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cherryblooom · 1 day ago

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2XL — OP81 [ part 1 ]

Summary: You are a young artist who gained a lot of popularity at the ripped age of 14 due to your talent and unusual style. Your body is considered "voluminous" so, in public, you only use 2XL clothing, to protect yourself from people on the internet and feel more comfortable while performing. You have managed to keep your personal life outside the spotlight but when Oscar finally made it to the glamorous lifestyle of motorsports, everything changed.

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Reader

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Fic warning: best friends to lovers, slut shaming, weird people on the internet, people commenting about a minor's body, sexism, rape comments, rape "jokes", reader battles with her self-esteem, self-image, and self-love, Oscar is obsessed with his girlfriend and her body (not in a creepy way) and is not afraid of showing it, Oscar is not afraid of defending reader and dragging people though the mud.

Faceclaim: Billie Eilish

Note: Oscar is a year older than the reader. SMAU mixed with narrative. Reader doesn't have that much access to social media right now as they are mostly controlled by their management.

You were in shock, appalled, shaking in your boots. No, that wasn't enough to describe the excitement you felt when you saw the success your debut song was having. It had gone viral on the Soundcloud platform, and your followers were increasing rapidly, it honestly felt like a dream.

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ynusername Thank you so much for all the support and love you guys have shown to my debut song and EP. I am still in shock and shaking. I can't wait to see what comes next 🩵

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fanusername you deserve all the love, the songs are beautiful

→ ynusername Thank you so much for the support, it is a dream come true 🩵

oscarpiastri beautiful and talented, you deserve it! ☁︎🩵

ynusername has liked your comment

username this girl is going to be a fucking star

ynusername has liked your comment

username245 ocean eyes makes me cry so much 😭

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oscarpiastri I can't even begin to express how proud I am of you. You are such a talented artist and seeing how you are achieving all of your dreams makes me so excited. And…happy birthday! I don't care how famous you get, i’ll always remember how you almost die because you couldn't stop eating grapes.

Please don't forget me when you are famous, I can't live without your pancakes and you always REFUSE to share the recipe 😔

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ynusername and i’ll NEVER give you my pancakes recipe ☺️🙂‍↔️

→ oscarpiastri boooh, u are just mean and for what😣

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ynusername This pookie just won his first championship in motorsports and I'm still scared to cross the street alone, wtf. Anyways, CONGRATULATIONS!! I don't need to read your horoscope to know that you have a great and bright future ahead of you ❤️@ oscarpiastri

P.S. I understand that winning a championship is a bit of a big deal, but I'm not going to give you my pancake recipe. I don't care how pretty your eyes are 🙄

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fan1 wait, are they a couple?

→ fanuser3 No, as far we know, they have only been best friends since kids

randomuser oscar had an amazing season, I can't wait to see him in f1

fanuser2 Is Yn that tiny or is Oscar a giant? 😭

→ fan1 I know, their height difference is so cute 😔

→ fan3 both answers are correct 😂 but she's 5’1 so I would say that is not that hard to tower over her

Oscarpiastri if you give me the recipe, I will teach you how to cross the street without dying 😃

→ ynusername no❤️

→ oscarpiastri oh COME ON

→ oscarpiastri then, can you come and prepare me some? I pledge not to peek

→ ynusername that I can do

Oscar turned off the screen of his phone when he saw that you had returned from the bathroom, since he had taken advantage of those minutes that you were away from the table to respond to that disgusting comment on Twitter. There were times when he hated social networks, and because he was not a fan and did not find the logic in arguing with a stranger on Twitter, he could not avoid the anger that began to feel when he saw that comment from someone who claimed to be his fan. It wasn't the first time, and unfortunately it wouldn't be the last, that your fashion style was the center of conversation, and not in a good way.

“So, are we done here then? Nobody wants to order anything else?” asked his team leader. All the team members shook their heads and after the bill was paid, everyone started to get into the cars that were already waiting outside to take them to the bar they had reserved for the rest of the night. It wasn’t just that they had won the championship but now Oscar was officially of age, so it was also a reason to celebrate (although he wasn’t old enough to drink alcohol yet, but it seems that detail wasn’t that important to his team).

“Let’s go to McDonald’s for our monthly greasy burger” Oscar told you as you walked out of the restaurant. Your arms were intertwined, and your head was resting on his chest as the two of you slowly made your way to the exit. You couldn’t help but feel a warm flush running through your body. You felt so comfortable and safe.

''Even though I wouldn't want to break our tradition, you should go with your team to celebrate. I'm sure they made you a cake or something like that.'' Since you were both 12 years old, on the last Friday of every month you would go somewhere to eat sweets, junk food or things that you couldn't eat on a daily basis and, for both of you, it was almost a sacred day where you could be yourself, spend time together and just eat, talk or relax.

"Maybe you're right but honestly I'd rather spend time with you."

''I'd love to accompany you but I'm not 18 yet''

''Ohh right, you're still a little girl, I almost forgot. My bad''

''Shut up!'' Oscar just laughed and you let him guide you to his car. ''So, you're not going to the bar?''

''I told you; I prefer to be with you.'' You were both already inside the car and after buckling his seatbelt, Oscar leaned over you to put your seatbelt on for you, but you didn't realize how close you were from each other until he was practically right in front of you. Time felt like it had stopped, or at least it was going slower, since you felt like you had been in that same position for minutes. Oscar for his part couldn't help but run his gaze over your full, kissable and pink lips. For Oscar, you had always been a beauty that didn't need makeup, and if you had put on any, it would only be to make your already natural beauty shine. A few inches were all that separated your lips from his and Oscar smiled cheekily as he watched you hold your breath, maybe waiting, but waiting for what exactly? Oscar pursed his mouth into a satisfied smile.

Oscar finished fastening your seatbelt and sat back down to his seat as if nothing had happened, but he smiled mischievously when he watched you wipe the palms of your hands on your pants and felt you release the breath you were holding.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with that belt, but sometimes it gets stuck. I should check it out later,” Oscar said, and you nodded you head accepting his explanation. It was a lie. The belt was perfect, he just wanted an excuse to do what he did and yes, he didn’t regret anything. He got the answer he was looking for...that he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

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dailyop81 One of the photos that are already coming out of Oscar's team celebrating the championship title, but he doesn't appear in any of them. Could it be that he didn't attend his own party?

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dailyynupdates yn and oscar hanging out today. According to the person who took the photos, the two were seen leaving a food store with a couple of bags (with snacks and what it looked like some junk food). They stopped at the park for a few seconds and then oscar started chasing yn while they both laughed. It should be noted that today is Oscar's celebration party, and he apparently decided to celebrate with yn.

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oscarpiastri such a lovely night with a pretty girl 🩵

tagged @ ynusername

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yn_global23 the height difference between them, I can't-

→ ynhater1 she looks like a fucking midget besides him, how is that cute? lol

→ ynhater1 and btw, the only reason she's famous is because she is with Oscar, if not, she would have flopped so hard 🤣

→ yn_global23 you are aware that yn was already famous before your little vroom vroom guy won any silly tittle, right?

Oscarpiastri liked your comment ❤️

fanuser5 Oh, the way I would give my left kidney to see them together! Like TOGETHER 🙂‍↕️

Oscarpiastri liked your comment

→ ynfan2 ong, me too!! I don't know a lot about Oscar but yn seems so comfortable and happy whenever they are together

→ ynuser2 omggg, Oscar liked your comment 😭

→ fanuser5 WHAT? I can't see it.

→ ynfanuser4 I think he removed the like but, we all saw it. @oscarpiastri explain 🫠

Oscarpiastri liked your comment ❤️

→ ynfanuser4 ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

Radio check: I'm finishing up the next part of Enchanted, but this came to my mind, and I couldn't get it out of my head so here we are. If you'd like me to tag you, let me know. Like and Reblog if you like it!

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chaengluva · 1 day ago

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Assigned To You

Nerd! Loser! Ellie Williams x Fem! Popular! Reader

WC: 1.9k (soz, short ik)

Warnings: reader crying (emotional drunk), fluff

Part 5: Prev/Next

Let me know it you wanna be in the taglist! (this is the second last chapter, maybe last....) It depends

The weight of guilt had been like an anchor around your chest ever since that night. The words you said to Ellie still echoed in your mind, each repetition making your regret sharper and deeper. She had been nothing but understanding, but you had let your fear control you. You had been terrified of the world, of what people would say, of losing the life you’d built for yourself. But you never stopped to consider how much you could lose by pushing her away, by denying yourself and your feelings.

The next few days felt like a blur. You went through the motions—school, meals with your family, awkward interactions with friends—but all you could think about was Ellie. Her laughter. Her smile. The way she had looked at you when she still believed in what the two of you could be. You’d shattered that belief, and now you were left trying to piece things back together, only to realize how much damage had already been done.

It wasn’t just Ellie that you were worried about. You were terrified of your own reflection. Every time you thought about the future, about how things were going to change, your heart filled with dread. What if you lost everything? What if the people who claimed to be your friends turned their backs on you? What if the world didn’t accept you for who you really were?

But in your heart, you knew there was no going back. You couldn’t stay in the shadow of fear forever. Not when the person you cared about most was Ellie. Not when you knew she deserved more than the broken apology you had given her. She deserved the truth. She deserved someone who could stand by her and love her openly, without hesitation or shame.

You couldn’t pretend anymore. You couldn’t run from what you were feeling. And so, when you woke up that morning, something inside you snapped. You had to face this. You had to face her, and more importantly, you had to face yourself.

You got out of bed and walked over to your desk. Your phone sat there, still glowing from last night’s message. Ellie’s words had meant everything to you. They were a lifeline, a sign that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for redemption. But you knew you couldn’t fix everything over text. The only way forward was to show up, to prove that you were ready to take responsibility for the hurt you had caused.

It was early, and you hadn’t had your coffee yet, but you didn’t care. You were already on your way out the door before your brain could convince you otherwise. The drive to Ellie’s house was a blur of anxiety and anticipation. Your palms were sweaty, your stomach in knots. You kept picturing the look on her face—the way she had looked at you with those sad eyes, like she wasn’t sure whether she could ever trust you again.

When you arrived at her house, your heart was pounding in your chest. You hesitated at the door, raising your hand to knock. What if she didn’t want to see you? What if she didn’t care anymore? But before you could overthink it any further, the door opened, and there she was—standing in front of you, arms crossed, eyes guarded.

“What do you want?” Ellie’s voice was flat, devoid of the warmth it had once held when she greeted you. It stung, but you understood. You had earned that coldness.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. “Ellie, I’m so sorry,” you began, your voice trembling. “I said those things because I was scared. I’ve been scared of what people will think, scared of losing everything, but… I hate myself for hurting you. I hate myself for pushing you away.”

Ellie didn’t move. Her expression softened for a moment, but she didn’t let go of her distance. You could see the hurt in her eyes, the way it still lingered even though she wasn’t showing it. She was hurting too, but she wasn’t going to let you off the hook so easily.

“I… I can’t be a lesbian. It’ll ruin everything—my reputation, my friends, everything I’ve worked for. And I know that makes me sound selfish and awful, but it’s the truth. I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know how to deal with us.”

The words hung in the air between you, but instead of the anger you expected, you saw Ellie’s eyes soften just a little more. She stepped forward, closing the distance between you. For a brief moment, you thought she might forgive you, that maybe you could fix this, but then her words hit you like a punch to the gut.

“That didn’t mean anything,” she said, her voice firm. “You can’t just cry your way out of this, Y/N. You hurt me, and you need to figure out who you are before you drag me along with you.”

Her words stung more than you could have imagined. You nodded, your throat tight, unable to say anything more. What could you say? How could you make her understand that you didn’t want to hurt her, that you hadn’t meant to push her away? You had to leave. You had to let her have the space she needed, but that didn’t make the hurt any less.

You turned and walked away, feeling more broken than ever. But as you reached the end of her driveway, you realized something. You were still carrying the weight of the apology you needed to give, the one you hadn’t quite figured out yet. You couldn’t give up now. You couldn’t let this be the end.

That night, after a long and difficult day at school, you sat at your desk, pencil in hand. You weren’t an artist. You didn’t have a natural talent for drawing. But you needed to do something, anything, to show Ellie that you were sorry. You weren’t sure if it would fix anything, but maybe it would show her that you still cared, that you weren’t just trying to sweep everything under the rug.

You sketched, your hand moving almost instinctively, guided by the memories of her—her smile, the way her hair framed her face, the way she looked at you when she was happy. When you were done, you looked at the drawing, and your heart sank. It was awful. The proportions were off, the lines were messy, and her face looked nothing like the perfect image you had in your mind. But it was real. It was from the heart.

The next day, at school, you sought Ellie out. You had no idea how she would respond, but you knew you had to try. You approached her in the hallway, the drawing folded in your hands. She was standing with her friends, talking and laughing, but when she saw you, she excused herself and came over.

“Ellie,” you said, your voice quiet but steady. “I made this for you. I know it’s not much, and I know I’ve been horrible, but… I just wanted you to have it.”

Ellie looked at you for a long moment, then glanced down at the folded paper in your hands. She took it slowly, unfolding it with care. You held your breath as she studied the drawing, her expression unreadable. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, like it might explode any second.

Then, to your surprise, she laughed. “Is this supposed to be me?” she asked, her voice light, but not mocking. There was a small, amused smile on her lips.

You flushed with embarrassment. “Yeah… I’m not exactly Picasso.”

Ellie smiled again, the first real smile you had seen from her in days. “It’s terrible,” she said, shaking her head, but there was no malice in her voice. “But it’s kind of sweet. Thanks, Y/N.”

The tension in your chest loosened just a little. It wasn’t perfect, and you didn’t know if it would fix everything, but it was a start. It was a step in the right direction.

But even as you felt a small flicker of hope, you knew there was still more to do. You couldn’t ignore Olivia and the damage she had caused, the lies she had spread about you and Ellie. You had to stand up for yourself, for your truth.

You found Olivia later that day, leaning against her locker with a group of her friends. When she saw you, she dismissed them with a wave and turned to face you. Her smirk was as sharp as ever, her eyes gleaming with something like amusement.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Y/N,” she drawled. “What do you want?”

You squared your shoulders, refusing to let her intimidate you. “I know what you did,” you said, your voice steady, even though your hands were shaking. “You had no right to twist things and tell Ellie I was talking about her.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow, her smirk growing wider. “I was just being honest. Ellie deserves to know what kind of person you are.”

You scoffed. “You’re unbelievable. Why are you so obsessed with me? Is it because you can’t stand the idea of me being happy?”

Olivia’s expression darkened. “You’re pathetic, Y/N. You think you can be a lesbian and still keep your perfect little life? If you go through with this, I’ll make sure everyone knows who you really are.”

Her words stung, but you stood your ground. You didn’t need her validation anymore. “Do whatever you want, Olivia,” you said coldly. “I don’t care anymore.”

You turned on your heel and walked away, your heart pounding in your chest. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel afraid. You felt defiant. If Olivia wanted to try and ruin you, fine. You were done hiding.

Later that evening, you sat in your room, your phone in hand. Olivia’s words replayed in your mind, but instead of fear, you felt something else—something stronger. You were ready to take control of your story, to stop letting others dictate who you were.

You snapped a picture of yourself—no makeup, messy hair, raw and vulnerable. It wasn’t the most flattering picture, but it was real. It was you. And for the first time in weeks, you didn’t care what anyone else thought.

You uploaded the picture to Instagram with the caption: “This girl is a girl kisser.”

Your finger hovered over the post button for a moment, but then you took a deep breath and pressed it. The photo went live, and almost immediately, the likes and comments started rolling in.

“Proud of you, Y/N ”

“You’re so brave omg!”

“Girl kisser AND stunning? Unfair.”

“Love this for you!”

Not a single bad comment. Except, of course, for Olivia, who wrote, “You’re disgusting.” But you ignored her. She didn’t matter anymore.

Then, just as you were about to put your phone down, you saw a new message pop up. It was from Ellie.

“I saw your post. I’m proud of you, Y/N.”

You stared at the message, your heart swelling with a mixture of relief and gratitude. It wasn’t everything. It wasn’t the happy ending you had imagined, but it was a start. And for the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe things weren’t perfect, but you were getting there. And that was enough.

Taglist: @vahnilla @radioheadfan699 @defnoteleonor @robinphobia @liztreez @deathbydollz @hemmo01 @soodle-noup @reneesub @ellensmithxo@lamorenita @kissedberries @liasxeatt @smiths-fan--13 @0phantom0

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azelsdoormat · 1 day ago

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Azel Radwan Main Story

► Chapter 0

This translation is fanmade and strictly for entertainment purposes only. All media and original content belong to Cybird. Do not use, claim as your own, repost or reupload onto other platforms, reblogs are welcome.

Content Warning: mentions of child abuse, graphic descriptions of violence, gore?, generally disturbing content.

True love — to me, is the most evil of curses that must never befall me.

…

Azel: High Priest… please… stop

The whip tore into human flesh, and the blood-curdling screams of my beloved brothers rang through the air.

The cold, hard floor was stained bright red with the blood dripping from their torn fingernails. It was an image burned into those so-called “divine eyes” that would never fade.

The grotesque sight, as horrifying as every nightmare in the world combined, unfolded before my eyes.

And I, this powerless god, could do nothing but scream and cry until my voice went hoarse.

Azel: I beg of you. I’ll do anything you say.

Azel: It’s all my fault for being a bad boy, it’s my fault for not behaving well.

Azel: Please stop. I promise I won’t run away again.

Azel: Please, I beg of you, please, please, I beg…

I clung pathetically to the High Priest’s robes, desperately repeating my pleas.

While people revere me as a god, the reality was far from that.

High Priest: Your Holiness… I sincerely apologise. I have no desire to cause you harm.

The High Priest stroked my head with pity, smiling tenderly.

In the middle of that nightmarish scene, he was the only source of kindness.

High Priest: This, too, is love.

Azel: … Love?

High Priest: You are an extraordinary being, Your Holiness. If anything were to happen to you, it would be too late.

High Priest: To ensure that no mishaps occur to your sacred body, I must mete out severe disciplinary actions as such.

High Priest: This is all for your sake. Please understand.

The whip was swung once more.

My brothers, hung from the ceiling, gradually lost the light in their eyes and were reduced to nothing but mere empty shells.

If this is what people call “love”— then I despise this monstrosity with every fiber of my being.

Azel: … I… understand…

Azel: I understand, so… stop it already.

Azel: I’ll listen to everything you say.

Azel: I’ll work hard, I’ll become a proper god.

Azel: … Please…

…

<< Fast Forward Many Years Later >>

Matias: Have you two heard about the romance novel that's become popular in Rhodolite lately?

The princes of three countries held regular meetings in different locations, and they would occasionally stray into idle chatter.

The topics varied, but today, of all things we could possibly talk about, it had to be the one topic I didn't want to hear about the most.

Kagari: Don't know.

Azel: I have no interest in such items.

Matias: I can lend you my copy of the book.

Azel: Please only offer it to Kagari.

Kagari: No way. Matias is impossible to handle when it comes to these topics.

Azel: Unfortunately, I am deathly allergic to anything related to romance.

Matias: Is there such a thing?

Azel: Yes, and therefore—

Matias: Then I’ll read it aloud for you.

(... This hell just became even hotter. Someone spare me.)

Matias didn't look like he was about to back down any time soon and placed the book on the table.

The book’s design was boring and unremarkable.

Matias: This book is so detailed in depicting the process of love developing, it’s known as a bible for beginners to romance.

Matias: I’ve read through it myself, and it’s truly a treasure trove of information.

Matias: Take the first date scene on page 32 for instance. According to this bible—...

Ignoring Matias’ rambling, I pulled the book toward me and haphazardly flipped through the pages.

(Ugh… what is this nonsense?)

As expected of something that received such high praise from Matias, the contents of the book were revoltingly vivid portrayals of romance.

Most of the story was filled with unnecessary trivial chattering between lovestruck men and women.

Kagari: So you lied about being allergic.

Azel: It was not a lie. Please have a look at these goosebumps on my skin.

Kagari: Looks like the real deal.

Azel: While Matias yearns for romance, I am the complete opposite.

Azel: Merely hearing the words “love” and “romance” gives me the chills.

I recalled the day “love” was defined to me with a merciful smile.

Even now, seeing that word made me sick to the stomach. The very thought fills me with so much disgust, I felt dizzy.

(Apart from that hag, there were plenty of other people who preached about love with equally ridiculous reasoning.)

(I can never understand how Matias can so purely believe in love…)

Matias: You’re weird. Is there really anyone who hates being loved?

Azel: Perhaps it is because I am a god and different from ordinary mortals.

Azel: … At the very least, I neither want to love nor be loved.

Azel: I’ve learned firsthand that love is nothing but misery.

I shut the book and shoved it back at Matias.

I knew without a doubt that I never wanted to open a book of that genre ever again.

Matias: No need to return it. This book is my gift to you.

Azel: No, thank you. I refuse.

Matias: Don’t say that. While you may despise love and romance now, your thinking could change someday.

Matias: You could meet your ideal queen in the middle of a scorching desert where she’s on the verge of collapsing, and after you nurse her back to health—

Azel: Matias, back to reality, please.

Matias: Ahem. Anyway, it won't hurt to have the beginner’s bible with you.

Matias: It covers everything from how to invite someone on a date to spending the night together. Study it well.

I glared at the book Matias pushed back at me.

(Arguing any further is too much of a hassle.)

(Whatever. I’ll simply not open it ever.)

(Or maybe… I could sell it to Akatsuki instead.)

(I’ve had more than enough of being loved.)

…

(... Hm?)

I suddenly regained consciousness and found myself in an unfamiliar setting.

(Is this a rose garden? It looks rather neglected, though.)

The feeling of entering “another person’s dream” was one I had experienced countless times before.

While I didn't remember every instance clearly, I was certain I had never experienced entering the dreams of someone who owned a rose garden.

(This isn’t a dream someone who lives in the desert would have.)

At the junction where several paths intersected, was an oak table with a single book on it.

I casually picked it up and read through the contents, the owner of the dream’s life story started flowing through my mind.

The story was incomplete, but the owner’s “wish” was clear.

Azel: I see, I see…

Azel: How utterly laughable.

(A strong yearning for love… they belong to the same category of people as Matias.)

Someone approached me.

I shifted my gaze to the side and saw an unfamiliar woman standing there.

???: What’s… laughable?

Azel: I have some unfortunate news for you, who yearns for love and thirsts for knowledge of what it is.

Azel: Love is not the grand blessing it is often proclaimed to be.

Azel: Sometimes, it would serve you well to remain ignorant and pure for your entire life. You would find far greater happiness that way.

(Not that I intend to force my beliefs onto others…)

The woman looked like a personification of virtue, and someone who would fall prey to the first con artist she encountered.

It was because of that first impression that, for once, God chose to be merciful.

Azel: I have witnessed many examples of “love”. Not in fiction… but rather the raw, unvarnished love that exists in reality.

Azel: Far too often, people use “love” as a means to justify their otherwise unjustifiable actions.

Azel: It is truly tragic to see people driven mad by love.

Azel: Even the most rational people become unable to live without it.

Azel: Like a curse.

(There's a chance that this woman, who knows nothing about love now, will become a changed person once she experiences it.)

(... I can only hope that doesn't happen to her.)

May that ugly curse called “love” never turn her into a beast—

This powerless god could do nothing else but pray for her, just like I did on that one fateful day.

#ikemen prince #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #ikepri translations #ikepri azel #azel radwan #ikepri jp

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georgeplease · 2 days ago

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i’n the one who needs to know your headcannons pleaseee, what do you think are the differences between dating fred and george? i love them both and honestly i’m more of a fred girly but george too is something to me. thank uu

a rose for you 🌹

So I have a few off the top of my head, this is just a few of them and I’m so willing to get into more specifics of them or tweak some of these if yall don’t agree.

I think George is a little more reserved than Fred. He’d prefer a night in over a party with his s/o. Not all the time, he does enjoy a good night out every so often, but maybe like three times a month he wants to stay in. He also will avoid being the complete center of attention, usually lets Fred do all the talking, he’s not introverted by any means tho.

Neither of the twins are introverted. But Fred is more extroverted than George. Fred is willing to go up to his crush and ask them out. George can talk to his crush, but he would rather see if it will come naturally than ask outrigh, see if there’s a connection and get to know them.

Fred is so useless with Muggle technology it is actually insane. Give him an iPhone and some AirPods and be entertained. George is a little less helpless, still baffled by it but is willing to understand it more. George puts on an effort if you are muggle born to know your world, while Fred sees magic as a better solution. Still both use magic as a crutch.

HOWEVER, Fred would be so tiktok addicted. Does he understand it? No. Does he spend most of his time scrolling? Yes. Cares deeply about his streaks.

I think Fred is a bit oblivious to things. Doesn’t realize his actions have consequences, so he might say something rude and not realize he shouldn’t have. If something he did or said made you upset he does apologize and tries to do better in the future.

George is careful with his words, he doesn’t accidentally say anything rude. Which can often mean, if he does anything rude he usually meant it.

George is organized chaos, yes his office is a mess but at least he knows where everything is. He has a system and it works for him. But he knows how to tidy things up.

Fred is just messy. Leaves things in random spots, never knows where. He needs AirTags for almost everything but he is stubborn and swears he knows where he put it.

I feel like both the twins are quite independent. They love their mom and dad, but they aren’t a mommas boy or anything like that. They have so many siblings that they kinda just have each other to ask for advice.

BOTH WOULD DATE WEIRD GIRLS/BOYS. Like during their time at hogwarts they were popular, but once they are adults they would love to have a weird partner. Fred would probably really like a more goth/alt/emo partner, like sure put the 7 hour fnaf deep dive on babe. While George would love a whimsigoth crystal partner, like sure let’s get the 4 foot tall amethyst statue.

I think Fred is more open with the type of people he dates, he’s adventurous with who he dates. If he thinks you are hot, he’s gonna wanna try.

I think George is a little more reserved about who he dates. Probably not into party girls, but likes someone who he can relax with.

☃️CHRISTMAS HP HEADCANON PARTY☃️

#george weasley #fred weasley #george weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley headcanons #george weasley headcanon #anon #Christmas hp Headcanon party

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geoledgy · 3 days ago

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Does anyone else have a complicated relationship with posting/sharing art publicly online? I've been finding it very difficult to have any motivation to share art/crosspost anymore. It doesn't sit well with me.

With the way that social media sites are built, it feels more like posting my art is meant for others to "consume" it and that I am expected to always share anything I make for the entertainment of others rather than start a conversation or connect with community, because everything on social medias is so fast paced and my posts are often visually competing on the feed (if not working against an algorithm) to be seen by a person. And it's like, it's not that I don't appreciate all the likes and shares on my art, I really do and I like sharing stuff I do that I'm proud of but unfortunately it just feels so superficial after a certain point especially on Twitter/Bsky/Instagram, when anything I post racks up thousands of notes yet no one says anything about it. It's shared around the internet space but I get no gratification (And honestly I'm so glad people on Tumblr are more inclined to comment on art but I wish I could respond to tags to tell them how much I appreciate their response and have a conversation!!)

On Sheezy, I just post whenever I want and it's for organization and gallery purposes, also bc I really want to have my art posted there and honestly no where else, just like back then on dA when that was my only site to post art. And since nothing can be shared the way art is shared/RT'd/etc on social media, I did it because it was fun and more of a community thing than really wanting popularity or anything. I post art to start a conversation, to share my knowledge, and to express myself. I honestly even set a small goal for myself to comment on 3-5 pieces on Sheezy whenever I log in, and say something nice about someone's art because I know they'd appreciate something small like that on an incredibly fast-paced internet.

I get more gratification from posting my art in RP discord servers where likes/shares are not a thing, and everyone is more encouraged to comment and talk about the piece.

The art side of the public internet just makes me very sad nowadays, and it just isn't fun to post publicly most of the time anymore. I have no reason to do so either because my main job isn't art lol

#rock talks #this isnt to say i WONT be posting...but im just expressing how i feel about all this

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mcytshipsandmore · 11 hours ago

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A Gempearl, Majorbeans, Shadowrot enemies to lover's band au featuring Imp and Skizz being the only two who know what's up.

Now listen to me talk about this cause the likelihood of me actually writing this is low.

It starts with Gem and the Scott's being a small band that just performs for fun, but over time Gem loses her passion for the band and leaves.

Scott and Impulse still want to perform though so they reach out to two of their mutual friends Pearl and Cleo to make the 4 G's (and Pearl definitely isn't Gems ex)

The 4 G's perform and start to get really popular to the point that they end up opening for a smaller band on tour.

Gem is happy for her friends and not at all salty that her former bandmates got her Ex to join them nope not at all.

And to show off how not Salty she is she decides to get back into music and make her own band (Again).

Gem asks Joel (Who has a known one-sided rivalry with Scott), Lizzie (Who has a grudge against Cleo that is returned but nobody knows what the grudge is about) and Skizz (Impulses bestie and Queer platonic partner who's just here for a fun time) and they form The Family.

The 4 G's are just happy that Gem has her passion back, meanwhile The Family is being ever so slightly passive aggressive to the 4 G's with them often seeking the G's out to brag about how well they're doing.

Then the 4 G’s audition for one of those singing talent comp tv shows like the Voice or X factor so naturally The Family audition as well, both teams make it into the show, which also means that The Family’s grudges (minus Skizzs who keeps hyping up Impulse any chance he gets with Impulse doing the same) gets known.

Nothing stays a secret, Gem and Pearl's past relationship somehow gets out to the fans which confuses them because they swear that Pearl and Gem still flirt, and Pearl follows Gem around like a lost puppy. How are they not dating!?!?

After the finale when it was The Family vs The 4 G’s Pearl and Gem are spotted out on a date having talked some stuff through.

It’s still toxic ‘cause toxic Gem Pearl is the best but it's a type of Toxicity they are fine with and isn’t that all we can ask for? Really they did it to themselves, they thrive off of the rivalry.

People also find out what Cleo and Lizzies grudge is about, during an interview with Lizzie she reveals that in Kindergarten Cleos friend Bigb wanted to play with Lizzie in her fairy fort she made of blocks and Cleo got upset so they knocked over all the blocks.

Both sides hear this and immediately know what's up with those two because seriously? And so, with a little push from the other G’s Cleo does a “How can I make it up to you?” to which Lizzie responds with “Maybe if you buy me a nice dinner I might consider forgiving you,” and so the two start dating like that.

Everyone loves it, Cleo and their whole vibe beside their tiny pink girlfriend.

Joel on the other hand gets angrier and angrier at Scott, and his stupid kindness and his pretty voice and how his stupid hair looks sooooo good in the light they use to perform and how he's actually really good at playing the bass and everything about him!

Everyone immediately clocks on to the fact that Joel has a crush on Scott. They 100% ship them and they may or may not end up making out after one of The Family's performances cause Scott comes up to complement Joel and well Joel's never had much self control.

Meanwhile, Imp and Skizz are living their best lives playing with their friends and pushing them together.

After the competition both bands kinda drop from public face, it was nice being in the limelight like that but they really prefer smaller jigs, plus they don’t want paparazzi in their faces all the time

lizzie is so real for the kindergarten grudge tbh (I've had a grudge since middle school because a kid owes me money)

And Impulse n Skizz sitting back and watching the drama

-🍫

#mcyt #answered asks #mcytblr #mcyt shipping #shipping #mcytumblr #life series #trafficshipping #impulsesv #skizzleman #lizzie ldshadowlady #zombie cleo #joel smallishbeans #scott smajor

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perkypeony · 20 hours ago

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𝕁𝕦𝕛𝕦𝕥𝕤𝕦 𝕂𝕒𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕟 ℍ𝕚𝕘𝕙 𝕊𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕝 𝔸𝕌

Synopsis: Y/N thought high school was going to be uneventful until she befriended Shoko, the laid-back senior, and met Satoru, the popular senior who takes her under his wing as her math tutor. Suddenly, Y/N’s life is filled with unexpected friendships, laughter, and chaos. As her friends rally behind her crush on Nanami, especially her friend Haibara, it’s hard to tell if she’s making progress—or just making a fool of herself!

---

The busy hallway of Kaizen High School bustled with energy as you navigated through the crowd, clutching a clipboard to your chest like it was a lifeline. It was your first time handling a school program, and to say you were clueless would be putting it kindly. The school board had entrusted the juniors with planning the annual talent show, and while you were excited, you were also in way over your head.

“Excuse me, where’s the—uh, the hall for—oh, never mind,” you mumbled, trying to stop someone for directions, only to watch them rush away before you finished.

You sighed and scanned your surroundings, hoping for someone to notice you. Finally, your eyes locked with a girl with short brown hair, a lollipop sticking out of her mouth.

“Lost already?” a smooth, slightly teasing voice cut through the noise. She had droopy but friendly eyes, and an effortless coolness about her.

“Uh, yeah, kinda,” you admitted sheepishly. “I’m supposed to meet someone for the event briefing, but I have no idea where to go.”

“That’d be me,” she said, pulling the lollipop from her mouth with a soft pop and pointing at your clipboard. “Ieri Shoko, senior and your supervisor for this disaster waiting to happen.”

You blinked, taken aback by her bluntness but oddly comforted by her relaxed demeanor. “Oh! I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

“Don’t sound so formal. You’re not signing a job contract.” Shoko chuckled and motioned for you to follow her. “Come on, I’ll show you around. First lesson: don’t panic when things go wrong. They always do.”

As you trailed behind her, you couldn’t help but feel a bit more at ease. Shoko’s presence was reassuring, like she had everything under control, even if she pretended not to care much. Over the next hour, she walked you through your tasks, gave you pointers, and even cracked a few jokes to lighten the mood.

“You’ll be fine,” Shoko said, leaning back in her chair as the two of you sat backstage, reviewing your responsibilities for the event. “Just don’t try to do everything alone. That’s what I’m here for.”

You smiled, feeling your earlier anxiety ebb away. “Thanks, Shoko. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. But if you bring me coffee every now and then, I won’t complain,” she said with a wink.

From that day on, Shoko became your unofficial guide to surviving high school life. She’d drop by during lunch to check on you, share gossip, and sometimes drag you to eat with her friends, introducing you to a world of chaos and laughter you didn’t know you needed.

And little did you know, this was just the beginning of your whirlwind high school adventure.

❤❤❤

It didn’t take long for you and Shoko to become inseparable. She was like the big sister you didn’t know you needed—always ready to offer advice, roast you mercilessly, or share the latest school gossip. One afternoon, as you both sat in the cafeteria, Shoko suddenly perked up, her eyes locking onto someone across the room.

“Perfect timing,” she said, smirking.

“What?” you asked, mid-bite of your chicken sandwich.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you,” she said, grabbing your arm and pulling you along before you could protest.

“Introduce me to who?” you hissed, trying not to trip as you stumbled after her.

Shoko didn’t answer. She stopped at a table where a tall boy with snow-white hair and blue eyes sat, casually leaning back in his chair with the confidence of someone who owned the place. He had a cocky grin plastered on his face as he scrolled through his phone.

“Satoru,” Shoko said, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

He looked up, his grin widening. “Shoko! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Cut the crap. This is Y/N,” Shoko said, gesturing toward you. “She’s a junior, and you’re about to scare her, so tone it down.”

Satoru turned his piercing gaze to you, and for a moment, you froze. He was stupidly attractive, and the way his grin shifted into something softer almost made you forget how to breathe.

“Hey there, Y/N,” he said smoothly, leaning forward with a playful glint in his eyes. “Didn’t know Shoko had a junior friend. What’s your deal?”

You blinked, unsure how to respond. “My deal? Uh… like, what I do? I’m just trying to survive high school without failing the exams.”

Shoko groaned. “She’s volunteering to handle talent day. That's how I know her. And for fuck’s sake, go easy on her, Satoru.”

Gojo chuckled, sitting up straight. “Don’t worry, I’m harmless. Mostly.”

You gave him a wary look, and he laughed louder.

“Relax, I’m kidding,” he said, reaching out to ruffle your hair like you were a puppy. “You’re kinda adorable, though. I can see why Shoko likes you.”

“Don’t touch her,” Shoko warned, smacking his hand away.

Satoru pouted but withdrew his hand. “Fine. But I like her. She’s fun.”

You weren’t sure what to make of him yet, but his teasing didn’t feel mean-spirited. If anything, it felt oddly comforting, like he was trying to make you feel included.

“Why don’t you join us?” Satoru asked, motioning to the empty seats at his table.

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Thought you’d be busy flirting with half the school.”

“Nah,” Satoru said breezily. “Today, I’m all yours. And hers, if she wants,” he added, winking at you.

Your face heated up, and Shoko smirked. “Careful, Satoru. You’re gonna scare her off.”

“Am not!” Satoru protested.

Despite your initial awkwardness, the lunch turned out to be surprisingly fun. Satoru was a lot—flirty, loud, and full of himself—but there was something endearing about how he went out of his way to make you laugh. By the time lunch ended, you felt like you’d known him forever.

As you packed up your things to leave, Satoru called out, “See you around, Y/N! Don’t miss me too much!”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. Shoko nudged your side, smirking.

“Welcome to the chaos,” she said.

And chaos it was, because from that day forward, Satoru decided to make you his favorite junior.

❤❤❤

A week after meeting Satoru, you found yourself regretting your life choices. You busied yourself with co-curricular activities, but in the end, it affected your academics. You were hunched over your desk, staring blankly at a math worksheet that might as well have been written in ancient hieroglyphs. The numbers and formulas blurred together, taunting you with their incomprehensibility.

“Need help?” Shoko asked casually, leaning against your desk in the study hall.

“Yes,” you groaned dramatically, slumping forward. “But my brain isn't braining.”

She chuckled, flicking your forehead. “Good thing I know someone who’s a genius at math and will definitely enjoy tutoring you.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Who?”

“Gojo Satoru,” she said, smirking.

“No way!” you protested immediately. “He’ll tease me the whole time!”

“Probably,” she admitted. “But he’s actually a good tutor when he wants to be. And trust me, he’ll say yes. He thinks you’re adorable.”

Despite your hesitation, Shoko dragged you to find Satoru after class. He was lounging against a locker, chatting with Geto, when Shoko interrupted.

“Satoru, you’re tutoring Y/N in math,” she declared.

Satoru blinked, surprised, before his lips stretched into a mischievous grin. “Really? And what do I get out of it?”

“Nothing,” Shoko deadpanned. “Except the satisfaction of being helpful.”

“Hmm…” He tapped his chin thoughtfully before glancing at you. “What do you think, Y/N? Want me to grace you with my brilliance?”

You sighed, already regretting this. “If it means passing my next test, fine.”

And so began your sessions with Satoru. Despite his initial teasing, you quickly realized that he was genuinely smart. He had a way of breaking down complex problems into simple steps, and he was surprisingly patient when you struggled.

“You’re overthinking it,” he said one afternoon as you sat together in the library. “Just plug the values into the formula and solve them step by step.”

You frowned, scribbling on your notebook. “Like this?”

“Exactly!” he said, grinning proudly. “See? You’re a natural.”

“I’m really not,” you muttered, but his encouragement made you feel a little better.

One day during a session, Satoru suddenly waved excitedly at someone across the library.

“Yo, Suguru!” he called, completely ignoring the librarian’s glare.

You turned to see Geto Suguru approaching, a book in hand and a slightly exasperated expression on his face. He looked every bit as graceful and composed as usual, his long hair tied neatly into a bun.

“Satoru,” Suguru greeted, setting his book on the table. “What are you doing here?”

“Tutoring Y/N,” Satoru said, gesturing proudly at you.

Suguru’s eyes flicked to you, and he offered a warm smile. “Good luck with that.”

“Hey!” Satoru protested. “I’m an excellent tutor, thank you very much.”

Suguru chuckled softly. “I don’t doubt that.”

“Sit with us!” Satoru said, already pulling out a chair.

Suguru hesitated. “I don’t want to interrupt—”

“You won’t,” Satoru insisted. “We’re taking a break anyway.”

Reluctantly, Suguru joined you, and the three of you chatted for a while. Suguru’s calm demeanor was a stark contrast to Satoru’s chaotic energy, but somehow they balanced each other perfectly.

When Suguru eventually excused himself, you turned to Satoru with a blunt question: “So… is he your boyfriend?”

Satoru froze, his eyes wide. “W-What?”

“You guys are really close, and sometimes you’re, uh… so gay for each other,” you said, whispering the last part.

Satoru’s face turned pink, something you hadn’t thought possible for someone as confident as him. “We’re not dating! I mean… not yet.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait, you like him?”

“Shhh!” Satoru hissed, glancing around to make sure no one overheard. “Keep your voice down!”

You grinned mischievously. “That’s so cute!”

“Shut up,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands. “I just… I don’t know how he feels, okay?”

You were too busy bouncing excitedly in your chair to respond.

“Y/N, stop bouncing,” Satoru palmed his face, glancing around again. “People are looking, and now they think I proposed or something.”

You froze mid-bounce, wide-eyed. “Wait, do they really?”

“No,” he deadpanned. “But they might if you keep acting like a sugar-high rabbit.”

“Well, I’ll support you!” you said enthusiastically. “Just like how you support my crush on Nanami.”

Satoru let out a chuckle. “Yeah, about that… you need better plans if you’re gonna catch his attention. Haibara told me you tried leaving him a note in his locker and forgot to sign it.”

You groaned, sinking into your seat as Satoru laughed. “That was intentional! I'm just too shy to let him know who I am.”

“Ah, I see. Later, don’t blame me if you end up as a forever single, husbandless old lady with a million cats,” he teased you.

“Satoru!!!”

“Hey, you two at the back! This is my last warning. Keep quiet or I’ll kick you out of this library!” the librarian shouted, clearly at her wit’s end.

“Oops, sorry,” you and Satoru said together, holding back laughs.

❤❤❤

It started with subtlety. Or at least, what you thought was subtle. You’d read somewhere that carrying books near someone you liked might catch their attention, so one day, you deliberately walked past Nanami in the hallway with an enormous stack of books.

Unfortunately, you underestimated how heavy they were.

“Whoa!” you yelped as the pile wobbled precariously. Before they could hit the floor, a hand shot out, steadying the books. You looked up to see Nanami holding the stack effortlessly, his brow furrowed in concern.

“You shouldn’t carry so much at once,” he said calmly, taking the books from you as though they weighed nothing.

“I-It’s fine! I was just… practicing my balance!” you stammered, your face heating up. You couldn’t believe you just said that. Practicing balance? Really?

“Practicing your balance?” Nanami repeated, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded furiously, your heart racing. “Y-Yeah, you know… for, um, sports day!” You winced internally. You were pretty sure that was the worst excuse in history.

He stared at you for a moment, probably debating whether to say something, before sighing. “Next time, ask for help.”

He walked away, carrying your books like a responsible human being. You stood there, mortified, wondering if you’d just blown it—or somehow made him think you were a weirdo. The lingering embarrassment had you wishing the floor could swallow you whole.

Another time, you tried the classic “bumping into him accidentally” move. During lunch, you timed your steps to match his and walked directly into his shoulder, causing your tray to wobble.

“Oh no!” you gasped dramatically as your pizza slice slid off the tray and onto the floor with a sad splat.

Nanami turned, mildly startled. “Are you okay?”

You plastered a sheepish smile on your face. “Oops, sorry! Guess I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

He picked up your pizza and handed it back to you without missing a beat. “You should be more careful. And you should take a new slice of pizza.”

“Right, yeah,” you said, mentally kicking yourself for how awkward you sounded. "Definitely need to be more careful. About everything." You forced a smile, trying to save some dignity, but it was too late. You could already feel the heat rising in your face.

As he walked away, you groaned quietly, sinking into your seat. Haibara, who had witnessed the entire disaster, leaned over with a grin.

“You’re trying way too hard,” he whispered, snickering.

“Shut up,” you muttered, slapping a french fry at him. You hadn’t even realized it, but it was too late to take back your ridiculous behavior now.

You are not someone to back down easily, so you decided to move on to your next mission during the art class. Nanami seems like the artsy type, so you thought it would be a great idea to compliment his work.

For today's class, you were required to draw and paint. You take a look at Nanami's drawing of a beautiful bakery filled with scrumptious pastries.

“Your painting looks so good I could eat them,” you only realized how weird it sounds once you said it.

Nanami seems taken aback by your comment, though his cheeks flushed. He cleared his throat, “Thanks, I appreciate your honest comment.”

You awkwardly stand there and give him a smile before showing him yours. “What do you think?”

Nanami adjusted his glasses and studied the paper. There was a moment of silence before he nodded slowly. “It’s an old man eating a loaf of bread. Interesting choice of medium."

Your heart sank. "It's… it's you reading a book."

Nanami blinked, looking back at the sketch. His expression softened, though a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Ah. I see it now. It’s… unique."

Haibara, who’d been eavesdropping from the back of the room, burst out laughing. "Y/N, are you trying to charm Nanami or scare him off?"

You shot him a glare, clutching your drawing to your chest. "Art is subjective!"

"Sure it is," Haibara teased, still chuckling as Nanami quietly patted your shoulder.

"It’s thoughtful," he said softly, his words making your cheeks warm. "Keep at it."

❤❤❤

The café Satoru had dragged you to after your tutoring session looked like something straight out of a fairy tale. Soft pastel tones, floral decorations hanging from the ceiling, and delicate desserts that seemed too pretty to eat. You stared at the menu, blinking at the absurd prices.

“Satoru, what even is this place?” you asked, glancing around at the café's grand, whimsical aesthetic.

“Only the best dessert café in town,” he replied casually, lounging in his seat. “Pick anything you want. My treat.”

You hesitated, eyeing the menu again. “I don’t know. Everything here costs more than my weekly lunch budget.”

“And?” Satoru raised an eyebrow, his tone utterly nonchalant. “Do I look like someone who cares about a budget? Just order.”

Reluctantly, you chose a modest-looking strawberry shortcake. Satoru, on the other hand, ordered an assortment of desserts so intricate they looked like they belonged in an art gallery.

When the desserts arrived, you couldn’t help but stare. “You ordered, like, five things. Are you planning to eat the entire menu?”

He grinned, already digging into a chocolate tart. “Why not? I have a sweet tooth, remember?”

Taking a bite of your cake, you glanced at him with a smirk. “You know, you’re starting to act like my sugar daddy with all these fancy treats.”

Satoru nearly choked on his tart. “Excuse me?”

“Think about it. You’re rich, you take me to expensive places, and you’re paying for everything. It’s kind of suspicious.”

Leaning back in his chair, he narrowed his eyes at you. “Ridiculous. Just because I have white hair doesn't mean I’m old enough to become your sugar daddy.”

You giggled at his response. “I'm just joking. But does that mean you’d consider it in the future?”

“I’ll think about it,” Satoru said, rolling his eyes. “For now, I only brought you here so I wouldn’t look like a complete glutton eating all of this by myself.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So, I’m your guilt buffer?”

“Exactly,” he said with a smug grin, pointing at you with his fork.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“And you’re lucky I like you enough to share. Now shut your mouth and eat, ‘sugar baby’ ,” he teased, sliding a macaron your way.

❤❤❤

It was a quiet afternoon, the kind where time felt a little slower. You were sitting on the steps outside the school building, your heart hammering in your chest as you fidgeted with the hem of your jacket. Nanami had just walked past you on his way to the gate, but you couldn’t let this opportunity slip. Not again.

Taking a deep breath, you stood up and called out to him.

“Nanami!” you said, almost louder than you meant to. He turned around, raising an eyebrow, the calm expression on his face never wavering.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, glancing at you with concern.

You hesitated for a moment, heart pounding, but this was it. You couldn’t keep running away from it anymore.

“I… I need to tell you something,” you said, suddenly feeling braver. You walked up to him, your face flushing. “I… like you. A lot. I’ve liked you for a while now.”

Nanami blinked, his eyes softening as he processed your words. He wasn’t one for overt expressions of emotion, but you could see the slightest shift in his expression.

“You’ve liked me?” he repeated, as though trying to make sure he heard you right.

You nodded, feeling your stomach flutter. “Yeah, I have. And I’m not expecting anything, but I just wanted to tell you. I thought you should know.”

For a moment, there was silence. The weight of your confession hung in the air, and you could feel the panic bubbling up inside you. But just when you started to feel the dread of embarrassment, Nanami gave you a small, genuine smile, one that made your heart skip a beat.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said softly. “I didn’t know.”

“I know I’m probably not your type or anything—”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he interrupted, his voice soft but firm, and you froze, eyes wide. “You’re more than enough. I just… didn’t know how to bring it up. But I’m glad you did.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his words sank in. Was he…? No way. He couldn’t be.

Before you could respond, a loud whistle cut through the air.

“Finally!” Haibara’s voice rang out, and when you turned, you saw him, along with Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru, all watching from a distance. They definitely look like proud parents.

Satoru grinned and gave you a thumbs-up. “Took you long enough!”

Your face flushed a deep shade of pink as you turned back to Nanami, who was looking at you with an amused, yet reassuring, expression.

“I guess we have some support,” you muttered, embarrassed but amused all the same.

He chuckled, the sound warm and soft. “Seems like it.”

“Well, I guess I should go before this gets even more awkward,” you said, taking a step back, only to be stopped when Nanami’s hand gently grabbed your wrist.

“Wait. Let’s go grab some coffee or something. We can talk more,” he said, his smile turning more playful.

You couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

As the two of you walked away, you heard Haibara cheering loudly in the background, followed by Satoru’s teasing voice. “About time, Y/N!”

But you didn’t care. For the first time in a long while, everything felt right.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #geto suguru #nanami kento #nanami x reader #ieri shoko #yu haibara #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader

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loving-daisy · 13 hours ago

Text

Where’s the Trophy? | Draco Malfoy x Reader

Words: 8.1k

Summary: Nothing would ever make Draco happy than holding a trophy in his arms. Wait, are we talking about the Quidditch World Cup or a certain Y/N Weasley?

Inspired by Taylor Swift’s song — “The Alchemy”

Author’s Note: I had this in the drafts ever since the 2024 Paris Olympics when edits of players running towards their s/o’s became viral :)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Draco Malfoy wasn’t the type to shy away from a challenge, and Y/N Weasley was certainly proving to be one.

Draco had noticed her immediately when they first crossed paths at Theodore Nott’s engagement party.

Despite being a Weasley, Y/N became good friends with Theodore after meeting her at some workshop for fellow print editors. Y/N works at The Alchemy, the bestselling wizarding lifestyle magazine of all time.

Every single wizard and witch keep their hands on The Alchemy for it covers basically everything you need to know about the wizarding world from the latest news and trends, ministry politics and foreign affairs, celebrity gossip, and even covering up to the current viral beauty and fashion world. To be featured in the magazine is to be popular and Theodore’s bride-to-be knew that their engagement was to be publicized by none other than The Alchemy.

Y/N was leaning against the wall with an almost bored expression, her sharp eyes scanning the room, never lingering on anything or anyone for too long. Not even him, Draco Malfoy, England’s seeker, king of hearts, and player of all players.

Most women would have been entranced by his presence, drawn in by his reputation and charm. But Y/N? She’d barely acknowledged his arrival, too busy ranting with Theo about the piled up work for all print distributors with the rising tensions of the Quidditch world cup .

Draco had made his way over, cocking an eyebrow as he interrupted their conversation.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but overhear,” he said smoothly, glancing at Theo, who gave him an exasperated look.

Before Draco was able to continue what he was about to say, he was immediately interrupted by the girl, who didn’t even look up from her drink.

“And yet, you’re interrupting,” she replied dryly, her voice cool but with just enough of a bite to show she wasn’t amused.

Draco smirked, leaning against the wall beside her. “Well, Darling, what better way to write about Quidditch than with a Quidditch player himself? Not to mention, me, the star of every game.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re really not as charming as you think you are, Malfoy.”

“I beg to differ,” he said, leaning in slightly, his tone lowering with that touch of arrogance she had come to expect. “Most women find me quite irresistible.”

Her lips twitched, but she didn’t rise to the bait. "Good thing I’m not most women,” she replied, turning her attention back to Theodore, clearly uninterested in his game.

Usually, Draco wouldn’t even bother wasting a breath on a Weasley but Y/N had dismissed him all too quickly. She had dismissed him, England’s heartthrob, as if she wasn’t interested in his good looks, or fame, or even popularity.

Salazar, she wasn’t even interested in writing about him for The Alchemy.

Draco Malfoy was not accustomed to chasing anything—or anyone. He had always been pursued, whether for his status, wealth, or simply because of his name. Relationships had always been transactional for him: a game of give and take, of power dynamics that were easy to navigate. But Y/N Weasley… Y/N was different.

At first, Draco had been intrigued. She was sharp, unyielding, and completely immune to his usual charms.

Where most women melted under his attention, Y/N only rolled her eyes or gave him a withering look as though he was just another distraction to be dealt with. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had dismissed him so thoroughly, and it had started to feel like a challenge for reasons he couldn't quite explain.

But it wasn’t just that.

The more she resisted, the more he wanted to see if he could break through that impenetrable wall she’d built around herself.

Over time, his interest became more than a game. She challenged him, called him out on his arrogance, and refused to let him get away with half-truths or polished façades. For the first time in years, Draco felt like someone saw him for who he really was—and she didn’t flinch.

Y/N Weasley wasn’t having it.

“You’re wasting your time,” she told him one evening at a café in London, where they’d both ended up after a mutual friend’s birthday gathering.

“Am I?” he asked, his smirk tilting into something softer.

“Yes,” she said firmly, taking a sip of her wine. “Whatever this is, it’s not going to happen.”

Draco only shrugged, undeterred. ‘We’ll see.’

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Still writing about why men are hopeless, Weasley?”

Y/N looked up to find Draco Malfoy standing there, effortlessly stylish in a tailored coat and scarf that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe. His silver-blond hair was tousled in that maddeningly perfect way, and he wore a smirk that could charm or infuriate—depending on his mood.

“I wasn’t,” she replied smoothly, “but if you’re volunteering as a case study, I can adjust.”

Draco chuckled, pulling out the chair across from her without waiting for an invitation. “I’m sure your readers would love to hear about my charms. But I’d much rather give you a private demonstration.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow, feigning disinterest even as her cheeks flushed. “Is this your idea of flirting, Malfoy? Because it’s not exactly groundbreaking.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and fixing her with his piercing gray eyes. “Oh, I can be groundbreaking when I want to be. But I’ll save that for when you admit you’re intrigued.”

“Who says I’m intrigued?” she countered, her quill tapping against the table's edge.

Draco smirked. “That little blush on your cheeks does.”

Y/N huffed, pretending to go back to her notes. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he said, sliding a piece of parchment across the table with his contact information scrawled in elegant script, “you haven’t asked me to leave.”

With a wink, he stood and adjusted his scarf. “I’ll leave you to your article, Weasley. Don’t work too hard. You’ll need your energy—for when I take you to dinner.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Y/N had no idea why she was even scrolling through the gossip pages of Witch Weekly. It was supposed to be a lazy Monday morning—tea in hand, parchment in front of her—but instead, her attention had been snagged by a headline she couldn’t ignore.

England's Star Seeker Draco Malfoy Spotted with Mystery Blonde at Exclusive London Bistro!

Her stomach twisted as she stared at the accompanying photograph.

There he was, Draco Malfoy, sitting across from a gorgeous woman who was laughing at something he’d said. His trademark smirk was firmly in place, the same smirk he’d aimed at her not two days ago.

Y/N snapped the magazine shut, annoyed at herself.

What did it matter who Draco Malfoy spent his evenings with? He was arrogant, self-absorbed, and entirely too charming for his own good.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

But the universe wasn’t done testing her resolve.

Later that week, as she walked through Diagon Alley, the sight of Draco leaning against a storefront with another witch at his side stopped her in her tracks. This one had dark hair and a melodic laugh that carried across the street. Draco held her hand, his expression warm and relaxed in a way Y/N hadn’t seen before.

She quickly ducked into a nearby shop, her heart racing. Malfoy was a flirt, and she wasn’t naïve enough to think he didn’t have other women hanging on his every word.

The next morning, another headline greeted her in the Prophet: Malfoy’s Match: Which Lucky Lady Has His Heart?

Y/N threw the paper aside with a frustrated groan.

Over the past months, Draco had been bothering her. The last thing she wanted was to have him bothering her even when he’s not here. The girl swore to herself that she won’t read gossip columns ever again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Y/N was sitting in her cozy office at The Alchemy, the latest drafts of her article spread across her desk, when her fireplace flared green. She was startled as Draco Malfoy’s face appeared in the flames, his usual smirk firmly in place.

“Busy, Weasley?” he drawled.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Malfoy, have you ever heard of knocking? Oh, wait—no doors on fireplaces. How silly of me to expect manners.”

He chuckled. “If I knocked, you’d have an excuse to ignore me. This way, you’re forced to hear me out.”

“Lucky me,” she replied dryly, crossing her arms. “What do you want?”

Draco’s smirk softened, turning into something almost—dare she say it?—earnest. “I’ve got a match in two weeks. England versus France. It’s a big one. It’s the finals.”

“And?” Y/N prompted, arching an eyebrow.

“And,” he continued, “I thought you might like to come. Watch me fly circles around the other Seeker. Cheer me on. That sort of thing.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “You mean sit in a crowd of rabid Quidditch fans and feed your already oversized ego?”

“Precisely,” he replied, undeterred. “I’ve reserved a seat in the VIP box just for you. You’ll have the best view in the house.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “Why me?”

“Because,” he said smoothly, “you’re the only person I know who can’t stand my ego—and yet, you’ll be impressed anyway. Admit it, Weasley. You’re curious.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “My answer is no.”

Draco grinned, pointing a finger in her direction. “I see what this is. This is you trying not to fall in love with me when you see me in action.” He concluded, earning a groan from the Weasley girl.

“There are a lot of other witches out there already in love with you, Malfoy. Surely, you don’t need another one.” She asserted, shaking her head at the Quidditch star.

Draco blinked, his smirk faltering for a split second before he recovered. “Ah. You’ve been reading the gossip columns, I see.”

“Hard to avoid when your face is splashed across every page,” she shot back. “Or when I see you holding hands with someone else in Diagon Alley.”

“Jealous, then,” he said, his smirk returning, though there was a flicker of something more serious in his eyes.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Malfoy,” Y/N snapped. “But if you’re going to act like you’re interested in me, maybe try not to make it so obvious that you’re playing the field.”

Draco exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “You think I’m playing you?”

“I think I don’t like feeling like an idiot,” she said, her voice quieter now but no less firm. “So if this is some kind of game to you, just say so, and I’ll be on my way. Or better yet, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

For once, Draco didn’t have a quick retort. He stepped closer, his expression softening in a way that caught her off guard.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice lower now, almost tentative. “Those other witches? They don’t mean anything. The dinners, the pictures—they’re just...part of the circus that comes with this life.”

She arched an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. “And me?”

Draco hesitated, then met her gaze head-on. “You’re different. You’re not part of the circus. That’s why I keep coming back, even when you’re determined to push me away or even make me work for it.”

Y/N wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe those gray eyes weren’t just feeding her another line. But trust didn’t come easily. Not with someone like him.

“Prove it,” she said finally.

Draco’s lips twitched into a small, almost shy smile. “Challenge accepted.”

And with that, his face vanished from the flames, leaving Y/N shaking her head and wondering how Draco Malfoy always managed to get under her skin.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Over the next few weeks, his persistence continued. He sent her notes with witty remarks, often mocking her serious work at The Alchemy, trying to provoke a reaction. He’d casually show up at places where she might be—often appearing just at the right moment to interrupt her morning coffee or during late-night discussions about the Quidditch finals. At first, Y/N remained distant, always with a polite but unyielding air.

“You’re insufferable, Malfoy,” she’d said, her eyes narrowing as he leaned casually against her desk at her office.

“And yet, here I am,” he’d replied smoothly, smirking when she rolled her eyes.

“You know, Weasley,” Draco said casually, his voice low, “if you spent less time pretending to dislike me, you might realize you enjoy my company.”

Y/N looked up at him, her gaze steady but not unkind. ”I doubt that,” she said, her lips curling into a smirk. “You’re a master at charming people, but I’m simply not impressed.”

Draco’s lips curved into a small smile. “You know, you are the first person in a long time who doesn’t buy into the act.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What act?”

“This,” he gestured vaguely, smirking. “The smirking, the charm, the headlines. It works on most people. Not you.”

“Maybe because I know better,” she replied with a teasing smile.

“Exactly,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “You see through it. That’s why I…” He hesitated, then shook his head with a soft laugh. “Never mind.”

“Why you what?” Y/N prompted, her curiosity piqued.

Draco met her gaze, his gray eyes unusually serious. “Why I care what you think of me. More than I probably should.”

There was silence between them for a moment—an odd tension in the air as Y/N considered his words.

It was the first crack in her walls. Draco showed the briefest flicker of vulnerability.

But Y/N wasn’t going to make it easy.

As much as he tried to provoke her, as much as he coaxed her with his charm, he could see that she was starting to fight back. She wasn’t giving him an inch, which only made him want to push further. After all, Draco Malfoy didn’t back down easily, especially not when he was so invested in winning.

Yet, he knew—deep down—that if he ever wanted to break through to Y/N, he’d have to stop playing the game so much. He’d have to show her that, beneath the arrogant exterior, there was more to him than the world had ever known. And maybe, just maybe, that was precisely what she needed to see.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Y/N sat in her favorite corner of the café, her fingers drumming absently against her coffee cup as she stared down at the latest email from her editorial director at The Alchemy. It had been a long day, filled with deadlines and constant back-and-forths about articles. But this new email was different.

She had expected another mundane assignment, a piece on some new wizarding fashion trend or the latest potion craze. Instead, her editor’s words jumped off the screen with a new challenge:

“Ms. Weasley,

It has come to my attention that despite England’s star seeker Draco Malfoy coming in-and-out of your office, no story is being written about him for The Alchemy.

We need you to write a feature piece on Draco Malfoy.”

She blinked, rereading the message a few times, convinced she had misread it.

“Draco Malfoy?” she muttered to herself, her eyebrows knitting together.

What the hell?

Her first instinct was to toss the email aside. She wasn’t a gossip columnist, and she wasn’t the type to write puff pieces about famous Quidditch players. Y/N prided herself on the hard-hitting, serious stories she was known for—pieces that explored deeper issues, not the insipid celebrity profiles that others at The Alchemy seemed to thrive on.

But then, as much as she hated to admit it, the thought of writing about Draco Malfoy intrigued her. He wasn’t just some athlete who smiled for the cameras and spouted the usual soundbites. No, Draco had always been a more complex figure—a product of his family, his upbringing, and, she suspected, his own inner demons. She had seen the way he carried himself, the mask he wore, and the way he navigated his fame. There was more to Draco Malfoy than people realized.

Still, writing about him felt… strange. She hadn’t forgotten their previous encounters, where he’d flirted with her relentlessly, trying to get a rise out of her with his usual charm. And every time, she had shut him down. She wasn’t interested in him—at least, not in the way he clearly wanted her to be.

But now, she was being asked to dig deeper, to find the story behind the public persona. Her professional side told her it was just another assignment. The personal side of her couldn’t shake the unease in the pit of her stomach at the thought of spending more time with him.

The first meeting with Draco was set for the following week. She walked into the private room at the trendy restaurant where they had agreed to meet, her mind still swirling with questions. Draco was already there, sitting at a corner table, his signature smirk plastered across his face as he saw her approach.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Weasley, the woman who can’t be charmed,” Draco teased, his voice low and smooth. “How long did it take for you to come up with a way to make me sound interesting?”

The girl narrowed her eyes as she sat down, trying not to show discomfort. “You’re not the story I want to write, Malfoy,” she said, her tone sharp. “But my director seems to think you’re worth the ink.”

Draco chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Of course, they do. Who wouldn’t want to write about me?” His eyes twinkled with his usual cocky confidence, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel the familiar irritation bubble up.

She set her notepad on the table and gave him a pointed look. “So, tell me, Malfoy. What’s it like to be the golden boy of Quidditch? The press loves you. The fans adore you. But what’s going on behind that perfect smile of yours?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her directness. “Is that your first question, then? Going straight for the jugular?”

“Why not? I’m here to get the truth, not some carefully rehearsed spiel.”

His eyes softened for a moment, an almost imperceptible shift in his expression, but he quickly regained his usual cockiness. “Alright, alright. It’s true—being the best is exhausting. All the expectations, the pressure to perform perfectly, to look perfect. It’s a lot more work than people think. But, hey, it’s worth it when you’re the best.”

The girl jotted down some notes, but she couldn’t help but notice the faint flicker of something in his eyes—something real, something raw. It wasn’t the image of the perfect Quidditch star she expected, but the glimpse of someone who might be tired of being in the spotlight. It was a side of Draco Malfoy that was difficult to ignore.

She pressed on, determined not to be distracted. “England’s making history with how it’s the first time that the team has entered the world cup finals. How do you feel about this?”

The boy grinned, crossing his arms in amusement. “It’s only been my 2nd year playing for England as the seeker so it honestly brings me great joy to be part of this historical event.”

Nodding, Weasley continued, “Do you have a personal goal for the upcoming match?”

Draco exhaled, running a hand through his hair, making Y/N look up at him with a raised brow. The boy was about to say something until he hesitated for a moment, gears running in his head as he thought about his answer.

“I want the trophy.” He finally answered. “Nothing else would make me happier than raising the trophy with my own hands above my head. It’s my ultimate goal. I’ll be content for life once I finally make that happen.”

The girl continued to write in her notepad, nodding at every word the Quidditch star had spoken.

“And what about your personal life, Draco? Your time at Hogwarts? Your family?”

Draco leaned forward, his smirk playing at the edges of his lips. “Now, you’re getting personal. I see how it is.”

“Just trying to get the truth,” Y/N replied, not backing down.

He met her gaze, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. ”Maybe you’ll have to dig a little deeper to get that, Weasley.”

As the conversation continued, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that Draco was letting her in, just slightly more than he had before. But then, as quickly as the walls came down, they were back up again. He was a master at keeping things just out of reach. She could see that now.

But there was something else—something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. For all his bravado and charm, a vulnerability lurked behind his eyes. The question was whether she could uncover it—and whether she even wanted to.

Draco stood to leave as the interview wrapped up, giving her one last lingering look. “Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said with that trademark smirk.

The reporter gathered her things, her mind racing. She’d gotten the surface-level story she expected. But something told her there was more—much more—to Draco Malfoy than she’d ever realized.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

A few weeks after the first interview at the restaurant, Y/N sat next to Draco in a quiet corner of a rooftop bar, sipping wine while the city of London stretched out before them. The sound of distant laughter and clinking glasses filled the air, but in that moment, it felt like it was just the two of them.

Draco had been quiet for most of the evening, a rare occurrence for him. His usual cocky smile was replaced with a more relaxed, contemplative expression as he stared out at the skyline. Y/N found herself watching him, the way the soft glow of the city lights illuminated the sharp angles of his face, the way his eyes flickered with thought.

“You’re quiet tonight,” she remarked, setting her glass down.

He shrugged, but there was a softness to his movements. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” she asked, intrigued despite herself.

He met her gaze, his eyes intense. “About how you’re the only person I’ve ever met who doesn’t seem to expect anything from me.”

Y/N frowned. “That’s not true. I expect plenty from you, Malfoy.”

His lips curled into a smile, but it was different than usual—less smug, more genuine. “What do you expect?”

“I expect you to stop acting like you have to be some perfect, untouchable person,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Because no one’s perfect, and no one’s untouchable. Not even you.”

Draco’s expression softened, his gaze flicking away for a moment before he turned back to her. “I don’t want to be untouchable. Just…” he paused, then looked down at his glass, tapping it lightly with his finger. “Just don’t let me screw this up.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, though she quickly masked it with a teasing smile. “I think you’ve already screwed it up a few times. C’mon, do you think mocking some of my work at The Alchemy just to get my attention would actually make me fall for you?”

He smirked, but there was no malice in it. “True. But I’m trying.”

Y/N wasn’t sure why, but something in his tone—something in his eyes—tugged at her. She wanted to resist, to remind herself that she couldn’t afford to get caught up in someone like him. But with every word, with every glance they shared, the walls she’d carefully built around her heart seemed to crumble just a little more.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

As the days passed, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she had just scratched the surface of something much more complex. Draco Malfoy was precisely as she’d expected in many ways: confident, charming, and completely self-assured in the public eye. But the moments between his carefully constructed exterior, the fleeting glances and small gestures, had made her realize something deeper lay beneath.

The next few weeks were filled with interviews, photo shoots, and press events. Draco’s schedule was packed with appearances, leaving him little time for anything other than his public image. But Y/N managed to secure more time with him, squeezing moments between his practices and press conferences.

Each time they met, the conversation deepened slightly. But for every step he took toward vulnerability, he seemed to retreat just as quickly.

Y/N had asked about his past and his family—subjects that usually turned him distant and defensive. Yet there were moments when she saw a flicker of something else, something more human. He’d speak of his childhood with a mixture of bitterness and longing, a sense of loss that cut deeper than she had expected.

“My father was never proud of me for anything except Quidditch,” Draco had said one afternoon, his eyes dark as they stared into the distance. “I could win every match, and he’d still find something to criticize. I never could escape his shadow.”

It was the first time he had shared anything personal, and it had taken Y/N by surprise.

“Do you remember how I told you that nothing would make me happier than the world cup trophy?”

Y/N nodded as an answer, her gaze focused deeply on Draco.

“To earn that trophy is to finally let go of my father’s disappointment in me.” He confessed, taking a big gulp at his firewhisky afterwards.

Y/N had been so used to Draco Malfoy, who prided himself on his self-sufficiency, the one who lived in the limelight and was always in control. She had never considered that, beneath all that, he might be carrying around the weight of such a complicated family history.

Yet Draco cut the conversation short the moment she let herself lean in, to ask more, to dive deeper into that pain. “Anyway, enough about that,” he’d said, standing up and brushing off the moment as if it were nothing. “What else do you want to know?”

And so, the reporter continued to write. At first, she focused on the public figure of Draco Malfoy—the successful, well-loved athlete who was more than just a face in the crowd.

But with every interview and moment spent with him, she started questioning what she was genuinely uncovering. She was digging, yes, but she wasn’t sure whether Draco Malfoy's story intrigued her—or the man himself.

It wasn’t until one late evening, long after the sun had set that Y/N realized just how much her feelings for Draco had shifted. She had been assigned to cover a charity event where Draco was being honored for his work with the wizarding community. The room was filled with celebrities, athletes, and wealthy families, all gathered to celebrate Draco’s accomplishments. It was the perfect opportunity for him to shine and be the golden boy again.

But there, at the back of the ballroom, she caught him standing alone, leaning against a column with a glass of champagne in hand, his eyes distant, staring out over the crowd. She had always thought of him as the center of attention, always surrounded by people who wanted to be near him, but this moment—how he looked almost… lost—took her by surprise.

The girl approached him cautiously, unsure if this was the same Draco Malfoy she had spent the past few weeks getting to know.

“You look like you’re having the time of your life,” The girl remarked dryly, unable to help herself.

Draco’s lips curled into his trademark smirk. “Oh, you know. Just enjoying the company of people who love me.” He replied.

But the lightness of his words didn’t quite match the heaviness in his eyes. The girl caught a glimpse of the façade he had built so carefully—he was pretending, and she saw right through it.

“Do you really enjoy these things, Draco?” she asked, her voice softer than she intended.

He looked at her then, really looked at her, as if weighing her words. There was an unsettling quiet in the air between them, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.

“It’s what’s expected of me,” he finally said, his voice low.

Y/N’s heart softened at his words, and she could feel the walls he had built around himself, those barriers keeping everyone at a distance. This was a side of Draco she hadn’t seen before—the vulnerability, the uncertainty.

Before she could say more, there was a call from across the room—another colleague, another guest. Draco straightened up, wiping the moment away like it had never happened. “Duty calls” he said, his mask back in place. “I’ll see you later, Weasley.”

But as he turned to walk away, Y/N felt the weight of the unspoken words between them. She was beginning to realize that this story she was writing about Draco Malfoy wasn’t just about uncovering his public life. It was about something far more complicated that had crept up on her without warning.

She wasn’t just writing about Draco Malfoy anymore. She was trying to understand him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It was a quiet evening when Draco invited Y/N to a secluded spot near a pub, a place far from the bustling streets and prying eyes. She had been hesitant at first—Draco Malfoy didn’t exactly seem like the type to indulge in quiet, intimate settings—but something about the way he had asked, the sincerity in his voice, made her say yes.

When she arrived, she was surprised to find that it wasn’t a grand, lavish affair. It was just a small, private garden lit by hundreds of softly glowing lanterns, the gentle hum of music in the background. Draco was already there, standing by a small stone bench, a hesitant look on his face as if he wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

“Malfoy, what is this?” Y/N asked, her curiosity piqued as she took in the peaceful setting.

He gave her a small, sheepish smile. “I thought you might like something...different. Somewhere, we could talk without the usual distractions.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You? Trying to be quiet and intimate?”

Draco chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “I’m trying something new. I don’t exactly have a lot of experience with...romantic gestures.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. Draco Malfoy—arrogant, smug, unapproachable Draco—admitting he didn’t know how to do this. For a moment, the world seemed to stop, and all she could see was the vulnerability in his eyes.

He stepped toward her, offering her his hand. “I thought we could start with a walk. Maybe later we can... see where the night takes us.”

Y/N hesitated, but then she found herself taking his hand, her pulse quickening as his fingers brushed against hers.

They walked through the garden together, the soft glow of the lanterns casting a golden light over them. The path was lined with roses and jasmine, their sweet scent filling the air. Draco occasionally glanced at her, his smile more natural now, and Y/N found herself smiling back without even thinking about it.

After a while, they reached a small gazebo, draped in ivy and surrounded by flowers. Draco led her to the center, where a small table had been set up with a single candle flickering in the center. He pulled out a chair for her, a small gesture, but it made her heart flutter in a way she couldn’t explain.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Y/N said softly, her voice betraying the warmth she felt. “It’s…”

“Something I wanted to do,” Draco interrupted gently. He placed his hand on hers, his touch warm and reassuring. “Something I wanted to show you. That I can be more than the person you think I am.”

Y/N looked up at him, her breath catching in her throat as their eyes locked. There was no smugness in his expression now, no arrogance. Just sincerity—something she hadn’t expected from him, but found herself yearning for.

“I know I’ve messed up,” Draco continued, his voice low. “And I know I’m not perfect. But I want to try. I want to prove that I’m not just some spoiled, arrogant Quidditch player. I’m someone who’s willing to do this...to try for you.”

Y/N felt her walls begin to crumble. Every part of her had been bracing for him to let her down, for this to be just another game, another way to keep her interested. But something about the way he was looking at her, the way his hand remained gently resting on hers, made her believe him.

“You don’t have to prove anything, Draco,” she said quietly. “I just need to know you’re not playing games.”

He smiled, his eyes softening. “No games, Weasley. I’m not that stupid.”

The way he said it—so earnestly—left no room for doubt. She could feel the truth of his words, and for the first time, she realized how much she wanted to believe in him.

The evening went on, the quiet intimacy of the garden wrapping them in a cocoon of soft light and silence. It wasn’t grand or extravagant, but it was enough. Draco had finally shown her a side of him that was real, and in that moment, it felt like the world was just the two of them.

By the end of the night, as they stood together under the stars, Draco took a deep breath. “So, what do you think? Is this enough to make you reconsider that I might be worth it?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, and she smiled, the answer already clear. “I think I’m starting to believe you.”

Draco’s face lit up, and he pulled her in for a hug, one that felt more tender than anything they’d shared before. And as Y/N rested her head against his chest, she realized she wasn’t just falling for him—she had already fallen.

“You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire, but still holding back, as if waiting for some sign from her.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she opened her eyes to meet his, the raw emotion in his gaze pulling her in even deeper. “Then why don’t you?”

The words had barely left her lips when his other hand slid around her waist, pulling her closer, until there was no space left between them. She could feel the heat of his body against hers, the tension crackling between them, making it impossible to think clearly.

Draco leaned in, his lips just inches from hers, and Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. For a moment, everything seemed to slow—time stretching out as they hovered on the edge of something they both knew could change everything.

A sudden sound broke the silence. The rustling of leaves. A faint cough.

Y/N and Draco both snapped their heads to the side, a rush of disappointment and frustration sweeping over them. Standing just at the edge of the garden path, a figure was barely visible in the dim light.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt."

It was a familiar voice—one Y/N would recognize anywhere.

"George?" she called out, her words laced with a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

Draco stiffened beside her, his eyes narrowing as he turned to face the intruder.

"Couldn't find you two anywhere in the pub, so I figured you might be here," George Weasley said, stepping fully into the light with his characteristic grin. He raised a hand in apology. "Did I ruin something?"

Y/N let out a soft sigh, the tension that had been building between her and Draco instantly evaporating. The weight of the moment slipped away, replaced by the sudden, unwelcome intrusion of her older brother’s presence.

"Bloody hell," Draco muttered under his breath, rubbing his forehead in irritation. "I was about to—"

George, completely unaware of the emotional wreckage he’d just caused, smiled and raised an eyebrow. "About to what? Kiss her?" He gave a teasing glance to Y/N. "I mean, that’s the only reason I can think of you two standing so close."

Y/N could feel her cheeks burning, the awkwardness of the moment too much to ignore. "George," she said, trying to keep her voice steady, "what are you doing here?"

"I told you, I was looking for you," he said with a shrug. "But I’m happy to leave you two to whatever… this is." He made a small gesture between them. "Just don’t do anything I’d do, alright?"

Draco shot him a glare, clearly less than thrilled with the interruption. "You know, George, I’m really starting to wonder what exactly you’re insinuating."

George chuckled and held his hands up in mock defense. "Nothing, nothing. Just wanted to make sure you weren't tying my little sister up in some crazy love affair."

Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Can’t you go bother Fred?” she said, hoping to push her brother along.

But George just shook his head. “Nah, he’s busy at the shop. Anyway, I’ll leave you two to it. Just don’t blame me when it’s not my fault you two don’t kiss already. It’s been hanging in the air since I walked up.”

With that, George turned to leave, his footsteps growing quieter as he disappeared down the path.

Y/N exhaled, feeling a mix of relief and annoyance flood through her. "Well, that was awkward," she muttered, running a hand through her hair.

Draco’s posture had relaxed, but he was still watching her with an amused yet frustrated expression. "I can’t believe that just happened."

And just like that, the moment was lost—not by their own choice, but by fate and the mischievous timing of her brother. Yet, in that space between them, something still lingered, the anticipation hanging in the air like the faintest whisper of what might come next.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

As the season finale approached, excitement buzzed throughout the wizarding world. The final game of the Quidditch World Cup was drawing near, and Draco Malfoy’s England team was on the cusp of victory. Every publication and every media outlet, was buzzing about the upcoming match. It was a culmination of years of hard work, and Draco was poised to lead his team to the win.

But as much as the excitement of the game filled the air, it wasn’t the only thing occupying Draco’s mind. Y/N Weasley had been a constant presence over the past few weeks, her insightful questions and perceptive eyes causing something inside him to stir.

It wasn’t about the chase anymore; it was about how she made him feel like someone with something real to offer, something that had nothing to do with his past. With Y/N, he wasn’t Draco Malfoy, the heir to the Malfoy fortune, the former Death Eater, or even the star Seeker of the England team. He was just Draco.

And now, as the final match loomed closer, something in him knew that he needed her there. He wanted her to witness the moment he had been working toward his entire life, to see him in his element at the peak of his career.

There was a vulnerability in that—asking her to witness his success, to be there as something more than just the journalist writing on his feature for a magazine.

The question came as a text one evening, just a few days before the big game. Y/N was sitting in her apartment, reviewing her notes for her article, when her phone buzzed.

“You’re coming to the final game, right?”

The girl stared at the message momentarily, her fingers hovered over the screen as she debated how to respond.

“I wasn’t planning on it. You’ve got plenty of people in your corner already.”

She hit send before she could second-guess herself, but a new message appeared from Draco moments later. “And you think they’re the ones I want there? You should come. I want you to see it. All of it.”

She felt a strange flutter in her chest at his words.

“Fine, I’ll be there. But don’t expect me to cheer for you.”

Draco’s reply was quick, playful, but there was an undertone of sincerity. “I’ll take what I can get. See you there, Weasley.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The day of the match arrived, and Y/N found herself standing in the VIP section of the stadium, her heart beating faster than she would have liked. The atmosphere was electric, the stands filled with enthusiastic supporters. Draco had ensured that she had the best seat in the house—front and center, right near the team’s private box.

As the match kicked off, Y/N was fully aware that she was there not just as a reporter, but as someone who was beginning to care, in a way she had never intended. She watched Draco carefully, noting the way he moved with precision, the intensity in his eyes, and the confidence in every pass, every dive, every goal.

There was something magnetic about watching him play, not just for his skill, but for the quiet determination that seemed to flow from him.

During the halftime break, Y/N made her way up to the private box, where Draco was standing alone, looking out over the field. He had removed his goggles and gloves.

“You’re doing well,” Y/N said, stepping up beside him, trying to keep her tone casual.

“You came,” he said, his voice a mix of surprise and something else. He looked at the girl carefully. There, Y/N stood, wearing a black England Quidditch jersey with Draco’s last name on the back, the number 7 emblazoned proudly across it.

His heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t expected her to wear it, let alone wear it like she was wearing it for him. A small thrill ran through him.

“I said I would,” Y/N replied, her voice steady despite her heart racing.

Draco gave her a broad smile. “You look cute with my last name on your back.” He complimented, Y/N’s cheeks immediately turning red.

Silence engulfed their atmosphere for a while before Draco decided to break it.

“Do you think I can win?” he asked quietly, a rare moment of honesty breaking through his usual bravado.

She met his gaze, her own heart unexpectedly softening. “I think you’ve already won,” she said with quiet certainty. “No matter what happens in the game, you’ve already proven everything you set out to achieve.”

For a moment, Draco said nothing, but his eyes softened, and Y/N saw the vulnerability he had kept hidden. He took a step closer to her, his voice low. “That’s the thing about winning, Weasley. It never feels like enough. Not until I’ve got everything I want.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The game resumed, and Y/N’s focus shifted back to the field as Draco and his team pushed forward, the final match unfolding before her eyes.

On the pitch, Draco kept his focus sharp, scanning the skies for the glint of gold, but his mind wandered to her more often than it should have. Was she watching? Was she rolling her eyes every time the announcers praised him? Did she regret coming at all?

When he finally spotted the Snitch, his heart surged, not just with the thrill of the chase but with the knowledge that Y/N was here to see him succeed. He dove with precision, ignoring the French Seeker on his tail, and his fingers closed around the Snitch in one fluid motion. The crowd erupted, and his teammates surged toward him, but Draco’s gaze immediately lifted to the stands.

As the crowd cheered, Y/N found herself caught up in the moment's energy, but it wasn’t the victory that held her attention. It was Draco. She watched as he raised his arms in triumph, his face a mix of relief and elation, his hard work finally paying off.

The crowd erupted as the final whistle sounded, the golden snitch clutched tightly in Draco Malfoy’s hand. The scoreboard flashed the win: England - 310, France - 290. The stadium was a cacophony of cheers, chants, and magical fireworks lighting up the Parisian sky. His teammates swarmed him, their triumphant shouts blending into the roaring crowd. But Draco’s mind was already elsewhere.

He didn’t hear the commentators dissecting his final play or the announcer calling his name as the match’s MVP. All he could think about was her—Y/N Weasley, standing just past the enchanted barriers separating the players from the spectators.

As the crowd surged forward, Y/N made her way down to the field, determined to catch him before the madness of victory consumed him completely. She found him near the edge of the pitch, his teammates surrounding him, all celebrating their victory. But Draco’s eyes found hers immediately, cutting through the noise and the chaos.

For a moment, the world around them seemed to fade away. There was no crowd, no reporters, no fans clamoring for his attention. There was just Draco and Y/N—two people who had been circling each other for weeks, testing boundaries, pushing limits, and now, standing on the edge of something neither of them were prepared for.

Draco handed off the snitch to a teammate, brushing past the photographers calling his name. “Where are you going, Malfoy?” one of his teammates shouted, but Draco didn’t bother answering.

The trophy could wait. The celebrations could wait. Everything could wait.

By the time she saw him weaving through the crowd, his hair mussed from the game, a bead of sweat tracing his temple, he was already too close to ignore.

“Where’s the trophy, Malfoy?” she asked, her voice teasing and dripping with sarcasm but her eyes betraying the pride she felt.

“Don’t care,” he said simply, his chest still heaving.

“What kind of star player skips the celebration?” she quipped, but her words faltered as his hands found her waist. In one swift movement, he pulled her over to him, his fingers curling into the soft fabric of her coat.

“The kind who’s got better things to do,” he murmured, his voice low.

Her witty comeback dissolved as his lips crashed into hers, the kiss hard and desperate, as if he’d waited his whole life for this moment. The stadium, the cameras, the spectators—all of it faded into the background. It was just them, wrapped in the kind of alchemy that couldn’t be planned or controlled.

She tasted like red wine, and Draco thought, for once, he might actually have won something worth keeping.

When they finally broke apart, Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she saw his gray eyes. “You’re insane, Malfoy,” she whispered, her fingers still gripping the front of his jersey.

“Maybe,” he replied, brushing his forehead against hers. “But I’m yours.”

As the crowd chanted his name and his teammates hoisted the trophy, Draco stayed rooted in that moment with her, knowing that whatever happened next, nothing could compare to the magic of Y/N Weasley in his arms, grinning at him.

He looked at her for a long moment, and then, in a move that surprised her, he leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against her cheek in a far more intimate gesture than anything he had done before.

“Thank you, Y/N.” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion she hadn’t expected. “For being here. For seeing me.”

Y/N stood there, her heart racing as she tried to process the shift in their relationship. She hadn’t just witnessed his victory. She had seen him, indeed seen him—for the first time. And now, everything was different.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

On my final conversation with star-seeker Draco Malfoy, there I stood, on the sides of the Quidditch pitch, asking him “Where’s the trophy, Malfoy?”

But guess what? He just comes running over to me.

signed,

Y/N Weasley | Senior Editor at The Alchemy

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy au #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #harry potter au #harry potter imagines #loving-daisy works #weasley reader #post war hogwarts #post war #quidditch #seeker malfoy

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1425fivefive · 18 hours ago

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this may be a silly question but whats your process for writing smut? i can write fanfic, but when it comes to just positioning and pace of writing smut, i literally feel like i have no idea what i am doing. you clearly EXCEL at it so im wondering you’d ever share your process? thank you

this isn't a silly question and i'm delighted you asked me! also so lovely to hear you think i excel at it, i love writing it and always am overjoyed to hear people enjoy reading it 💕

i don't know how much help i can be, but for me, smut writing is usually (1) hot image or line of dialogue pops into my head and (2) sitting down and writing it. while i'm writing, everything plays out like a movie in my head. like i visualize literally everything, which makes smut writing much easier. i often feel with smut writing i'm just transcribing stuff that's playing out in my brain. i also am just... terminally horny.

BUT i have tips to make smut writing better/easier:

Kill the cop inside your head

So many smut writers feel shame about writing smut. There's nothing shameful about it! It's fun, it's normal, it's a healthy way to explore your own sexuality and ideas and concepts and dynamics. I think of it like a sandbox. There are loads of things I write in smut that I would never want to do in real life, but it's fun getting to play around with them in a safe space.

If there's a voice in your brain saying, "This is weird, this is something I should be embarrassed about," that's not some objective truth. That's a lot of culture being weird about sex and desire and thinking it's something that should be shamed and controlled. Not to be all "writing smut is a radical act of resistance," but like... it sort of is.

2. Tap into one characters' point of view

A lot of smut reads like porn. Like you're sort of watching the author mash Barbies together, but the Barbies don't really have thoughts or feelings. I always find it weird when the POV character's body or appearance gets excessively described during smut. Like why is the POV character thinking about their tight little nipples or whatever. Unless the POV character is actively thinking about how the other character is perceiving them, it's confusing to write about the POV character's appearance.

Also - think about what the POV character finds hot about the sex! Like you're not just writing about sex between two people, you're writing about sex between these characters specifically. Think about what about their personality, appearance, whatever that each character finds hot. That'll make your smut unique rather than feeling like it could be happening between any two characters.

3. Read lots of smut and figure out what you like about it

Just find smut you like. Read it with a critical eye and figure out what you like about it. Look at the writing structure, the dialogue, how the author describes orgasms, sensations, feelings. Try to incorporate some of that into your own writing.

4. Be weird

I've read a lot of smut, and so much of it feels indistinguishable from each other. The top thrusts once, twice, three times and then comes. The bottom begs to get fucked and says "I can take it" when the top tries to give them a third finger. Characters always need exactly three fingers before they can be fucked.

Be weird! It's ok to write smut differently than how other people write it. That's part of what makes fic so interesting! I love reading weird smut that's written by someone who was just clearly really into it. Like I want unique, fun smut! If you're into it/you find it hot, readers will too. Don't think you have to write smut in the way all the most popular fics write smut.

I don't know how helpful this is, especially because I have loads of criticisms of my own smut writing, but hopefully this is interesting, at least!

#asks #writing process asks

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cinnamorwll · 18 hours ago

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hii girlies, it’s cinnamorwll!! first of all i want to apologize for my disappearing act lately, i’ve been deep in my winter arc (my entire existence has basically revolved around making vision boards for everything i want to achieve next year), one of those goals? getting really active on this blog! so this is officially my attempt to turn this space into a cozy and cute little online journal where i can share some little diary entries, and honestly, i trust you girlbloggers as my most loyal and trustworthy sisters!! we can spill the tea and keep each other’s secrets here, period.

so welcome to Footsteps! (it’s a temporary name—i’m indecisive, sue me—but i picked it cos it’s about the small things in life that can still leave a considerable impact) feel free to hit me up in the comments and i’ll be there chatting with youuu, oh and just a heads-up: these posts aren’t usually going to be THIS long i just have a LOT to say for this first one… this episode is called “Cinnamorwll’s 2024 Dating Wrapped”—spoiler alert: nothing happened! literally, it was just silly crushes but dw i’ve got some funny stories to share so grab a snack and stay with me <33

let’s start with S, because i’m still processing what happened but let’s rewind to the beginning… so, i met S last year when i switched schools, and from the moment i saw him i was completely charmed, maybe it’s because he looks exactly like 2000s Milo Ventimiglia (yes, Jess Mariano himself), but also because he’s genuinely a nice person… he’s a grade above me so i mostly just saw him passing but every single interaction we had made me a nervous wreck, and let me tell you, girl, these interactions were PAINFULLY awkward, like, i wanted to bury myself alive after each one! and at first i was determined not to like him because he’s the walking embodiment of a high school movie cliché: one of the most popular boys in school, everyone knows him, and he’s kind of a big deal, but by the middle of the year, it was already too late; he had fully claimed the title of my ultimate corridor crush… i even wrote a few poems about him, they’d just come to me randomly but i never showed anyone, obviously (those are confined in a secret vault for all eternity), then, at the beginning of this year, i had THE dream! we were in some blurry, hazy dreamlike place (very tumblr core aesthetic omg), and we bumped into each other, like, full-on collision! he made a joke and then he walked away… when i woke up i was so devastated that it was just a dream but i immediately wrote the whole thing down as a song because… what else was i supposed to do?

“We almost kissed, you laughed a little bit, and it made me a little less nervous, you told me a joke…”

i won’t share the whole thing YET but that was basically the first verse, anyway, life went on, i kept seeing him here and there, and every interaction was awkward beyond belief but then the CRAZIEST thing happened… picture this: it’s the last day of school (december 3rd to be exact) and u know how everyone’s in that chaotic “literally-no-one-cares-anymore” vibe? i was standing with my friends by the classroom door and apparently he was standing right next to me but i didn’t notice him! so when i turned around, we didn’t just bump into each other, we CRASHED! like, our faces touched! it was so quick but i let out this tiniest little scream because it startled me, and he just laughed then he hit me with the one-liner that’s going to haunt me for the next seven years: “I know you like this kind of stuff, but it won’t be me.”

my friends obviously laughed and i just stood there wanting to dig a hole and hide FOREVER… but here’s the thing, did you notice? what happened to me is exactly what i wrote in that song, like… WHAT??? i don’t know if you believe in the law of attraction, manifestation, or anything like that, i do—kind of, but i’ve never gone super deep into it or done techniques intentionally, but LOOK AT MY LYRICS! is it possible i manifested that interaction? i mean i dreamed about it, wrote a silly little song, sang it to myself occasionally, and then it actually happened! we bumped into each other, we laughed, and he made a joke, it’s INSANE!!

and no, i’m not making this up, i even have the receipts in the group chat with my besties because we dissected this whole thing later… the good news is he’s a senior so he’s off to college next year, and i’ll (hopefully) never see him again, which is perfect because i know the second i see him again, i’ll be charmed all over, and i DO NOT want that, two years of crushing were torturous enough, thank you very much!

let’s move on to K, shall we? omg where do i even start? okay, so yesterday, he made the first move and texted me, naturally i thought it was a safe zone, so we started chatting and i had no idea what to say so i hit him with “oh you like tyler the creator? taste!” and he was like, “omg yeah blah blah blah,” and i was like, “omg i love him too blah blah blah” (i have never listened to tyler the creator in my life) anyway, turns out K is not just a fan; he’s a full-on tyler the creator Spinjitzu master (his words, not mine), he even listened to all the unreleased stuff, probably knows the man’s grocery list too! i was like, wow, this dude is dedicated! we were vibing, or so i thought… but then idk what happened, one minute he was saying “hey, stay, i still want to talk to you” and the next he’s GHOSTING ME??? … it’s been a whole day now so maybe i’m being dramatic (shocking, i know) but still… WHAT???

honestly, maybe this is my karma, i mean, i’ve ghosted people before but only because i’m a chronic over-thinker, like, i’ll convince myself i’m annoying them or tiring them, it’s something i’m working on, i swear!! social interactions (even online) just freak me out sometimes, but i do LOVE talking to my online besties, but sometimes i feel like i’m the worst at conversations… but i always come back to reply eventually, even if it’s just to apologize for taking forever… but K? oh, no, he straight-up disappeared… oh, wait—scratch that! i just remembered that he’s been posting stuff, so he definitely saw my message, maybe he’s just busy? idk we’ll see

to be fair, i was already cautious about him because he’s blonde, and let’s be honest, blonde boys are always trouble, but this one had glasses, so i thought he’d be different

finally, i’ve gotta give an honorable mention to C! and chat, he is so, so, SO cute!! we’re basically the same person, but in different fonts, you know? we have the same taste in music, the same tiktok reposts, the same interests… it’s kind of spooky! but i’m way too nervous to talk to him… we’ve had a few interactions, and i know for a fact that he’s really nice, but i’ll let you know if i ever actually talk to him… right now, i’m just hoping the universe will throw us together somehow, anyway, i really wish the best for him and everything, and maybe next year i’ll work up to the courage to at least be friends with him, fingers crossed!

final thoughts? i’m an emotional mess who ruminates over everything i can’t control, but hey, at least it gave me some solid content to write about… and next time i do this, i really hope i’ll have something more exciting to report, like “i have a boyfriend!” or whatever, but we’ll see what next year has in store for us

guess that’s it… this is probably gonna flop so bad but i’m posting it anyway because i need to get it off my chest (and definitely out of my notes app). i hope you liked it, i didn’t! oh and i almost forgot, happy belated christmas!! i hope you all had an amazing time!! i love each and every one of you sooooo much <33

(footstep: stalking his following list won’t do you any good btw 😭)

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ttrpg-life · 1 day ago

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How the Game Works

Welcome welcome! Here are the basic rules of the game and explainations of the archetypes!

Basic Premise:

RPG Life is based on the Powered by Apocolypse system (specifically I've referenced Monster of the Week, the original Powered by Apocolypse, and Simple World).

It's a system that emphasises roleplay and simplicity. All you need is the basic rules, character sheet, and two, six sided die to play.

You roll the two dice, add them and any relevant stat together. 2-6 is a fail, 7-9 is a mixed success, while 10+ is a success.

Preferable you need 3-5 people to play like most ttrpgs. One player becomes the Game Master (or Watcher in our case) and plays as the world, NPCs, and the in game watchers. The rest of the players create characters with an archetype and an optional hybridization.

Archetypes:

There are (currently) 9 archetypes you can play as in RPG Life. Each one is based on a specific playstyle from the Life Series and popular fanon. In contrast to the Hermitcraft TCG, archetypes are based on how players interact with each other and the world around them rather specifc skills like redstone or building.

The archetypes focus on specific seasons rather than players as a whole.

For example, Grian could be The Loyal in 3rd life, The General in Last Life, The Survivalist in Double Life, The Trapper in Limited Life and so on.

Each archetype has stats and moves (or special abilities) that build your character, much like a class in Dungeons and Dragons. As you level up you can upgrade stats, get more moves from your archetype or a different one.

The Hustler

“I’m gonna need your pants”

What’s better than making deals? Nothing. Hustlers play this death game like they were born to, walking around groups of enemies without a care in the world and leaving with the clothes off their backs. They guide unsuspecting players into contests that lead to their deaths or smooth talk to safety. No matter what, the Hustler knows how to play people like a fiddle and they’ll do it to achieve their goals.

Life Series Characters that fit this role: Scar, Martyn, Tango, and Impulse

This archetype gets options like creating a signature hustle, talking your way out of bad situations, pretending to have better gear than you do, and having a keen eye to read people.

The General

“Me hand, I’m gonna ask ye for the first part of tonight’s test to do a terrible, terrible thing”

Power. That’s what people flock to when the chips are down. Generals lead a group of people to victory through reputation, a silver tongue, or pure strength. They gather in larger groups and delegate tasks to make sure things get done. They have responsibility to bolster their troops, keep order, and maybe sacrifice themself or others for the greater good.

Life Series Characters that fit this role: Ren, Gem, Skizz, and Grian

This archetype gets options like becoming stronger the more sanity you lose, building alliances faster and stronger, giving inspiring speeches for your allies, and stronger fighting when you're with your allies.

The Perceived

“You told me if I did everything you said, that there would be a place for us in the end.”

Something is watching. The Perceived have the unwelcome honor of having the watchers’ eyes on them constantly. They never lose the feeling that something is watching them just out of sight. Perceived players get a few consolation prizes from this attention, they understand the mechanics of the game more than the average player, and the watchers have left gifts of power that come at high costs.

Life Series Characters that fit this role: Martyn, Grian, and Scar

This archetype gives you a secret task given to you by the watchers, whether you are aware of it or not. Then, you have options like a sense of the supernatural, the ability to change dice rolls to affect the narrative, and stonger connection to the watchers.

The Loyal

“I know what’s gonna happen here. You’re gonna end up on the altar. I’m gonna be looking you in the eyes and they’re gonna sacrifice you. And I don’t want that, alright?”

Death is better than winning without them. The Loyal gains strength from helping their close knit group and will do anything to help them. They use this strength of conviction to overcome impossible obstacles, hold true to their sanity, and maybe even find small bits of joy in the games.

Life Series Characters that fit this role: Scott, Cleo, Skizz, and Etho

This archetype starts with a person you are loyal to above all else. Then you get options like the ability sacrifice yourself for your person, a way to harness memories of past lives to change the present, and a way to get back sanity points.

The Lonesome

“How did the guy with no friends win?”

Lone wolves are such a tragedy. In a game of loyalties and alliances, it’s only natural some would reject the status quo, or fall through the cracks. Lone wolves may have a variety of opinions about their situation, but they’ll make the most of it regardless. They will fight tooth and nail to get what they want, whether it’s victory or revenge, and bless the soul that tries to stop them.

Life Series Characters that fit this role: Joel, Scar, and Martyn

This archetype gets options like, fighting better when you're outnumbered, a better way to get secrets out of people to start rumors and gossip, better resource gathering, and a way to get information about the watchers.

The Deranged

“Call the dogs of war!”

The line between genius and insanity is a jump rope. The taste of blood sings to the Deranged longer before they're red. They can smell fear and hunt it. They call this death match a game for a reason and The Deranged revel in its chaos regardless of who might get in their way.

Life Series Characters that fit this role: Joel, Pearl, BigB, Martyn

This archetype get stronger the more insanity points you lose and something that is keeping you sane. You can sacrifice sanity points to save the thing you care about, like an ally, pet, or base, but doing so pushes you further and further off the edge. You also get options like improved fighting, intimidating presence, and an ability to remove sanity points from other people.

The Brawler

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Punching people is stress relief. Brawlers are skilled in PvP and they know it. This is what they were built to do and others fear them for it. This takes not only physical strength, but strategy, and a reputation. That is what sets Brawlers apart from the rest.

Life Series Characters that fit this role: Gem, Martyn, and Joel

This archetype gets a signature weapon with special abilities. You also get options like doing extra damage and learning the weaknesses of other characters.

The Trapper

“I’m just gonna go big with this idea. You can laugh it off if you want to, but…what about ghast farms?”

Ah, I see you have fallen right into my trap. The Trapper is a commodity in the Life Games. These people use their technical skills and analytical thinking to create contraptions that make life easier for their allies and harder for everyone else.

Life Series Characters that fit this role: Mumbo, Etho, Joel, and Grian

This archetype gets options like a signature trap, a way to get back sanity, better ways to investigate, and more resources.

The Survivalist

"I just wish you were better at this game"

The only goal is to survive the day, and then the next, and then the next. Survivalists will lie, plot, run, hide, anything to live for another day. They are the cockroaches of the Life Series.

Life Series Characters that fit this role: Etho, Scott, Impulse

This archetype gets options like better healing, more inventory, better fighting against mobs and bosses, and an ambush attack.

Stats

There are 5 stats in RPG Life. Each stat is related to 1-2 basic moves that anyone can do and ranges from -1 to +3 max.

Grift: Charisma baby! This is the skill of understanding other people and getting them to do what you want.

Power: Strength and fighting prowess. Beat people up and gathering resources.

Cunning: Intelligent for those of you who are technically minded! This includes powers of observation and creativity building contraptions.

Escape: This stat represents your ability to act in tough situations and hide/get away from dangerous forces.

Weird: This is your connection to the watchers and ability to create magic like potions and enchantments.

Hybridization

This is an optional rule to make your own hybrid to play as. Mix and match a strength and a weakness depending on what type of hybrid you are.

For example

Avian Hybrid Strength: Flock/Herd instincts You build a nest/den in your base instead of a bed. When you nest together with a close ally (2+ alliance points) you both gain 1 sanity back. Weakness: Sensory Overload You are more sensitive to sound, light, touch, or smell. When in tense situations you must act under pressure to stay present and make moves.

This makes it so you can create hybrids that aren't as common or aren't categorized easily. You can start as a hybrid, become corrupted into one as you lose lives, or switch hybridization depending on the story you're telling and how much fun you're having.

Health and Healing

You have two health bars in this game! Health/hearts and sanity.

You have seven hearts of health each life. Once you get down to three hearts you're wounds are too great and start affecting your rolls until you heal. Taking 4+ damage in one hit also knocks takes one sanity.

You have six sanity as well. You can lose sanity a couple of different ways like losing a close ally, failing an enchanting roll, or dying. The more allies you have the less likely you are to lose sanity, so build relationships to stay stable.

This is to reflect the way some players in the series get bloodthirsty once they hit red, while others stay fairly level-headed.

There are very few ways to regain sanity, so be careful.

#life series #trafficblr #ttrpg-life #rules

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protagaster · 2 days ago

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Wow.

It's over.

The concept album is anyway, but for now EPIC is all done.

It's been quite a ride, hasn't it everyone?

I don't normally do this, but I wanted to give the biggest and most sincere thank you to Jorge and the rest of Epic's beautiful ensemble, for giving me something more than these songs. They returned my sense of creativity, my motivation to write after so long in a personal slump, and even gave me the chance to make bonds with other like-minded souls.

Because of this musical, and the amazing fandom around it, I was inspired to create my own variation of the Warrior Penelope au, which grew to be so much more popular than I could have ever anticipated! So many of you wait patiently for those fics, some of you commenting under every single one, and you have no idea how much that means to me!

Through the au I got to meet my editor, co-author, and friend @somereaderinblue, and despite not knowing her for too long I already feel such a tight bond with her. Whether we talk about the au itself, our other hyper-fixations, or just chat about the silliest and most mundane of things, it never fails to put a smile on my face. I'm always so happy to have gotten the chance to know you. Thank you so much, Blue, for everything. Truly.

And I could never leave out my favorite resident artist, @zippyskyfalls. I first met Zippy not too long ago as well, also because of this au, and it has been such a fun and wild ride since! Talking to you has truly been the highlight of my day at times. Sometimes, when I felt myself feeling small, thinking that the war!pen au may not have been such a good idea after all, I just look at their creations and that feeling disappears soon after. Thank you Zippy, I know you will continue to shine bright, my muse.

And thank you to all of you, who follow my humble blog! Whether you have been here from the beginning or are joining in for the ride, know that you all contribute to our niche corner of the fandom just with your presence! I love you all, and I hope to continue making you proud <3

And...yeah! Sorry for my rambling, I'm just a little emotional rn. EPIC brought us all together, and I can't wait to see where we and Jorge go from here!

Keep on being amazing, my fellow neurodivergents! Let us never stop being weird together ~ 💜

#random post #epic: the musical #lets not call this a goodbye #instead i'm calling it a “lets see where we go from here!”#💜#don't worry #the next chapter of the series should be out relatively soon

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epickiya722 · 3 days ago

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bnha 431 was in no way homophobic nor is the epilogue of jjk having the mc get together with a girl is not homophobia ( not making a same sex ship canon isnt in anyway homophobic ( in regards to bnha 431 not throwing out buildup for izuocha just to go with a popular same sex ship isnt homophobia its good writing)

Okay, I wouldn't say "good writing" just because the main boy and girl get together. Most of the time really, it feels like a "must writing".

I know, Izuku and Ochako had some build-up, but that doesn't mean it was really "good". Most of the time, it did feel underdeveloped. Ochako was constantly brought up to be having a crush, yet on Izuku's end we don't even get the word for him.

Even in 431, I wouldn't call it "Good writing" for them because most of the chapter touched on how they were doing in life. There wasn't any mention of romantic feelings. They don't even say the word "date".

It just felt like they would hang out and that's about it.

Same for JJK. I wouldn't say that Yuji got together with Yuko because he doesn't. On the surface level of things, she is still fawning over Yuji who shows zero romantic interest in her.

For all we know, after he settles with everything in his hometown, he'll go right back to Tokyo and continue being a sorcerer and probably never see Yuko again.

Her whole epilogue just felt like it was showing more of the kind of person is. I know the whole "snow is romantic" thing, but snow also has different meanings. In this case, Yuji's connection with snow is shown again. Previous times was with Mahito and when he recalls a fond memory of Wasuke, his grandfather, to Sukuna.

While MHA 431 and Yuko's epilogue may seem romantic, and you can see them as such if you wish I'm not stopping you, to me... they really just lack romance and could just mean something else to their respective stories.

No, a girl and a boy getting together isn't homophobic, but that doesn't mean they win in the love department either. The gays may not win, but the straights aren't particularly winning either.

#kiya answers #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #bnha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #bnha 431 #mha 431 #jjk manga spoilers #jjk spoilers #jjk epilogue #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochako #itadori yuji #ozawa yuko

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diminuel · 3 days ago

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Merry Christmas and a happy new year !!

Hi I was wondering does anyone know or have theories on how to come the empress on Amazon Lilly ? Do you have to do a trial to prove yourself or is it how popular you are or is it a blood royalty tradition?

Love to hear your thoughts on this ; when your not busy XD

take your time and I hope your doing ok ! 💗

Merry Christmas! ♥

I assumed that it was based on strength since there's this line that to the Kuja, as a race of warriors, value strength above everything. Whether there is an actual challenge for the title of empress or if some sort of Elder appoints an empress isn't clear to me.

I don't think the Empresses are related to each other, but since strong parents tend to produce strong offspring it's still possible, but I don't think it'll automatically guarantee the position.

#Anon #Diminuel replies

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angegiarratanawriter · 3 days ago

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I'll Be Home For Christmas

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 4659

Summary: After two years of dating but being apart from most of it, you move to LA just in time to surprise Angela for the holidays

A/N: Here's to me actually getting this out on time, unlike anything I've written this year. This is for @thesixthimmortal. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope everyone has a happy holidays.

Being an actress has always been your dream. You can distinctly remember the moment where you made up your mind, no more than four years old, telling your parents that you were going to be on TV one day. And you would be. You have been. For the better part of the last five years, you’ve been starring in one of the most popular TV shows to air in the US. The only problem is, being an actress isn’t what you’ve been dreaming about lately.

Two years ago, on a summer long filming break, you ended up in Los Angeles. Cliche, you know, but it had just seemed like the place to be at the time. That’s where you met Angela, a fellow actor and comedian who had caught your eye at a networking event. She had approached you first, much more confident than you are, but from the moment you started talking, you had never felt more seen.

Never having felt like that before, you decided to do something completely uncharacteristic and give Angela your number. It was an olive branch, one that you half expected her not to use, but she texted you the next day and everything just took off. You went from texting to facetiming to hanging out in person every chance you got in the span of two weeks, and at the end of week three, she asked you out on a date. Of course, you said yes.

The rest of that summer was filled with a whirlwind of emotions. Being with Angela was refreshing, it made you feel like you mattered for more than what you could do on a screen. She made you happy, happier than you’d ever been. By the time fall was right around the corner and September was knocking on your door, you knew you were in love with her, and that made leaving so much harder.

Going back to New York that first year was the hardest thing you’ve ever done. Being back on set, away from your girlfriend, just felt so wrong. It felt like you were suddenly missing a part of yourself, like half of you stayed in LA when you left. The texts and the phone calls were barely enough, but somehow you made it through filming the whole season without just up and quitting.

As soon as you wrapped, you hopped on a plane back to LA. Getting to see Angela again after seven months away was like coming home, and it was then that you realized that she was the one. Every moment you spent together from then on, you found yourself wondering what it would be like to wake up by her side every morning, and fall asleep with her every night. Slowly but surely, your dream started to change, and you knew it was time to make a decision.

Getting out of your contract was tough, but your agency had gone to bat for you and made sure that a fair deal was struck. You had agreed to stay on for eight additional episodes, and in return, they agreed to release you from your contract early. As much as you hated that you had to go back at all, you knew that this deal was best for everyone. It gave the writers time to wrap up your character’s arc, and you time to get everything ready on your end.

When the summer came to an end, you left again, but this time you knew you’d be home sooner than expected. At first, you had wanted to tell Angela that you were leaving your show and moving to LA right away, but the producers had made you sign an NDA so that they could announce your departure on their terms.

Keeping the secret to yourself had been hard at first, but the longer you were away, the more you saw it as an opportunity to surprise Angela. After all, you were supposed to finish filming two weeks before Christmas, and you think that you moving to LA would be one hell of a present. So, you started planning.

In the span of a little over two months, you found an apartment downtown and rented it, canceled the lease on your New York apartment and packed up, shipped all of your stuff to LA, hired people to set up your new apartment for you, and filmed half a season of a TV show. By the end of it, you were exhausted, but it was so, so worth it.

Now, you’re on a plane back to LA, anxiously tapping your foot as you run through the plan in your head one last time. As soon as you land, a driver that your management has commissioned will pick you up and drive you over to your apartment so that you can drop your stuff off. Then, you’re going to get right back into the car and head over to the Smosh studio to surprise your girlfriend at work. Everything is all set up, it’s all about the execution now.

As soon as the plane lands, you deboard and head out to the Arrivals Pick Up area. There are a couple of photographers camped out by the doors, and when they notice you, they start snapping pictures. A couple even yell a few questions at you, but you just ignore them, heading straight out the exit and to the dark colored SUV that is waiting. The driver takes your bags and puts them in the trunk as you hop into the back seat, and soon enough, you’re on your way.

The trip to your apartment is quick, with you literally just retrieving your key from the building manager and chucking your stuff inside. As soon as you’ve locked up, you head back to the car and give your driver the address you want him to drop you off at. It takes a little bit longer to get to your destination this time, as the Smosh studio is on the outskirts of the city. As you pull through the front gate, you take out your phone to send a quick text.

Y/N: I’m out front.

Amanda: Coming to let you in now! Can’t wait to see you!

Angela’s best friend texts you back immediately, and you smile at her enthusiasm. While you haven’t had the most time to get to know each other, you’ve hung out a few times and your girlfriend talks about her a lot. Enough for you to know that she’s a great person and someone who you eventually want to call your friend as well.

When the car stops in front of the studio, your driver hops out of the car and opens your door for you. You give him a smile and a nod in thanks before taking out your phone and Venmoing him a decent sized tip. As you go to slip your cell back into your pocket, the studio door opens, and you look up to see Amanda walking out. She gives you a huge smile and immediately comes over to wrap her arms around you.

“It’s so good to see you,” Amanda says.

“You too,” you say, hugging the woman back. “How have you been?”

“Oh, you know me. Busy, busy, but I have no complaints. You?”

“Things are starting to look up.”

“That’s good,” Amanda says with a smile. “Come on, let’s head inside. Ange should be wrapping up her shoot in a few minutes.”

“Great!” you say.

You follow Amanda inside, letting your eyes wander as you pass through what seems to be the offices before heading into the common area. There are some crew members bustling around, bringing props from one set to another, and a couple of cast members that you recognize hanging out on some couches. Tommy and Shayne seem to be watching a video on one of their phones together, while Courtney and Arasha are going over the rules of some board game.

Amanda leads you over to the free couch in the cluster, and you sit down, sinking into the comfortable cushions. You let out a sigh of contentment, deciding that you’d be happy to close your eyes for a couple of minutes before Angela is done filming, but before you can, a squeal of excitement comes from the couch across from you.

“Y/N!” Courtney says excitedly. “You’re here!”

“I am,” you say with a smile.

“I can’t believe Angela didn’t tell us you were coming,” Shayne says.

“Yeah, about that…she kind of doesn’t know.”

“Oooh, a surprise?!” Courtney says. “I love it.”

“I just hope she does too,” you say, almost under your breath.

“She will,” Shayne assures you. “She’s missed you. Like, a lot.”

“I’ve missed her too.”

“Well not for much longer!” Amanda says with excitement. “Chanse just texted me that they just finished their shoot and are heading over here now.”

As soon as Amanda finishes, you hear a pair of voices start echoing from behind one of the stage doors. You can already tell just by the pitch that one of them is Angela, and by extension you can guess that the other one is Chanse. Judging by the tone, they’re arguing about something, but it seems more like a playful disagreement than anything. As the door opens and they both step out, you are able to pick up their conversation.

“...just saying that there is no reason you can’t come out with us tonight,” Chanse says.

“Yes, there is,” Angela says. “I don’t want to. All I wanna do is go home, climb into my bed, and facetime my girlfriend.”

“I think I’ve got something a little better than facetime,” Amanda says, smirking.

“Wha-” Angela cuts herself off as she looks up and your eyes lock. “Y/N?”

“Hey, baby,” you say.

Before you can even react, your girlfriend is throwing herself into your arms, and you find yourself spinning with her momentum so she doesn’t send you both toppling over. You laugh as you wrap your arms around her, burying your face in the crook of her neck and drinking in the sweet scent of home that you haven’t smelled in almost three months.

“You’re here,” Angela breathes into your shoulder.

“I am,” you reply softly.

“Fuck, this is amazing. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too.”

“How long are you here for?” Angela asks, pulling away from the hug.

“I’m not sure yet,” you say, trying not to cringe at your lie as you take a step back. “I at least have through Christmas, though.”

“So we can have our first Christmas together?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“How is that even a question?” Angela says, a huge smile on her face. “If you think you aren’t staying with me while you’re here, you’re insane.”

“You want me to stay with you?”

“Absolutely. I don’t want to spend a second away from you while I have you here.”

“Then you don’t have to,” you say softly.

“Good. Now, before we head out, do you want a tour?”

“Yes, please!”

“Cool,” Angela says happily, before turning to her castmates. “See you guys later?”

“Yeah, see ya,” Shayne acknowledges.

“Bye,” Courtney says cheerfully. “It was good to see you, Y/N.”

“Bye, guys!” Amanda adds.

“See you tomorrow,” Arasha says.

Angela and Chanse say goodbye with a complex handshake, and he gives you a nod before your girlfriend grabs your hand and pulls you off in the direction of the sets. She brings you through each of them slowly, taking the time to tell you funny stories from behind the scenes. There’s the TNTL bit about the election that got cut, and the time she got so excited about an update on Reddit stories that she almost tipped over the couch.

As you walk through the Culinary Crimes set, Angela tells you about the Thanksgiving episode that they did this year, where not one of the dishes was bad. You end up stopping for a minute on the Games set, where she shows you all of the video games that she’s been forced to play over the past two years.

The last set Angela brings you through is the podcast set, which is all prepped and ready for filming. She ends up telling you about her “Ham Cake” sketch and the many live streams that they’ve done in here, as well as showing you all of the holes in the back wall from the various darts videos that they’ve made.

After she finishes showing you all of the sets, Angela brings you out into the prop area for a brief look around, and then heads through the kitchen and lunch area. This brings you back to the offices, where she shows you her desk. You think that the tour is going to end there, but soon she grabs your hand again and starts leading you farther down the hall. She ends up stopping in front of a door, pushing it open for you to see inside.

“And this is the Crying Bathroom,” Angela says. “It’s the only place where anyone can get any privacy around here.”

“So this is where Tommy spends ninety percent of his time,” you joke, stepping into the bathroom.

“It is.” You hear the door shut behind you, and you turn to see your girlfriend locking it with a devilish smirk on her face. “It’s also where I’m going to fuck you for the first time in three months. Is that okay?”

“Fuck yes.”

Not wanting to give yourself time to change your mind, because this is your girlfriend’s place of work and is probably not the most sanitary place to have sex, you push Angela back into the door and connect your lips in a bruising kiss. She lets you set the pace for a minute, but she soon loses patience and you find yourself being spun around and pinned in place, your back hitting the oak with a thud.

You moan at the show of dominance, but the sound is swallowed by Angela’s mouth as she pushes her body against yours for full contact. As you kiss, you feel her start to trace her hands up and down your sides, letting her fingers brush up against the sliver of skin that’s peeking out between your jeans and your t-shirt. After a minute of torturous contact, you pull back with the little room that you have and pull your shirt off and toss it to the side.

Angela doesn’t waste a second in moving her lips down to your neck, then your collarbone, and then to the center of your chest. She teasingly brushes them along your naval, and you find yourself tangling your fingers in her hair to try and get her to speed up. It works, because the next thing you know, your bra is on the floor and your girlfriend has her lips wrapped around a nipple.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan. “God, yes!”

As Angela lavishes your chest, you find yourself grinding down on the thigh that she has strategically wedged between your legs. The pleasure is welling up fast, coming in tiny bursts that feel like mini supernovas bursting in your stomach. Just as you start to feel the dizzying edge approach, your girlfriend pulls back from your nipple, releasing it with a tug, and slowly gets down on her knees.

“Can I?” Angela asks, her voice on the edge of begging.

“Please,” you say, nodding rapidly.

Taking the given consent eagerly, Angela undoes the button of your jeans and slides down the zipper before pulling them down to your ankles with your underwear. She can’t get them past your shoes, so you carefully kick those off before she pulls your pants the rest of the way off and tosses them to the side with your other clothes. It’s then that you realize that she’s still fully dressed, but before you have time to process that, you end up getting distracted by her throwing your left leg over her shoulder.

Angela drags her tongue up from your entrance to your clit, circling around it skillfully before moving back down and dipping it inside of you. A loud moan escapes your lips, and you quickly bring one hand up to muffle yourself while the other one goes down to tangle in your girlfriend’s hair again. When she moves back up and sucks on your clit, you bite down hard as you try to fight the waves of pleasure already threatening to consume you.

Despite your best efforts, it only takes a few more flicks and another hard suck to have you tumbling over the edge. Angela holds you steady as your muscles tense and your legs shake, her tongue never stopping until she feels you start to relax. Once she’s sure your legs will hold you again, she puts your left one back on the floor and stands up. You don’t hesitate to pull her into a kiss, moaning as you taste yourself on her lips.

“My turn,” you say.

Using all of the strength you have left, you switch your positions and push Angela up against the bathroom door. She gasps in surprise, leaving an opening for you to dip your tongue into her mouth as you undo the button on her jeans and pull the zipper down. You don’t hesitate to slip your hand into her panties once you have enough room, and you immediately find her clit and start rubbing circles around it.

“Fuck,” Angela says, her head falling back against the bathroom door. “I’ve missed this. Missed the way you taste, missed the way your fingers feel inside of me.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” you reply, moving your lips down to her neck.

“God, baby. Inside, please. I need you.”

Never one to deny Angela anything, you slip your hand farther into her panties and dip two fingers inside of her. The gasp she lets out is downright filthy, but it’s nothing in comparison to the swearing and moaning that begins the minute you start moving. As you thrust, you crook your fingers up, smirking as you find the spot that always drives her wild and start to attack it.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna-”

Before she can even get the sentence fully out, Angela clenches hard around your fingers and shudders her way through an intense orgasm. You slow your fingers gradually, not wanting to overstimulate her, and lean in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. It takes her a minute to fully come down, but when she does, she kisses you back.

“Mmmm,” Angela hums, smiling against your lips. “Fuck, I always forget how good you are at that.”

“You’re one to talk,” you say, still catching your breath a little. “I’m pretty sure I saw God.”

“Nah, that was just me.”

You both break out into a fit of laughter at the joke, your foreheads pressing together as your chests fill to bursting with love and happiness. When you finally regain your composure after a couple of minutes, you sigh and then lean in to place one last soft kiss against your girlfriend’s lips.

“I love you,” you breathe out.

“I love you, too,” Angela says softly. “Now, let’s go home so we can continue this in an actual bed.”

“Yes, please.”

—

The two weeks leading up to Christmas are absolute bliss. You and Angela spend every free moment that you have together, just enjoying being in each other’s company again. On the days that she is home, you decorate her apartment while drinking hot cocoa together. When she has to work, you spend all of your time trolling the downtown LA area, looking for the perfect present.

A few days before Christmas, you end up passing a Tiffany’s, and suddenly, it just hits you. Before you know it, you’re writing out a check and handing it over to the attendant in exchange for a beautiful emerald cut diamond ring and a matching set of earrings. You almost add on a necklace, but decide to hold off, thinking that might be a bit too much. Instead, you find a La Perla and get Angela a beautiful set of lacy lingerie that you know you’ll both enjoy.

After getting your presents all figured out, you start planning the proposal. Figuring out what you’re going to say is harder than you expected, as nothing seems to do how you feel about Angela justice. It takes a long talk with Amanda at the Smosh Christmas party for you to finally realize that your speech doesn’t need to be perfect, it just needs to be you. It’s then that you decide to stop planning, knowing that you express yourself better in the moment anyways.

When Christmas day finally comes, you’re more excited than you’ve ever been. You find yourself awake at 8:00 almost on the dot with the complete inability to fall back to sleep. Instead of waking Angela up, you roll over in her arms and bury your face in her chest, breathing in her soothing scent. You stay like that for what feels like forever, just basking in your girlfriend’s warmth, before she finally opens her eyes.

“Good morning,” you say softly.

“Mmm, morning,” Angela replies huskily. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Merry Christmas, love. Do you want to stay in bed for a little while longer, or do you want to get up and open your presents?”

“Up. Definitely up.”

So you both get out of bed, heading into the bathroom to freshen up quickly before going out into the living room. Angela takes a seat in front of the tree, and you sit down across from her, both grabbing your presents for each other so that you can exchange them. You smile to yourself, sneaking a quick peek at where you had hidden the ring in the tree, before turning your attention to your girlfriend.

“Okay, so my gifts kind of have two different vibes,” Angela says, pulling at the collar of her shirt nervously. “I got a serious present, and a sexy present.”

“So did I,” you say reassuringly. “Which one do you want to open first?”

“Sexy.”

“Okay.”

You grab the wrapped box of lingerie and hand it to Angela, taking the bag that she gives you in exchange. She nods at you to go first, so you take out the tissue paper to reveal two boxes, one smaller and one larger. You pull them both out of your bag to get a better look at them, gulping when you realize what they are. A bolt of arousal shoots through you, and you have to remind yourself that you have a plan for today.

“A strap on?” you say, your voice unsteady.

“Yeah,” Angela replies nervously. “What do you think?”

“That maybe we should have exchanged serious presents first. Fuck, this makes me want to spend the rest of the day in bed.”

“Really?”

“Fuck yes. But I do need to raincheck the day in bed for like, another hour. Just enough time for us to finish opening our presents and then have some breakfast.”

“Deal. Do you want me to open mine now?”

“Please.”

Angela smiles at you and then turns her attention to the present sitting in front of her. She unwraps it carefully, tossing the wrapping paper to the side and sliding off the top of the box as you watch her intently. You can see the moment when she recognizes what it is, because her fingers flex on the sides of the box and her eyes get two shades darker.

“Do you like it?” you ask hesitantly.

“Like it?” Angela replies breathlessly. “I fucking love it. Thank you.”

“Of course, baby. Next present?”

After handing Angela the smaller box that holds the earring you’d gotten her, you take the present that she offers in return and place it in front of you. She tries to get you to go first again, but you resist, only giving in when she leans over to give you a persuasive kiss. As she pulls away, you unwrap her gift and open the box, revealing a beautiful white gold necklace with a ‘A’ charm on it.

“Will you put it on?” you ask, turning around.

“Of course,” Angela replies, taking the jewelry and clasping it around your neck. “Does it fit okay?”

“It’s perfect. I love it.”

“I’m glad. My turn?”

“Absolutely.”

You watch as Angela carefully unwraps the box in front of her, taking great care like she did with the first one. When she sees that the box has the Tiffany’s logo on it, her eyes widen in a little bit of panic. For a minute you worry that she’s nervous about you proposing, but she immediately puts that thought to bed.

“Baby, I thought we agreed on a spending limit?” Angela says, looking up at you.

“I didn’t go over it,” you say, breathing out a small sigh of relief. “I got a really good deal, I promise.”

It’s true, you did get a good deal, but it has a lot more to do with the fact that you bought an engagement ring at the same time than it does with the holiday deals. Angela looks at you skeptically for a minute, but she seems to accept your explanation because she reaches down and pops the box open.

“Oh my God. These are beautiful.”

“Yeah?” you say, smiling.

“Of course,” Angela replies. “I love them.”

“Good, because I have one last present, and it kind of goes with those.”

Taking a deep breath, you rise to your feet and walk over to the Christmas tree. Your thoughts are racing, running through all of the things that you want to express but haven’t ever found the words to say. Shaking your head to clear it, you reach into the tree and pull out the ring box before turning back to your girlfriend.

“These past two years with you have been the best in my life,” you start, finding your footing. “Even though we’ve only been able to spend a few months at a time together, you make me feel more loved and more seen than anyone I’ve ever known. I love you more than all of the stars in the sky, deeper than all of the oceans. Which is why, last August, I made a decision. I’m taking a break from acting.”

“Y/N-” Angela says, but you cut her off.

“Here is where I want to be. With you. So I’m leaving SVU. Left, actually. My last day of filming was the 10th.”

“Let’s move in together.”

“I’m way ahead of you. I already bought an apartment downtown. It’s twenty minutes from your studio.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, baby. So fucking serious. Almost as serious as I am about this.” You take one last deep breath and get down on one knee, showing her the box. “When I was little, all I dreamed about was being an actor. Since I’ve met you, that’s started to change. Now the only thing I dream about is waking up next to you every morning and falling asleep in your arms every night. Well, that and being your wife. So what do you say? Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Angela chokes out as tears stream down her face. “Yes!”

A wide smile breaks across your lips, and you open the box to take the ring out. You hear a small gasp escape Angela’s lips as she catches sight of it, but you just carry on with what you’re doing. As you take her hand and slip the ring on, you look up, locking eyes with the love of your life. She looks down briefly and then back up, before leaning in and pulling you into a passionate kiss.

“I love you,” Angela murmurs.

“I love you, too,” you say. “I can’t wait for you to be my wife.”

#angela giarratana #angela giarratana x reader #smut

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