#choreographer au

[sleepy-steve]

(pray) ‘til i go blind

wc: 4k // rating: M // cw: language // tags: modern au, metal burlesque performer eddie munson, audience participant steve harrington, very blasphemous song lyrics (see ao3 link for other tags)

♡ read on ao3 ♡ or below the cut ♡

Steve sees Eddie staring right at him, eyes dark as sin and ringed by even darker makeup. And that beautiful, cheeky smirk in full force as he slowly lowers himself down to a crouch. Steve meets Eddie’s eyes and feels the air disappear from his lungs. He's mesmerised. "And you would too if this sexy devil caught your eye..." He holds a hand out to Steve, and Steve can do nothing else but take it and be pulled up to the stage.

song referenced is Rev 22:20 (Don’t Shoot The Messenger Version) by Puscifer (one of my personal favourite filthy dance songs).

It was one thing to be an audience member. To sit in the crowd and clap or cheer when appropriate. These were all things Steve could do, and if it meant an evening spent with his best friend, he was more than happy to do it. (And if he saw some boobs in the process, he was also happy with that.) 

It was Robin’s absolute insistence that he would enjoy tonight’s burlesque show in particular, despite his general ambivalence toward the production as a whole, that gave him pause. The music didn’t really do anything for him, though he could appreciate the performances. And sure, he liked seeing beautiful women dance as much as the next dude. Why was she so convinced he would like this show more than any other? With no answers to his wondering, he sat comfortably, enjoyed his drinks, and tried to be a model audience member.

What was less in his comfort zone was sitting at a table right up front, basically right under each performer’s nose. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy the view, but he did wonder about how the performers might feel having him gawking from behind his glasses right up at them from such a close distance. Throughout the night, both Steve and Robin are among a few selected for some level of performer interaction. Dancers waving their fluffy feather fans in their faces, tossing clothing garments at them, trailing their hands over arms and shoulders, and in one case, a cute redheaded performer allowing her long satin glove to be shakily pulled off by Robin.

After a brief break, the emcee announces the fifth and final dancer of the evening. Steve finds himself a little disappointed, having had more fun than he originally thought. But he joins the audience in applauding for the next performer.

The stage goes dark. He hears the faint tapping of someone stepping on stage. Slightly different to the previous performers, less snappy. Different shoes. A beat of silence, before a red spotlight flashes on. On the stage, a figure stands with their arms raised and crossed above their head. Curls hang around their shoulders, different to the perfectly pinned and sprayed curls of the previous dancers. This hair is wild.

A beat kicks in. It's heavy and dark, reverberating in the floors. The figure lowers their arms, wrists twisting and gloved fingers snapping on the beat. A female voice sings a harmony and the figure turns in time with it, facing the audience, additional warm spotlights flashing on, and a jolt runs through Steve.

It's a man. Probably one of the most beautiful men he's ever seen. Wearing ripped jeans and what looks to be a leather jacket, the man is running a gloved hand across his chest, touch featherlight. The voice sings again, moaning almost, and the dancer—Eddie, Steve belatedly recalls the emcee introducing him as—slowly pulls the jacket open, revealing a loose black tank top. He runs a hand up his tattooed neck and back down his chest. The audience cheers, a few low whoops coming from the back.

Another moaning vocal. With a cheeky grin that makes Steve's heart skip, Eddie lets the jacket fall down to his elbows, revealing even more tattoos on his shoulders and arms. His gloved hands trail down to his hips, and on the last harmony, he moves his hips back in a slow half-circle.

"Don't be aroused," a male voice croons in the music. "By my confession..."

Eddie looks out at the audience, who are captivated by the way he owns the stage. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Steve notes that Eddie has barely done anything at all, yet the audience is completely transfixed by him. He takes a few slow, confident steps, searching the crowd below him.

"Unless you don't give a good goddamn about redemption..." Standing up tall, Eddie lets his jacket drop to the ground behind him, the audience cheering as he does. The gloves reach to just below his elbow, and the tattoos disappear beneath them. Steve imagines what his hands might look like—how they might feel—the realisation that he's not really thought about another man's hands before quickly shoved to the back of his mind.

"I know Christ is comin', and so am I..." Leaving the jacket behind, Eddie walks again, stopping right in front of Steve and Robin's table. Steve glances at Robin, partially excited and partially fearful, only to see her with a grin that says exactly what he knows she's thinking right now: I was right.

Looking back up, Steve sees Eddie staring right at him, eyes dark as sin and ringed by even darker makeup. And that beautiful, cheeky smirk in full force as he slowly lowers himself down to a crouch, ripped jeans opening further to reveal even more tattoos. Steve meets Eddie’s eyes and feels the air disappear from his lungs. He's mesmerised.

"And you would too if this sexy devil caught your eye..."

He holds a hand out to Steve, and Steve can do nothing else but take it and be pulled up to the stage. The audience cheers—though none louder than Robin—as Steve is guided by Eddie, and led to a chair that he did not see before. As Steve sits facing the audience, Eddie leans down to his ear and whispers, "Is it okay if I touch you?"

Steve looks at him in surprise and nods quickly. This close, Steve can see the two nostril piercings, and the silver ball nestled in the scoop of his cupid bow. It's unbelievably hot.

"Anywhere?" Eddie clarifies, letting his gloved hand run up Steve's arm to his shoulder. Steve nods again, trying hard not to think about what anywhere could mean—what he absolutely wants it to mean. Eddie winks at him, smirk back in place on his plush lips, and moves behind Steve, hands running over his shoulders, down and across his chest. He leans over from behind, wild curls tickling Steve's neck. Wanting to reach out and touch so badly, Steve keeps his hands firmly clasped in his lap, trying to behave. Flicking his hair behind him, Eddie tips Steve’s head gently to the side, exposing his neck. Steve feels warm breath on his skin, and then the drag of teeth and lips along the length of his neck and holy shit. Feeling hot everywhere, Steve takes a shuddering inhale. Sliding his gloved hands off Steve’s head, Eddie walks around again, this time in front of the chair.

He drops, crashing to his knees at the edge of the stage as the music ramps up. "Pray! 'Til I go blind..." The audience cheers as the vocals scream.

"Pray!" Eddie rolls his head, curls flicking around him in a wide arc, long tattooed neck stretched and exposed before his hair settles around him again. "'Cause nobody ever survives..."

Arms crossed over the front of his body, and gripping at the bottom of his tank top—which from this close view, Steve thinks may actually be a cut up band tee—Eddie cocks his head, teasing the audience. Waiting for them to cheer louder. He pulls it up a few inches, no doubt showing off more tattoos on his belly, if the ones on his back were anything to go off. The audience screams, encouraging him to take it off.

"Saviours and saints, devils and heathens alike, she'll eat you alive..."

The music slows back down, and Eddie drops his shirt back down. Steve lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Jesus, since when was he so ramped up about another man taking his shirt off? He doesn't have much time to think about it, because Eddie has turned himself around to face Steve, grin that borders on evil with glee on his face. Steve feels his eyes widen.

"Jesus is risen, it's no surprise..." He drags himself close to Steve, kneeling before him, a hand on each of his knees, pushing Steve's legs open. Steve swallows as the gloved hands trail up and down his thighs, before resting back on his knees.

"Even he would martyr his mama to ride to hell between those thighs..." Eddie leans forward, swinging his hair in a figure-eight, face dangerously close to Steve's crotch, and holy shit, Steve thinks he may lose his entire mind. Leaning back again, Eddie gives him a quick look as if to ask, all good? Steve gives a faint nod. Eddie smiles up at him, a genuine and very sweet smile, before shifting back from Steve, pulling himself up off his calves.

"If I gotta sin to see her again, then I'm gonna lie, lie, lie!" Eddie swings his arms across his body, head swinging and hair flicking in time with the words, in a way that would be almost thrashing were he not so purposeful and smooth with it.

He then lowers himself backward, back arched as the top of his head taps the stage, knees still bent beneath him. Steve faintly thinks it looks uncomfortable, but has no time to ponder on it because Eddie is running those gloved hands up his arched chest, pulling the tank top up and up, showing off his tattooed abdomen. The shirt bunches just below his chest, hands continuing up to glide and grab at his own neck, silver chain gripped and pulled taut at his throat.

"Gladly now please suck me dry..." Steve watches unblinkingly as Eddie opens his mouth, slowly pushing two gloved fingers inside, letting them drag back out over his tongue. Mouth watering at the sight, Steve thinks about what else Eddie’s mouth and tongue might be capable of.

Steve snaps out of it quickly, because Eddie has pulled back up, standing with a thump of his combat boots, stepping to the side of Steve's chair so he's side-on with the audience now. He stands with his right arm outstretched toward Steve and one finger raised on the other hand. Steve notices the smirk back in place.

"Pray! 'Til I go blind..." Eddie shoves the finger into the opening of the glove below his elbow, before pulling it out slowly. He raises two fingers this time.

"Pray! 'Cause nobody ever survives..." He shoves two fingers into the glove opening this time, self satisfied look on his face as the audience screams and cheers. Eddie raises three fingers. Steve thinks he may pass away in the chair.

"Prayin' to stay in her arms just until I can die a little longer..." He shoves the three fingers into the glove, using them to push down the leather in time with the music. When the glove is mostly bunched around his wrist, Eddie pulls at the middle finger, dragging the fabric off of his hand slowly, letting it stretch back out. Once it leaves his hand, he flicks it off into the audience to wild cheers, just in time for the music to slow down again.

Eddie turns to Steve now, a look of absolute mischief on his face. With his now bare hand—Steve was right, the tattoos do continue all the way down to his hands—he pulls lightly at the middle finger of the other glove, loosening it slightly. He then leans forward, bending at the hips with a sinful smile, hand held aloft near Steve's mouth, and says, "Bite it."

Steve leans in, taking the fingertip of the leather glove between his teeth and slowly pulls back. The glove barely shifts, Eddie’s hand pulled close to Steve's face.

"My pulse has been rising, my temples are pounding..." Eddie pulls back slightly, jerking his arm softly but acting as though it's taking much more effort. He runs his free hand up his chest, to his neck, as though the act of having his glove pulled off is turning him on.

"The pressure is so overwhelming and building..." The music is starting to build up again, Eddie’s movements growing more erratic along with it. He pulls and pulls, arm slowly being revealed, mouth hanging open like he's panting and eyes hooded as he looks to the audience, his free hand dragging back down his chest.

As the music reaches its peak again, Eddie lets his hand free of the glove—which swings back down to Steve's sweater with a soft tap—chest heaving with the false exertion of it. Steve is stunned, glove fingertip still between his teeth, unsure what he's meant to do with it, and unsure why this is one of the hottest things he's ever participated in.

Eddie now faces the audience, looking down, back up at them, and down again. His hand is at his jeans, teasingly pulling at the fly, his other hand raised to his ear, as though he can't hear the deafening cheers of the audience. When they've reached a loud enough volume to satisfy him, he yanks open the button and zipper, letting the denim hang open. It's not until Eddie turns back to Steve that he sees the black lace now revealed beneath the denim. It sends a bolt of electricity through Steve, jaw dropped slightly, glove now in his lap.

With another cheeky grin, Eddie turns, Steve realising quickly what the man intends. He shoves the glove into his own jeans pocket just as Eddie settles himself on Steve's lap, back against Steve's chest. Grabbing Steve's hands, he settles them on his hips, head hanging back over Steve's shoulder, lips dangerously close to Steve's neck. As Eddie runs his hands up his own chest, pulling at the shirt again, Steve's breath hitches in his throat, and he could swear Eddie is holding back a laugh.

The music is wild as Eddie pulls his shirt higher, body rolling slowly against Steve's, his ass pressing into Steve's crotch with each roll. Eddie sits up slightly, giving just enough space to pull the loose tank over his head, finally revealing the rest of his tattooed chest—and fuck, the guy is covered from the neck down it looks like—and more importantly, a lacy black bra. Steve tries not to grip any tighter to Eddie’s hips as he flings the shirt into the audience.

Laying back down to Steve's chest, he grabs Steve's hands and guides them up, letting them run over his hot skin, fingers trailing over the man’s ribs, up to the lacy black bra. Feeling the smooth metal of Eddie’s nipple piercings makes Steve feel hot all over, not at all helped by the man's fluid body rolls against him. Eddie continues to move his hands though, finally guiding Steve's fingers to the little clasp at the centre of his chest. With trembling fingers, Steve fiddles with the clasp until it comes undone. Continuing the rolls and not-so fake panting—now that it's right by Steve’s ear, he can hear the little huffs of breath—Eddie keeps a grasp on Steve's wrists, keeping Steve's hands firmly over his chest.

The music begins to fade, and Eddie releases Steve's hands, standing up quickly. The open lace bra slips down to his hands, to uproarious applause and cheering from the audience. Eddie pulls at the straps and slingshots it into the audience with a clear laugh that Steve can hear from his chair. The music has stopped, and the crowd continues their cheering. Eddie takes a deep bow, then stands with devil horns raised on both hands.

He turns to Steve with that same genuine smile from earlier in the show, taking his hand and pulling him up to standing. Eddie gestures to Steve with both arms outstretched, as though showcasing him. The audience continues their cheers, and Steve's face grows so hot, he's surprised his glasses haven't started fogging up.

All too soon, the emcee is thanking everyone for coming to the show and Eddie is taking Steve's hand to help him off the stage with another wink and cheeky smile. Steve only says a very quiet "thank you" before Eddie has released his hand and started walking off backstage.

Then Robin is all over him, chattering excitedly about how cool the whole thing was and that she tried to film as much of it as she could but she thinks she might have missed some because she was so into the performance that her phone fell away from them.

"See?! I told you that you'd love this!" She laughs, grabbing his arms. Steve is still a bit starstruck, but Robin misreads it. "Hey, are you good? Was it too much for you?"

"No, no, Robs, it was great," Steve says, a little sadly. "I'm just, uh. Never gonna see him again, am I?"

"Who? Eddie?" Robin asks.

Steve only gives her a sheepish look, embarrassed to have even admitted his fear of not seeing Eddie again.

Raising a brow at him, Robin looks pointedly down at his pants. "Uh, you might just, Stevie." Steve follows her gaze with a frown.

He still has the leather glove in his pocket.

Steve looks back to her, wide eyed with nerves. Robin just snorts at him, patting him on the arm. “Come on, dingus. Let’s grab another drink, maybe your new friend will come looking for his glove.”

They settle in at the bar, Robin laughing as she makes Steve watch the video of him on stage, looking flustered as hell. His face burns with more embarrassment, but she asserts how proud she is of him for doing something like this. With another drink in his system, he’s able to find the humour in it. If nothing else, it’s a crazy story he’ll get to tell his friends about.

A low husky voice in Steve’s ear makes him jump. “I believe you have something of mine, sweetheart.”

Steve turns on his barstool to see Eddie standing behind him, shirt back on and jeans buttoned back up. Most of the eye makeup is gone, but smudges of black still line his lashes, making his dark eyes seem even bigger. From his periphery, he notices that Robin has dutifully stayed facing the bar. Pulling the glove out of his pocket, he bashfully hands it over. “Uh, sorry about that,” Steve says, other hand going to the back of his neck. “I think I just panicked about what to do with it.”

Eddie takes it back with a smile, shoving it into his own pocket. “No problem, at least you didn’t try to take off with it. You wouldn’t believe the amount of clothes I lose to audience theft.”

“I can imagine,” Steve laughs.

“Yeah, I mean, the staff do a great job at collecting my things from the audience, but some people are sneaky, y’know?” Eddie kind of rambles a bit, hands twirling and gesturing with his words. It’s super cute, Steve realises, a grin growing on his face as he forgets to actually respond.

Humming, Eddie nods, probably thrown by Steve’s lack of response. “So! Did you have fun? I’ve been told I can go a little… overboard, sometimes.”

Steve chuckles nervously, hand automatically brushing through his hair. “Not overboard at all, but it was my first time doing anything like that. Definitely had, uh, a good time.” He can feel his cheeks heating again.

The charming persona comes over Eddie again, as he leans in with a smirk. “Well, you were a great audience participant,” he says, like it’s a secret he’s sharing. Steve can see a very faint dusting of freckles across Eddie’s nose and Christ, could this guy get any hotter?

Smile growing bigger and cheeks growing hotter, Steve just manages a quiet “thanks” and what the hell?! Steve knows how to flirt, he knows how to respond when he’s being flirted with. But something about Eddie, with his tattoos and his piercings and his cheeky smiles… it’s all just turning Steve into a puddle. The silence stretches between them, growing almost awkward, as they look at each other. From his side, Steve can sense Robin practically vibrating next to him. He can only imagine that she’s losing her mind over the tension between them. Or his stupidity. Maybe both.

Playing with his hair—pulling slightly on a curl by his shoulder—Eddie clears his throat. “Well, I, uh. Better get back to the, y’know. Packing up. Backstage.” He scratches at the back of his neck. “Um, it was lovely to meet you…?”

Steve blinks at the sudden change in conversation. “Steve!” He says, feeling slightly panicked. He holds his hand out and immediately thinks he must look like a massive idiot.

Eddie smiles at him, almost… resigned? “Eddie,” he says, gesturing to himself before taking Steve’s hand. “Lovely to meet you… Steve.” Eddie says his name like it’s fucking reverent. Steve feels his soul about to leave his body.

“You too,” Steve says, not wanting to let go. They finally let their hands fall away, Eddie taking two slow steps backwards—eyes still locked on Steve’s—before turning. Robin immediately jabs Steve in the ribs with her sharp elbow, making him gasp in pain.

“Unless!” Steve calls out, not even completely sure where he’s going with it.

Eddie looks over his shoulder, not quite turning back to him. “Unless…?”

“Would you, uh, like a drink, maybe?” God, even Steve can hear how pathetic he sounds.

With a grin that’s… actually quite shy, Eddie pulls a lock of his hair across his face. “Yeah… I’d like that,” he says, voice soft.

Steve goes home with Eddie’s number in his phone and a date planned for the next night.

immediately post-show, backstage:

Eddie flies into the dressing room and dramatically flops down across the beat up old armchair with a sigh.

“Great show tonight, Eddie!” Vickie is sitting at the mirror, all her belongings packed up. “The audience was going crazy!”

Letting out a hum that turns into a groan, Eddie rests his forearm over his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, turning to him on her stool.

“Vickieeee…” Eddie whines. “My beloved Victoria—”

“Not my name.”

“I’m in love!” Eddie cries, letting his head hang back over the armrest.

Vickie snorts. “God, dare I ask with whom?”

Eddie whines again, a loud moan coming from deep in his soul. He sighs again. “Soft swoopy hair… big, beautiful hazel eyes and glasses… moles like a constellation on his skin… Vickie, he can’t be real. He just can’t be. No one should look that good in a yellow sweater.”

“Yellow…?” Vickie trails off before gasping and leaping to the floor by Eddie’s head. “Your audience participant?! No. Eddie. Edward. Say it isn’t so!”

Holding both hands over his face, Eddie lets out another wallowing moan, before opening his fingers to reveal one eye. “I… bit him.”

Gasping, Vickie slaps the floor with both hands. “You didn’t!”

“I did!” Eddie wails, covering his face again.

“Oh my god!” Vickie laughs.

“Hey, Eddie.” Gareth walks in, holding a small bundle of black fabric. “Great show tonight. We got almost everything back, but we’re missing… one glove. Sorry, man.”

“Thanks, Gareth,” Eddie says miserably. Gareth drops the pile of clothes on the armchair and heads back out with a two-finger salute.

Vickie turns to him with light in her eyes. “Eddie, Eddie, look at me.” She shakes his arm until he turns his forlorn gaze to her. “Mister Yellow Sweater has your glove.” 

Eddie just looks at her, his brain processing too slowly.

“Go!” she cries, pulling him up. “Go and find him, he’s probably still here!”

“What? No!” Eddie lets himself go limp and heavy against her pulls. “Just leave me to my yearning for what will never be.”

“Eddie, I swear to god,” she says with effort, finally pulling him up. “Get out there and find your man. And your glove.”

Groaning loudly, Eddie stands up and finds his shirt in the pile. “Fine. If only to get my glove back, I’ll go and find Mister Perfect Hair.”

[riacte]

I watched the new Precure All Stars F and it unironically slaps (and I have the insert song on such an unhealthy loop that I know it will show up in my Spotify Wrapped) so more Hermitgals Precure brainstorming ^_^

I feel like I mentioned this before but False is now rich. She isn't just the "cool responsible student council leader blue archer" trope, she's now also from a rich family. ("But this is just like Spopera-" "Yeah shhh I like that premise and it's convenient ^_^") Like, she lives in a mansion but she hides her upbringing so people don't think she's snobby.

The main reason why the plot needs a character with money is because of the dire housing situation. Three fairies with human forms. A redeemed villain. Where is everyone gonna live? Obviously, ojou-san False solves this with a snap of her fingers.

Cleo in my mind is also like... recovering from Joe's minor character death. So after their defeat and their transformation tool breaking, they move out and go to a new town for a fresh start. (Cleo is kind of based on Mami from Madoka Magica) And she lived in like a small apartment until she met the gang and False was like "yeah house time".

I think Cleo, Gem, Pearl, Iskall, and Ren end up living together? In a big house? Like the Nutts House in Yes 5? It becomes the base of their operations. Actually it'll be kinda funny if the big hermit house is in like the Symmetry mansion's backyard. A bunch of people leaving the Symmetry mansion to go to school every day. Rip Stress for living with her family in the arts and crafts store they own.

Speaking of human Ren, I want him to work in the school cafeteria like Syrup from Yes 5. He's the king of the Hermit Kingdom and wants to mingle with the "peasants" to widen his horizons or something. False gets him a job because she's the student council president and nepotism. Waiter Ren is like "everyone can get in line for me :D XD" and everyone is like "omggggggg he's so hot 😍". False excuses all the weird things Ren does by saying he's her penpal from a foreign country.

Gem and Pearl both deal heavily with the burden of being the Chosen One. Gem is a fairy who was granted a human / cure form because of the wishes of the Hermit Kingdom and she knows she's carrying the hopes and dreams of her entire kingdom. Meanwhile, Pearl was brainwashed by the evil Corporation to do their bidding because her inherent creativity and talent was so powerful that it was a threat. So Pearl knows she has the power to topple the Corporation. And it becomes a very real point of solidarity between the newcomers Gem and Pearl because the other three cures are normie humans. They're also like, non-humans, so they struggle to adapt to the human world together and go to school together. But they don't want to bother their other friends so they try to deal with it together 🥺🥺🥺

Gem is under so much pressure!! She's like the OP mid season addition to the team! Gem knows she has to Geminislay but what if she isn't as strong as everyone hoped? What if she lets everyone down? What if it was a mistake for the kingdom to trust her??

I want Cleo and False to be the healer type characters :D because they're usually characterised as the mean, assertive, blunt people? But in this AU it makes sense for them to also be healers. Cleo's powers are inherently connected to life and death (she kinda raised Joe from the dead or something like that), and after facing their failure from a year ago, Cleo is determined to protect her allies and is high on the defence.

Meanwhile, while False excels at ranged combat, she also... just wants everyone to get along. Cleo defends to protect, False fights to protect. Also since False is the careful one, it makes sense for her to watch over for everyone. Plus she's the one saving the fairies from being kidnapped. Probably number one cause of harm to Ren and simultaneously Ren's number one saviour.

This is also to contrast against Stress who is absolutely NOT the healer type. Stress is brash, impulsive, loud, and rushes into combat with her bright pink fists. She smashes everything apart to prove her point. Stress is a monster. She's terrifying. And wears bright pink.

Thinking about evil Ren arc again. But the "evil" is from himself— his trauma of losing his father, his kingdom in ruins, and now his best friend Iskall is in a coma (yeah this happens). Ren has always tried his best to be optimistic because he's the only heir to the kingdom and he has to be strong for literally everyone, but he's also like the character trope who smiles to hide their pain. He's silly and goofy on purpose. But then when Iskall is out of commission, Ren loses it and starts spiralling (which is what usually happens when Ren loses one of his green people). His hair starts turning grey. Then his skin. And finally his eyes turn an unsettling green— the colour of the emeralds. Good King Ren has corrupted himself into Bad King Ren.

Ren also unleashes a beast form which is basically a big terrifying shadow wolf (kind of like the Wolf from the webtoon Four Leaf? It's a cute and colourful webtoon about magical girls based on the tale of the Red Riding Hood, it's ending soon so it's a great time to read it!). He's not evilised by the evil Corporation (unlike villain Pearl / possessed Stress) and he's still himself (unlike False's evil reflection). So they don't know how to to fight him / bring him back.

Gem, as a resident of the Hermit Kingdom, starts a "coup" against Bad Ren (like Soup Group-ish). She's like "I want the best for my kingdom, and unfortunately our king isn't in his right mind". The cures fight Ren and try to make him snap out of it.

Cleo knows what it feels like to lose a friend so she has a long conversation with Ren about grief and moving on

And False, the ruthless warrior False, decides not to fight. Because she remembers picking up a soggy sad pathetic Ren in the rain during their first meeting. Ren is still sad and pathetic to her. She can't bring herself to hurt him. It's as simple of that.

Everyone else: You're insane. You can't save him with the power of love.

False: Yeah but I don't wanna fight the shadow wolf. Like, this is Ren. And how much damage can Ren do? The guy who falls down when he tries to open a door? C'mon guys. It's alright. This is just an eldritch horror that we have never encountered and don't know how to purify. This is fine.

Shadow wolf Ren: 😡

False, stretching out a hand to pat shadow Ren: There, there. I'm not scared of you. You're just Ren. You're still Ren ^_^

Shadow wolf Ren: ...🥺?

(This is a metaphor about False embracing all sides of Ren, not just his silly charming likeable side, but his insecurities and grief and pain. Because while Ren puts on a strong face for everyone, False met him at his lowest point and he can't hide that from her.)

Once Ren is purified, he feels deeply guilty about hurting his friends (and not having done anything productive to heal Iskall) and everyone goes awwww it's fine Ren we love you still <3 (even if you're kind of useless and annoying)

Ren, sad and sniffling: I am STEPPING DOWN as heir and Lady Cleo can take the Tiny Crown of the Dog—

And they all shut him up before he does anything worse. Gem is like "yeah we wanted to defeat your evil form but we didn't want you to ABDICATE-"

[red-flagging]

Sewis - Rhythm of Your Love

(send me a title and i'll give you a 5 sentence* fic)

"Seb," Lewis's muffled voice says, a rhythmic thumping coming from the trailer door for the fifth time in as many minutes, "Seb, I know you're in there, come on."

"No," Sebastian says out loud into his pillow, and even to his own ears, his voice sounds horribly petulant, but–fuck, he deserves to be, after this race. Fuck Austria, and fuck the SF1000, and Binotto, and Christian for finding him after the race just to clap him on the back and say, "Tough bit of luck, eh?" – and fuck himself, too, for looking over at the RB16 in parc fermé and thinking for one treacherous moment, what if, what if, what if–

"Seb," Lewis says, "I'm not leaving until you open this door." His voice is equal parts concerned and exasperated, the sound of it as familiar as Seb's own heartbeat. As stupidly, stubbornly persistent as his own heart, too, with the way it bashes itself against closed doors and refuses to leave well enough alone and surfaces in front of him, day after day after year after year, even when he's done nothing to keep it coming back.

He waits a second longer anyways, just in case Lewis has let his better judgement win out and is going to leave him to wallow in peace after all–

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap, Lewis's hand on the door says again, and Sebastian groans into the pillow and pushes himself up to go let him in.

[possessingtheproperspirit]

It’s a shame that I can’t provide a video of James & Lily’s show dance from the final chapter of Murder on the Dance Floor, because I can picture it so clearly in my head.

[lemony-snickers]

ahhh soft fun spring prompts ! maybe a Kakashi and Saya for dancing in the rain...or unintentional kisses...? or whatever you like---sorry, I'm bad at this

you are far too kind and spoil me by choosing my favourite lady. <3 i didn't quite go with an unintentional kiss, but... well, you'll see, i guess, but i hope you like what i came up with. thank you again <3

Saya should have brought an umbrella.

As she races through the downpour toward the studio, she mutters a string of curses so vulgar and adamant that someone she passes actually shouts at her to watch her language.

Maybe she should, but she honestly doesn't care because Kakashi is going to kill her for being late, anyway. She gazes overhead at the ominous clouds, muttering a half-hearted prayer for a bolt of lightning to strike her as she runs.

No such luck.

"You're late."

Kakashi doesn't even turn around when she pulls the door open and Saya stands there, dripping onto the carpet like a drowned ferret.

"You really want me to come in?" she asks, and he finally looks at her.

The irritation is so clear in his posture Saya doesn't need him to say anything. He does, of course, anyway. Because Kakashi Hatake must always say every cutting thought that crosses his mind.

"So you're late and wet and now we can't rehearse."

Saya's face scrunches up as she bites her lip to keep from saying something equally condescending in return. "Yes, well, I wasn't home this morning and by the time I realized it was gonna rain, it was too late to go back and fetch my boots and my umbrella."

Kakashi crosses his arms over his chest and raises a questioning eyebrow.

"If you weren't home, where were you?"

Saya straightens, levelling him with a challenging stare. "I don't recall my personal schedule being any of your business."

Kakashi snorts. "You can screw whoever you like," he says, "but now your poor decision making is impacting my ability to work."

Saya rolls her eyes. "I don't think a single missed rehearsal is going to truncate our progress," she says, "At this point we're just running around in circles anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Kakashi hates when she disagrees with him. Their rehearsal time is split almost evenly between surly silence and sharp sarcastic jabs as they move together, weaving new choreography between the threads of Sakumo's original piece.

Will of Fire debuts as a duet in only six short weeks and they still don't have the final sequence figured out.

"I'm just saying, maybe taking a break isn't a bad idea. We haven't come up with anything good in two weeks. Plus," she adds, "I think i'm starting to resent you and that's not gonna help our chemistry on stage."

Kakashi growls, crossing the small studio in only a few long strides and plopping onto the small square of carpet near the door to pull his shoes back on.

"Great," Saya says, "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

She turns to leave, but Kakashi's strong grip strangles the back of her shirt and she stumbles backward. "What the hell?"

"I didn't say we weren't rehearsing," Kakashi says, heaving himself to his feet by using Saya as leverage, "I'm just not willing to let you damage my expensive flooring."

Saya rolls her eyes, but follows him onto the sidewalk anyway, standing in the torrential rain as he locks the studio doors behind him.

Kakashi says nothing as he turns, and Saya hates that she follows him without question. For all that he can be a haughty asshole sometimes, she trusts his judgement. Wouldn't have left her old company for the chance to dance with him if she didn't.

When he leads her to a small secluded park, Saya resigns herself to the least comfortable rehearsal of her life. Her shoes are soaked through, the pads of her toes probably already wrinkled and prune-like inside her sodden socks.

Kakashi stops, turns, and then it's, "Five, six, seven, eight--" and they begin to move without any further preamble.

The beginning of the piece is simple. Sakumo's Will of Fire began with a lengthy adagio, slow measured movements of his limbs always in opposition--pulling him in different directions, tearing him apart.

Their updated version uses this same concept, except instead of only their limbs, Kakashi and Saya use one another to create the push and pull effect. Saya begins in a slow passe, then a promenade en seconde, with Kakashi tugging her leg as she moves, trying to knock her off balance.

He almost succeeds this time, her shoe slipping on the soggy grass, but she manages to recover, shooting him the faintest glare through the haze of rain.

That he's already wearing a smirk when she looks at him only further irritates her.

At least in the next sequence, she gets to annoy him instead, climbing up his back to twine her limbs around his torso as he struggles ineffectually to shed her weight. Since they're outside, the formality of the studio several blocks away, she whispers against his ear, "You can't get rid of me that easily," before she lowers herself to the ground beneath him, wrapping around his left leg like a child.

She wondered when he created the sequence whether he did this with his father as a kid--wrapped around Sakumo's leg and begged him not to leave.

It makes her sad when she thinks about it too much; contemplates why it was so important for Kakashi to revive his father's defunct dance company, why he's so desperate to reinvent Sakumo's final work.

So she pushes the thoughts away, focuses on the movement, the way her palms sink into the mud as she scrambles to stand, the way the rain drips uncomfortably into her ear as she arches away from Kakashi.

Is the rain in his eyes, too? Is her face a blur like his is? Does he care that she's smeared muck across his cheek and his shoulder?

When they reach the point of the dance they have yet to complete, Saya slows. She's about to open her mouth to ask if he wants to start from the top when Kakashi's hands wrap around her middle, tugging her body close.

She gasps quietly, surprised, when he nuzzles into her hair, sinks to one knee with her balanced against the other so she can use his thigh as a chair. She looks at him over her shoulder, and the longing in the gesture is not wholly manufactured for the performance.

Because when she looks at his face this close, she can see something burning in his gaze she isn't quite prepared for.

Following his lead, Saya reaches a hand out and strokes Kakashi's cheek with the back of her hand. She exaggerates the movement, to make it clear it's part of the improvisation, an addition to the choreography.

Nothing else.

She maybe lingers a moment longer than she should, though, before she stands, leaning her body away from him as she looses herself in the story they weave together.

They might not remember everything for the next run through, but it certainly feels like whatever creative block they've been fighting has loosened a little. Saya's hair sticks to her face, soaked with rain and sweat, and Kakashi clings to her desperately, mirroring her movements and then retaking the lead so she can follow him instead.

It's a tug of war to see who will be in control when they reach the end, neither of them willing to cede to the other.

Kakashi hums the final bars of the music against Saya's ear and she turns to lean into him, wraps one leg in attitude around his waist as she lifts up on her toes and presses her mouth almost to touch his.

His lips part, like they are ready to meet hers, one hand sliding over the small of her back.

And then the humming stops. The dance is over.

Saya lingers only another single heartbeat before she pulls away, straightens her clothes where they've bunched awkwardly against her skin in deference Kakashi's strong fingers.

"Do you want to run the whole thing again?" she asks, "Or just the new part?"

Kakashi doesn't answer for a moment, just stares at her through the haze of the rain. Then, he blinks furiously a few times--whether to rid his lashes of water or for some othe reason, she isn't entirely sure--and says, "Just the new part, I think."

Saya gets into position.

"Ready?" Kakashi asks. She nods. "Five, six, seven, eight--"

prompt list for those interested. <3

[allmylovecatherine]

reviving the side blog to say aussie musical enjoyers, if you get the chance and have the means to see laura murphy’s zombie! the musical u ABSOLUTELY should

i saw one of the previews on a visit to sydney and loved every second, as did my best pals who i would say are not as generally invested in musicals as i am so get around it! support some new original australian theatre!!

[earthgrudgefear]

i made (remade? updated?) multiple akatsuki playlists recently but they're still short playlists so i put all of them into one playlist that i'm listening to right now and every song is another gut punch

[softquietsteadylove]

For the Singer/Bodyguard AU, what about Gil was injured protecting Thena in her tour and Thena was taking care of her, suddenly Gil asked if she could sing for him? I can really imagine him falling asleep in the middle of the song and Thena secretly kissing him🫣

"Oh, Gil," Thena sighed, sitting herself next to Gil, who was laid in one of the many beds on the tour bus.

After the incident that was having to intercept a fan charging the stage and ending up falling into the pit, Gil was on painkillers and bed rest for the night with a pulled shoulder and twisted ankle. Nothing that would put him out of commission for the rest of the tour, but enough that Thena hadn't left his side for a moment.

The rest of the crew was divided up into making sure no one approached the tour bus, getting food, breaking down what of the stage and equipment had to go with them, and etc.

"Stop making that face."

Thena opened her eyes - interrupting her misery - just to glare down at him. "What face?"

"That face," Gil looked up at her, turning his head while the rest of him felt loosey-goosey. "That's your worrying face."

"I don't have a worrying face."

"You do, it's that one," Gil pointed out, and it did ultimately get a laugh out of her, however weak. "You get that face when you're preparing for a live performance, or when you have to do an interview, or when you have to go to some party."

"You make it sound as if I do nothing but worry all the time," Thena frowned down at him (as she pulled the blankets higher up).

"Well, not all the time," Gil sighed as she adjusted his pillows for him too. He nestled into them with a contented smile.

Thena's face hovered somewhere between a contented frown or an unhappy smile.

"It's my job, you know."

"Your job is to keep me at a distance," she whispered, wilting on her perch on the edge of the bed. "Not to get hurt doing so."

"My job is to protect you, Thena." Gil pulled his good arm out from the blanket, although she tried to stop it as he did. But he let her take his hand, just so he could thread their fingers together. He caught her eye, hoping she would really listen to him through all those voices in her head. "My job is to keep you safe, and I'd do anything to accomplish it."

"Gil," Thena started.

But he shook his head, "no arguments. I'm in charge, and I say that tonight was a good night."

Thena pursed her lips, trailing her eyes from the shoulder he couldn't lift above his head to the ankle he had limped back on. "I disagree."

Gil took in her pinched lip and the little knot between her brows. He shuffled on the bed again. "Sing something for me?"

"What?"

"I'm-" Gil paused to yawn in the middle of his sentence, "beat. You're already here--sing something for me? Just a little something?"

"Like what?" Thena laughed, although her hand wandered up to brush over his cheek.

Gil let his eyes drift closed with the picture of her looking at him like that in his mind. "Just whatever you sing when we're in the car, or when you're brushing your hair."

Thena smiled. Gil was drifting off to sleep, or at the very least doing a pretty good job of pretending he was. She never thought of it when she sang lightly throughout her daily life. But of course Gil would notice. He probably noticed it was usually the same song, too.

She hadn't released it, yet. She might never, really. It was just a light little tune that had come to her one night while in the limo with him. It was back when they had just started working together, and they were just talking about nothing at all.

He had held out a hand without a second thought. She hadn't understood at first but he offered a gentle smile, "your jewellery. You're dying to take it off, right? I'll hold onto it for you."

It was such a simple little thing. Her ears were both double pierced, but any other ear cuffs or third piercings were just for show. And she didn't wear much jewellery herself because the clasps just irritated her skin.

She had just stared, pulling off the ear cuffs, the extravagant - excessive - golden necklace, the bracelets--all of it. She handed them over to Gil, who slipped them all into his inside pocket.

"Kingo can blame me for them being tangled," he excused, already knowing she would be worried about it.

And ever since then, she had been humming her sweet little tune to herself whenever her mind strayed to her head of security.

"I spy, with my little tired eye, tiny as a firefly... "

Thena ran her fingers through his hair, singing the light tune as his breathing evened out. It wouldn't have surprised her if he had been faking being tired enough to sleep just to put her at ease. But soon a light snore came from him.

It was hard to sing when she was smiling so much.

The short song ended, but Thena remained leaning over him. He must have been truly exhausted to drift off just like that. Not that she wasn't, herself--they were all exhausted from touring. But Gil especially didn't get the rest he deserved, she was sure.

Thena tilted her head at him, tucking some hair behind her ear. He looked sweet, lying there with his face totally relaxed. She didn't get to see it that way often. He could look so serious when they were working, but she also knew it to be laughing and smiling just as often.

She liked his laugh. She liked his smile.

Thena leaned over, touching her lips to his. Just on a whim--just an idea that popped into her head. Just...the littlest of little kisses.

She liked it.

"You guys okay in here?"

Thena rushed to stand up, whacking her head off the roof of the bus bed on her way. "Shit!"

"Thena?"

"H-Hey," she smiled as the rest of the crew filed onto the bus with their spoils. She held her hands behind her back, walking towards the end of the bus with her bed and its curtain. "Find everything okay?"

"Yeah--hopefully the next stop has more open at this time of night."

Thena just nodded, hoping the faintness of the bus lights would hide the burning in her cheeks.

[antisatiric]

[ first dance ] sender and receiver share their first dance at their wedding (Alice isn’t dead au!)

It doesn't feel like a dream.

No, Twain has spent most of his life feeling like he's living in a dream, drifting between one thing and the next with no real direction or set ending. Work had given him a place to land, and Alastor had kept him tethered there. He'd made the dream feel lucid. He'd given Twain a reason to stay somewhere; something to look forward to every single day.

(Twain had said as much in his vows. And, as a monument to his commitment, it's not even 'Twain' anymore.)

So Mark doesn't feel like he's dreaming when the beginning notes of music begin to play and the chatter falls to a complete hush, everyone else fading so far into the background he might forget they're there entirely. Instead, it feels real. Like this might just be the only thing that's real---him and Alastor.

Getting married. Having just gotten married.

He only remembers to move with the music because Alastor does, and because it's nothing complicated. Nothing Mark can't keep up with even at his most distracted; but it's more than a few steps above standing and swaying, because Alastor definitely wouldn't tolerate not dancing properly for their first dance.

And Mark likes it too, anyways, because putting on a show has always been something that's fun for him---only this time there's nothing fake about any of it.

There are a lot of things Mark could say. A lot of things he wants to, even, but he knows they can wait. And the time does fly by, because he practiced for the longest time he's ever practiced anything to be able to do this---to be able to give Alastor this. Every step is something he's committed to muscle memory because he'd wanted it to be perfect.

The dance itself isn't what matters anyway. It's what comes after---the music peters out, and the guests cheer, though almost every sound feels like it's coming through water, now.

Mark only wastes a second because he wants to commit Alastor's expression as they come to a standstill to memory; he rises to close the distance and kiss Alastor the second he's no longer satisfied just looking, because he's never wanted to kiss Alastor more.

It's the most real thing there could be.

dancing. / accepting.

[wonderkat11]

Dancing Killua

Dancing through the star, in a dance studio, Killua was there just dancing in the dance studio having a good time doing his choreo due to dancer x dancer au since I want to do the fanart, but it's only him because I only draw Killua Zoldyck for good! Like I told you, Killua was getting ready for practice in the training time for the choreo showtime unlike keeping his distance from his deadly flamenco dance, for the aura of his own dance could only be described as… murderous intent…!

Made in IbisPaintX for Digital Art maker.

Rules: DO NOT STEAL MY ART! No Rude Comments Please.

Killua Zoldyck belongs to Hunter x Hunter.

See also: Speedpaint: 

[hellbornsworld]

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS(14)‧₊˚☁️⋅♡𓂃ִֶָ࣪☾。‧₊˚☁️⋅♡𓂃ִֶָ࣪☾。

🌻 oxygen | Mafia!Jungkook x f!Reader | One-Shot | @gimmethatagustd

🌻 Beauty and The Beast | JK X Reader | fairytale au | One-Shot | @guksthighs

🌻make it cute | jeon jungkook x (f)reader | One-Shot | @aaagustd

🌻ALWAYS WITH YOU | husband! jk X Reader | One-Shot | @frmisnow

🌻Ｄｏｏｒ Ｌｏｃｋ | f.m reader x jungkook | One-Shot | @cheegu3

🌻Love on the Rocks | hfth!jungkook x f. reader | Series | @jjungkookislife

🌻habits of a clandestine nature | collegejk x female oc | One-Shot | @alphabetboyluvr

🌻Lacrimosa | Vampire!Jungkook x widow!Hesperia(OC) | One-Shot | @houdikoo

🌻blooming | sunshine oc x grumpy jk | Drabble | @kjhmyg

🌻break up with your boyfriend | fuckboy!jungkook x female reader | One-Shot | @spideyjimin

🌻SOJU | fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader | Series | @hoseoksluna

🌻chaebol! | chaebol!jungkook X Reader | Series | @muniimyg

🌻Red Lace | painter!jk x reader | Series | @reredaydreams

🌻anatomy of the moon | werewolf!jungkook x werewolf fem reader | Love Triangle | Side:vampire!yoongi x werewolf fem reader | @caelesjjk

🌻Animal | Boxer!Jungkook X Reader | Series | @cutaepatootie

🌻Choices | Werewolf !Jungkook x Reader | Series | @jjngkook7

🌻window panels | guitarist!Jungkook x lawyer!femreader | Series | @rkivepetals

🌻the final stretch | JK X Reader | One-Shot | @luciathcv

🌻Poisoned Chalice | filmmaker!jungkook x filmmaker!fem!reader | Series | @go1denjeon

🌻𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒂 | Choreographer Major!Jungkook X Rich Ballerina!(fem)Reader | Series | @angllicjk

[baby-yongbok]

Random Texts w/ your Secret Boyfriend

Idol!Lee Know x Choreographer!Afab!Reader

Genre: Fluffy [Still MDNI] Content Count: 25 Screenshots, 13 Conversations A/N: The Group Chat conversation is in Minho's POV. Everything else is in reader's POV. + There are references to Chan and Hyunjin's parts of the series (Just for a second). Each of these stories take place in the same au. ✧ Masterlist✧ Secret Boyfriend Series: Chan , Lee Know, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix , Seungmin , I.N

Note: If you want to be tagged in any updates for this series you must have an age indicator on your account.

˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Perm. Tag List:

@compersian @kibs-and-bits @lixiluvs @armystay89 @lghtdarling

@teddy-stay , @baconcupcakes123, @moonchild9350 ,

@krayzieestay, @soulsbbg , @stay-bi , @yzsqu , @gho-ster , @lghtdarling

(Reply to this post if you'd like to be added to the perm. taglist.)

Series Tag List:

@seungmyynie

[rafecameronssl4t]

omg what about the forced marriage au! but sofia tries to flirt w rafe inspite of him being a married man infront of the reader and he sets his boundaries and makes it clear that he is only loyal to the reader

Eyes don’t lie || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: I don't think i mentioned it in the background for this au but reader and her family are practically royalty in obx. I forgot to mention this in the other fic but readers siblings from oldest to youngest is as followed: William Astoria Edward Charlotte and reader

Warnings: nothing really!!

Word count: 1,609

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

Sofia’s eyes wandered around the grand ballroom, her gaze drifted appreciatively over the opulent surroundings. The architecture of the room was breathtaking, its grandeur perfectly fitting for the New Year’s Eve celebration, which was exclusive to the elite socialites of Outer Banks.

The high ceilings, adorned with sparkling chandeliers, cast a warm glow over the elegantly dressed guests. Sofia went about serving drinks to the guests, her eyes constantly scanning the crowd for a specific person. The ballroom was alive with chatter and laughter, but her attention was fixed on the grand staircase at the far end of the room.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted as the crowd’s clapping grew louder and more rhythmic. Sofia’s gaze followed the collective attention to the top of the grand staircase. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw your family make their entrance. First, your parents descended the stairs, radiating an air of effortless elegance.

They were followed by your siblings and their partners, each step meticulously coordinated, adding to the grandeur of the moment. And then, as if choreographed for a royal event, you and Rafe appeared, linked arm in arm. The sight was nothing short of breathtaking.

The way the crowd’s applause built to a crescendo as you both descended the stairs left Sofia in awe. The admiration etched on every guest’s face was palpable, a testament to the elevated status your family held. Sofia had known your family was influential, but seeing it up close was overwhelming.

The opulence and grace with which you and Rafe carried yourselves, combined with the sheer scale of the event, exceeded anything she had imagined. This elite socialite world was new to her; she had only been filling in for someone who couldn’t attend, and now she was witnessing a spectacle that felt almost surreal.

Sofia’s eyes followed you and Rafe as you navigated the room, your every movement drawing admiring glances from the guests. You both were effortlessly engaged in conversations, laughter dancing between you as you exchanged smiles. Sofia couldn’t help but notice how Rafe’s hand would rest possessively on your waist, his smile widening whenever he glanced down at you, clearly enjoying your company.

A pang of envy twisted in her stomach as she observed the closeness between you two. As the night wore on, you and Rafe made your way to the bar. Rafe took charge, ordering drinks for both of you while you chatted animatedly with your sisters. His hand lingered on the small of your back, a subtle but intimate gesture that spoke volume to Sofia.

Sofia watched this interaction with a mix of fascination and frustration. Determined to make her presence felt, Sofia stepped closer to the two from where she was behind the bar, her smile wide and her gaze fixed on Rafe. "It’s so beautiful here, isn’t it?" she said, her voice laced with a flirtatious tone.

Rafe gave a curt nod, his focus remaining squarely on you as he waits for his drinks. His body language was clear—he was fully engaged with you and had little interest in entertaining Sofia’s advances. Despite his lack of response, Sofia persisted, her smile unwavering as she tried to find another way to break through.

It was obvious to Rafe that Sofia had a liking towards him and she was not good at hiding it. Rafe’s gaze remained fixed on you, but his tone was firm and polite. “I'm just here to enjoy the evening with my wife,” he said, his words leaving little room for further flirtation. Sofia’s smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered, trying to mask her disappointment.

“Well I hope you enjoying the rest of the party," she said, her tone still light but with a hint of frustration. Rafe offered a polite but distant smile before turning his attention back to you, his hand still resting protectively on the small of your back. Sofia, though slightly deflated by his lack of interest, couldn’t help but let her gaze linger on him throughout the night, her eyes trailing his every move.

~

As you and Rafe exchanged quiet words, you leaned in closer to him, your lips near his ear as you asked, “Do you know her?” Your tone was casual, but your curiosity was clear. Rafe’s brows furrowed slightly before he followed your gaze to where Sofia quickly averted her eyes, trying to look busy behind the bar. “Some pogue that works at the country club,” he replied flatly, his voice laced with boredom as he turned back to you.

You hummed in response, your eyes glinting with amusement. “She seems quite interested in you,” you mused, a small smirk playing on your lips as you observed Sofia’s poorly hidden attempts to steal glances at Rafe. He rolled his eyes, lifting his glass to his mouth, clearly unimpressed by the attention. “Find this amusing, do you?” he asked, his voice tinged with sarcasm as he took a sip of his drink.

You could see the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Very,” you replied, your smirk widening as you watched him shake his head in mock exasperation. The easy banter between you both was laced with an intimacy that only deepened Sofia’s envy as she watched from afar, her efforts to catch Rafe’s eye futile.

~

“One minute till midnight!” a voice called out from the crowd, drawing Sofia’s attention. “Get ready for your New Year’s kiss!” The cheerful voice belonged to Astoria, whose playful tone sparked laughter among the guests. Sofia’s gaze instantly zeroed in on you and Rafe, standing close together with his hand resting possessively on your lower back, subtly guiding you closer.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the way Rafe seemed so effortlessly in control, his every movement a declaration of his claim on you. As the countdown began, Rafe gently turned you so that your back was to Sofia, shielding your shared moment from prying eyes. His gaze roamed over your face with an intensity that made Sofia’s chest tighten. “What are you doing?” you whispered, your voice barely audible amidst the growing excitement.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he murmured in response, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. His breath fanned across your lips as he pulled you even closer, his touch both tender and possessive. “Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!” The room chanted in unison, voices rising in anticipation as the new year approached.

As the numbers ticked down, Rafe’s hand slid up to rest on the back of your neck, his fingers lightly grazing your jawline in a way that sent shivers down your spine. At the stroke of midnight, Sofia watched with a mixture of longing and frustration as Rafe leaned in, pressing his lips firmly against yours. The world seemed to pause for her, the moment suspended in time as she took in the sight of the man she desired so deeply kissing someone else.

A camera flash illuminated the room, capturing the intimate moment between you and Rafe as you slightly pulled away, only for Rafe to keep you close against him. His hand remained firm on your back, refusing to let the moment slip away so easily. The room erupted into celebration—confetti rained down, fireworks burst outside, and the sound of cheers and clinking glasses filled the air.

But Sofia couldn’t focus on any of it. Her eyes were locked on Rafe, whose lips remained pressed against yours even as the celebrations continued around you. Then, something shifted. Rafe’s eyes opened, and as he kissed you, his gaze lifted over your head, locking onto Sofia’s. His cool blue eyes met hers, and in that instant, she felt as though the breath had been stolen from her lungs.

But instead of the cold indifference she might have expected, there was a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t a smile of invitation; it was a silent warning. His message was clear—back off. He was telling her without words that he was loyal to you, that there was no room for anyone else. Her heart pounded wildly, the sound of it echoing in her ears as she stood frozen, unable to look away.

Sofia felt her breath catch in her throat, her heart pounding harder as she realized the intent behind his gaze. She stood frozen, unable to look away, as that smirk told her everything she needed to know. Rafe was making it clear that she was wasting her time, that his commitment was to you and you alone.

Rafe held her gaze for a moment longer, his smirk lingering as if to drive the point home, before his eyes dropped back to you. The moment you broke the kiss, a smile spread across your face as you pressed your hands against his chest, turning your attention to the fireworks outside. Only then did Rafe’s expression shift, his smirk fading into a polished, aristocratic smile as he glanced around the room.

He clapped along with the crowd, though his enthusiasm was clearly feigned. After a few seconds, he snatched a flute of champagne from a floating tray, knocking it back in one swift motion. The gesture was casual, almost dismissive, as if the exchange with Sofia had been nothing more than a brief interruption in an otherwise perfect night.

Sofia, left standing in the shadows, could only watch as the man she coveted so dearly turned away, his focus entirely on you. The pit of envy in her stomach deepened, but now mingled with a bitter understanding—Rafe’s loyalty to you was unshakeable, and there was nothing she could do to change that.

[purin-gambler]

college au atsumu who's crushing on our chubby reader big time who's a cheerleader 🤔

atsumu was pained. in all his years of playing volleyball, miya atsumu found himself distracted for the very first time during a game. this has never happened to him before. and its all because of the most adorable plush girl hes ever had the blessing of seeing. attention so fixated that whenever he scored, hes turning his head to you instantly, just to see your lips mouth his name while chanting the same scoring cheer the rest of your team is doing. but hes biased. he wants to see you say his name, he wants your attention, and hed pin after it for the rest of his life if he had to.

it was too bold to say he was in love with you. hes never actually had the opportunity to properly talk to you on campus, outside of seeing you during his college volleyball games. but it was near impossible for him to deny his growing infatuation that seemed to only get worse and worse during the season, every single time you were there by the stands on behalf of the cheerleading team. his attention was constantly between the game and you. atsumus eyes wandering and trying to find the cutest chubby cheerleader in her tight little uniform whenever he could spare even the shortest glance in your direction. an occurrence done so often, volleyballs were flying into his face.

he had it bad for you from the first second upon notice. and it only got all the worse. atsumu always far too pained by the way your uniform never failed to accentuate each loving curve you held so graciously. he was obsessed with that uniform on you, and his gaze wasnt shy of showing it. the sweet cheer routines your team had you doing in your short uniform skirt that showcased your full thighs on proper display for atsumu to ogle at. same with the tight top, hugging and clinging onto all the pudge and curve. you dont even understand the way hes thanking your cheer choreographers for giving him the sight of you doing all these jumps and steps that let the squish of your body bounce and jiggle with each move. all in ways where he wishes he could run up to you right then and there, endlessly kiss and gently nibble your round face, rest his head onto your plushness, caress his fingers lovingly over your beautiful exposed stretch marks, and lightly squeeze at all the softer parts of your body to see the jiggle all up close for himself.

this was bad for him. the longer this crush went on, the more he grew self aware of just how much he was falling in a deeper captivation towards you.

so is he in love with you?

perhaps just a teeny tiny bit.

[lecsainz]

Hope you're doing amazing! I love your blog so much! I come here almost every other day to day dream about my favourites and read your pieces again and again. Could i request Carlos x reader fic where Carlos comforts the reader after some reporters prod into their private life and the reader feels overwhelmed... Angst to fluff and maybe smut in the end?

SHE’S A BAD BAD GIRL

parings: carlos sainz x famous!reader

authors note: I gotta say, mixing a bit of AU with regular fanfic, can I just say I love doing magazine features?

summary: that one where the media makes up stuff about your relationship with carlos but he ain't gonna let that shake our relationship.

☆. . . masterlist !

Exclusive Source Reveals Startling Insights Into the Relationship of F1's Rising Star and the Elusive Heiress

The Power Couple: Carlos Sainz and Y/N Y/L/N's Love Story or PR Masterpiece?

By TMZ Magazine - September 2023

In the glitzy world of fame and fortune, where the line between reality and illusion often blurs, power couples are born just as swiftly as they fade away.

None have captured the public's attention quite like that of Formula 1 sensation Carlos Sainz Jr. and the enigmatic heiress Y/N Y/L/N. This power couple's whirlwind romance has been the subject of intense speculation, with many questioning the authenticity of their love. In a TMZ exclusive, we delve into the inner workings of their seemingly sensational union, revealing what lies beneath the surface.

It's no secret that the world of celebrity romance often blurs the lines between genuine affection and calculated publicity. In the case of Carlos Sainz Jr. and Y/N Y/L/N, sources close to the couple suggest that their relationship might be more PR strategy than a heartfelt connection. Our exclusive source, a close friend of the couple, disclosed that the pair has carefully orchestrated their romance to maximize benefits on both ends.

"They both know that being in the spotlight can help boost their respective careers," our source shared. "They decided it's a mutually beneficial arrangement. Carlos gets more media coverage, and Y/N can use his popularity to her advantage."

Y/N Y/L/N, the elusive heiress whose life has been shrouded in mystery, has raised eyebrows with her numerous high-profile relationships over the years. It's no secret that she's been romantically linked to at least eight A-list celebrities, including musicians, actors, and even fellow heirs. Despite her apparent aversion to fame and the media circus that surrounds it, Y/N has consistently found herself in the headlines due to her high-profile affairs.

"The irony is that Y/N has always claimed to hate the attention that comes with dating famous people," our source revealed. "Yet, she's continued to choose partners from the same world she professes to despise."

As the couple's relationship has garnered more attention, their PR teams have been working tirelessly to manage the narrative. They've employed tactics such as carefully timed public appearances, social media posts, and interviews to keep the public intrigued and invested in their romance. This calculated approach, however, has led many to question the authenticity of their connection.

"Their teams are skilled at using the media to their advantage," our source admitted. "It's all about perception and maintaining their status as a 'power couple.'"

As the world continues to watch this captivating couple's every move, one question lingers: Is their love story genuine, or is it a calculated maneuver to seize the attention of the masses and advance their respective careers? Are Carlos and Y/N truly in love, or are they orchestrating a well-choreographed PR campaign for mutual benefit?

Stay tuned for more exclusive updates and revelations from TMZ Magazine.

Y/N lay sprawled across the plush sofa in the cozy living room of her shared home with Carlos in Spain. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting warm rays of light across the room. She'd been catching up on some reading when her phone buzzed incessantly, drawing her attention away from the book.

The headline on her screen was impossible to miss: "The Power Couple: Carlos Sainz and Y/N Y/L/N's Love Story or PR Masterpiece?" The TMZ article had surfaced online, and her heart sank as she read through the scandalous claims about their relationship. It was a relentless invasion of their privacy, dissecting their love as if it were a staged performance.

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, and she felt overwhelmed by the intrusion into their lives. She knew she had to confront this with Carlos, who had always been her rock in times of turmoil.

Carlos entered the room, sensing the tension in the air. "Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with concern as he sat down beside her.

She handed him her phone, unable to speak the words herself. Carlos read through the article, his expression growing darker with every word. He clenched his jaw, his protective instincts kicking in. "This is complete nonsense," he muttered angrily.

Carlos's anger simmered as he continued to read the invasive article. His protective instincts flared, and he couldn't fathom how anyone could twist their love into something so far from the truth.

"They have no idea what they're talking about," Carlos said, his voice low but filled with determination. "This is just trash journalism trying to stir up controversy."

Y/N looked up at Carlos, her eyes filled with gratitude. She'd always admired his strength and resilience. "I know, Carlos, but it still stings. I hate how they're trying to make our love seem fake."

Carlos's expression softened as he turned to her. "Mi sol," he whispered, using the affectionate term he had for her. "Our love is as real as the sun streaming through those windows. Don't ever doubt that."

Y/N managed a faint smile, her heart aching a little less with his reassuring words. "I just wish we could shut them up, Carlos."

A mischievous glint flickered in Carlos's eyes as he looked at her. "Well, maybe we can," he said cryptically.

Before Y/N could ask what he meant, Carlos swept her into his arms and stood up. She laughed in surprise, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Carlos, what are you doing?" she asked, her laughter mixing with curiosity.

He grinned down at her, his eyes dancing with mischief. "I'm taking my sunshine to our room," he said, "away from all this nonsense."

Y/N couldn't help but giggle as Carlos carried her bridal style down the hallway to their bedroom. His laughter joined hers, and it echoed through their home, drowning out the noise of the world outside.

In that moment, as Carlos playfully carried her, Y/N realized that their love was a sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of fame and gossip. It didn't matter what others said or wrote about them. What they had was real, unbreakable, and filled with a kind of love that could weather any storm.

As they reached their bedroom, Carlos gently set Y/N down, and they both burst into laughter. He pulled her into a tender kiss, sealing their promise to protect their love from the prying eyes of the world.

As Carlos set Y/N down in their bedroom, their laughter filled the air like a sweet melody, banishing the remnants of unease brought on by the intrusive article. With a loving smile, Carlos cupped her face in his hands, his gaze locked onto hers.

"You know," he whispered, his voice laced with desire, "there's one thing those journalists will never understand."

Y/N's breath hitched as she met his intense gaze. "What's that?" she asked, her voice barely more than a soft murmur.

Carlos leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a teasing, tantalizing kiss. "That our love," he murmured, his voice husky, "is the real deal."

Their kisses deepened, their passion igniting like a flame. Carlos's hands slid from her face down to the small of her back, pulling her closer. Y/N's fingers tangled in his hair, and she moaned softly against his lips.

Their love was a fire burning brightly, an unbreakable bond that no amount of gossip or scrutiny could diminish. As their clothes fell to the floor, they reveled in the intimacy that was entirely their own, a celebration of their genuine love.

In the quiet of their bedroom, away from the prying eyes of the world, Carlos and Y/N proved that their love wasn't just a masterpiece of public relations. It was a passionate, fiery, and deeply genuine connection that left no room for doubt.

As their bodies entwined and their moans of pleasure filled the room, they knew that their love was their most cherished secret, a sanctuary where they could be their true selves, far away from the judgmental eyes of the world.

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carlossainz55 just had the best night of my life! thanks, gossipmongers, for the motivation.

tag: yourusername

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[lumidotexe]

What would Ru’s ideal career be?

in a modern setting, I think she'd go into some type of career involving film or theatre tech. my buddy @/runningwithscizzorz made an Actor!AU for their human version of Macaque a while back, and Ru was his stunt choreographer so it falls in line with film stuff haha

here are some old (ewww) doodles of that AU