#like the entire performance i was smiling

[thanosscross]

Fanboy - Choi Seung Hyun/ T.O.P x reader part 1

Summary: After rising as a k-pop star as the newest member of BigBang, your management team suggests taking on an acting role as well, where you meet one of your best friends old friend, Seung Hyun, who quickly charms you, all while neither of you knew you were both going to the same person to rant about each other.

Warnings: none, some really toothrotting fluffiness

Walking onto the squid game set you gasped in awe, yea you had played in sold out arenas, had thousands of people lining up to meet you, but this was your first time acting, but your PR team swore it'd help boost your image while waiting for your new single to drop. As you looked around in awe you failed to notice the eyes that immediately landed on you, or the two boys in the corner fanboying over the fact they worked with you.

Seung Hyun looked at his co-star in shock "Why are you so freaked out? Shouldn't it be the other way around?" His new friend asked, knowing the dynamic between you two, A few months after T.O.P had stepped down from bigbang, the agency was quick to bring in a replacement, again shaking the K-pop world whenever his replacement was a girl. "No, she's amazing, and she treats the boys amazing" Seung Hyun shrugged his friends comment off, it wasn't that he was a huge fan, but he did happen to follow you on social media and watched a few of your live performances on his phone, and seeing how you interacted with the boys he considered brothers warmed his heart.

Your eyes quickly met his as you rushed over excited "Oh my- You're- I'm-" You kept cutting yourself off with excitement, he couldn't hide his smile as you failed contain to your excitement, feeling happy to know you weren't one of the k-pop stars that chose to shun him for his past actions. "I'm Choi Seung Hyun" He smiled offering his palm to you, causing you to blush as you watched him press his lips to the back of your hand "I-It's an honor, Mr. Choi" You smiled, proud of yourself for remembering your manners even in your panicked fangirling state, Seung Hyun gasped holding a hand to his chest chuckling "Please! I'm not that old! Call me Seung Hyun" He laughed, returning your hand as he offered the way "They want us all ready to film soon, want to wait with us?" He offered, you smiled nodding softly, starting to talk about your characters.

Whenever filming started, you were upset to find out your character wouldn't interact with your new friend's until later on in the filming process. It went by rather quickly though, using your free time to read over your lines to try and get the best performance possible, I mean, acting for tv was just like acting for your shows right? You were good at acting, You and Ji-Yong had an entire fake relationship currently, per your managements request. As you read over you first scene though you frowned, why didn't you management tell you about the 'stunts' in the script? Walking onto the film set for red light green light you went to find your marker in the large group of people "Okay! Extras! You have timed blood packs! This scene we're gonna focus on Thanos's shove and the introduction to Y/n's character Yi-mon!" The director shouted into the speaker, you watched as the camera positioned close to Seung Hyun's face and yours and one at about knee length for you. "Action!" You heard, Standing up straighter you heard the doll recording play saying red light, Seung Hyun looked for his cue before shoving the line of stuntmen and women down "Tag" He smirked as the blood packs splattered, the blood landing on his cheek perfectly for the scene, You grunted as you landed on the ground with a thud, looking at Seung Hyun in fear, waiting for your characters pack to go off, the director motioning for you to stay down as Seung Hyun smirked "Tag, Senorita, you're it" He smirked, jumping over you as the doll called greenlight "Cut!" the director shouted "That was perfect! First try!" He cheered, Seung Hyun just turned around, quick to kneel at your side helping you to your feet, brushing the sand and dirt off of your knees and palms "Are you okay?" He asked softly, not wanting to hurt 'Korea's sweetheart', lord knows the backlash he'd face for that. "Aw, you're so sweet" You giggled, hugging him gently "I'm okay, nothing I haven't dealt with before, plus it's been awhile since I played some real tag" You joked, he just chuckled shaking his head helping you to the side set waiting for your next scene.

As it approached your last scene for the night, you marveled at the set, every bunk bed and tile had so much detail in the main room, it was amazing. As you moved to your marker Seung Hyun was quick on your tail, ready to finish up for the night and sleep, you on the other hand were ready to get out of here and call your best friend for not warning you how charming his best friend was. "Action!" Your director tiredly called "Thanos, get away from me" You snapped as Seung Hyun smirked walking closer to you "You owe me money- I'm sorry but do I need to call her a...B I T C H?" he asked, spelling out the word as he didn't even want to use it in the same sentence he used to speak about you. "Yes Seung Hyun! Start from the top!" Your director shouted, Your friend frowned at you before going back to his original marker.

"Thanos, get away from me" You snapped, Seung Hyun stepping closer to you as he glared at you "You owe me money, bitch" He spat, his hand going to your throat, squeezing gently "That money was mine and you know it" You argued, standing on your tippy toes to try and make it more believable "You're gonna get me my money, or I swear, I'll kill you before these walking pink fucking idiots get a chance to" He seethed, your breathing increasing as genuine fear flashed over your face "Cut!" You silently thanked your director for calling cut as you stepped back down on your feet looking at your friend "Are you okay? I wasn't too harsh on you was I?" He asked gently, you chuckled shaking your head "No, I'm okay Seung Hyun..I promise" You said sweetly, he was started to realize you weren't anything like how you acted on stage, on stage you seemed so confident and cocky, loud and outgoing, but in person you were so quiet and sweet, nothing like how you were from what he saw on videos and interviews. "Can I walk you back to your trailer?..." He asked, resting a hand on your shoulder causing you to blush "Of course, who knew you were such a gentleman" You giggled, you were under the same impression as Seung Hyun, other than what your friends told you, you only saw performances of Seung Hyun's, seeing him as a performer who was confident and cocky, like he knew everybody wanted to fuck him, and he loved it, but instead you were learning Seung Hyun was a huge softie, flirt, and gentlemen.

As you got into your trailer you wished Seung Hyun a good night before immediately facetiming Ji-Yong, not caring if you woke him up, you needed him, and as your fake boyfriend he had to answer. You watched as the screen changed, showing a dark room with your best friend's face being illuminated by his phone screen "Y/nnnn, I'm sleeeeping shhhh" He whispered into the phone before going to roll over before you stopped him by tsking him "No! You don't get to! You never told me about Seung Hyun!" You shouted, quickly covering your mouth realizing he could still be close to your trailer "Awww does baby y/n have a crush" Ji-Yong teased, you groaned dropping your head into your pillows "No! He just- So!" You continued ranting to your friend for another two hours before eventually falling asleep, not waking up again until you heard three soft knocks on your door "Come in!" You shouted still half asleep, already being used to the boys always coming into your room for some reason while you slept, it became easy for you to shout come in in your sleep, which is how Seung Hyun ended up standing in your trailer while you slept peacefully.

It took Seung Hyun fifteen minutes to successfully get you awake, it only taking him two whining fits and being called Ji-yong and a bitch four times to do it. You sat on the bed tiredly rubbing your eyes as you slowly became aware of everything, including your makeup and costume ladies standing in your trailer now instead of your co-star.

As you walked onto set you were exhausted, filming for a show was a lot more draining than performing you felt as you approached your chair. You ignored everything as you curled up into your chair tiredly laying your head on your knees watching the others film their scenes. As you started to doze you heard two familiar voices approach you "Jagi, what time did you go to bed?" Seung Hyun asked teasingly, you just glared at him as you yawned "My friend and I were talking most of the night" You explained before closing your eyes to rest them, totally not falling asleep. You woke up as your director shouted your name "Y/n! We need you for Six legs!" He shouted, you quickly scrambled over to your mark, trying to rub the tired from your eyes "S-Sorry!" You shouted, trying to avoid everybody's gaze as you stood on your mark watching your co-stars stand on theirs. "Action!" Your director called out loudly, Seung Hyun smiled at you crossing his eyes "Excuse me, senorita, would you like to join my team" He asked, raising his eyebrows towards you "Depends...Have you collected the infinity stones?" You asked seductively, tilting your head "Of course! I'll destroy anybody who stands in the way of my greatness!" He shouted moving his hands around to show his nail polish to the camera "As long as you idiots don't get me killed" You sighed before walking to your next mark "Dude do we really need a chick on our team?" Your friend asked Seung Hyun, Seung Hyun smacking his chest in reply "Shut up, don't ever question Thanos's decisions" He snapped before following behind you biting his lip "Cut!" You director called, you stood out of frame smiling as you hugged Seung Hyun tightly "That was awesome! I swear you're amazing as Thanos" You giggled as he just shook his head laughing, holding you tightly. "Hey..After filming..Do you want to maybe come by my trailer? I've got some wine that I've been wanting to try" Seung asked softly, instinctively holding your hips in one hand while placing his other hand on your lower back. You blushed brightly trying to suppress your giggles "S-Sure!" You smiled nervous, desperate to get the film day over now.

-

What do we think, lovelies? I think I'm gonna put out a Thanos fic next, just not sure what type yet

--

Taglist!!

@ag022123

@acehasmyheart

@heartz4rubyy

[ashonheavenscloud]

mission accomplished || c. vernon

warnings: none! || wc: 1.1k

a/n: from another round of frantic fanfic with mi amor @lixiesfreckless !! enjoy <3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"Vernon, what are you-"

"I know, I'm sorry, I just-"

You step aside, bewildered but not in any way bothered by your best friend's impromptu appearance at your apartment door, despite it being nearly midnight. You're already in button up pajamas and fresh from a shower, a mug of tea forgotten on the coffee table. You were going to binge a show, but all plans for the evening have been wiped from your mind at the sight of the man running an anxious hand through his brown curls as he steps into the room. You notice immediately the guitar strapped to his back. He paces once, twice next to you, before blowing out a breath.

"What if I mess up-"

"Vernon, you've been practicing the song for weeks, you’re not going to mess it up just because you’re finally playing it in front of its intended audience—-“

“What if she doesn’t like it?” He blurts and turns to look at you, and your jaw nearly drops at the suggestion.

“Vernon…if she doesn’t like it then her and I are going to have some serious beef,” you chuckle, but seeing as how your joke does little to calm his nerves, you place a steady hand on his shoulder.

“Listen to me. You’re a talented artist with a good heart. The song is amazing, and heartfelt and…sweet,” you feel a slight pang of something in your chest, but ignore it and continue, “if she can’t see that through this, then she doesn’t deserve—-“

“Can I practice it with you, one last time?”

You hesitate, although you're not entirely sure why. You've heard it several times before, even if not in its entirety. Vernon had been working on it for ages, strumming chords and humming melodies and writing potential lyrics in his little music journal while you studied or binged your shows. He'd played you pieces, snippets, and they'd been beautiful. To hear it now, performed all the way through, in preparation of Vernon's confession, has your voice caught in your throat, a sour taste in your mouth that you can't explain.

But he's your best friend, and his pleading eyes break through any consideration of refusal before you can even truly contemplate turning away. You could never do that to him. "Of course you can."

You lead him to the couch and sit on one side, letting him set up the instrument and check that it is carefully tuned. His hands, you notice, are shaking. God, he must really be nervous to play this for this girl. Your heart aches for some reason seeing him shift in his spot.

"Okay," he eventually murmurs, seemingly half to himself. You're not sure how else to help him relax, so you just tap his foot with yours to get his attention. Once his eyes glance up to meet yours, you smile slightly.

“Pretend I’m her,” you say, and the words taste bittersweet as they roll off your tongue.

After one more shaky breath, he begins to strum.

You’re glad he decided against playing with a pick for this song, because the gentle plucking of the strings is way better suited for the lyrics, at least to you. You allow yourself to fall into the simple melody as the notes envelop you, until you begin to imagine another reality; one where this song was meant for you.

Vernon's voice is quiet, but as the song continues, he appears to gain more confidence. Still maintaining a delicate softness to his tone, the lyrics roll from his tongue with an assuredness. You close your eyes, simply listening as the beautiful song fills the otherwise silent space.

By the time Vernon's voice fades and the last notes disappear from the air between you two, your lungs feel constricted, your heart torn between wishing you could have listened to him for an hour, and wishing you could bolt from the room, escape to somewhere that would allow you space to gather your emotions into carefully sorted compartments instead of the tornado that fills your chest.

Your eyes flicker open to find Vernon watching you intently, nibbling anxiously on his bottom lip, thumb hooked under the neck of his guitar and tapping the wood. You see him swallow, before quietly asking, "So... what'd you think?”

“I think it’s perfect, Vernon,” you answer honestly, subconsciously laying a hand atop his. “It’s beautiful, and heartfelt, and…” you pause before finishing your thought with a gulp, “it’s hard not to fall in love after hearing that.”

It would be hard is what you meant to say, and judging from the flicker of confusion on his face, it’s what he expected to hear too—- but he seems to brush the slip up off entirely, running a hand through his curls before speaking.

“Thank you for…well putting up with all of my nerves about this whole thing,” he sighs, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck and moving the guitar off the couch to rest beside it. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."

"I get it. This is... vulnerable." You swallow thickly. Now that the song has finished, and the moment has broken, a bitter taste fills your mouth. You've been forcefully pulled back to reality, reminded that this isn't actually yours. "I don't know if I could be as brave as you, to sing this for someone you care about so much. There's really no way she won't love it."

Vernon doesn't answer right away, bouncing his knee before glancing at you. He's always had an intense stare, but for some reason, this particular look in his eyes steals the air from your lungs.

"In that case..." he inhales deeply, and blows out in his next breath, "Do you? Love it, I mean?"

"What? Of course I-" Wait. Wait.

Vernon's nerves are taking over again, evident in his rambling. "I'm sorry, I know I'm springing this... I didn't know how to tell you it was... you. But it's you, it always was for you, and if that makes you uncomfortable I-"

You don't give him a chance to finish, closing the distance between the two of you, slipping a hand behind his head and pressing your mouth to his. Vernon inhales sharply before immediately melting into the kiss, hands falling to your waist and sighing against your lips as you pull away with a grin.

Vernon’s eyes flicker open, all previous nerves visibly deflating from his body. “I take it you really do love it, then?”

You giggle and kiss him again, just for good measure, feeling lightheaded. “What do you think?”

Vernon laughs softly, squeezing your waist gently and pulling you closer to him, eyes alight with happiness. “Mission accomplished.” He murmurs with quiet delight before kissing you again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

seventeen masterlist

navigation

[themayorautumn]

i have never written fanfiction in my entire life.

"work is the one redeeming thing that gives them purpose."

fuck me. here's something. i had to get it out of my system. i think about them. a lot.

“He was wearing a green coat, not blue.”

A dark haired man sits in a worn out office chair, face illuminated by a flickering desk lamp. His shirt is half unbuttoned, tie hanging loosely on his neck, begging to be taken off. He fidgets with the knot absent mindedly, as if it brings him some sort of comfort. Maybe he can't bear the thought of it being taken off, the last facade of performative professionalism.

His partner is pacing around the desk he’s sitting in front of, slicking his hair back constantly. It’s obvious that it’s a habit that has stuck around with him from his youth, back when his hair was fuller and eyes were brighter, and a small wink paired with a slight smile would be enough to end his night with a pretty chick in his bed. Tonight, there is no chick, and there is no bed. There is the sound of pen on paper as the man sitting by the desk crosses something off a list. Every single word on it is utterly illegible.

“Blue or green,” the man walking takes a break to light a cigarette. “It was a winter coat, puffy, expensive, you don't see that shit often around these parts. The color is a distraction, Vicquemare.”

“Yet she insisted it was sage green, didn't she? Who the fuck says that? She wouldn't have been so insistent if the color didn't matter, somehow.”

“She’s a wolf, that’s why. It’s a con. She knew what she was doing.”

“Alright,” the dark haired man, Vicquemare, gets up lazily and holds his hand out for the pack of cigarettes. His partner hands it to him. “You’re really speaking out of your ass now, Harry. What the fuck does that mean, ‘she’s a wolf’?”

“Extravagant eye makeup. Crimson red. You been to that bar called ‘Plume du Phénix’? I went there last month with that journalist guy, what's his name-”

“Pierre.”

“Right. Him, he told me it was the perfect place to get some connections. Meet people from the inside, if you catch my drift.”

“Fucking hell. You blew off work to go to a fucking strip club, did you?”

“Didn't blow off work. We went to that stakeout after, don't you remember Vic?”

“Oh yeah. You were complaining about your fucking headache the whole time.”

“Crimson makeup. They wear it there, it’s like their signature look. Blood of their former selves or whatever. Some new age bullshit. They’re dead fucking serious about it though. They don't let you in without it.”

“You wore makeup?”

“Easy now. Don't get too excited.”

Harry walks over to the desk to ash his cigarette, but doesn't get back to his pacing. He stands next to Vicquemare, staring at the ground, lost in thought.

“I did. Pierre made me wear it. They’re fucking wild in there, man. You wouldn't believe it.”

“Why didn't you invite me?”

“Are you jealous?”

“We’re partners. If you’re going somewhere to ‘get connections’, feel like I should be involved.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time. It really is a shame. You would look good in crimson.”

Vicquemare looks away from him for just a second, not enough to mean anything tangible, but enough for Harry to crack a slight smile. He puts a hand on his shoulder and keeps it there as he continues.

“They have this thing against authority of any kind. They preach ‘anarchy’ or their performative version of it, which is where they get together in back alley bars and drink until they don't remember what they're there for. Then they wake up and do it all over again. Fucking idiots, the lot of them.”

“And this is good for connections, how?”

“They're stupid but they're bonded together like a pack of wild wolves. They know everyone in the pack and protect each other like they're blood bound. Probably are too, the freaks.”

“So she was protecting the guy? Cause she knew the coat was actually blue, but saying sage green specifically would make it seem like it would be impossible for it to be any other color?”

“Look at my boy, learning so fast under my coaching. Exactly, Vic. She’s misleading us.”

Vicquemare tugs on the knot of his tie even more insistently, as if an internal fight is going on in his head about whether or not keeping that piece of cloth there is as important as he seems to think it is. Instead of coming to a conclusion, he lights another cigarette and looks back over to the list.

“Wish we talked with her sooner, then. This fucks over our entire theory now, doesn't it? We gotta start from fucking stratch. Find that blue-sage green coat guy. Whatever his name was.”

“We can find him. We can find him, tomorrow.”

Harry reaches for a drawer in the desk and takes out a dark red bottle. He grins and holds it out for Vicquemare to read the label.

“Aged merlot. Been saving it for a special occasion.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the occasion tonight?”

“You do not give me enough credit, Jean-y boy. You do not think I am a man of class, a superior officer who cares for his lieutenant.”

He takes out two glasses from the same drawer and pours two very generous servings.

“Happy birthday, Vicquemare. Here’s to us surviving another year in this fucking shithole.”

Jean looks at his glass wordlessly, his hand still on his tie. He’s stopped fidgeting with it now, as if he’s reached a conclusion but is too afraid, or too cautious to act on it. He smiles. It looks strange on his face, laborious, but genuine. It reaches his eyes and accentuates the wrinkles around them, too many for a man celebrating his thirtieth birthday.

“Thank you, shitkid.”

And it’s clear he means it.

They drink one glass, then one more, then Harry procures another bottle of whiskey this time, which they also finish, and as Vicquemare digs in his jacket pocket for that pack of Astra Reds he’s sure he bought earlier that day, Harry bursts out laughing.

“To think it would ever come to this, huh, Jean? Is this how you imagined entering your thirties?”

Jean finally finds the treasure he’s been looking for and takes a long drag of the cigarette. The ashtray is overflowing, which seems to bother neither of them as cigarette butts litter the desk and the floor. He stumbles over to Harry and smiles, a larger grin than the one before, but it doesn't reach his eyes. They look sad, desperate, and appropriately gray, as if any semblance of color on them would be a disservice to the way they look at the world. Harry sees himself in them, not sure if he’s imagining it or not, and not caring. It’s hard to care, when it’s the only time his reflection doesn't terrify him to death.

Jean takes Harry’s hand and puts it on his tie, curling his fingers around it and tugging on it gently. Harry knows what it means. He’s seen him do it time and time again, always in a different context, but always with the same intention. ‘You take the first step, Harry. You make me believe that you want me, you allow me to pretend.’. It’s his role, he knows it, and he unties the tie.

“I didn't imagine anything. I couldn't imagine anything. What is there to imagine? What is there to fucking want?”

It’s a question that doesn't have an answer. It doesn't have an answer that can be spoken out loud. It doesn't have an answer that can be given without empty bottles clanging around on the desk, without the assurance of their blurred memories, without their hands trembling as they reach for each other, something to hold onto as if nothing else in the world matters. They have to keep moving, they have to keep reassuring each other that they still have this one thing. That the taste of smoke on each other's lips, the crumpled case files surrounding them, and Harry’s rough fingers on Jean’s disheveled hair are enough to make them forget the emptiness that they both feel.

At the end of the day, they don't have anything else.

[plague-of-insomnia]

WIP Wednesday: Sebardagni 1920s AU: Snippet - Bard meets Ruby

I'm back on my business hoping 2025 is finally the year I get to fill your lives with tons of kuro rarepair AU content!

Here's another scene from my 1920s sebardagni AU that has been floating around in my mind for months and that I was finally able to write the other day.

It's the first of two scenes in which Bard meets Sebastian, aka "Ruby," for the first time, and he's immediately smitten--even after he realizes "Ruby" is a man.

About this AU:

Sebardagni, multichapter, 1920s AU, Human Sebastian, Disabled Sebastian

Set in the US during the 1920s when Prohibition of alcohol was at its peak. Sebastian has a mysterious past that becomes central to the story as it unfolds, but when it begins works out of his apartment as a music tutor and at night performs at Undertaker's speakeasy. That's where he meets Bard, who was left aimless after the end of WWI, and now works as a bouncer for Undertaker in his club. Agni (who isn't in this snippet) is a doctor and who was living with Sebastian when Bard and he met.

*the image above is a preview of a comic by @luci-on-the-moon that will be revealed later

Enjoy, and if this is an AU you're interested in, let me know!

~#~

A hush fell over the entire club as all attention fixed on the piano, which played a simple, tinkling melody that seemed to float through the air like a mist. In the center of it all, spotlight illuminating, was Ruby, dress and jewels the color of her namesake glittering in the light. She was even more beautiful than Bard had imagined she’d be based on everything he’d heard. Her long, luxurious black hair draped over her shoulders, not chopped short like was the fashion, and Bard wondered if, despite the fact she was singing in an underground club run by a shady character like Undertaker, she might be a traditional, classy girl. Her lips were full and lashes long, with skin like fresh cream that Bard longed to touch. But then the piano swelled and she began to sing, and suddenly the entire world around Bard faded away into the soulful sound that cradled him like a warm embrace after years at war. “What’ll I do? When you are far away and I am blue.“ Bard’s mouth went dry as he listened, ash falling from his cigarette as he remained enraptured, as if Ruby were a siren mesmerizing him with her song. The melody was simple, letting the richness of her singing shine through. Bard could feel the emotion she was pouring into every word as she sang sadly of the lover she would never see again. The music crescendoed as Ruby leaned back on the piano, her long legs peaking from the slit in her unfashionably long dress. Though it fit her like God himself had made it for her, so Bard wasn’t about to complain. She wasn’t curvy, but she had a magnetism that made her beauty radiate. “What’ll I do with just a photograph—” She dropped her gaze, those captivating long lashes brushing her cheeks, and when she lifted it again, Bard could have sworn she was looking straight at him. “—to tell my troubles to?” Ruby smiled, amused, but only for a fleeting moment as she continued the song, heartbreak hovering in every note, “When I’m alone, with all the dreams of you that won’t come true. . .” Ruby paused, and so did the music, to let the audience hang on every single second, waiting for her to finish. She stared down at her legs, her voice shifting so that Bard would have sworn she were on the brink of tears. “What’ll I do?” The final chord played and the speakeasy erupted into whistling and clapping, most of the crowd jumping to their feet. But all Bard’s attention was still fixed on Ruby, her red dress glittering as she shifted, blowing kisses to the crowd and winking occasionally before the spotlight slid to the left and the MC began introducing the next performance. As much as he wanted to keep his gaze fixed on her until the last moment, when she disappeared backstage, a fight broke out to Bard’s right. which meant he had a job to do. But after his shift ended, he was gonna pay Ruby a visit.

[beepboopimaproblemchild]

“OH, SHUT UP!”

A crack rings out across the rooftop as Jason’s fist collides with Dick’ face. Not the first time, but Dick was kind of hoping the whole gun Batman time was behind them.

And he had a mission, he did, but he let it slip anyway, a small smile as he wiped his face. A muttered, “Well this isn’t what family is supposed to feel like.”

Then he locked back in after Jason’s rant, tried to get a word in edgewise.

“Jay…Tim…I…you don’t…”

We all die. We’re all going to die. We have to. Its part of it. But you didn’t die did you? You just lied.” And it was said so coldly, so unlike whenever Tim used to speak to Dick.

And he continued, Jesus, they sure had a lot to say.

“Remember when we found out Bruce lied about Joker? The reason we didn’t fall apart after that, the reason we stayed together…its because we knew, even if batman lies to us, we wouldn’t do that to each other.” Tim even has the gall to huff a self-deprecating laugh, as if this is a reflection on him.

And he fucking continues.

“and now you do this Dick? You?!”, and its said with so much contempt and hurt that Dick actually almost feels something. For once.

But then he has his own spiel to go through. He performs through the motions. Putting everything together with perfect ease.

Barbara at least doesn’t hit him.

Damian, is alive, thank god. At least Bruce had some sense in him.

And the kid looks good. And Dick almost tears up a little, but he hasn’t cried for a while so it feels like his tear ducts just dry up almost instantly.

He heads back to Spyral with little fanfare, but with a lot more control than he’s had in his entire time at the agency.

[punkrockmlchael]

Bed Chem - Chapter Two

My Main Masterlist

Bed Chem Masterlist

Modern AU; Rockstar!Gareth Emerson x Popstar!Fem Reader (Both Gareth and Reader are in their early 20s) ; loosely based off of the song Bed Chem by Sabrina Carpenter

Warnings: 18+ mdni, Slow Burn, Popstar!Fem Reader, Rockstar!Gareth, Best Friend!Robin, Mutual Pining, Flirting, Texting

Synopsis: Your friend hit me up so we could connect, and, what're the odds? You send me a text.

Word Count: 2.9k

-

The remainder of the night, the words “anything for you, princess,” rang through your head in Gareth’s husky voice. It was like a broken record that replayed those four simple words; words you had definitely heard him speak separately, but as soon as they were all merged together and directed at you? It was enough to make you flush in the face and feel something deep in your lower stomach.

Unfortunately, as the night finally ended, you were not graced with seeing Gareth in person again or interacting with him at all. It felt like you were being pulled to the side to talk to other artists left and right; being praised, being asked questions about your work and yourself, it was all such a surreal feeling.

You did, however, cross paths with Eddie once again that night; he smiled at you and winked before he came over and engulfed you in an enormous and tight hug. “Good job, tonight,” Eddie mumbled, smiling at you. “You absolutely killed it and I seriously cannot wait to see you perform again. I’ll be looking out for tour dates and new music from you. You’re a natural born star.”

You smiled up at Eddie, pulling away from the hug slightly. “Thanks, you guys too. Tell the boys I said hi. Oh! And, congratulations on that award; very well deserved for you and your bandmates.” You added, giving Eddie one last hug. “It was amazing to meet you, I cannot wait to see you all again,” you smiled.

“It was amazing to meet you as well! And, of course, princess; I will be sure to tell Grant, Jeff and Gareth that you said hi and send your blessings. Until we meet again,” he nodded, giving you another wink before he released you from his grip and walked away into the crowd of people. You watched him walk away and sighed, wanting to follow him just to get one last glimpse of his drummer. 

Just one last glimpse would be sufficient… wouldn’t it?

-

“Hold on,” Robin asked, watching you pace around the hotel room… again. “You talked to Corroded Coffin on the red carpet after you heard Gareth talking about you? Like, he was literally just praising you?” She looked at you in shock, raising an eyebrow as she laid on her bed in her sweatpants and hoodie. “You, like, huh?! I have so many questions that it’s not even funny.”

You sat on the bed opposite of her, resting your back against the pillows. “Yeah, he was talking about how awesome my music is and how it’s so amazing that it speaks to so many people the way that it does and that in itself is a true making of an amazing artist.” You replied, looking at Robin. “How I have this way of moving an entire crowd with my music and my stage presence, and how that is really badass of me.”

“Holy shit, Gareth Emerson has a crush on you,” she commented, looking at you with a huge grin. “Oh, my god. Gareth Emerson, the same drummer that you’ve been simping over for almost two years, has a crush on you! Gareth Emerson has a crush on you!” She repeated, clapping her hands a couple of times.

“No, he doesn’t,” you argued, shaking your head. “He was just being friendly, that’s all.” You replied, looking at Robin. “He was being nice, it’s the first time we’ve met, you know?”

“Are you dumb or stupid?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Gareth Emerson, the drummer you were just drooling over was talking about how awesome you are on the red carpet to reporters, journalists and fans. He was simping over you, they even showed him and the boys on the screen while you were performing and oh my god, the look on his face was love! And you still think he was just being friendly?” Robin asked, raising an eyebrow. “My god, I hear wedding bells. Oh, and there’s me, walking down the aisle with Eddie, standing next to you as you say ‘I do’ to the drummer and man of your dreams. Oh, look! There you are holding your first daughter who you named after your best friend in the whole world, Robin. Oh, and there’s a baby boy, too,” she added, pointing to random places in the air, as if she was looking into your future. “Cute family, really,” she smiled. 

“You’re insufferable.” You rolled your eyes, a small smile forming in your lips as you looked at Robin. “Did I mention he caught me?”

“He did what?!” She shrieked, sitting up in bed now. She looked at you and raised an eyebrow, demanding more details. “He caught you? What the fuck does that even mean?”

“I was walking backstage and tripped over my heels and fell into him. I didn’t realize it was him until I looked up and saw him smiling back at me. He had his arms wrapped around me, and my hands went to his biceps because I was so scared I was going to eat concrete in front of everyone.” You said, smiling at the encounter. “He said, ‘careful, princess,’ and before he walked away he said ‘anything for you, princess,’ and he said he’ll see me around.” 

“Wait; see you around like see you around or see you around like see you around?” Robin asked, wiggling her eyebrows. 

You shrugged, “he just had to go to get on stage and perform, so he said he would see me around. Robs, I think you’re thinking too much into this.” You said softly. 

“I think you’re not thinking too much into this,” she replied, looking at you. “You fell for him.” 

“I did not fall for him, I fell into him; there's a difference.” 

“You fell for him. Holy shit, he totally has a crush on you and absolutely fell for him.”

“Robin, I swear to god,” you groaned, sighing as you leaned back against the pillows more.

“You’re only swearing to god because you know that I’m right; you said it yourself earlier. I’m always right.”

“I hate you,” you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No, you don’t. You love me and Gareth Emerson.” 

-

It had been one week since the Music Awards and one week since you had last seen Corroded Coffin in person; seven whole days since you were in Gareth’s arms… accidentally, of course. You could still remember the feeling of his strong arms around your waist, the feeling of the heat radiating off of his body as his grip tightened around you; Gareth just wanted to hold you closer, wanted to protect you, wanted to call you his…

It had been a week of you shamelessly scrolling through Corroded Coffin’s Instagram feed, somehow always finding your way onto their drummer’s page. 

It had been a week of you nervously typing out a message to their drummer in his Instagram DMs before you would back out and delete it, closing the app in the middle of a freak out. 

It had been a week since Robin had first told you that she firmly believes their drummer has a crush on you. And since that day, she has brought it up endless amounts of time (really, any chance she could get). Since that day you had constantly denied it, not wanting to get your hopes up, because, why would he like you?

It had been a week of your thoughts being clouded and taken over by their drummer, the one and only Gareth Emerson; his arms, his body, his voice, his drumming skills, his… everything. Everytime you scrolled on Instagram, on TikTok, on Twitter, on any app you could think of, somehow he always popped up. That cocky smile on his face as he was banging on his drums in perfect time; his bicep muscles flexing, that shaded dragon tattoo moving so perfectly it seemed as if it was flying; his soft curls turned matted, stuck to his forehead from the sweat trickling down his forehead…

And, Gareth wasn’t fairing much better. Because, you had also been on his mind for the last week. Your soft, long curls falling over your shoulders perfectly, shining in the light; the way your hand wrapped around your microphone, holding it with that perfect grip; how you wore those cute and sparkly little short skirts on stage, your legs looking like they went on forever and ever. He often thought that those skirts would look better on his bedroom floor; you would be laying on your back on his bed as his hands roamed up and down your body, he would lean in, leaving soft and sweet kisses on your neck, trailing down your chest and stomach until he reached your…

Anyways, it had been a week of Gareth wanting to reach out to you but not knowing what to say because, what if he came off as a creeper? A stalker? A really weird guy that seemed like he just wanted to get into your pants? Don’t get him wrong, he’d love to get into your pants, but that’s not all he wants… you know?

It had been a week of him stalking, no, wait, admiring?, your Instagram and TikTok pages, just to see your smile and hear your laugh through videos when he desperately wanted to see and hear all of that in person. He also desperately wanted to be the one that made you laugh and smile, seeing that smile light up your face with him being the cause of it? Fuck.

There had been one whole week of Eddie, Grant and Jeff raising their eyebrows and smirking when they saw Gareth was watching another video of you; constantly telling him to just fucking do it. “Come on, man, just send her a message, talk to her, shoot your shot, do something,” but Gareth always refused. He was too scared to make the first move, because, who would like the drummer? Girls like you always went after the guitarist, fawning over Eddie left and right, even Jeff and Grant seemed to get more action than he did.

After an entire week of watching Gareth simp and long after you, Eddie couldn’t take it anymore. He was sick of listening to the drummer bitch and moan about how hot you were, about how much he wished he could talk to you, about how much he just wished you were his. So, Eddie decided to take matters into his own hands. He found your Instagram account, sending you a message to get your phone number for his drummer, because he knew Gareth would never do it on his own. 

-

You were currently in the studio, working on recording a new song. You had written a new love song long ago, and had just finally gotten down to the nitty gritty of recording and making the song come to life. It was always fun to see your visions come to life, but more recently as you went about your day to day life you were thinking of a particular drummer.

“Hey, that take sounded awesome; let’s take a break, yeah?” Your recording artist asked, giving you a thumbs up from outside of the booth. You nodded, smiling at him as you took your headphones off, hanging them on the music stand in front of you. 

You made your way out of the booth, smiling at Robin as she sat on the couch. “That sounded awesome, this song may be your best one yet,” she gushed, handing you an iced coffee she had grabbed while you were recording. “Like, wow, there’s so much emotion in this 

“Thanks, Robs,” you smiled, taking a sip of your caramel flavored iced coffee. You grabbed your phone from the couch next to her, feeling it vibrate in your hand.

Buzz.

New Instagram message from Eddiemunson_cc!

Eddiemunson_cc: Hey, pop princess! Long time no chat! Hope your past week has been good, we have spent ours on the road doing some shows. Anyways, I’m messaging you for your number, if you’ll give it to me that is. Our amazingly hot and sexy drummer would love to chat with you but has been too much of a pussy to ask for your number so here I am shooting his shot for him ;) Thanks in advance, princess!

Your eyes widened as you read over the message from Eddie. A smile formed on your face as Robin raised her eyebrow, taking in the sudden change in your mood. “What the fuck is up with you?” She asked, sipping her energy drink since she wasn’t the biggest coffee girl. 

You re-read over the message from Eddie, before you looked up at Robin with a giggle. “Eddie Munson just messaged me on Instagram,” you replied.

“He did what? What did he say, oh my god, spill!” She begged, looking at you.

“God, chill, damn. He basically asked for my number because their ‘amazingly hot and sexy drummer would love to chat with you but has been too much of a pussy to ask for your number.’ Oh, my god? Did Eddie Munson just ask for my number for Gareth Emerson?!” You asked, looking up at Robin with a shocked face.

She smirked, a grin on her face, “still think Gareth doesn’t have a crush on you?”

“Okay, so, maybe you were right,” you muttered as you typed a reply to Eddie.

You: Hey, Eddie! The past week has been super busy, I’m actually in the studio working on a new song! And, I guess since you asked so nicely I’ll drop my number… just as long as you promise to pass it along to your, how did you word it, your amazingly hot and sexy drummer for me? ;)

Eddiemunson_cc: Oh, princess, that sounds like fun! Aren’t studio days just the best thing ever? But, yes, I will 1000% pass your number along to our amazingly hot and sexy drummer, and I will make damn sure he texts you as well! ;)

You smiled at Eddie’s reply, feeling giddy as you took another sip of your coffee. “Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming, pinch me?” You mumbled, staring at your screen. Robin smirked, leaning towards you before she pinched your arm gently. “Ow! Fuck, that hurt,” you mumbled, rubbing the skin on your arm gently.

“What? You said to pinch you,” she said with a shrug as she sipped on her energy drink more. 

“That wasn’t literal!” You whined, looking at your arm. You rolled your eyes before you felt your phone vibrate again.

Buzz.

New Message from Unknown Number.

Unknown Number: Hey, princess, it’s Gareth! Eddie gave me your number… I hope that’s okay? Sorry, I’ve just been dying to talk to you again since I saw you fall for me last week ;) What’re you up to today?

You shrieked, literally shrieked. “Robin! He texted me!” You squealed, jumping up and down. “Holy shit, be cool, be cool,” you mumbled, taking a deep breath to compose yourself. You quickly saved his number into your phone before replying, trying to be smooth.

You: Why, if it isn’t Corroded Coffin’s amazingly hot and sexy drummer! Perfectly okay that he passed my number along, just as long as you promise you’re actually who you say you are hehe. But, I’m currently in the studio working on a new song I wrote. What about you?

“What is he saying?!” Robin asked, pulling you out of your phone to look up at her again. “What?!” 

You looked up at her with a grin, immediately looking back at your phone. “He asked what I was up to today and he said he’s been dying to talk to me again since I fell for him last week..” you trailed off, looking back up at Robin.

“I told you you fell for him! I fucking told you!” She replied, giggling to herself. 

Beep.

New Photo from Gareth Emerson.

You opened your messages to see a selfie from Gareth on the beach. He was sitting back on a lawn chair in the sun, black sunglasses covering his eyes as his cocky grin stretched across his face. He was shirtless, a slight red tint on his shoulders which made his freckles look more prominent. You blushed, looking at the picture in detail, taking in every little thing about him that you could see. 

Gareth: Damn right it’s Corroded Coffin’s amazingly hot and sexy drummer! In the flesh!.. Or, I guess over the screen? Anyways, here’s photographic proof that it’s me! ;)

Gareth: Damn, in the studio? That sounds like fun! I’m currently in Miami on a day off, just soaking up some sun! Wish you were here with me, though..

You: Wish I was with you too! Looks like you need some sunscreen on your shoulders, if only I could apply that for you… ;) Instead I’m soaking up the hard studio lighting while sipping on my iced caramel latte.

You snapped a quick picture of yourself in the studio with your coffee, pressing send instantly. 

Beep.

New Message from Gareth Emerson.

Gareth: Ugh, coffee sounds amazing right now… but, then again, so do you ;)

-

tag list: wanna be added? comment + let me know! @the-unforgivenn ; @keeryhours ; @fan-maddson ; @hotgirlsshareaccounts ; @swiftieintheupsidedown ; @hawkinsmafia ; @losingmygrasponreality ; @ilovecupcakesandtea ; @pupwrites ; @the-lurking-await-you

[widevibratobitch]

i am the nicest person ever. practising ensembles with me when you dont fucking know your part even tho you had over a week to learn it is a JOY because i am NICE and KIND and HELPFUL and UNDERSTANDING. but there will come a day when i snap. and today was almost that day.

[lawva-girl]

Not to be a scrouge BUT OMFG I HATE CHRISTMAS

[solcarow]

.

[mysteriousxgirls]

Hana watched him stand, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips as he ruffled her hair. His words, light and teasing, made her heart swell with affection for him, though she could feel the weight of everything unsaid lingering between them. She didn’t respond to his playful remark, not because she didn’t want to, but because her heart was too full of the quiet, unspoken truth she couldn’t bring herself to say. She remained seated, her fingers resting on the spot where his warmth had lingered moments before. Even in the silence, there was something so incredibly comforting about his presence. It was as if no matter how much their worlds shifted or changed, they would always find their way back to one another. As the door clicked shut behind him, Hana allowed herself a deep breath, still feeling the echo of his vulnerability, still wrapped in the afterglow of the connection they’d shared. Her eyes drifted to the window, her gaze distant, unfocused. She couldn’t help but think about the things she could never say, the thoughts that still haunted her in the quiet of moments like this.

Maybe if the accident never happened… She thought, her mind wandering to that time before everything changed. Maybe if I was still the same person I was then… if I still had my voice… maybe I could have been the person he deserves.

Her chest tightened as the memory of her former life, her former self, tugged at her heart. Before the accident, before her voice was taken from her (even if it was a choice), she was someone else entirely. Someone strong, someone whole. But now, she was broken. And no matter how much Everest cared for her, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t worthy of his love. He deserved so much more than this—more than someone who couldn’t even speak without struggle, more than someone who could no longer offer the world she once thought she could. She had never quite realized how much her music had defined her until it was gone. There were times when she would find herself watching old videos of her performances, of her old band, just to hear her own voice again. The sound of it was so foreign now, as if it belonged to someone else. Someone stronger, someone unbroken. Each note, each word, was a painful reminder of what she had lost.

And yet, here she was, sitting in silence, holding onto a connection with Everest that she couldn’t quite understand. He was so much to her, yet she felt like she was giving him nothing in return. She wanted to tell him—tell him how much she appreciated him, how much she longed for things to be different. But there was a part of her that feared if she did, it would all fall apart. That he would see her for what she really was now—broken, incomplete—and walk away. And that fear, that silent terror, kept her tongue tied, her heart heavy with unspoken words.

She closed her eyes and exhaled, willing herself to push those thoughts aside for now. Maybe one day, everything would fall into place. She hoped, she really did. But for now, it was just a dream. And dreams were dangerous. They were fragile things, often slipping away when you least expected them to. But no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, the truth remained: She didn’t deserve him. Not in the way he deserved someone whole. Someone who could be his equal in all things.

he wasn’t the best at showing emotions other than his anger when someone innocent would suffer. all of the rest has been bottled deep within and at this moment, it erupted like a volcano. the hot lava was his tears burning as they continued trickling down his face. the sweet and caring gestures from hana were like the green light for him to just let it all out. his body shaking while he cried, even when he felt the lingering kiss on the top of his head, then the slight weight of her head resting against his. while his heart ached, he could have sworn it also felt a certain warmth at the same time. unknowingly to her, she was mending him. her actions spoke louder than any word could, everest knew that. aside from their bickering, which he absolutely loved, she always took such good care of him to the point he had sat alone at home, thinking. thinking if he could ever repay her for everything she had done until now. he hated reading into what they had as more than just a friendship, way too scared that if he revealed his feelings, he would ruin everything between them. one day, he would muster up the courage and talk about it. just one day, he would let her know.

with his raging thoughts calming down, his shaking body did too and the tears slowly ceased. taking deep breaths, everest realized his sleeve was soaked with tears after crying a bucket. somehow, the silence wasn’t so deafening now and his chest didn’t feel so tight. her presence, her touch, her warmth was the silent promise she would be there and he knew that, putting him at ease. the familiar ding of his phone indicating that the food he had forgotten he ordered was nearby, made him finally move his arm away. albeit not wanting to move, ruin this intimate moment, he slowly pushed himself to sit up. his expression conveyed just how much this meant to him– her being there and holding him through this eruption of emotions. he would do the same for her in a heartbeat. “ they’ll be here soon. ” he looked at his phone, seeing how their food seemed to be approximately five minutes away. everest got up, giving her hair a gentle but playful ruffle before shooting her a charming smile on his way. “ i'll be right back, don't miss me too much. ” he said while opening the door, making sure to wipe his face using his sleeves as napkins before heading downstairs.

[mer-se]

Prima facie round two. 5/17 🎭🤍

[cockinator3000]

so the main kcon stage is at 10 am i think...and assuming i'm fr staying up until 5 for bonedo i'll def wake up late..... enha probs won't perform until the show's almost over....and i'm going out tommorrow around noon so i'll be waking up around the time kcon starts anyway to get ready even if i didn't want to and then i'll be there by the time enha appears....i'm set it seems

[tender-rosiey]

from me to you — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: this takes place in chapter 268, soo sort of spoilers ahead? also long live gojo satoru; gojo leaves you a letter 🙏

“y/n-sensei, there is a letter for you as well!”

that catches your attention, and you look up at the first years. you tilt your head slightly, and yuuji hands you an envelope.

you gently take it from him, and the first thing you notice is “wifey” written on it then the doodle of satoru with his blindfold on. you feel your throat tighten, and your hands shake slightly.

you let out a small breath then shakily open the letter.

hey, honey!!

it first reads.

I feel like there is still much I didn’t tell you in our last meeting, so here I, your beautiful and handsome husband, am writing them down.

you swallow lightly, and a small smile appears on your face as you imagine satoru saying that, then you continue to the next line.

first, I changed all your computer passwords to variations of “satoruisthebest” at one point. your confusion was so cute!!

you quirk an eyebrow at the admission, but when you rack your brain, you remember that one day when you couldn’t log into your computer.

what you vividly remember was satoru being sat beside you the whole time, and now that you think about it. he was smiling so widely the entire time, letting out small chuckles every now and then. oh, that sneaky man.

“satoru, I am telling you it’s broken!”

“sweetheart, we spent over 2000$ on that. if it broke, then we could easily sue the company,” he chuckled, arm wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you closer.

“2 year guaranteed top performance my ass!”

you smile at the memory. it was pretty satoru of him to do that. your eyes then move to continue reading.

second, there are times when I would tell megumi that you would be coming with me, then he would turn and leave me when he found out I was tricking him.

your eyes glance up at said boy who is sat across of you. he made it out alive, despite everything. he suffered so much, but he made it.

it makes you relieved, and you can imagine satoru being bloody proud of him and saying something along the lines of ‘you handed sukuna’s ass to him, very cool!’

no matter how much megumi had frowned and grimaced at satoru’s presence or antics. it rooted itself as something—safe and familiar.

you can’t count on your hands the times when you and satoru would visit the siblings, and nobody really said it, but these meetings did all of you a favor, a chance to kind of wind down. maybe act like death might actually not be looming tomorrow.

it feels like just yesterday when megumi would cling to you when he got really sad or nervous, after so much time spent getting comfortable with each other.

he grew up well, you think, eyes gliding to next.

third, I hid your uniform every two to three weeks, so you have to stay with me.

at that, your eyes widen a bit. satoru’s schedule was pretty packed, but he somehow managed to squeeze time for quality time between you two.

it tugged on your heartstrings, and you made sure he knew how much you appreciated it, not a single space on his face left without a kiss. however, finding out that he went out of his way to make you rest and stay.

satoru’s care really showed in his actions, and you feel like this is the biggest proof of it.

“satoru, have you seen my uniform?”

“nope! maybe, it is a sign to stay home today? you’ve been working so hard, wifey!”

you cupped his face, pulled him down to your height, and kisses his cheek, “you’ve been working harder, ‘toru. let me take off some of the load at least.”

“we could both stay!”

“you’re kidding, right?”

“I already told yaga; I miss you!”

you try to stop the reminiscing further and try to compose yourself before reading the rest.

fourth, I’m the one who kept adjusting the thermostat. I just wanted an excuse to cuddle.

a fond yet melancholy smile appears on your face. you kinda figured that one out. satoru’s favorite pastime was cuddling, so it’s no surprise that he would go out of his way to create the need for it even further.

add to that, once you went to get some green tea and saw him from the corner of your eye teleport to the thermostat, click something, then teleport back to bed.

you figured that the room being chilly that night was not an exception in the middle of july.

“babeeee, it’s so cold! let’s cuddle!”

“maybe the problem is with the thermostat?”

“I checked! I think cuddling is the best solution.”

you giggle as you recall the moment, one of many similar. your heart feels a bit lighter as you go through the letter. something satoru managed to always do even in person.

he would plaster sticky notes, get you trinkets, and even pull pranks on other just to see you smile. feeling more encouraged, you keep on reading the letter.

then you feel your chest constrict so tightly that you might just throw up.

fifth, I am really gonna fucking miss you.

you read the line over again, and you purse your lip in hopes of silencing any noise that may come out as you feel the lump in your throat return, even worse than before. your breathing starts getting more difficult.

your grip on the letter tightens, and you find yourself thinking back to the good times. memories of late nights spent in each other’s arms, thinking about everything and nothing at once.

hushed whispers of confessions and quiet giggles as you reminisced on your highschool days. tight hugs when recalling the sad moments and the departure of a certain someone.

“you know, y/n, I think we might just be made for each other,” he said one night. you hummed and looked him in the eyes.

“three am thoughts?”

“three am admissions,” he grins slightly, “I am made for you, and you’re made for me.”

you remember him pulling you closer and kissing your forehead, while you teased, “and what would you need little old me for, so much that I got made?”

he feigns thinking then closes his eyes, burying his face in your shoulder, “grounding me.”

I love you. I really do, but you should know that already, right?

your eyes drift down to the corner of the paper, and that is when you feel your tears start free-falling. there is drawn a chibi satoru besides a chibi you and between them is a heart.

the chibi satoru is giving yours a big smooch, while she laughs. you never thought that the day your jealousy burns would be because of drawings, and drawings of you and your own husband, nonetheless.

“but wow, gojo-sensei is shit at writing letters,” you hear nobara remark.

megumi responds with a small chuckle, “I am fine with mine.”

“what about you, y/n-sensei?—”

the trio becomes silent as you let out a sob. a watery smile makes its way up your face as you kiss the letter gently and murmur, “so shitty.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will tell @callmemirro

check out my buy me a coffee!

[coffee-and-geto]

LET ME WARM YOU UP

summary: satoru comes home after an early morning when he went to the bakery to buy you some pastries, frozen to the bone by the biting early december cold. doesn’t he deserve to find you under the warm comforter where your warm presence hides?

cw: fluff, domestic, gojo has his nose pink from the cold, he’s silly, needy and so in love <3, i have put some pastries i know bc i’m french but ignore them if you don’t like croissant (what’s on ur mind) or pain au chocolat (i agree on this).

wc: 721

When Satoru enters the bakery — his body draped in a long coat, head wrapped in a knit cap, and half his face hidden behind a large scarf — the gentle chime of the entrance bell feels like a sweet melody mingling with the warm, sugary scent of the quiet, early-morning haven.

Behind the sparkling glass displays are heaps of pastries that make his mouth water. From chocolate croissants to apple turnovers, the variety of treats teases his senses as he approaches the kind, tiny baker, who barely reaches his chest.

“Good morning, young man,” she coos like a grandmother, tilting her head up to look at him. “Feeling like something sweet this early?”

Six o’clock in the morning — was it too early?

Satoru would camp outside the bakery if it meant sharing pastries with you.

He hums thoughtfully. “I’d like a brioche, a chocolate croissant, a croissant, an éclair, and a strawberry tart,” he says, distracted by the vibrant colors tempting him to buy out the entire bakery.

The baker grabs a bag and carefully places his order inside, smiling warmly.

“Will that be all, young man?”

Satoru nods.

“Alright.” She names the total price and hands him the large bag once he pays. “Are you planning to eat all of this yourself, young man?”

A smile capable of melting ice stretches across Satoru’s face, despite being hidden behind his scarf. “I’ll share it with my girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you.” After he pays, the baker hands him a blue lollipop, the kind that colors your tongue. “A boy like you, who takes such good care of his loved ones, deserves this.”

Satoru accepts it with a word of thanks before heading home, where you’re unknowingly waiting for him, still tucked beneath the warm covers of your bed.

He enters the apartment silently, closing the door with care and removing his shoes and coat in near-perfect quiet. In the kitchen, he wastes no time arranging a breakfast tray, loading it with the pastries he bought and a cup of tea and coffee.

He performs the task with an adorably proud smile, humming cheerfully at the thought of sharing a warm breakfast with you under the blanket, where you’d thaw his December-chilled body.

With the tray prepared to perfection, he carries it to the bedside table and sets it down gently before slipping into the bed. The combination of the soft blanket and your warmth, still lingering in the sheets, begins to ease the cold from his body. His stiff, frozen arms wrap around you, rousing you from sleep.

“Toru?” you whisper, your eyes fluttering open as a yawn escapes your lips.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Satoru murmurs into the crook of your warm neck.

You shiver at how cold he feels. “Did you go out?” You turn to wrap your arms around him, planting a kiss on his nose, pink from the cold.

“Brought pastries,” he hums. “Wanna eat with me?” He blinks at you cutely, his snow-dusted lashes framing eyes as deep and blue as the ocean.

“You did?” The corners of your mouth turn down as you pull him closer. Satoru’s habit of buying things for you without needing to be asked makes your heart ache in the sweetest way. “Of course, my love.” You pepper kisses all over his face. “Love you so much.”

He grins so cutely you want to crush his head in your arms.

Minutes later, you’re both sitting up in bed, the makeshift tray perched on your shared lap as you indulge in a perfect breakfast.

Through the bedroom window, the first snowflakes of December fall onto the balcony, covering it in a white blanket that matches your lover’s hair. The sky, equally white, might’ve seemed dull and cold, but sitting beside Satoru, who is devouring almost all the pastries, brightens the weather.

Once your stomachs are full, Satoru burrows under the blanket, pressing his face against your pajama-clad stomach. A giggle escapes you, your chest shaking gently with the sound.

“What are you doing?” you ask, raising a playful eyebrow.

“Cuddling,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by the comforter.

“You look more like a whiny cat, you know.”

“If a whiny cat gets cuddles, then I am one.”

Your laughter bubbles over, warming Satoru, who nearly purrs as your fingers scratch at his scalp.

a/n: hello guys :)) i know it’s been like two weeks w/ anything but let’s forget that, hmm? so 1st december is the birthday of my bsf haha and sadly the end of fall for me... (i’m depressed bc of this). but, i’m in the mood to write everything fluffy, etc. (saying this while my brain is mentally preparing a big angsty fic for the coming weeks bwahahaha). hope you guys have a nice week and see you soon <33

likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

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@monokaix

[totalswag]

hii, I’m not sure if you take request still but if so is there a possible way you can do a drew x singer!reader one shot take on how Sabrina “arrests” her fans before performing Juno for being too hot but the reader does it to Drew during her shows please 🫶🏼

arrested for being too hot — DREW STARKEY

authors note THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS!! my request box is still open so feel free to send me any ideas regarding singer!reader or regular fic ideas you’d like me to write. this was so much writing too. thank for all the love on my last fic lovies <3

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summary "arresting" drew, your boyfriend, during your show before performing your song from your new album.

warning(s) none!

You are on tour for your new album in-front of thousands of fans almost every night. You worked hard on this album and it turned out wonderfully. If it weren’t for the amazing fans of yours, you don’t know where you’d be in your career— they are the reason you are doing this.

Half way into the show— going amazing. The crowd tonight isn't disappointing you. Everything you've hoped for on this tour. You've performed eighteen songs and about to go onto your nineteenth. Played musical spin the bottle not long ago which was really fun.

Before Juno, you begin with a small "skit" where you call someone out in the crowd, arresting them for being too hot. This became a thing after your first show of the tour and doing it ever since. Plus, fans absolutely love it. Interacting with your fans has always been something you did and create those bonds.

Drew, your boyfriend, is attending the show with Madelyn Cline, a mutual friend and cast-mate of Drew's. You told him earlier today you wanted to arrest him in the middle of the show to get the audience excited and it would be fun.

Drew was all for it, and he didn't want you to tell him what you were going to say—he prefers surprises.

Your pink, glittering, dazzling clothing was sparkling in the lights. You pressed your free hand to your brow as though you were looking around for a call. With security, you could see Drew and Madelyn making their way to the front.

You begin by adjusting your earpiece while moving around the stage in your long skirt. "You guys know that moment when you are in a room filled with such beautiful looking people that you start to feel overwhelmed?" When fans applaud, you smile.

"Oh, girls, I think I just seen my future husband in the front row! Oh my god, girls, come here, come here," you say anxiously into the microphone, beckoning them over and waving your free hand.

You turn to face Drew as the girls approach you, asking, "Do you see that gorgeous looking man over in the front row with his arms crossed in the tan shirt?" You speak into the microphone aloud, pointing to Drew in the crowd.

Your girls joyfully waved at Drew while placing their hands on your shoulder. As Drew blushes on the big screen, the crowd reflexively turns up the volume in the arena. 

"What's your name handsome?" With your head cocked slightly to the right toward your shoulder, you inquire in jest. 

"Drew!" You can hear him when he places his hands on the side of his lips. He gives you a childlike smile and a flushed face.

You say, "I'm sorry I couldn't get that?" as though you couldn't hear him. Leaning forward more, you place your free hand behind your ear.

He shakes his head and utters "Drew!" a little louder. 

"Oh my Drew, I must say that you must be a magnet because you drew me in" brings a smile to your face. Your tone indicated that you were trying quite hard not to laugh, yet you kept your calm brilliantly.

Fans had their phones out, capturing the entire interaction. Nobody would have expected Drew to be the person arrested at your gigs since the tour began.

"Drew, you are under arrest for being too hot," you say aloud, smiling and pointing at him— fanning yourself, moving your hips side to side as the sound of sirens going off with blue and red lights behind.

You put your left elbow against your girls shoulder, "guys do you ever just see someone so good looking that you just don't know what to do and all your clothes fall off in that moment" your long skirt slips off smoothy.

"Like your brain just like malfunctions and like I just wanna handcuffed to you now like," one of your girls puts the pink fluffy handcuffs into your hand, you kneel down, "do you know what I mean? Will you take these from me?"

Drew is overwhelmed in this very moment— it's very obvious how much you are affecting him. Drew gives you a gimme me gesture with his fingers, ready to catch the hand cuffs.

He takes them in his hands, looks down, and feels the smooth texture of the fuzzy. He tilts his head to the side before slowly glancing up at you with a smirk—keep in mind that he's still on the big screen.

"We're gonna sing this one to you, Drew."

Juno's song intro starts playing. You wave goodbye to Drew and Madelyn as you return to the center of the stage. You could hear the two begin speaking to fans in the distance.

Drew and Madelyn met you in the dressing room following the show. After giving Madelyn a hug and thanking her for attending the event, you moved to approach Drew and put your arms around his neck while grinning.

"That was insane," Madelyn exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. "What about the full call-out and the handcuffs? Iconic! "You're the talk of the night; everyone is crazy about it."

You giggled as your face heated up. "It seemed right." "You should have seen his face!"

She laughs, "I got the whole thing on video, I'll send it to you later."

"I'm going to give you two some alone time, but you did such an amazing job tonight and looked so hot doing it," Madelyn adds, taking your hands in her and wiggling her brows. 

"Thank you, babe. I love you always," you say, hugging her before she leaves you and Drew alone. 

When you close the door, Drew comes behind you, placing his arms around your waist and kissing you on the cheek, making you laugh with the tenderness of his lips.

"I'm so proud of you baby, you did such an amazing job on stage and looked unbelievable in your outfits made me feel like the luckiest guy in the entire world." He expresses emotionally, which uplifts you. 

"Coming from you, it warms my heart baby. Forever grateful to have you in my life," you smile softly, leaning against his chest, feeling that sense of warmth you always feel whenever you are with him.

"And I'm forever grateful for you" he quietly responds, kissing the top of your head.

"So what are we gonna do with those pink fuzzy handcuffs?"

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[hyperlexichypatia]

As I keep shouting into the void, pathologizers love shifting discussion about material conditions into discussion about emotional states.

I rant approximately once a week about how the brain maturity myth transmuted “Young adults are too poor to move out of their parents’ homes or have children of their own” into “Young adults are too emotionally and neurologically immature to move out of their parents’ homes or have children of their own.”

I’ve also talked about the misuse of “enabling” and “trauma” and “dopamine” .

And this is a pattern – people coin terms and concepts to describe material problems, and pathologization culture shifts them to be about problems in the brain or psyche of the person experiencing them. Now we’re talking about neurochemicals, frontal lobes, and self-esteem instead of talking about wages, wealth distribution, and civil rights. Now we can say that poor, oppressed, and exploited people are suffering from a neurological/emotional defect that makes them not know what’s best for themselves, so they don’t need or deserve rights or money.

Here are some terms that have been so horribly misused by mental health culture that we’ve almost entirely forgotten that they were originally materialist critiques.

Codependency What it originally referred to: A non-addicted person being overly “helpful” to an addicted partner or relative, often out of financial desperation. For example: Making sure your alcoholic husband gets to work in the morning (even though he’s an adult who should be responsible for himself) because if he loses his job, you’ll lose your home. https://www.nytimes.com/2022/07/08/opinion/codependency-addiction-recovery.html What it’s been distorted into: Being “clingy,” being “too emotionally needy,” wanting things like affection and quality time from a partner. A way of pathologizing people, especially young women, for wanting things like love and commitment in a romantic relationship.

Compulsory Heterosexuality What it originally referred to: In the 1980 in essay "Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence," https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/doi/abs/10.1086/493756 Adrienne Rich described compulsory heterosexuality as a set of social conditions that coerce women into heterosexual relationships and prioritize those relationships over relationships between women (both romantic and platonic). She also defines “lesbian” much more broadly than current discourse does, encompassing a wide variety of romantic and platonic relationships between women. While she does suggest that women who identify as heterosexual might be doing so out of unquestioned social norms, this is not the primary point she’s making. What it’s been distorted into: The patronizing, biphobic idea that lesbians somehow falsely believe themselves to be attracted to men. Part of the overall “Women don’t really know what they want or what’s good for them” theme of contemporary discourse.

Emotional Labor What it originally referred to: The implicit or explicit requirement that workers (especially women workers, especially workers in female-dominated “pink collar” jobs, especially tipped workers) perform emotional intimacy with customers, coworkers, and bosses above and beyond the actual job being done. Having to smile, be “friendly,” flirt, give the impression of genuine caring, politely accept harassment, etc. https://weld.la.psu.edu/what-is-emotional-labor/ What it’s been distorted into: Everything under the sun. Everything from housework (which we already had a term for), to tolerating the existence of disabled people, to just caring about friends the way friends do. The original intent of the concept was “It’s unreasonable to expect your waitress to care about your problems, because she’s not really your friend,” not “It’s unreasonable to expect your actual friends to care about your problems unless you pay them, because that’s emotional labor,” and certainly not “Disabled people shouldn’t be allowed to be visibly disabled in public, because witnessing a disabled person is emotional labor.” Anything that causes a person emotional distress, even if that emotional distress is rooted in the distress-haver’s bigotry (Many nominally progressive people who would rightfully reject the bigoted logic of “Seeing gay or interracial couples upsets me, which is emotional labor, so they shouldn’t be allowed to exist in public” fully accept the bigoted logic of “Seeing disabled or poor people upsets me, which is emotional labor, so they shouldn’t be allowed to exist in public”).

Battered Wife Syndrome What it originally referred to: The all-encompassing trauma and fear of escalating violence experienced by people suffering ongoing domestic abuse, sometimes resulting in the abuse victim using necessary violence in self-defense. Because domestic abuse often escalates, often to murder, this fear is entirely rational and justified. This is the reasonable, justified belief that someone who beats you, stalks you, and threatens to kill you may actually kill you.

What it’s been distorted into: Like so many of these other items, the idea that women (in this case, women who are victims of domestic violence) don’t know what’s best for themselves. I debated including this one, because “syndrome” was a wrongful framing from the beginning – a justified and rational fear of escalating violence in a situation in which escalating violence is occurring is not a “syndrome.” But the original meaning at least partially acknowledged the material conditions of escalating violence.

I’m not saying the original meanings of these terms are ones I necessarily agree with – as a cognitive liberty absolutist, I’m unsurprisingly not that enamored of either second-wave feminism or 1970s addiction discourse. And as much as I dislike what “emotional labor” has become, I accept that “Women are unfairly expected to care about other people’s feelings more than men are” is a true statement.

What I am saying is that all of these terms originally, at least partly, took material conditions into account in their usage. Subsequent usage has entirely stripped the materialist critique and fully replaced it with emotional pathologization, specifically of women. Acknowledgement that women have their choices constrained by poverty, violence, and oppression has been replaced with the idea that women don’t know what’s best for themselves and need to be coercively “helped” for their own good. Acknowledgement that working-class women experience a gender-and-class-specific form of economic exploitation has been rebranded as yet another variation of “Disabled people are burdensome for wanting to exist.”

Over and over, materialist critiques are reframed as emotional or cognitive defects of marginalized people. The next time you hear a superficially sympathetic (but actually pathologizing) argument for “Marginalized people make bad choices because…” consider stopping and asking: “Wait, who are we to assume that this person’s choices are ‘bad’? And if they are, is there something about their material conditions that constrains their options or makes the ‘bad’ choice the best available option?”