#i will admit i copied a pose i likes

[tinyorangepotato]

A drawing I like :O

[malachitezmeyka]

*randomly watch some youtube video about drawing*

*get inspiration to draw*

*open drawing app*

*remembers I can’t draw*

*:/*

[mariaace]

What's this? Affection...Do it again.

A/n: So like our precious bllk men. Talked with my bsf about these idiot and ugh got to writing.

Summery: how they react to affection. Do they return it?(gn!reader)

Pairings: Isagi, Rin, Reo, Bachira, Chigiri, Sae

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Isagi Yoichi

Isagi loves your affection. He adores it!! Would never stop you or push you away. He most likely like hugging you, because that's when you are the closest to him. His hand is usually around your shoulder or waist, especially if you are around his friends from blue lock. He loves running to you after a match, when you are in the front line of the audience, watching him. People around you are screaming. Like y'all are kissing in every photo of his matches. Forehead kisses are his to go for when you are in public. He loves when you run your hand through his hair whether that be in public or private. In general, he would return your affection right away, and he loves it.

Rin Itoshi

Rin likes your affection, but he doesn't show it. Okay, he may return it, but way more silently than you. He would brush his knee against yours when you are sitting, walk you from the paparazzi by putting his hand on your back, give you his water bottle to drink. He, most of the time, acts annoyed when you show too much affection, or when you ask to kiss him in public he'll say no, hoping you would ask again. In public tho, he would react a lot. Especially with the paparazzi around you. Overall, you are definitely the more affectionate one and he acts annoyed on it, but don't worry, he appreciates it a lot <33

Reo Mikage

Reo falls in love with you again everytime you show his affection to him in public. He is also most likely more affectionate than you, doesn't matter if in public or private. He'll jump on you the moment he sees you. He really loves your affection tho, especially if you aren't the one to show it a lot. Here, you'll have to be the one to return his. Nagi is telling you that you are gross, while you are wrapped around Reo. To the paparazzi? Oh ho. He's showing off, he is not hiding. Of course, if you feel uncomfortable with that, tell him. The last thing he wants is for you to be uncomfortable.

Bachira Meguru

Bachira... We'll he's Bachira. If he doesn't return your affection, there is not a person who would. Keeping that in mind, you two don't leave each others sides. Like two puppies in love (it kind of is). He will shower you with affection three times bigger than yours, but it was your fault for kissing him on the face. He isn't trying to purposely show you off in public, but he does in unintentionally! Or he is just all over you and people already know. If you don't return his affection, he will think you're mad at him :( please tell him that's not true

Chigiri Hyoma

Now this pretty princess, looooooves the attention you're giving him, like genuinely loves it. ESPECIALLY if you two are in public, because he can show how much his partner loves him!! Would he return the affection? Yes... eventually. Don't get me wrong okay? He will return it, but probably behind closet doors (yes i believe Chigiri can sometimes be not much of a PDA person) or he'll show it in his own way that is unfamiliar to others, but not to you, so only you could now. Still, he loves having you close all the time no matter what. In front of paparazzi? Quick! Pose! You gotta steal the light!

Sae Itoshi

Oh this bitch, where so i start with him. Does he like your affection? Hmmmm he tolerates it... I'm kidding, yes he likes it, he wouldn't be dating you otherwise. He just would never admit it even if it cost his life, but you know he does. But he isn't returning it in public at all. Like no freaking chance, especially if they are paparazzi. He gotta keep the reputation you know? In closed doors tho? If he's exhausted, clingy or you just ask him enough, yes he would. But you gotta be more pushy. (More passion, more energy)

© mariaace 2024 pls do not copy, translate, steal or claim any of my works!

@dazailoveschuuya

[yapileon]

@TacklersCulers: The Chaotic Teen Serie pt. 3

fcb femení x chaoticteen!reader pt. 1 — pt. 2 2670w, it's kinda angsty, be warned<3 r gets nicknamed: "Diablilla" aka little devil in spanish as an endearment term "Skrulla" aka goofball/silly in norwegian for a mischievous child

17yo La Masia defender gets promoted to the first team. Will you be able to keep your fcb femení fan account hidden while slowly making your place in the team with your idols?

You lean your head back against the metal locker, a smug smirk tugging at your lips. Your eyes meet Pina's and you can't help but choke back a snort. 

You had called the forward in the morning, asking her to come pick you up since you wouldn't be able to walk to training like you had done for the past years. 

"You owe it to me after that whole mess you started about my phone wallpaper yesterday," you huffed. While you weren't actually mad at Pina, you were sure as hell going to milk every favor you could out of her. 

"Sure," she agreed without even needing a reason. This team was a family. If you needed a ride and she could help you out, she would do it, no questions asked. 

“Do you have space in the trunk for…” you trailed off, unsure if you could trust her now. If she said no, then your plan would fail.

“Sí, Diablilla, now tell me the plan,” you could hear her chuckle through the phone like she had read your thoughts. And just like that, you became partners in crime.

The both of you arrived at the training centre giggling like children, clutching at each other's arms from how much you were laughing. You had underestimated how mischievous Pina could be for a good joke. Coming up with an ever better plan than the original, you both go straight to work. 

The locker room is slowly filling, everyone realizing what you had done, most people figuring out Pina was in on it too with the glances you kept exchanging. Hushed whispers were heard around the room, everyone waiting for Mapi to come in. Pina had a phone propped up to capture it all.

You were doom scrolling your fan account, posting some more memes when the door opened again. You knew she had to arrive soon, almost everyone else was here already. 

Silence. 

You looked up to see Mapi walking in, smiling and in a good mood like usual, with Ingrid trailing behind. You bite your jersey to hide a smile you can’t camouflage. 

Mapi stood frozen, looking at her locker. Something was occupying her chair. The cardboard cutout of her doing her lion pose you owned. Fake Mapi was flexing and showing her teeth like an animal ready to fight. She burst out laughing, wheezing and letting herself fall on a chair. 

It was the cue for the whole team to explode. Pina’s voice shot up, barely hearable over the laughing. “Say hi for Instagram, Mapi!” she was moving around so much you were sure the video wouldn’t even be good.

Alexia had been standing on the side of the room, an eyebrow raised, “Of course it’s you two.” she spoke, shaking her head disapprovingly. But even serious Alexia couldn’t hold back a smile. 

“I gotta admit kid, I didn’t think you’d actually bring it,” the centre back wheezed, wiping tears away from her eyes. 

The joyful energy was only made more electric by Ingrid, who leaned into the joke. Ingrid looked alternatively between Mapi sitting on the chair and the cardboard. She posed, mimicking being deep in thoughts. 

"Mmh, which one is my girlfriend?" she had said, grinning. 

“Pina! Get this on the video!” you shouted, gesturing to whatever was about to happen, the woman happily nodded. 

She slid down next to the cardboard, throwing her arm around the fake Mapi "This one!" she exclaimed, sending everyone toppling over.

Mapi gave her a shocked look, still laughing. "Oh I see how it goes, everyone prefers that pale copy now" she feigned annoyance. Ingrid kissed the cheek of the cardboard while Mapi pouted, voice shaky as she added, “what does she have that I don’t?”

“This one doesn’t argue when I’m right.” Ingrid answered, the Norwegian might have become your favourite person in the world right now. The look on the Spaniard’s face was priceless, you could have rolled on the floor.

"El León stole the spotlight!" it was Jana who had chimed in. She was next to Pina and Patri, all three of them waving for you to get closer. You jumped to their side, hovering over Jana’s shoulder to look at the phone. 

They had posted the video seconds ago on the main Barcelona account and it was already shaking up the internet. As the team calmed down and finished getting ready, thousands of comments popped up, requesting more videos. So the four of you obliged. 

You posed Mapi and the cutout next to each other taking a picture and doing a poll in the story, which read “Which is the better Mapi?” You knew social media, you knew how to bring in numbers. 

Jana and Patri took the fake Mapi to the field while Pina and you ran to get some footballs. Both of you laughed when the cardboard had deflected a shot, still careful to keep it intact as you wanted to bring it back home safely. You all screamed “AND SHE DOES IT AGAIN, SAVING THE DAY!” zooming on it and then on Mapi, who watched with the biggest smile on her face. Mapi grabbed the phone to take selfies with the cutout. Everything was posted on the account, this would be the first thing fans ever got to see from you, and you weren’t disappointed. This was a masterpiece of an introduction to the world. 

In this moment, the bond that you had with this team felt invincible. Feeling more alive than you ever had previously. For some minutes, before Pina had arrived to pick you up, you had doubted. Maybe they wouldn’t find it funny, maybe it would make them realize how childish you really were. But even the older, more mature players had laughed at your banter. Pina had treated you like a little sister, Mapi and Ingrid played along. There was a warmth in their teasing that made you feel at home. 

So much so that you didn’t even try to argue with Alexia when she clapped, asking for everyone’s attention. “Everybody calm down, training now, chaos later.” she said firmly. 

When she saw you grinning, she approached, “Yes even you, Diablilla” she joked, ruffling your hair. “Show us what you can do, besides being a trickster.”

So you hopped off, starting to stretch, warming up your muscles. This left you some time to reflect on the whole situation. You inhaled deeply. The first training session that you had had with the team had gone well, but you were aware it was a chill one, to ease you in the team. Pere had warned you today would be “intense”, as he had said exactly. You felt ready for what they were about to throw at you. You could feel yourself getting more focused, though you were still up for a good joke if the opportunity was there. The team was currently doing sprints to activate their body before doing drills and scrimmages. 

Caro groaned after the last set, “Why do we even do this?” She was clutching her sides, trying to find her breath again.

‘So we can outrun the refs when they try to card us.” you mumbled, sprints weren’t your favorite exercise either. 

Except it seemed you did not say this as low as you intended. You looked up to see most of the team staring at you. Most veterans seemed shocked, the younger players not so much. In the corner of your eyes you could see Jana and Salma holding in a chuckle. 

“What?” you remarked, in disbelief, blush creeping onto your cheeks. Alright, it’s true that it wasn’t very smart of you to admit you were prone to getting cards so much you had to learn how to run away from the refs. 

“Dios mío!” Alexia exclaimed, putting her hand on her forehead, “Irene! You’re going to teach Cariño how to behave, sí?” she added with a sigh. 

“Not fair! Why is Caro even complaining,” you were interrupted by Irene trying to drag you away, but you persisted, “like she didn’t run at 32 km/h during the 2023 world cup?” you grumbled. 

Caro raised an eyebrow, looking at you with a proud expression. “You’re a fan now? I thought you only liked defenders.” she replied, voice full of playfulness. 

“I keep myself updated on statistics.” you attempted to say, trailing off knowing the team would, once again, never let you live that down. 

Salma came up next to you, “So you know statistics on everyone here?” she smirked, barking out a laugh when your eyes widened in horror. 

“Sorry! Can’t hear you I’m too far away getting ready for the drills,” you walked off with Irene, miming not being able to hear. 

“This isn’t over Diablilla!” screamed Vicky, “we’ll get all your fangirl secrets out of you later.” 

Oh, Vicky, if only you knew. 

As you made your way next to the other defenders, you let out a breath. Determination taking over your cheeky eyes, you touched the tip of both of your boots with your fingers. The last of your rituals, this meant the game was on. 

You threw yourself in all the tasks the coach had you do. While your inexperience showed on certain drills, your will to do well still pleased the team. In some ways, having spent so many years studying everything about that team helped you on the pitch. You could guess where Alexia would try to do a backward pass, or where Aitana’s ball control might be more problematic to intercept. You tried your best to mirror Mapi, bending your knee lows, trying to push attackers on the side you wanted. An interception you made earned you a wide grin from Mapi while Ingrid had her thumbs up toward the sky to congratulate you. A shy smile creeped on your lips.

You were putting up a solid fight, having done a few successful tackles during a particularly difficult scrimmage. Maybe it’s how you ended up messing up so bad. The confidence rushed through you when you decided to slide tackle Caro. She was doing a solo run, and you were feeling mixed, split between not wanting to lose if she scored an equalizer and wanting praises from your teammates. It was childish, really. Almost shameful. You weren’t here to be praised, you were here to work. But she was running, and you were shoulder to shoulder with her. It felt like the right timing, so you slid. The adrenaline rush was so strong that you didn’t use your brain enough. You knew she was a master at feints, but still for a second you thought you had it. 

You sensed the wet grass brushing against your skin, until the grass was replaced with a training cone you collided with. You froze, your whole body burning, watching in horror as Caro continued her run, chipping the ball over Cata, making her team come up to 2-2. And that was your fault, if you had accessed the situation for longer, you wouldn’t have dived head first into an unnecessary tackle.

Ingrid jogged over to you, “You alright, Skrulla?” reaching her hands to help you stand up. If your ears weren’t ringing so bad from the shame and confusion, you would have asked the Norwegian what it meant. 

You shrugged, wiping the grass from your shorts in embarrassment. 

You knew you didn’t do a good job hiding it when the green eyed woman added, “At least it wasn’t my back this time?” She was smiling brightly at you, so you forced out a laugh, the emotions stuck in your throat. 

You shook your head, going back into position. Any positive feeling from your earlier exploit long gone. You tried to brush it off, but you were so frustrated with yourself and still had half the session to go through. So you pushed yourself more, hoping to erase the bad memory. 

It didn’t work though. By the time training finished, you were exhausted. Letting yourself flop on the ground, you clutched at your chest in pain. Little by little your abilities on the pitch had faded away, each pass connecting less and less, your timing getting worse. Everyone could see it, and some of your teammates gave you questioning looks. You couldn’t deal with the attention on you, so you jumped up and made a beeline for the lockers. 

You showered quicker than you thought possible, but by the time you were done, multiples of your teammates were around you. The buzzing of the room annoyed you more than it ever had previously. 

You look up to see Ingrid and Mapi whispering, throwing glances at you. So, like the child you are, you grabbed your cardboard cutout and fled. Waving off a very confused Pina who thought she’d drive you back home. 

As you walk, you can’t help but feel increasingly stupid. You know you shouldn't be nearly as bothered with that tackle as you currently were. It was so stupid. But it was so badly timed and you were ashamed about it. Sure your teammates were nice to you, and you all laughed together, but with that awful move you had just pulled? There was no way they'd ever trust you on the field. How could they trust you if you couldn't even slide tackle an opponent? Why would Pere give you any minutes if you messed up so bad when there was no pressure on you. 

By the time you reached your dorm, you could feel tears rolling down your cheeks. You quickly wiped them with your sleeve, throwing yourself on your bed.  

That was the down side of your brain. The obsession over football, that one singular process who made you apart from other players but was also your downfall. The way you’d obsess over every single one of your flaws, needing to perfect them all. Needing to have as much information on players. You’d drive yourself crazy and sleep deprived watching footage until the birds would sing outside, signaling you it was early morning. It wasn’t healthy. But it was all you knew.

You had grown up with coaches who had screamed at you that the difference between an amateur and a pro was when they stopped their drills. An amateur does it right once and stops, a pro keeps going until they can’t get it wrong. So you just kept pushing. In some way, you hoped your brain would ease off having finally made the first team. It hadn’t.

You rolled over, looking at the fake Mapi, still deep in thoughts. Your eye caught sight of a black mark on it, making you jump in a hurry. Had you damaged it while walking back home? Or when Pina and you were using it for shooting practice? Frowning, you leaned closer trying to figure out what had happened. 

You gasped when you saw it.

You have the potential to be one of the greatest.

— Mapi 

You let the tip of your fingers brush over the writing. Your idol hadn’t only signed the cardboard without you even asking, she had written this. You felt a tug at your heartstring, and promised yourself to thank her profusely tomorrow. 

For now, the only thing you could do was calm down. You inhaled deeply, feeling the rise of your ribcage, and exhaled softly, trying to release any tensions in your body. Maybe it was fine, maybe nobody would be mad at you, maybe you’d be able to fix it during the next training. 

You needed a distraction, so you pulled out your phone to check the latest post from your fan account.

TacklerCulers

tacklerculers: Did you know? Attackers that trip in front of Mapi León are actually just nervous to be close to her.

barcafan11: @TacklersCulers Are you going to talk about the new signing we saw on the official barça page today?

alex1aa: I’m really disappointed, Barça does not need a clown.

b0nmat12: I hope she’s just a social media person and not a player, otherwise we’re doomed for the Champions League.

Your stomach twisted when you saw the comments. You threw the phone at the wall and buried yourself into the blanket on your bed. The weight of failure still crushing your chest.

pt. 4

[plumso]

get him back! (lorenzo x reader)

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader // reader's pov!! trope: academic rivals summary: y/n regularly complains about how lorenzo always teases and places ahead of them. but when someone else insults lorenzo, y/n can't stop the boiling rage inside. masterlist I do not consent to the reposting of my work! reblogging, however, is fine <3

Friday night and there’s no sound in the library except the faint scribbles of a frustrated individual.

Y/N has been studying since the start of the Slytherin and Gryffindor quidditch match. They have continued to study despite their friends’ efforts to drag them to the after parties. Everyone is at the common rooms socializing and laughing. Even Hermione is nowhere to be seen. Meanwhile, with their notes gradually becoming messier, Y/N is all alone. Or so they thought.

“Copying it down word-for-word won’t help with memorizing, you know,” a low voice says behind you.

You jump in shock and turn around to confront the sudden voice. You see that it’s Lorenzo Bershkire, the smug Slytherin boy you swore to defeat since first year. Since then, you made every attempt to beat him either in potions, charms, transfiguration - even in muggle studies! But to no avail. He has remained in his position as first with you as second best.

You watch as Lorenzo’s dark brown eyes examines your notes. His large body is hovering over your shoulder to peek at your work. With his broad chest so close, you can faintly smell his cologne - sage and bergamot. It smells clean and expensive.

“Mind your own business, Berkshire. And don’t look at my notes!” You exclaimed as you covered your books with your hands. You know he’s right, but after hours of rereading the same material, you felt desperate. But you didn’t expect your rival of 6 years to see your pathetic notes.

Lorenzo chuckles as he takes the seat next to you. He props an arm on the table and rests his head in his hand. His legs are crossed and his stare is unwavering. ‘Of course, he’s effortlessly good at posing,’ you think to yourself. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“You’ll never be first if your handwriting is still like that,” he says as he points at my notes. “It looks like a 10-year-old wrote it.”

You feel your face flush and your cheeks burn. “Oh yeah? Well, at least I don’t pretend to get people to like me. Unlike you, I’m not fake.”

You expect Lorenzo to be caught off guard or hurt, but he remains calm with a smirk still on his face. You can’t stand it. 

“It’s called manipulating, darling. It’s how you get ahead in life,” he says as he twirls my hair with his long, slender fingers. “You should try it sometimes. Maybe you’ll get first place over me one day.”

“So you admit that you manipulate people? Wait until I tell the others - they won’t be so accepting of you then,” you say with a triumphant grin. 

“Do it. They won’t believe you,” he says with a smirk.

Your grin drops and you become silent. You know he’s right. You’ve voiced your opinions about him before, but no one believes you. He can get away with anything.

You sigh in defeat. “You know, I can’t stand you, Berkshire. You get on my nerves,” you say as you shake your head.

Now it’s his turn to be silent, but it feels weird. You’re afraid to look at him, afraid that you took it too far. You immediately want to apologize, but you don’t want to appear weak in front of him. So, you picked up your quill and continued writing.

After a few silent minutes, you hear his chair squeak. Afraid that he was, in fact, hurt by your comment, you turn around to stop him. However, you instantly lock eyes with his, his face only inches away from yours. 

“I only leaned in to help you, but if you wanted to kiss me so badly, you could have just said so,” Lorenzo says with a chuckle. Though you know he was teasing you, your heart felt light knowing he wasn’t sad.

“No thanks! Not in a million years.” You exclaimed as you distance yourself from him.

“So after a million years, you’ll kiss me then? I can wait for that long.”

You give him a look of disbelief before you start packing your things. This causes him to laugh.

“I was just joking! Don’t leave,” he says as he tries to stop you from packing.

You push away his hands. “Well, it’s obvious that I won’t get any studying done with you here, so I’m gonna head to bed.”

“It’s 8:30,” he remarks with disbelief. 

“I’m an early sleeper!” You exclaim as you close your bag and hang it over your shoulder. “Good night, and, uh, I hope you get nightmares.”

You start walking away, but Lorenzo takes hold of one of your hands. He doesn’t say anything and you don’t look back. 

Surprisingly, you don’t draw back your hand. Instead, you linger in his touch. You notice the rough calluses of his finger and how gently he’s holding your hand. You’re surprised; you assumed it would be smooth and cold, but his touch makes you feel warm.

You linger for a few more seconds before you walk away, releasing your hand from his. You want to look back and see the face he’s making, but your pride urges you not to. Sticking to your pride, you exit the library and head to your dorm.

***

The next day during lunch, you couldn’t help but think back on last night with Lorenzo. Why did he hold your hand? Why was he even in the library late at night? Why wasn’t he partying with his friends? And how did he know you would be there? 

You stop yourself. ‘Why would I even think that he was looking for me? I’m nothing more than an entertaining rival to him,’ you think as your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

You glance behind you to spot Lorenzo sitting with his usual group. They seem to be deeply conversing in something before they all bust out in laughter. What were they saying that could make him laugh like that?

Feeling annoyed, you turn back around and grunt. His air of superiority, his fancy clothes, and his wispy hair - it annoyed you that you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You couldn’t stand how he made fun of your efforts and always placed ahead of you in everything. But what you couldn’t stand the most was how you couldn’t hate him. 

You turn to Hermione who has pumpkin juice in one hand and the Daily Prophet in the other. “Hermione, do you think I’m shallow?”

Hermione raises an eyebrow and sets down her drink. “What a random question to ask. No, I don’t think you’re shallow,” she says with a small laugh.

“What if someone was mean, but they were also really handsome? I mean, you can be annoyed or even dislike them, but could you really hate them?” 

“Hmmm. That is interesting. Are we talking about anyone in particular?” Hermione says with a secret grin that she shares with Ron and Harry.

“Uhh, no. No one in particular. Just curious!” You quip as you fiddle with your cup of orange juice, attempting to seem unconcerned.

“How about you give an example? It’ll help us answer,” Ron chimes.

“Well, I only asked Hermione, but okay.” You look around the Great Hall, trying to find someone who’s mean and handsome, but the only answer you can come up with is Lorenzo. ‘Maybe they won’t think too much of it,’ you think to yourself.

“Ummm, Berkshire, for example. He’s… conventionally okay-looking, but he’s rude and mean,” you say as you avoid looking at their eyes.

“You mean he’s mean to you. He’s always been nice to me,” Ron replies as he munches on a cookie.

“Because he’s two-faced! He makes fun of me at every opportunity,” you say with frustration. “Okay, Ron, maybe you’re too slow to see it, but surely you two believe me, right?” You give a hopeful look to Hermione and Harry.

“Uhhh, sorry, Y/N. Though he hangs out with Draco, he’s actually really nice,” Harry says with a sheepish smile.

“Maybe he teases you because you two are rivals?” Hermione says with a small shrug.

“More like you compete with him while he does nothing,” Ron says with a chuckle but stops when Harry nudges his side. “But, uh, yeah, the ‘rivals’ thing could be a… contributing factor.”

“cOntrIbuTing fActOr” you mockingly say back to Ron, which makes him laugh. “Now answer my question! Could you hate a super handsome person?”

Hermione shifts her body to you and gives you a serious look. “Y/N, I don’t think it’s about looks. I think you li-”

“What are we talking about?” Cormac McLaggen interrupts with a smug smile. He then sits himself between you Hermione. “Did you mention ‘Berkshire?’”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat and try to inch away from him. You never liked McLaggen. He’s weird and too arrogant for no reason, but you didn’t want to seem rude. “Uh, yeah. You know him?” You ask reluctantly, not really interested in his reply.

“Yeah, he’s a real suck-up,” McLaggen says as he slowly puts his arm around your shoulder. You hear a large bang behind you, but you ignore it as you try to fight all attempts to push him away. But you’re curious about his answer. He doesn’t seem fooled by Berkshire like everyone else.

“Why do you think that?” Harry replies with a disbelieving look.

“Think about it. He smiles too much and is ‘nice’ to everyone, but he’s a Slytherin,” McLaggen says with his arm still around you. You hear loud stomps behind you, but you pay no attention to it.

“Well, not all Slytherins are the same-” you attempt to say but you’re quickly interrupted by McLaggen.

“They’re Slytherins! They’re all the same. Evil and manipulative. The only reason that Berkshire places in everything is because he’s rich. He probably cheats or sleeps with the professors,” McLaggen laughs at his comment. “Or he probably threatens everyone because his parents are Death Eaters,” McLaggen says with a smug smirk.

The table is quiet and shocked by McLaggen’s bold comments. You stare at McLaggen’s stupid grin and feel something boiling inside you. Meanwhile, the footsteps you heard earlier were now right behind you, but your eyes were focused on McLaggen.

A dark, cold voice behind you speaks up. “McLaggen, get your hands off of Y-”

Slap!

The usual buzz of the Great Hall dissipates. Everyone turns away from their conversations to see you and your hands inches away from McLaggen’s face.

“Y/N? What the fu-”

“Shut up, McLaggen! Just shut! Up! Don’t talk about Enzo! Don’t even say his name! I can’t believe that, out of everyone, you are the one to judge. Do you think you’re better than him? McLaggen, you are slimy, creepy, and disgusting,” you exclaim as you shove him away from you. “Stop talking and stop touching me and LEAVE!”

Your face is burning and your hands are balled into a fist. You can feel everyone staring at you in disbelief - they’ve never seen you so angry before. But you don’t care. You want to do so much more than slap him. You wanted to curse him, to wipe McLaggen’s stupid grin on his face, to make him cry.

McLaggen looks around and sees everyone staring. His face flushes as he tries to compose himself. He then stands up and hovers over you, attempting to seem intimidating and tough. “Y/N, don’t you dare ta-”

Before he can speak further, someone takes his collar and pulls him to the ground, all in one swift motion. You look up to see it was Lorenzo. You’re shocked by his sudden appearance. ‘When did he get here?’ you think to yourself. You then worry if he heard McLaggen’s comment earlier.

Lorenzo looks down at McLaggen with a cold smile. “You heard Y/N. So, get out. Now.”

McLaggens huffs his nose and gets on his feet. He readies himself to fight back, but Harry and Ron stand up from their seats. Then Draco and his friends also stand up from their seats. Seeing this, McLaggen clicks his tongue and turns around in defeat.

The Great Hall remains silent as they watch McLaggen walk towards the door, but as soon as he leaves, they immediately start buzzing about what they just saw.

You turn back to Lorenzo and see he is already looking at you. You analyze his expression, looking for any signs of hurt or anger. Instead, he looked pleased.

“Y/N, can I talk to you?” He gives you a warm smile, a smile that he does not show often. Your three friends give a knowing smile at each other, which Lorenzo notices. “Alone,” he adds as he extends his hand to you.

You sheepishly look at your friends before you get up from your seat and take his hands.

***

Not once letting go of your hands, Lorenzo leads you to the nearest empty classroom. As soon as you two enter, he closes the door and turns around to face you.

“Why did you defend me?” He says as he carefully watches your expressions. 

“I-I’m not sure,” you say as you try to avoid his eyes. Along with everyone else in the Great Hall, you were shocked by your own rage. You don’t understand why you got so mad.

“Don’t give me that, Y/N,” he says softly. It surprises you; his voice is usually cold. Too curious about what expression he’s making, you finally look at him.

“Think harder, Y/N,” He gently squeezes your hand which you realize he’s still holding. “Why did you defend me?” His eyes are pleading for something as if he knows something that you don’t.

You think harder about how you felt when McLaggen was talking about Berkshire. Of course, his comments were incredibly disrespectful and disgusting, but was it enough to warrant a slap? Why were you so angry? Were you angry in general or for Lorenzo?

‘Do I like Lorenzo?’ you think to yourself. Yes, he teases you occasionally, but he hasn’t done anything wrong or evil. In fact, he’s hardworking and reliable. Even though he says he manipulates people, he always helps those in need. ‘So maybe I do like him… as a person.’

You look back at Lorenzo, ready to answer properly, but his eyes entrap you. The faint light from the classroom windows hit them just right. His dark brown eyes shined golden. It looked like a warm pool of honey. You always recognized that Lorenzo was handsome, but this was the first time you appreciated it.

‘Oh. I think I like-like him.’ This epiphany shocks you and causes your breath to hitch. Suddenly, you’re conscious of how close you are to Lorenzo and how his hands are so big and warm.

You like Lorenzo. Probably for quite some time now. But could you admit that to him? After all the competition and petty arguments? After all your complaints about him? Would you two even work out?

But then you look back at Lorenzo and realize that, for the first time, he’s being vulnerable to you. His eyebrows are scrunched as his eyes are still pleading for your answer. Suddenly, the pride that you’ve kept for so long was now forgotten.

“I… like you.” You exhaled and felt a sudden weight lifted from your chest. All that’s left is an inexplicable tingling feeling in your stomach.

Soon, his warm body envelops you. He wraps his arms around your waist and nestles his head in your shoulder. 

“Finally,” he says with a delighted chuckle. “I’ve known all along.”

“W-what? How could you have known? I only realized it just now!” You exclaim as you playfully struggle in his grip, but he refuses to let you go.

“Y/N, you’ve always been slow.” You give him a gentle pinch on his side, which makes him laugh. “I’m kidding! I’m sorry. I just…” He trails off as he draws back a little to look straight into your eyes. “I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

Of course, he’s always been one step ahead of you. Even when it’s about your own feelings, he knew about it before you did. You suddenly felt shy from his intense gaze, but you didn’t want to look away.

“...Did you hear what McLaggen said about you?”

“Yes.”

“Were you mad?”

“For a moment… but I was more annoyed that he was touching you.” He gently brushes your hair back from your face. “Do you believe what McLaggen said?”

“Of course not!” You exclaimed as you gently hit his chest. “He’s disgusting and weird. Anything that comes out of his mouth is complete bull crap. Why would you even ask that?” You grumble and slightly pout.

Lorenzo laughs. “Yes, yes, I’m sorry.” His hands drift to the ends of your hair and starts twirling it with his fingers.

“...So, how about you?”

“Hm?” He replies absentmindedly, still focused on your hair. 

“Do you… like me?” You sheepishly ask as you look away and focus on the ground.

Lorenzo gives you a blank stare before roaring into laughter. His laugh shocks you, but it makes you laugh as well. 

“I thought it was quite obvious,” he says as he places a hand on your cheek. He carefully analyzes each feature of your face as if he’s savoring it all in before his eyes flicker at your lips.

“B-but, I didn’t hear you say it.” You say as you notice his stare, causing your breath to hitch. 

“I like you, Y/N.” Lorenzo slowly pulls you in closer and closer until your lips touch his. The feeling is immediate; it’s warm and electrifying. You can hear your heart thumping in your eyes as a strange warmth course throughout your body.

After a few seconds, you both pull away and look at each other in disbelief. It seems that the intense, crashing feelings you felt were mutual. You both laugh when you realize this. 

“That… was something,” Lorenzo says with a smile.

You give him a warm smile before resting your head on his chest. You feel him stiffen in surprise, but he soon relaxes and places his hand on your head, gently combing his fingers through your hair. You smile to yourself when feel his heart beating fast.

“But you should know,” Lorenzo says with a smirk, “that I like you more.”

You abruptly lift your head and give him a look of disbelief. “This isn’t a competition.”

“You only say that because you’re losing,” Lorenze teases with a laugh.

You laugh back and hit him. “Enzo, you get on my nerves!”

Hearing you say his nickname, Lorenzo smiles and a small tint of red appears on his cheek. “Good,” he says as he pulls you in closer, wanting to feel your soft lips on his again. “As long as you don’t get bored of me.” 

***

a/n: my first enzo fanfic! ahhh! it's also my first time writing in second person pov, and it's harder than i thought lol. and sorry to cormac mclaggen! i feel like he's a common antagonist in hp fanfics HAHA. also, i tried making y/n as general as possible so that it can appeal to everyone, but i couldn't help but add in the hair twirling. hair twirling is just so cute to me :')

fun fact! i chose olivia rodrigo's "get him back" as inspo because her lyrics have a double meaning: (1) she wants to get back together with her ex and (2) also get revenge on him. it emphasizes the fine line between love and hate, which i imagine academic rivals feel lol. hope you liked it! <3

[mari-writes]

Jayce "Man of Progress" Talis is contacted by a Piltover fashion magazine, asking him to pose for a special photograph spread along with Mel Medarda. 

He’s been interviewed and had his photo taken so many times by this point. He’s usually alone. The addition of Mel is interesting, and he can admit a bit exciting too.

But it’s also frustrating—why would they ask him to pose with Mel, but not his literal partner on the actual project?!

So he agrees, but under one condition: “You need to include Viktor, as well.”

After he receives confirmation, he takes to begging Viktor to join them. Just this once! And Viktor reluctantly agrees, weak for his friend’s pouty, puppy dog eyes.

The magazine sends designers to Viktor’s place to take his measurements. It’s a bit uncomfortable, but thankfully one of the them is knowledgable about fitting disabled models. So he’s (mostly) okay with it.

When the three of them arrive for the photoshoot, they’re impressed with what the designers created. For Jayce are outfits that show off his wide shoulders, strong arms and thighs. Meanwhile Mel’s prominent curves and her beautiful, slender neck is highlighted.

As for Viktor, the designers work with his sharp, angular features and slender waist. One outfit in particular has Viktor raising an eyebrow: It’s backless. They’ve decked out his back brace with gilded gold and blue gems.

A month later, the magazine is released—and the public goes absolutely wild.

The front cover has Jayce sitting in the middle, wearing a crisp white shirt with half its buttons undone, possessively holding the other two’s hips. Mel is facing forward, bracketing one of his legs. She wears a tight dress that leaves little to the imagination. One of her arms reaches around Jayce’s head, clasping Viktor’s shoulder.

With his back to the camera, Viktor’s brace is on full display. He’s partially sitting on Jayce’s other leg, with his arm angled as if he’s about to caress the other’s man’s cheek, glancing at the camera out of the corner of his eye.

The photo had been quite awkward to put together—Viktor winces at the memory—but he has to admit it turned out pretty incredible. And yeah, Piltover definitely agrees.

Viktor’s name, at least for a moment in time, is on the public’s lips almost as much as the other two. Who knew the reclusive scientist from Zaun was this beautiful?!

News articles and opinion pieces pop up about him, wondering why Viktor isn’t featured more. Men and women alike faun over his high cheekbones, pretty golden eyes, and slim body.

Viktor is full of embarrassment from all the attention. The other two tease him about it a bit, but they know he has every right to retreat back into the lab if he prefers. So he does. He lets the other two burn as brightly as they want, and slinks back into the shadows.

But he still keeps a copy of the magazine in his nightstand. You know, for archiving purposes. Or posterity. Or something like that. 

Sometimes, on days he’s feeling down or in more pain than usual, he takes it out and flips through the pages. Reminds himself that yeah, he looked good. And other people had thought so too. Even Jayce had blushed slightly when he saw Viktor walk out of the dressing room.

Viktor probably won’t do anything like it again. But he’s oddly glad he did. Just this once.

//

Please accept this silly little drabble I wrote last minute! PLEASE REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED! I imagine this story takes place in the early years of Jayce and Viktor’s lab partnership. The story inspired by this incredible meljavik art by @lucinfernos! My bi ass can’t stop looking at it lol

[rose24207]

Hii! Could I request a George or Fred Weasley (you can choose) x fem reader where she goes to the mission to take Harry to the burrow and she gets caught into a big fight during the seven Potters battle and she is the last one to arrive so he is very worried because he thinks she may be badly hurt or even dead and when she finally arrives he doesn't want to leave her side?

I‘m okay

Summary: During the chaotic Battle of the Seven Potters, Fred is consumed with worry when his girlfriend is the last to arrive at the Burrow, battered but alive, prompting him to stay by her side all night, vowing never to let her face such danger alone again.

Genre: angst, fluff

TW: mentions of war, fighting, blood, injuries

A/N: love it! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The night was heavy with the weight of what lay ahead as you gathered in the dimly lit yard of Privet Drive. The street was unnervingly quiet, a stark contrast to the storm of danger waiting just beyond.

Harry looked uncomfortable as everyone circled him, the seven decoys preparing for their transformation. You tried to steady your breathing, clutching your broom a little tighter than usual.

Fred appeared at your side, his warm presence a small comfort in the chilly night. “You alright?” he asked, his voice low.

You glanced up at him and nodded, though the slight tremor in your hand betrayed you. “Just nerves,” you admitted. “Doesn’t help that Mad-Eye keeps glaring at everyone like we’re already dead.”

Fred grinned, his expression easing some of your tension. “That’s just his face. He’d probably glare at his own reflection if he saw it in the mirror.”

You snorted, covering your mouth to stifle the laugh. Mad-Eye’s gruff voice interrupted, drawing everyone’s attention.

“All right, listen up!” Moody barked, his magical eye swiveling to take in the group. “Flask’s going around. Drink it down, and for Merlin’s sake, don’t make a bloody fuss. Potter needs every minute we can buy him.”

The Polyjuice Potion was passed along, and Fred grabbed the flask when it reached him. He turned to you, smirking. “Ladies first?”

You rolled your eyes, taking the potion from him. “You’re lucky I love you, Weasley,” you teased, before swallowing the foul liquid in one go.

The transformation was quick but disorienting, and you blinked down at yourself, now staring at Harry’s hands. “This is weird,” you muttered.

Fred, now also a copy of Harry, wagged his eyebrows at you. “Weird, but dashing,” he said, striking a ridiculous pose.

George, another Harry, chimed in, “If we survive this, we should all go to Diagon Alley like this. Really mess with people’s heads.”

“Focus!” Moody barked, glaring at the twins. “You’re not Harry until you get him safely to the Burrow.”

Fred shot you a wink as you grabbed your broom, standing in formation. Just before you mounted, he leaned in close, his voice soft and serious. “Hey. Don’t do anything stupid, yeah? Stick with Kingsley, and don’t try to be a hero.”

“Fred,” you said, turning to meet his eyes. “I’ll be fine. I promise. You should worry about yourself for once.”

He hesitated, his gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than usual. Then he nodded, forcing a grin. “I always worry about myself. I’m fantastic.”

You shook your head, smiling despite the tension in the air.

“All right, move out!” Moody shouted, and suddenly, there was no more time for jokes. You mounted your broom and took off, stealing one last glance at Fred as he sped into the night.

The chaos hit like a thunderclap the moment you left the safety of the wards. The air around you exploded with curses and shouts, Death Eaters closing in on all sides.

You stuck close to Kingsley as planned, the two of you weaving through the sky in tight formation.

“Go high, stay fast!” Kingsley commanded, his deep voice cutting through the chaos.

You followed his lead, dodging a streak of green light that whizzed past your shoulder. The Death Eaters were relentless, their masked faces flashing in the darkness as they gave chase.

Your wand flicked upward, firing a defensive spell that sent one of them spiraling off course.

“Stay with me!” Kingsley shouted again, but the noise and chaos made it hard to hear. You lost sight of him for a moment, turning sharply to evade another curse.

Back at the Burrow, Fred was pacing the kitchen like a caged animal. Each new arrival brought a wave of relief followed quickly by fresh worry. Harry and Hagrid had made it back first, then Hermione with Fleur not far behind. Ron and Tonks stumbled in a few minutes later, both looking worse for wear but alive.

But you were still missing.

“She should be here by now,” Fred muttered, raking a hand through his hair.

“She’s probably just taking the long way around,” George said, his voice calm but strained. He was nursing a wound on the side of his head, but even that didn’t seem to distract him from Fred’s obvious distress.

Fred shot him a glare. “The long way around? It’s not a sightseeing trip, George!”

“You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing,” George quipped, though his usual humor lacked its usual sharpness.

Fred ignored him, his eyes darting to the door every few seconds. His stomach twisted painfully every time he thought about you—about the countless ways things could go wrong.

You were spiraling out of control. A curse had struck the tail of your broom, and it was all you could do to keep it from completely breaking apart. Blood trickled from a shallow cut on your arm, and your breath came in ragged gasps.

The Death Eaters were relentless, their laughter echoing in the dark as they closed in. But you weren’t giving up. Not now, not when the Burrow was so close.

With one last burst of speed, you dove toward the treeline, using the cover to shake them off. Your broom groaned in protest, but it held together long enough for you to make it to the edge of the Burrow’s wards.

The familiar shape of the house came into view, and you nearly cried in relief.

Fred was at the door when he saw you stumble into the yard, battered and bloodied but alive.

“Y/N!” he shouted, sprinting toward you.

You barely had time to react before he wrapped his arms around you, holding you so tightly it hurt. You felt him shaking, his breath warm against your hair as he whispered, “I thought—I thought I lost you.”

“I’m okay,” you murmured, though your voice wavered. “I’m okay.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands cupping your face as his eyes searched yours. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, alright? I can’t—” His voice broke, and he shook his head.

“I won’t,” you promised, your own tears spilling over.

“Good,” he said, his tone attempting to be firm but faltering with emotion. “Because if you die on me, I swear I’ll kill you.”

You laughed, a watery sound that eased some of the tension between you.

From the doorway, George called out, “Oi, Fred! Let her breathe, would you?”

Fred ignored him, his focus solely on you. “Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s get you inside.”

And for the rest of the night, he didn’t let go of you.

Thank you for reading!

[twst-drabbles]

Jamil 17

Summary: You and Jamil lay in his bed in his dorm room. While you’re very tired, you’re visibly not bothered by the social implications of being in the bed of another. Jamil, on the other hand, is a little too aware.

(I saw the birthday card and went “eh, why not?” and wrote this.)

Was this something common in your world? Where, out of nowhere, people will just casually ask their friends if they can sleep with them in their bed? Because that’s what you did to Jamil. You approached him, luckily out of earshot from anyone important, and asked that very question with zero shame.

“Hey Jamil? Mind if I sleep with you in your bed tonight?”

Jamil will admit, it took him a good five seconds for him to register the words. And, he will also admit that he banged his knee against the table he was cleaning. Hit it so hard actually that he curled up into a ball, and practically retreated into his hoodie because why would you ask that?! In broad daylight?!

But you know what’s the worst part about all this? Jamil actually got excited. Giddy even! When the hot flush flooding through his body finally settled, all that was left was this glowing feeling.

At the time, he thought that his charms have finally got to you. That all his efforts to be in your good graces have begun to bear fruit.

And so he said, “You know what? Yes, let’s do that. Setting aside the way you asked that, I think I can find it in my heart to forgive that.”

Past him’s an idiot. For all those times he thought himself above the hormonal college students, turns out Jamil was no better. He supposed it was only a matter of time before he was humbled.

And so here Jamil lays on his side of the bed, dressed in his best pajamas, surrounded by the best sheets and pillows he uses for special occasions, and you laying on your stomach, reading the next chapter for one of your classes.

You came in with a tired wave, bag at hand, and flopped over in his bed. And you’ve been in that pose since.

“So, this was what you meant.” Jamil said. Now that his judgment is clear again after an hour of doing nothing, he really should’ve known you didn’t mean anything special by what you asked. Shame on him for expecting an extra meaning to them.

“Hmm? Oh, was the way I asked weird?” You glanced towards him. Jamil recognizes that exhausted look weighing in your eyes. Perhaps, through the rose-tinted glasses, Jamil didn’t notice. Once again, shame on him. Jamil should suffocate himself with these pillows. “Sorry about that. I just really want one good night of sleep. Just one.”

The urge to hit himself with the pillows lessened. Jamil moved onto his stomach, and copied your position, propping his chin on the pile. “Is there something wrong with your bed?”

You put your phone down. “Weather’s getting hotter and I still don’t have a working air con. It gets so humid at night that I sweat through the night. Can barely get more than three hours of sleep at a time.”

…of course the headmage would neglect to give you something as simple as a stable heating and cooling. Leave it to him to ignore your problems while he goes off doing whatever else. Probably binge watching an old drama that’s not even any good.

“I can’t imagine it’s been easy to deal with. Though, I have to ask, why my bed? You have others that you’re closer to, don’t you?”

Others such as Ace and Deuce, but Jamil didn’t want to say their names. It’s childish but he doesn’t want to see if your eyes light up at their mere mention.

You stretched your spine and settled down. “Yeah I know other people, but–how do I say this–they’ll make it weird.”

Weird? Like how Jamil preparing everything from the lights, to the blankets and even stuffing his drawer with extra wipes just in case wasn’t weird? What?

“Wait, what you mean by weird?” Now Jamil’s worried. Did something happen for you to say that? Did someone do something to you?

You waved off his concern. “Well, see, originally I was just going to ask Rook since he doesn’t mind sharing spaces with anyone, but he’s also very into cuddling and I’m not in the mood for that.”

“That’s true, he’s very open about that kind of thin–wait you cuddled him before?” Since when?

“Cuddled him plenty of times. Rook gives the best hugs without trying to flirt with me. Anyways, Rook wasn’t an option, and neither are Ace and Deuce since there’s no room to spare. There was Leona but after that whole ordeal with Azul, I really don’t want to go back there. And as for asking Azul himself… I feel like he’d charge me for that. So, here I am.”

Oh. Well, when putting it like that, it does make sense doesn’t it? So long as you don’t figure out exactly what went through his head when you asked. He’ll just keep quiet about that.

Jamil sighed into his pillow. “While I want to ask why you didn’t ask Kalim, but I know him too well. A peaceful rest isn’t something he can give, not with the way he sleeps.”

You patted his shoulder and it took everything in Jamil to not jump out of his skin. “You get it. So, yeah, thanks Jamil, for not saying no. Honestly, I was ready to find an empty classroom and just sleeping in there.”

Jamil narrowed his eyes. “Don’t do that. You’ll get in trouble. Just sleep here for the time being. When I have time, I’ll see about pestering Crowley into getting everything in order.”

“You do too much for me, Jamil. Really.”

While things didn’t play out the way he wanted to, the warmth flooding in his chest has not once went away. If anything, from the sight of your smile, it threatened to overflow.

This is nice, that you trust him like this.

“…alright, this is still bothering me. How did you and Rook even start cuddling in the first place?”

And can he add himself onto that list of people you cuddle with?

“Hahaha, yeah that is strange, right? Alright, may as well tell you.”

[glamourscat]

౨ৎ KISS? OIKAWA TOORU Pt 2

time skip! Oikawa | past insecurities | reader being a writer | high school exes to strangers to...? | PART 1 | PART 3

The silence between you is suffocating. For a moment, you wonder if he’s going to say anything more or if he’ll just stand up and walk out. Maybe he should. Maybe you should. But neither of you moves.

“You’re not going to say anything, huh?” he finally asks, his tone laced with that sharp-edged charm that you thought time might have dulled. It hasn’t.

You blink, your throat dry as you force out a reply. “What is there to say?”

too much. I am sorry. We shouldn't have broken up. But saying so now it's a bit pathetic, no? At our age, after so many years apart. And yet, at this very moment, I can't help but feel like the same little girl I was back then. I am sorry Tooru.

He leans back in his chair, arms crossed, and studies you. His eyes, still that warm, deep brown, narrow slightly.

“Maybe a hello would’ve been a start,” he says, and there’s a flicker of something behind his words. Bitterness? Amusement? You can’t tell.

“Hello, Oikawa,” you say, your lips curling up into a half-sarcastic grin.

His lips twitch in response, but he doesn’t smile. Not fully. “Hello back to you.”

· · ───── ·𖥸· ───── · ───── ·𖥸· ───── · ·

The waitress brings your orders and for a while the clinking of cups and the low music in the café fill the silence between you. You glance at him from time to time and he does the same, although in Oikawa true style, he will never admit to it.

“So,” he says finally, breaking the silence. “What brings you back to Japan? Thought you’d left for good.”

“I could say the same about you,” you reply.

He shrugs, his smile faint. “Fair enough. I am back for a competition. But you didn’t answer my question.”

You hesitate, your fingers tightening around your cup. “Work,” you say. “I’m a writer now. I travel a lot. I have a meet and greet" you shrug.

“A writer,” he repeats, his voice softer now. “Guess that makes sense. You were always scribbling in that little notebook of yours.” "Guess I will have to buy a copy then" he adds on with a small faint grin.

The chuckle that escapes your mouth is soft, as your eyes move to the window for a moment. "I suppose you shall. Maybe I will even sign it for you" you tease back.

· · ───── ·𖥸· ───── · ───── ·𖥸· ───── · ·

Eventually, the café starts to fill up, and the noise becomes too much. Conversation between you two starts to drown out, almost as if it was coming to an end. Dancing around the elephant in the room. Oikawa glances at the time, then back at you.

“Let’s go,” he says suddenly.

“Go where?” your voice filled with confusion.

He doesn’t answer, just stands and waits for you to follow. Against your better judgment, you do.

You walk through the city together, the silence between you stretching, snapping, then stretching again. It’s only when you realize where he’s leading you that your steps falter.

“The museum?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He glances at you over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. The museum.”

You don’t know why you follow him inside, why you let yourself be pulled back into the past. But before you know it, you’re wandering through familiar halls, memories surfacing with every step.

“This is where you almost knocked over that sculpture,” he says, his tone lighter again now, almost teasing.

“You pushed me,” you shoot back, but there’s a faint smile on your lips.

“And this,” he says, gesturing toward a statue of two figures embracing, “is where we tried to recreate that pose. You got embarrassed and ran off when people started staring.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t suppress the laugh that bursts out. “I forgot how dramatic you are.”

“Dramatic?” he repeats, faking offense. “I’m passionate, thank you very much.”

For a moment, it feels like you’ve slipped back in time, like nothing has changed. But then you reach the last room and the room feels like it's engulfing you from the inside out. The main painting of the room is illuminated by small shining lights, making it more captivating. The Kiss, by Klimt. 

You remember the way you both stood here, years ago for your first date, awkward and unsure. The way he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours for the first time.

"Shall we recreate this painting too, no? We recreated all of them, it's fair we do the same with this one"

The way your heart raced, the way your lips moved together in an awkward mess but it was so sweet. 

Now, at twenty-seven, you stand side by side, the memories of the past pressing down on you two.

“Oh...” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

You turn to him, your gaze meeting his. And for a moment, everything else fades away.

pt3 soon

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

tags: @liquidcatt @justanotherweeb666

[muiitoloko]

Could you please write an imagine bring Alan’s gf and he has a meet and greet with a photo op and you surprise him. At first he doesn’t really notice who’s next in line, perhaps he’s preoccupied with something? Maybe checking his phone between fans because you haven’t been answering him and he looks up to see you’re waiting for him

Title: The Queue for You

Summary: Alan Rickman is thrown off-guard when his girlfriend secretly joins his fan line, proving that even celebrities aren’t immune to playful surprises.

Pairing: Alan Rickman × Fem! Reader

Warnings: None

Author's Notes: Thank you very much for your request!

Also read on Ao3

The bright lights of the venue reflected off Alan Rickman’s distinguished features as he adjusted his scarf and prepared for the next fan to approach. The meet-and-greet had been planned weeks in advance, and despite his love for his fans, today his heart simply wasn’t in it. His mind was somewhere else—on you.

The line of fans extended far out the door, each one holding books, DVDs, and memorabilia from his long and celebrated career. Alan did his best to keep his charm intact, smiling warmly as the next fan, a young woman clutching a copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, stepped forward.

“Oh, Mr. Rickman! It’s such an honor to meet you,” she gushed, her voice trembling with excitement. “Your portrayal of Professor Snape was... it was just so perfect. No one else could have done it like you.”

Alan forced a polite smile, his baritone voice steady. “That’s very kind of you to say. Though I must admit, Snape’s wardrobe wasn’t exactly designed for comfort. I often wondered if he secretly wanted to join Gryffindor, just for a lighter wardrobe.”

The fan laughed, clearly enchanted, and Alan dutifully posed for the photograph as the professional photographer clicked away. He tilted his head slightly, ensuring the fan was framed in the best light.

“Thank you so much!” the fan said as she stepped away, clutching her autographed book like a priceless treasure.

“You’re most welcome,” Alan replied, his tone gentle, though his heart wasn’t entirely present.

As the next fan approached, Alan glanced at his phone on the table beside him. Still nothing. You hadn’t replied to his good morning message, and now, by the afternoon, he was nearly unraveling with worry. He told himself he was being irrational. After all, you’d only been dating for a short while—just a few weeks. But Alan, ever the private romantic, had fallen for you faster and deeper than he cared to admit. And your silence gnawed at him.

The next fan was a middle-aged man holding a well-loved DVD of Die Hard. Alan immediately slipped into his professional charm.

“Yippee-ki-yay, I assume?” Alan quipped, his wry humor drawing a laugh from the man.

“Yes! You were the best villain in film history,” the man declared.

Alan chuckled softly, though it was slightly forced. “Hans Gruber was certainly... resourceful. Though, between you and me, I think he overcomplicated things. A good cup of tea would have solved many of his problems.”

The man beamed as the camera clicked, and Alan shook his hand firmly before gesturing for the next fan to step forward. His gaze flickered back to his phone for a brief moment. Still no message. His stomach tightened.

Another fan, this one dressed as Snape, approached with an elaborate costume and a wand in hand. The fan dramatically flicked the wand, reciting a spell with a mock serious expression. Alan smiled faintly, playing along. “I see Severus is here to make sure I haven’t forgotten my lines. Very kind of you.”

The fan laughed, and Alan posed for the photo, his mind wandering back to you even as he maintained his composed exterior. What if he’d said something wrong? What if his feelings for you were already too much? Too fast? He chastised himself silently.

As the fan moved on, Alan reached for his water glass, taking a small sip to calm his nerves. The meet-and-greet continued, a parade of enthusiastic faces, heartfelt compliments, and eager requests for selfies. Alan appreciated every one of his fans, but today, their energy couldn’t pierce the fog of his anxiety.

Finally, during a brief break, he discreetly checked his phone again. Still nothing. His fingers hovered over the screen, tempted to call you, but he resisted. He didn’t want to appear overbearing. He placed the phone face down on the table with a sigh, forcing his focus back to the line of waiting fans.

The next in line was a teenage girl clutching a framed photograph of Alan as Colonel Brandon. “This is my mum’s favorite movie,” she said shyly. “She couldn’t come today, so I’m here to get this signed for her.”

Alan’s expression softened, his natural warmth breaking through his worry. “A thoughtful daughter and good taste in films. Your mother raised you well.”

The girl blushed, smiling as Alan signed the photograph and posed for the picture. He noticed how her hands shook slightly, and his baritone voice softened further. “Do tell your mum I said hello. And thank her for her love of Jane Austen.”

“I will!” the girl said, her smile radiant as she stepped away.

His attention wasn’t on the fan waiting nearby or even on the polite thank-yous that rolled off his tongue. His focus was on the cell phone in his hand. He glanced at it for what felt like the hundredth time, still no reply from you. His thumb hovered over your contact name.

Would he seem pathetic if he called you now? It wasn’t even midday.

The murmur of the line shifted slightly, a fan stepping forward to stand before him. Alan only registered her presence when she spoke, her tone enthusiastic but warm. “You looked amazing in Gambit, Mr. Rickman. That movie is one of my favorites.”

Alan thanked her absentmindedly, his voice kind but distant as he tapped out a quick message to you: “Just checking in. Hope your day’s going well.” His attention was so split that her next comment hit him like a rogue gust of wind.

“And I must say,” she continued with a playful smirk, “your ass looked great on the big screen.”

Alan froze mid-message, his thumb hovering over the send button as her audacious words registered. Slowly, deliberately, he put the phone down and turned his full attention to the fan in front of him.

His hazel eyes widened slightly in surprise as they landed on you. There you stood, smiling mischievously, an amused glint in your eyes as if daring him to respond. Alan’s mind scrambled to reconcile the casual, flirty line with the image of his girlfriend standing in a fan queue.

“[Your Name],” he said, his baritone voice tinged with disbelief. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Your smile grew wider, the glint in your eye softening. “I thought I’d surprise you. Spent hours in that line, too. You wouldn’t believe how many fans tried to cut in front of me.”

Alan leaned back in his chair, folding his arms as his initial shock gave way to a chuckle. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or concerned that my own girlfriend stood in line with my fans to see me.”

“You should be both,” you teased, stepping closer to the table. “I’m serious about that Gambit comment, though. Never thought I’d see my boyfriend’s backside with a whole audience.”

Alan laughed, a deep, genuine sound that turned a few heads in the queue. He shook his head in disbelief, his signature wry humor kicking in. “If I’d known, I might have reconsidered the scene entirely. Though I suppose the film had its moments.”

You leaned on the edge of his table, ignoring the curious glances from nearby fans. “Its moments? Alan, it was art. The whole scene was practically Shakespearean.”

Alan’s lips twitched into a sly smile. “I think Shakespeare would roll in his grave if he heard that comparison. Though, I admit, this is the best review I’ve had all day.”

The fans behind you began whispering amongst themselves, some even recognizing you from your own work. Alan noticed but didn’t seem to care. His attention was locked on you, his hand brushing over yours as he leaned closer.

“I don’t believe you waited in that line,” he said softly, his voice dropping to a more private register. “You could have just called me.”

You shrugged, grinning. “And miss the chance to surprise you? Where’s the fun in that?”

Alan tilted his head, his hazel eyes warm and full of affection. “You do have a flair for the dramatic. Perhaps we should find you a role in one of my next projects.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you replied, leaning closer. “Now, are you going to sign my photo or not?”

Alan laughed again, shaking his head as he reached for a blank headshot. “If I don’t, I imagine I’ll never hear the end of it.”

As he signed, he glanced up at you, his eyes filled with quiet gratitude. “Thank you for this,” he said softly. “For waiting, for showing up. I needed this more than I realized.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “Anytime, Alan. Always.”

The fan queue began murmuring more audibly, some snapping pictures of the sweet exchange. Alan ignored them, his focus entirely on you. For the rest of the day, his mood remained noticeably lighter, and he couldn’t help but glance toward the spot where you now lingered nearby, a supportive presence amidst the whirlwind of fans.

Later, as the event wrapped up, Alan made a point to slip away and find you. Together, you walked through the quieting venue, his arm draped over your shoulders as he murmured, “Next time, don’t stand in line for hours. Just come straight to me.”

You smirked, leaning into him. “And miss the chance to tell you in front of all your fans that your ass is great? Never.”

Alan chuckled, shaking his head as his grip on you tightened. “You’re insufferable,” he said affectionately.

“And you love it,” you quipped, earning another laugh from the man who hadn’t stopped smiling since you arrived.

[nescaveckwriter]

Heyy! Can I request a Dean Winchester x reader with an established relationship where they have to deal with a case for which they have to dress up all nice, and reader usually wear baggy clothes or clothing that hides most of her body and for the first time, he sees reader in a tight fitting dress and he's just

😍 "shit, that's my woman?!"

And he's just over the moon even more for reader (if that's even possible)

😱💓🥰... Awww sweetheart this is such a cute idea, I just simply love it, also thanks for asking, I really do hope you like, this little drabble, I've written is what you had in mind💓 anywayz I hope you have an epic day, love ... 🐞💓🥰

A/N: I love receiving requests, so keep em coming 😅

Warnings: 18+Only, Some mention of violence, and intimacy, but nothing to much, light foul language. And Pure FLUFF 🥳😘💕

Pictures used: Pinterest

Copyright: Please do not copy, my work.

Words: 1189 😘

Lady in Red 💕

His husky voice lingers in the air, oh how I loved the sound of his voice, we have been together for a few years now, and somehow hearing him, looking at him, never got old. His green eyes caught mine, helding it captive, because I mean who wouldn't drown in those emerald green orbs, mouthing with his plum lips across the table, "I love you" as Sam discussed the plan with us. Mouthing back "I love you too Dean". Looking at each other as if we were the only people in the room.

"Really you two?" Sam looked at the two of them, "we need to focus, the two of you need to pose as a high end, couple, for this charity event, so I need both of you too listen" Dean and I looked a little guilty, but then Dean smirked "bite me" I chuckled a little, the way Sam's face has irritation written all over..

Sam looked at me, eyeing the oversized clothing I always wear, oh he didn't want to say it out loud but, I knew what he was thinking, how am I going to look the part?. I barely even wear makeup or do my hair, but like who would not want to be comfortable when you're fighting monsters and ghosts. I smile, "Don't worry boys, I'll dress the part" Dean gave me this surprised almost scolding look sounding sincere, "You are beautiful sweetheart, I don't care what you wear, your beautiful" he walked up to me, and without hesitation he pulled me into an endearing kiss, his hands resting on my hips, I heard Sam, mumbling "Oh! Give me a break" and walk out, leaving the two of us, I could feel the way Dean smiled, against my lips. After a few more seconds, we came up for air, sounding breathy ,"Babe you should stop terrorising your brother so much" he simply smirked "Not my fault Sammy is so easily annoyed" I laugh, starting to turn away from him, "I need to go and get ready for tonight's event, you too mister" he grabbed my wrist, "Come here sweetheart" he pulled me close to him, looking into my eyes, "you know I love you right, more than anything in this world?" I smiled, looking at this gorgeous man in front of me, his freckles, my damn weakness, "Mhmm you see I know that's not true" surprised he looks at me "what?" Chuckling a bit "what about baby?" Referencing the love for his Chevrolet Impala, standing in the garage, he burst into laughter "You are driving me crazy woman, now go get ready" giving me a playful slap on the rear. I walk away, smiling, my heart bursting with love and joy.

He smiles as he watches her walk away, wearing loose fitting jeans one of his t-shirts and some flannel, hair in a messy bun, it's true he didn't care what she wore, she's so beautiful for him, but he would be lying, if he said he wasn't curious what she'll look like all dressed up, for some reason that's beyond him, she always thinks she's not pretty, but oh how far that could be from the truth, he knows every single inch of her body, every little spot that makes her tickle, every Little sensitive part, that makes her moan in pleasure, he loves her, even more than his car, but he'll never admit it.

Checking himself in the mirror, mumbling "I hate these monkey suits" as he struggled with his bow tie. He walks around the bunker searching for Sam, of course he finds his little brother's nose buried in those damn books, "Sammy help a man out?" Sam looks up, "you can hunt some of the most dangerous creatures, but you can't fix a tie?" The glare Dean gives him shows he isn't happy at the remark, he gets up, helping his big brother fix the tie.

Sam's eyes widens, his mouth falls open, Dean looks at him "What's your problem?" Sam could barely utter a single word he was stunned to say the least, Dean followed his eyes and when Dean turned around, his breathing hitched, his heart rate went up, he slightly gasped for air, taking in the beauty before him, his eyes wandered over her. Her hair draped over her shoulders, her eyes glistening, her smile could light up the darkest of rooms, wearing a red tight fitting dress. The high cut slit in her dress, exposing her right leg, the crystal like heels, making her seem taller, her legs leaner, the low halter cut, just exposing enough of her collar bone, to leave something for the imagination.

Without saying a word, Dean gestured for her to turn, the back of the dress, totally exposed, just covered her lower back. He bit his lower lip, and with the back of his hand, hitting against Sam's chest, his voice sounding a bit more husky, "shit, that's my woman?!" She laughed and her voice rang, "Last time I checked, I was all yours"

All the way to the event Dean could barely keep his eyes on the road.

When he led her through the doors, his hand rested on the curve of her back, so many eyes were on her, and he slightly chuckled when she whispered "why are they all looking at me?" As if she doesn't know she's beautiful! So he just smiled, took her hand, and asked "do me the honour and dance with me?" She did a little playful dip, "the honour would be all mine" before he pulled her close, he gave her a once over. He never saw the highlights in your hair, that caught your eyes, or the dress you're wearing tonight, he pulls you close. Dancing cheek to cheek, the way she feels this close to him, her small hands on his shoulders, his calloused hands, in the small of her back, sending electric shocks through her spine, swaying with the music, maybe Dean's caught up in the moment, but there's a question weighing on him for months, but now, now it feels like the right moment, he's voice sounded deeper than normal as he whispered, hot air brushing against her neck "Sweetheart?"

Slightly breathy, "Yes?" He cleared his throat, "make me the happiest man alive, and be my wife?"

Her swaying body came to a stop , "A...are you asking me" he cut her off, pulled back looking in her eyes, "yes, will you marry me?" I couldn't believe it, he just asked me to be forever his, without further due, I planted a kiss on his plum lips, soft tears rolling down my cheeks, he smiled against her soft lips, "is that a yes?" I break the kiss, smiling widely, "yes a million times yes" he laughed, picked her up, gave a twirl, and placed her down, his fingers intertwined with hers. Giving me that signature smirk, "What do you, say Mrs Winchester let's go catch that shifter, then we celebrate with some pie and beer?" I laughed, nodding, as happy as can be, "lead the way Mr Winchester".

@k-slla @jackles010378 @winchesterwild78 @cevansbaby-dove @cutedisneygrl @angelbabyyy99 @pia-bartolini

[starkwlkr]

Ruby is such an icon‼️

could you do something where her pre-k does a daddy and daughter dance and Charles takes her shopping for a new dress and ruby helps charles get all ready (like the princess he is)😭😭?

beauty and the beast | charles leclerc

When Y/n got an e-mail from Ruby’s school saying that they were going to have a father daughter dance, the first thing she did was make sure Charles was free of anything F1 related. She then texted Charles a screenshot of the e-mail. Charles was far too excited when he got the message. He started to book nail appointments and asked around with his friends who had kids on which shop had the best dresses for little kids. He truly wanted everything to be perfect. He had even asked Pascale if she could do Ruby’s hair for the dance, which she happily accepted.

“Okay, let’s go Ruby Jules, we only have a week until the dance and we still have to get your dress!” Charles called out from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m a pretty princess! I’m a pretty princess! I’m a pretty princess!” Ruby sang as she walked down the stairs with her little purse that Charles bought for her.

The father daughter duo went to multiple shops in Monte Carlo and by 2 PM, Ruby had finally found the perfect dress. Before they could continue with finding her shoes, they decided to eat so Charles drove to their favorite restaurant.

“There’s this girl in my class and she says her maman is putting makeup on her for the dance.” Ruby told Charles as they ate their lunch.

“If this is your way of asking if you can put makeup on, the answer is no.” Charles replied.

“But it’s glittery! Maman has pretty lipgloss.”

“You can put a little and that’s it.”

Ruby groaned. “When can I put the rest on?”

“When you’re older.” Charles replied.

“Old like you?” Ruby asked honestly.

“Just eat your food.”

The day before the dance came and Ruby was watching the dancing scene from ‘Beauty and The Beast’. She watched Belle’s movements and copied them exactly. She even wore her favorite pink tutu so she could feel like a princess. She wanted to be like Belle so she searched for a pair of her maman’s heels and put the on her tiny feet.

“See? You have to do it like the Beast! You’re noticing right.” Ruby explained to her papa.

“You’re a better dancer than me, Mon amour. I don’t know how to dance.” Charles admitted.

“Grab my hand and I’ll show you.” Ruby reached out to him.

“If I fall, I’m taking you down with me.”

When Y/n got home from grocery shopping, she found Ruby and Charles on the floor giggling. She found it cute until she saw her heels she wore at her wedding on the floor.

“You look so beautiful, Ruby! Let me take a picture so I can send it to your uncles and aunts. Oh, my sweet girl.” Pascale placed a kiss on the girl’s cheek. She had just finished doing Ruby’s hair.

Ruby smiled at Paascale camera and even did a pose. Pascale then called for Charles, who was just done with his tie, to take a picture with his daughter. The father and daughter smiled as Pascale took multiple pictures.

“Papa, can you stand right there?” Ruby pointed to the spot next to Pascale. “Wait, come here, your hair isn’t pretty enough! It has to be likes this!” She ‘fixed’ his hair like she saw her grand-mère do to him thousands of times before.

“Mon amour, it’s fine. Where do you want me to stand?” Ruby pointed again to where she wanted him.

Charles was confused, but he did was he was told. “Grand-mère, take a picture of me like this please!” Ruby then did a couple poses of her own with her tongue sticking out and holding up a peace sign.

“You sneaky girl.”

“You two look so adorable.” Y/n awed at her family. “Hopefully Mathéo has a mother son dance. Is that a thing? It better be.”

“If not, we can always make one right here,” Charles placed a kiss on Y/n’s lips. “We have to go, don’t wait up, this princess and I are going to party all night.”

In reality, by 9:30 PM, they were both knocked out on the sofa since all the dancing and eating many slices of cake tired them out.

liked by carla.brocker, landonorris and 748,890 others

charles_leclerc our first school dance of many!

danielricciardo was landonorris the dj?

y/nleclerc the best dressed in the entire dance <3

arthur_leclerc did you fall? please tell me you did and that someone recorded.

View all 34,477 comments

[vivwritesfics]

Electric Dream Machine

Electric Dream Machine is just opening for Papaya until the release of their first album. Logan just enjoys being around Papayas guitarist

Viv's AUgust Event

(Banner by @nurse-floyd )

It was a temporary arrangement, something they had to do before they made it big themselves. Just while their album was being made.

The tour with Papaya wasn't all bad. He'd grown up alongside their bassist, Oscar, and Lando wasn't all that bad once you got to know him. Carlos was an interesting guy, a lot to deal with when he and Lando were together. Their guitarist was Logan's favourite, but he'd never admit to that. It didn't help that she was pretty.

Electric Dream Machine was a stupid band name. When their manager, James, had approached the four of them, they'd protested. But it was Electric Dream Machine or hit the road.

The music was theirs, and that was all that mattered. The name might have sucked, but the music spoke for itself. Lance's dad was helping fund the creation of the album and paying for them to follow Papaya on tour, opening for them.

The perks of having a ultra rich drummer.

Logan wasn't the most social person in the world. He wasn't rude by any means, but he wasn't the best with people. Shy, the was it. He was shy. Even on the Papaya bus, he sat on his own as Alex, George and Lance sat with Lando, Carlos and Oscar.

The Papaya guitarist was somewhere on the bus, Logan didn't know where. He tried not to make it look like he was looking around for her, but he couldn't help it. She was always kind to him, always going out of her way to include him in conversations.

"Hey."

When had she sat down next to him? A blush covered his cheeks as he slightly turned his head towards her. He couldn't look her in the eye as she sat back, legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankle. "Why aren't you over there?"

Logan shrugged his shoulders. "Didn't feel like it," he answered and copied her pose. Legs stretched out, crossed at the ankle.

She gave a nod. "How is the album coming along?" She asked him, voice sincere.

Logan gave her a small smile. The album. It was a topic he loved talking above more than anything. So many of the songs on the album were his. Don't Stop, Greenlight, Wherever You Are, Never Be, Lost Boy, they were all his.

He was actually animated as he spoke. It was lovely to see, had her grinning as she listened. Seeing Logan like this made a nice change to his usual demeanour.

"I can't wait to hear it," she said when he was done.

His blush deepened. "You wanna listen to it?"

The scoff she released had him worried for a second, but she punched him in the shoulder in that comforting way. "Hell yeah I wanna listen to it! You guys are great!" She insisted. Her smile was so damn sincere, Logan couldn't get enough of it.

The conversation went on. She asked about the name, Electric Dream Machine, and Logan didn't blame her for that. He knew the name sucked, too.

"You guys got any merch yet?" She asked, looking around as they pulled into the venue. Logan gave a nod. "Brilliant, I want a shirt," she said and stood up.

Their shirts were embarrassing. The four of them stood with their instruments with 'Electric Dream Machine' printed behind them. But she wanted it, so Logan gave it to her.

***

"You're not seriously wearing that tonight, are you?" He asked as he followed Lance, George and Alex off stage. He placed his guitar on the stand and looked around.

There she was, wearing the Electric Dream Machine shirt Logan had given her before the set. When he'd given it to her, it had been white. But there was a lipstick stain just above Logans head. His breath caught in his throat.

"Go away, Carlos," she said with a sickly sweet smile as she picked up her guitar.

She went out on stage with the Electric Dream Machine shirt covering her body. It was quite a sight, and it had Logan unable to take his eyes off of her.

It wasn't right for them to be together on the tour, was it? Her band was so much more successful than his, and Logan didn't want her to think he was using her.

As the tour went on, she got flirtier with him. But Logan kept his distance. He liked her, obviously he liked her, but refused to do anything about it.

The remainder of the tour was miserable for the both of them. Hopeless pining that would never be anything more.

[prettyyoungandbored]

Playboy - Johnny Knoxville

Pairings: Johnny Knoxville x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of nudity

Author’s Note: A short Johnny Knoxville x Babydoll fic.

NOT MY GIF

“I was thinking maybe we get the guys into a glitter pool,” Jeff spoke up.

Y/N snorted, her coffee cup to her lips. “The clean up process is gonna be bitch. We did a similar concept for a ‘Playboy’ shoot once and it took us two hours to clean up everything.”

Johnny perked his head up, interested. “Wait what about ‘Playboy’?”

“Oh, I worked production on some ‘Playboy’ shoots,” she shrugged.

“She also wrote for the magazine,” Jeff added. He turned his attention back to Y/N. “They really made you guys clean it up? Doesn’t the mansion have like a clean up crew?”

“Yeah for the mansion,” she said. “The shot ended up looking amazing but it was just awful to clean up.”

Johnny tuned out the rest of the conversation as his mind drifted to daydreams of Y/N posing for Playboy.

======================================

An hour later, he wandered over to Y/N’s makeshift office where she finished printing the shooting schedules for the week.

“Hey you!” she beamed. “I was thinking about stopping at the store and bringing some dessert for the Margera’s dinner tomorrow tonight. Any ideas?”

He waved his hand. “Anything will be great. So, ‘Playboy’, huh?”

She made a face. “You do realize it is not that big of a deal, right? Like it was a job.”

“But then you wrote for the magazine too?”

“Yeah. Hugh Hefner and I got into a conversation one time and he was interested in my writing. I sent him a couple stuff and he published it.”

Johnny’s eyes widened. “What did you write?”

“I can send you copies,” she laughed. “I wrote under a pseudonym.“

“Oh yeah? What was the name?”

“Maxine Flynn.”

Johnny nodded his head, making a mental note to search the went for the name. “Did you ever get scouted or asked to pose nude?”

She scrunched her face. “God no.”

“So you had a whole conversation with the man himself and he didn’t once ask you if you were interested in being a playmate?”

She chuckled. “I get where this is going and you’re very sweet, but no, I did not get asked to pose for the magazine or to be a playmate. All I did was some behind-the-scene stuff and some writing.”

He shoved his hands in his pants pocket. “You would’ve been my favorite playmate.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“You know what, you are my favorite playmate.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s not how that works.”

“I don’t care. You’re my favorite playmate.”

She hummed. “I didn’t realize you would be ok with the entire world seeing my tits out.” She kissed his cheek. “Good to know though!”

She made her way out of the office when Johnny yelled out, “Hey, I never said that!”

======================================

Johnny spent hours reading Y/N’s stories for Playboy, blown away. Sure, he was aware of her creativity and brilliance, but he didn’t realize just how truly talented she was.

The knock on his hotel room door pulled him away from his rabbit hole. He opened the door to find Y/N standing there.

“I can’t sleep so I need to you cuddle me until I do,” she said, walking in.

He closed the door and watched her crawl into his bed.

She looked at him. “What?”

“Yeah, I just spend like a couple hours reading your Playboy stuff,” Johnny admitted, pointing to the laptop.

She glanced at the laptop and then back at him. “Ok, so ask me your questions while you cuddle me.”

She held out her arms as Johnny closed the laptop and then jumped into bed beside her.

As she cuddled to his chest, she yawned. “Alright, what questions do you have for me?”

======================================

Two Years Later…

Y/N knocked on Johnny’s home office door, holding a the wrapped gift behind her.

“What’s up, Babydoll?” Johnny asked, his eyes still on his desktop computer.

“I have a present for you.”

Johnny’s eyes now moved to her and he got up from his desk. “What is it?”

She presented him the wrapped item. “Think of it as a little engagement present.”

He pouted, taking the gift in his hands. “Cutie, you didn’t have to get me a present.”

“Oh, but I think you’ll like it,” she smirked.

Johnny ripped it open and his face dropped. It was a framed photo of what looked like a fake Playboy magazine cover with Y/N posing semi-nude. She held her bare breasts with her hands as her lower region was covered with a large text that read FUTURE MRS. KNOXVILLE.

Johnny fixated on it, unable to process what the hell she had given him. She smiled at him, delighted.

“I used my connections for the photo shoot and graphics,” she explained. “It looks real, doesn’t it?!”

Johnny turned to his face, eyes hungry.

“Bedroom. NOW.”

[misskattylashes]

Okay, I’m going to do it. I have been holding back and just telling my closest fandom friends my crazy theory, but what the hell. Most of you think I’m batshit anyway.

Here we go.....

What if we have been on the receiving end of a long played out psyop and Louise has been a way to make the public want Milex?

Okay, hear me out...

It’s 2017/8 Alex has abandoned Miles after EYCTE. He has gone to France to write and record TBHC, having realised their little TLSP bubble could never last (see Star Treatment). Without Alex, Miles is a little lost and lonely in LA. His reputation is also at rock bottom after the journalist incident. Miles decides he wants to move back to England, and Alex decides he wants to move back to, as we know they can never be more than a few minutes away from each other

Taylor either wouldn’t or couldn’t leave LA, so she and Alex break up. But they need a new girlfriend to keep up the straight image (especially with the new badly-received album and a world tour about to begin). On the original version of OPP as seen on the AM in Mexico video, over the turtle segment Alex sings ‘One More Year I’ll Call It Quits’ maybe the plan was to give it all up,but he had signed a contract to do another album and tour after TBHC, and with Miles’ reputation so bad, if they were together then they would both be cancelled.

So a European girlfriend is found and this is where the subterfuge begins. We start with old Instagram posts with tags like #alexturnerwillyoumarryme, then we get professionally shot videos of her backstage at AM’s concert (all the time Alex is ‘still with’ Taylor) so as soon as they launch, the first image of Louise the public get is a negative one, as a fangirl who has set out to get Alex, not caring if he cheats in his current girlfriend.

Before I list the reasons why I think she is fake, can I say this idea he has stayed with her as punishment for cheating on Taylor is absolutely ridiculous. Men who are serial cheats aren’t known for wearing hairshirts. Especially when you’re a handsome, wealthy rock star who could easily get another girlfriend.

So, the idea is, Louise is the most unpleasant person who makes Alex miserable, and if most people are honest, they want Alex to be happy..

So, let’s look at the evidence..(where there is a * it means there is a Miles counterside)

Louise doesn’t work. She claims to be a feminist, but her job seems to be being Alex’s girlfriend.

She openly copies selfies posed by previous girlfriends, making her look like she has no personality of her own

She boasts in her IG posts ie the ‘we just fucked’ pic and the panties on the piano.

She claims to be a musician but we rarely see her writing or recording anythjng.*

She writes embarrassing things about itAlex on social media (beautiful dick).*

Openly takes a neutral stance on Palestine.

Claims to wear vintage clothes but they rarely are*

When Alex was ill after the third London show, it is publicised that he leaves the Emirates with his parents, no sign of Louise. She’s too busy taking pics in the hotel with Matt and Amanda

Meanwhile Miles has worked hard on his public image. He has shown he is a hard worker. He rarely mentions Alex on social media and when asked about him in interviews, whilst admitting they are good friends, is insistent they are not working together. Which is good because he has always been accused of riding on Alex’s fame.

He frequently gives updates when he his writing and recording, treating us to little snippets, something Louise never does.

Is it a coincidence that holiday gate is the same as the week One Man Band’s release. Alex looking miserable with Louise Vs Miles being charming and hard working.

Not long after Louise starts going on about her fake vintage, Miles posts a whole real of him going proper vintage shopping so he looks authentic.

Even in Dublin there is no duet with Alex. Miles not using Alex’s,fame,but also those who monitor social media can see how hungry they are for Milex interaction.

The river Mersey comment – another way of guaging public opinion. Finally the legion of doom 😍😍 comment on the NY recent. The fandom went crazy at Milex acknowledgement.

Alex....

His face..Alex is a pro. He has had twenty years of faking smiles after arguments with the other Monkeys, girlfriends, even Miles. He could fake a smile with Louise if we wanted to when they call their friends at Backgrid to take pap pictures. But instead he chooses to look like someone either on the verge of tears or else being held hostage. And in the latest set of pics, Louise looks the same.

The Taylor tattoo....it looks like he thinks so little of her he has kept that tattoo.

‘I don’t wanna be hers, I wanna be yours’ quite often at gigs where Louise is in attendance.

Not one song on the car written about her.

And now of course with the tour over, a lot of people return to watching TLSP videos. Happy, muscly, healthy looking Alex having fun with Miles as opposed to skinny, miserable Alex trapped with Louise.

Apart from Louise’s most ardent fans, most people want to see him away from her and would be overjoyed at a TLSP reunion, and for us Milexers, a declaration of their love.

So, has this been a long game? A way of making the people think they want Milex? I told you it was crazy, but just remember the world of public relations is completely underhand and insane.

[twis-world]

Perfection

Mentions: Vil Centric, 2nd Person, Fluff, Gender Neutral Reader

Vil knew that he was beautiful.

Thousands would sing and brag that he was the epitome of beauty, if not that of utter perfection. He had millions entrapped in the mere palm of his hand, willing to trip and fall to follow his every desire at the drop of a hat. There isn’t a single compliment nor praise that he hasn’t already heard before and will continue to be showered with for years to come.

Yes, Vil knew that he was beautiful.

Would he ever grow bored of such a fact? No, never. He had worked far too hard to ever throw it all away for something as meager as ‘burn out’ but…he cannot deny that deep down he’s grown just the slightest bit tired of the same old flattery. Every second of every day seeing the same comments, the same edits, the same predictable applause. 

So could anyone really blame him for finding such amusement, such appreciation for such sheer boldness?

“Yes, yes, that’s it. Now tilt your head just ever slightly to the left…yes! Hold it there!” 

Ever since he had first become acquainted with you, you had made it clear of your utter love for photography. Never had he seen you without the bulky device hanging from your neck, the beginnings of fabric burn always barely showing from constant contact with the strap. No matter how many times he scolded you, saying it would be much less strain to simply carry it around in a case, you always remained the stubborn one.

“Beauty doesn’t wait for anyone, Vil. I want to capture it the moment I see it. Any longer and it’s just a second hand product.”

Now he could see what you meant, currently being the subject of the very beauty you wanted to capture. To freeze in time forevermore at its peak.

Never before had he had to fight back against such a fierce blush that desperately attempted to scrawl up his neck. The utter need to want to melt from your gaze and oh damn you…

You peaked ever so slightly from the lens, scrutinizing his form from just a few feet away. Eyes scaling over every inch of his being so tenderly he had to keep himself from squirming. He wouldn't admit that his wrist was beginning to slightly ache, the one cradling the side of his face as his elbow rested against the fine glass table. He was grateful for the shade the surrounding trees provided, it had been quite the sunny day when you both left for your date. The grass of the field was lush, daisies barely sprouting yet adding the perfect touch of color.

He had barely sat down to enjoy the moment with you when you yelled for him to freeze, utterly insisting that you had to capture a photo that very second. Peeved as he was for a bit, he couldn’t deny you something he knew brought you such happiness. Yet, any agitation immediately washed away once he saw you in your element.

You didn’t lay a finger on him once that past few minutes, but you managed to handle him with such care with your words alone. Each praise, each smile of satisfaction, your mere gaze set him ablaze like no other could before. He was the center of your attention, of your entire being in that instant, and it felt better than anything fame nor fortune could ever give.

“Done!” You cheered, breaking him out of his reverie. You stood from you crouch with a groan, swiping away at the leftover grass that continued to cling to your clothing. Any other instance he would have instantly berated you for allowing such a nice outfit to be dirtied, but the words caught in his throat as you sped to his side, allowing you to lean you weight against him just a bit. “See, I told you it would be a great shot! Just look at how much your eyes pop despite the shade-”

You rambled on and on, excitedly going over every aspect of the photo that he normally wouldn’t care for. However, as he gazed upon the digital copy of him, he couldn’t help but be in utter awe. He had seen himself in thousands of different poses against hundreds of numerous posters, seen his entire being in dozens of films, looked upon his reflection millions every morning. 

Your one photo, however, captured something that he couldn’t put a name to…It was just one measly photo, yet it…it was…

“not to mention how you managed to angle your body just right for a great mix of relaxed yet alluring. It’s perfect!” You exclaimed, pulling the camera back and continuing to look upon it.

Warmth sprouted in his chest, one that he has come to grow familiar with in his time of courting you. 

Yes…all was perfect…