the hair away from her cheek.

“eres la chica del balcon? número treinta, no?” (you’re the girl from the balcony? number 30, no?) of course he knew who she was but he had to say something. something to let her know that he remembered her.

when she chuckled, he swore he just fell into heaven. “no pensé que te acordarías.” (i didn’t think you would remember)

“¿cómo podría olvidar a alguien tan hermosa?” (how could i forget someone so beautiful?) there. he had said it. he’d finally muttered those words to her, his exact thoughts, as his heartbeat vividly rang in his ears. he felt his palms starting to sweat.

y/n didn’t even know if she was still breathing. there was no way he had just said that to her, she wouldn’t believe it. that bump had to have knocked her out because she felt like she was dreaming.

the pablo gavi just called her beautiful, and he remembered her from the parade. she wanted to cry.

“oh gracias. en realidad soy un gran fan tuyo.” (oh thank you. i’m actually a really big fan of you.)

“realmente? tu hermana se veía más feliz el otro día.” (really? your sister looked more happy the other day.) pablo joked, earning a small laugh from y/n and he probably just died and came back to life. even her laugh was so angelic.

“mi hermana es un poco ruidosa. le gusta mucho barcelona.” (my sister does get a bit loud. she loves barcelona with her whole heart)

“puedo decir.” (i can tell) he chuckled.

his eyes never left hers, her smile, her lips. y/n smiled back and slightly nodded before glancing down. she couldn’t hold his intense eye contact. she knew that if she did, she’d immediately melt.

pablo hesitated a little, his thoughts running all over the place as he stared at her a little longer. should he just ask her for her number? would she find it weird? would she just give it to him out of excitement? would she even want to actually talk to him after this?

there was no knowing when he’d see her again, especially this close with no interruptions. so with a heavy heart, he spoke up. “si no te importa, ¿me das tu número?” (if you don’t mind, can i have your number?)

y/n instantly looked up as if she’d heard him wrong. was pablo gavi asking for her number? as in her phone number? he wanted to text her? contact her later? did he even know her name? she tried to act nonchalant about it but couldn’t hide the shy yet giddy smile that took over her shocked expression.

“sí.” he held out his phone and she carefully took it. pablo watched as she typed her number in. he took the opportunity to take in her features once more. her bottom lip slightly tugged under her teeth as her eyes focused onto his phone. he’d finally done it. he’d gotten her number. she hesitantly passed him his phone back and gave him another shy grin.

“gracias.”

she nodded in return. “tengo que ir. mi hermana está esperando.” (i need to go. my sister is waiting.)

pablo nodded in response and let her walk off, bidding her a short goodbye. his eyes never left her figure as she retreated back down the hallway she came from, his heart beating louder at every step she took away from him.

y/n couldn’t contain the excited smile on her face, the bright blush on her flustered face and the harsh banging of her heart against her ribcage.

she didn’t know how she’d be able to explain all this to her sister.