#I’d go overkill

[zzyzxtourguide]

“We’ll make the Sphinx a guardian of the demon prison so he has to die if it’s ever to be opened again”

No. Wrong. Put him in a quiet box or whatever happened to Seth that one time where he could feel nothing

It’s the closest he’ll get to dying without the comfort of knowing it will end.

[goldensunset]

i don’t think people appreciate enough how much restraint it takes sometimes to avoid biting people when even remotely overstimulated

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD ANOTHER JOB I APPLIED FOR CONTACTED ME TOO?!

[telestoapologist]

gonna add the glamor shots tomorrow with the text color n all, but i'm too excited to not go ahead and reveal my casual dawning fit !! -w-

[crowcryptid]

Ah I just found out which gpu my brothers ordered

It starts with 40 and ends with 90.

Wtf um thanks but I’m still paying for it so why didn’t they ask me first 😬

Also my power supply isn’t strong enough for it.

So there’s that

Oh they ordered an atx 3.0 psu too oh okay haha oh wow that is an extra $200 oh ahah ok..

[fingertipsmp3]

The edible had a fucking delayed fuse and hit me while I was conjugating Spanish verbs hiiii

[sleepynoons]

alhaitham x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: omegaverse (alpha!alhaitham + omega!reader), heat, knotting, massive massive MASSIVE breeding kink, impregnation kink, size kink, slight sadism/masochism (more masochism if anything), mentions of pain + hurt, marking + biting, fingering, squirting, unintentional edging (receiving), allusions to dubcon + objectification (but none of it actually), slight nipple play, implied marathon sex

notes: sighs,,, idk how i ended up convincing myself to write omegaverse,,, but i really had a lot of fun with this,,, anyway, i love being an alhaitham fucker, and i love it even more when he loses it and can't be his usual put-together self. lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.

edit: 700+ notes?? y’all :((( i’m v touched and also cracking up lol omegaverse ig checks out - but tyssssm for all the love!! reminders that requests are still open (pls read my rules), and i’d love to have moots/anons!!!!

edit x2: 1,000+ notes... y'all... this is a massive milestone for me to hit - thank you so much for all the love on this lil drabble!! there's no amount of words that can describe how grateful i am, truly.

“ALHAITHAM, FASTER!”

you’re whining, sobbing, desperately begging your lover. anything will do – he can even just lie back and let you bounce up and down on his cock. but you’re only in such a frenzied, lucid state because of your heat. alhaitham, on the other hand, is a few weeks out from his next rut, which means he is able to think about what’s rationally best for you.

you’re infuriated. you need more. you need him to mount onto you, pounding and thrusting into you until you’re screaming for him to stop, and even then, he’ll continue to push you over the edge over and over again until you’re a sticky, fucked out doll. the fire in your belly is burning so passionately, and while you would say something snarky or sarcastic to rile alhaitham up, you can barely carry a thought and can only dig your fingernails into his biceps to convey your impatience.

your lover grunts at the piercing sensation and, through gritted teeth, says, “you just started your heat. rushing through it will only hurt you and lengthen your recovery process.”

you groan at his response, overtly dissatisfied and restless. alhaitham’s response is… it’s just so typical of him. he’s detail-oriented, almost scientific in the way he takes care of you. this isn’t your first heat with him, and he’s learned from prior experiences how to ensure your safety and comfort. in fact, the two of you now follow a procedure to prepare for your heat that consists of: gathering all of your favorite snacks and drinks; washing and prepping all of the pillows, clothes, and blankets you’ll need for your nest; and most importantly, figuring out a polite way of telling kaveh that he’s getting “sexiled.”

but this is overkill, you scream in your head. in missionary, alhaitham is going at a steady pace, but what he doesn’t know and can’t feel is that he’s edging you. he’s fanning the flames of your arousal yet never helping you reach the peak. he’s stimulating you at your most sensitive spots and parts, but it’s not enough for your release. he’s torturing you, and he can’t even tell.

“alhaitham,” you cry out for the nth time. “please, please, please! i can’t take it anymore! i just - i need your cock! i need to cum! please, please, i beg you, i promise you i’ll be fine! alhaitham!”

you’re breaking down into tears. by instinct, your body releases more of your scent, and somewhere beyond your crying, your lover takes a deep inhale.

while alhaitham isn’t in his rut, that doesn’t mean he can’t lose control. he hopes you know that he’s doing his best for you, that he’s holding onto the last shreds of his willpower because, if otherwise, he doesn’t know what will become of you. he’s so much bigger, stronger, sturdier than you are, towering over you in both size and strength. he can be painfully forceful, and inflicting pain upon you is the last thing he wants to do.

but you’re sobbing uncontrollably. you’re defenseless yet pleading him to take you roughly, to break in your pussy with his heavy, leaking cock. you want him to use his force to placate your insatiable heat. you need him to overpower you.

he releases a long, shuddering sigh. he attempts to rationalize, consider the potential repercussions of giving in. but he soon realizes he can’t think. your addicting, heady scent, combined with the beautiful sounds of your moans and whimpers, are rendering his mind empty.

it’s pointless. he growls, “you asked for this.”

one second you’re weeping, and the next all of the air inside you is knocked out by a sudden, harsh thrust from alhaitham. he’s going so fast and hard now, cock head brushing against your womb while his balls and knot slap against your asshole. you feel your toes curl at the feeling of being split apart, and your mouth parts to voice salacious moans.

this is what you wanted. you feel your body relax. you just have to take it, take his fat cock bullying your cunt open, take his harsh bites and teething at your nipples, take his seed until you’re filled to the brim. in your mind, all you can think is, you’re his, you’re alhaitham’s, he wants you. the omega in you croons happily, and you’re every bit as delighted as well.

alhaitham grips onto your wrists tightly as he shoves himself into your tight, sticky walls over and over again. at one point, he flips you over, commanding you to raise your ass up higher. as he holds onto your hips, he watches your ass bounce and jiggle as he pounds into you, and he wants to lick down the beautiful curve of your back. you’re doing your best to stifle your screams because somehow, your lover is reaching even deeper, and the scraping of your breasts against the bedsheets is driving you mad.

then, you feel one of alhaitham’s hands reach down, brushing against the fat of your thighs. it’s inching dangerously close to your throbbing clit, and heat rushes up to your face.

“wait, alhaitham, no –“ 

your lover pinches your yearning bud, and you scream. wetness gushing everywhere, you’re squirting and creaming, white cum staining your lover’s cock and leaking out of your pussy. your eyes roll back, and you’ve lost all ability to control your body, which is absolutely shaking as alhaitham continue to rub and flick at your clit as he tries to squeeze his knot into your fluttering hole.

“oh, archons! alhaitham! stop! no, no, it’s too much! it can’t fit!”

alhaitham, still teasing and toying with your pussy, leans over and snarls into your ear, “you were just saying you wanted more. now you can’t take it?”

you’re wailing. you feel as if you’re being ripped apart at the seams. but the thought of alhaitham’s knot is just too delicious to pass on, so you don’t complain anymore. you just accept the waves of pain and pleasure that crash over you as alhaitham finally locks his knot inside you and bites down on your neck.

your lover groans loudly, lost in his delirium as well. after a few more shallow grinds, he reaches his own high, and you feel rope after rope of his cum fill you up. alhaitham’s cum is so warm and gooey and thick that you’re drooling and slobbering over the pillows at being filled up so thoroughly – impregnated – with it.

even as he’s still cumming, alhaitham bites on the shell of your ear and commands, “keep up, because i’m not stopping anytime soon.”

you can only whimper and fist the blankets even tighter at his command, bracing yourself for the next round.

[ms0milk]

when you suddenly catch a nasty cold

gn!reader ft. todo, bkg, kiri, and (hearts in my eyes) shinsou

i am so ill and these are so silly, indulge me :,) 600ish words ea.

Todoroki starts to cry when you joke about dying.

He’s bought more flowers than can fit into your little apartment, picked up your prescriptions, tissues, juice, a heating pad, cleaned your kitchen, tucked you in– he paged the fucking family physician– but watching you shiver under a heavy duvet, surrounded by all the things that are supposed to help you get better, ignites a fear he didn’t know that he had. They aren’t working. You’re still sick because of course you are, and he can’t bring himself to move more than an arm’s length away from you because what if– if he leaves and–

“Shoto?”

“Yes,” his response is immediate when you pull him from the ether. Always is.

I’m not going anywhere,” you croak, too conscious of how strange your voice sounds, “so you don’t have to stay with me all day.”

“I don’t mind.”

Todoroki is a wonderful boyfriend but when was the last time he went to the bathroom?

“You must be bored.”

He leans over you from his spot at the side of your bed and runs a blessedly too-cold hand across your forehead. Bored? Like he could calm down enough for that. “I can’t relax when you’re like this.”

You’d roll your eyes if they ached less, at your beautiful boyfriend and his cluelessly shoujo declarations of love framed by no fewer than two whole flower shops worth of camellias. He turns his hand over to palm your cheeks and wipe the water from your puffy eyes.

“Would you like me to leave?”

You shake your head, smiling under the weight of an overkill of blankets and the heavy dip from his butt at the edge of your mattress. You’re inclined to reach a hand out to grab it, but you don’t have the energy to raise your head let alone fondle your boyfriend.

“There’s no one I’d rather be with in my final hours,” you rasp, joking, obviously joking.

This cold is something evil, chills, aches, snot– the works. But you couldn’t ask for a better nurse. A gentle, thoughtful, sexy, temperature controlled man, a man you would raze the city for, whose hand fits so perfectly in yours and who– whose trembling? You blink back up.

Todoroki’s features don’t shift or soften, his lip doesn’t quiver, but a tear does slip down his cheeks from those pool cool eyes– one after the next until his jaw is lined with them all patiently waiting to fall from his chin.

“Why, why why?” You panic and try to sit up but he comes to you. Todoroki cups your hand tightly in a hot and cold grip and bows over his own lap to rest his head in yours.

“You’re not going to die.”

“What?”

“I promise.”

“Sho, what– no of course I’m not. What’s wrong, baby?”

Your voice is so weak that he has no other choice than to sit back up and reach for the cold compress. He wipes his eyes with renewed determination when he turns back around, “I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, Sho. ’m not going anywhere, promise.”

And when the Todoroki family doctor lets himself in, he does consider coming back another time at the sight of you, finally comfortable under a mountain of fabric, and your love curled around you asleep on top of the blankets.

———

It’s not until you genuinely collapse that Bakugou realizes something is wrong. He didn’t even hit you that hard.

“You’re wide open today!” The restless pro looms across the arena, grinning. You both come to the agency’s underground ring on Saturdays to train and he’s blasted you clear across the room like he’s actually working for a paycheck.

There wasn’t any amount of money you would have accepted to get out of bed this morning but Bakugou, a less than casual hookup from work, accidentally spent the night and the surprisingly sleep soft rumble of his voice, the gentle kneed of palms as he pulled you back against his body under dawn light– was, persuasive.

The sooner we finish, the sooner I can go home and nurse this headache.

Headache. Naive self-convincing circles your head as you pull yourself to your feet like spinning stars from a goddamned cartoon. This is not a headache. Standing was fine a second ago, and the floor was fine a second ago, but the move from floor to feet fills your sinuses with sudden pressure and immediately the arena starts to swirl.

“C’mon twinkle toes, you’re– Y/n– shit–”

You’re not interested in where that sentence ends today and you blessedly don’t have to hear it because your ears have filled with cotton and you’re sinking back down to your knees. You’ve been congested like this before– it’ll pass in a minute or two, you know how it goes and you’re only embarrassed by the fact you were down so bad for your teammate this morning that you didn’t realize how your body had started to feel.

The vertigo eases somewhat when you rest your head on the ground, but Bakugou has cleared the empty room and already has his domineering hands all over you. “Y/n? Y/n– do not close your eyes.”

“‘m not concussed, Kats.” But you know the explosive hero’s first fear isn’t exactly a head trauma. “You didn’t hurt me,” you add.

“Doesn’t narrow it down shitforbrains,” the aggressive tone doesn’t match his anxious hold though, and you melt a little when he kneels and pulls you into his lap, “if I didn’t hurt you then what’s wrong?”

Bakugou definitely doesn’t like the way your head seems too heavy for your neck and tilts himself back just enough for you to lean it against his chest. You look so fucking uncomfortable, scowling, eyes pinched closed. “What hurts?” He rasps as he moves to feel your temperature but his palms are sweating hard from a few quirk ignitions so he stalls, and lowers his forehead to yours instead. You’re soft where he touches you, warm in his hands.

You just need to sit, you don't need the #2 hero to cradle you in his arms like a corpse on the battlefield. Your eyes squeeze shut harder as a tiny wave rocks you in the dark and then suddenly one ear releases. “Think I’m getting sick,” you breathe. Carmel in and relief out. “It’s my head–”

“Head hurts?”

“I’m just stuffed up, I–” the other ear releases, “— just dizzy.”

Bakugou sits on his heels, perched. Should he pick you up? It’s terrifying to watch– you, his teammate, a capable hero, suddenly unable to stand.

But as the pressure behind your eyes levels out you can lift your head without discomfort. You can bring your arms up around Bakugou’s shoulders and settle your fingers in his hair. Bring him back down from where he’s tried to pull away.

Your foreheads bump again, “I’m okay.”

He growls, “I don’t believe you.”

So the hero takes you home. He makes sure you’re horizontal and goddamned tucked in before he slips from your front door and scares the shit out of you an hour later with a vice grip on some grocery bags and your apartment keys slipped around his middle finger. It’s almost romantic, the way he snaps at you to hold still while he dabs antiseptic on your scratches from sparring, or glares venom from behind the stove when you hobble to the kitchen to see what smells so good.

———

When Kirishima lets himself in and you’re asleep on the kitchen floor, worry overrides his confusion.

You won’t pick up his calls, but he’s never missed a movie night and he’s not about to start today. He throws your front door open with his copy of your apartment key and kicks off his gym crocs as loudly as he can manage so you might hear him come in. The last thing he wants is to startle you.

But you’re the one who nearly kills him when he slips through the genkan, arms full of snacks and catches sight of your slippered foot stretched out on the ground around the corner.

He’s on his hands and knees faster than he can even take a full step, dropping bottles and soft melon bread from his arms as he scrambles to where you must be lying lifeless on the other side of the entrance.

“Y/n–! Ah, huh.”

And you are, in a way, lifeless on the ground, but you’re breathing. And smiling? Curled up on the white tiles in front of the sink cabinet.

“Y/n?” Kirishima doesn’t wait to ponder, instead placing a hand on the side of your head to check for concussion, wound, vertebral injury—But you coo, something completely unintelligible, and you’re much too warm. You tilt your face into his palm and every inch of you is hotter, damper than the next.

“Y/n? C’mon on back to me Y/n, gotta tell me what’s wrong.”

Maybe it’s the chill of the floor or the addition of his other hand cupping your cheek, but your lashes heft apart just enough to register who it is trying to resuscitate you in the kitchen.

“Ei?”

Kirishima, always handy in a fire, has every hospital route an EMT could ever need memorized from all his volunteer work with the fire department and mentally tracks each one as you try to form a sentence.

“shouldn’t be here, Eiji, m’sick.”

“What?”

“flu,” you murmur and pull your hands to your side to try and rise. Kirishima doesn’t register anything not directly related to whether or not you’re suffering from blunt force trauma– except for the fact he could recall the exact date and time your dream drowsy smile falls and perks back up again tonight for the next fifty years.

“–tried to text you,” you manage as the redhead helps you sit up. The sentence comes out in gasps instead of coughs as you try to spare the air of any extra germs, “I can’t watch the movie tonight."

He laughs with pent up anxiety and simultaneous relief– he’s taken that charming fireman’s knee at your side and you wish in your flu-addled state that you’d stayed unconscious long enough for him to hoist you into his arms. Instead, Kirishima places both of his big soft hands back around your face to brush away the dust and crumbs.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“got hungry,” you admit because you know it’ll make him smile, and with his face this close to yours you’ll be able to watch the skin around his eyes crinkle up too. “Then tired, little dizzy. I just needed to sit for a bit.”

His eyes do crinkle up. And his teeth bit at his lip like he’s trying not to be amused.

“Y/n, you are very sick. And very sweaty.” And the sweetheart, the biggest crush you’ve ever had, your closest friend, the man you dreamed of on the kitchen floor, asks if he can carry you to the bath.

———

Why are you breathing so hard? Shinsou is the only pro in the office that you can’t hide a fucking thing from. Maybe it’s because he works primarily in the underground– observant– that it’s obvious, the way you wobble on your feet when your eyes are closed too long, or the sudden effort it takes you just to climb the stairs.

How can he focus on paperwork with you trying to subtly catch your breath in every hallway? None of your sidekicks are brave enough to ask why you wore a mask to work today, but it’s summer and the air pollution gets bad enough that some of them have to too. Are they really all that stupid? Has he done the worst hiring job of any pro in the city?

“Shinsou,” you murmur across the now-empty end of day office and he whips around because god knows how many times you’ve tried to get his attention while he’s been off in space.

“Yeah boss?”

Your voice is rough with sick when you reply and it would be so fucking sexy if it didn’t remind him to be so anxious about your wellbeing. “I’ve told you not to call me that, haven’t been my sidekick for years,” and then you’re smiling even as you hold back a cough, “makes me feel old.”

“You are older than me.”

“By a year!” you sputter and then your lungs take over, heaving and hacking so hard you have to double over your desk to steady your forehead against something. Shinsou’s on his feet immediately, navigating the office in sweats and his capture gear.

What happened? This morning it was just a tickle at the top of your throat but the aches sank from your head, down your spine, and flooded through your body just as quickly as the sun’s shadow crawls across a stone. Which is to say, all day long and all too slowly to realize you probably should have called in sick.

“Here.” A cool hand materializes on the back of your neck and you roll your head to the side to check what exactly has arrived for you. With his free hand Shinsou presses a paper water cup forward, which you’d love to take if you had the energy to pull your mask down.

“went to school together n’ everything,” you breathe.

“Boss, you should go home for the night, I’ll– I can finish this paperwork.”

By now the dark-eyed hero has sunk slowly into a crouch beside your chair and keeps a careful hand on your back to ensure you don’t slip to the floor sideways one way or the other. Thank god he sent the rookies home because stupid or otherwise, you'd have to be braindead not to notice this adoration that he can’t seem to get a handle on.

“Shinsou,” you murmur again, just as sexily as last time and he feels just as much if not more shame at how lovely it is to hear you call to him sweet and low, “I can’t get up.”

“What?”

That’s it though. There’s no trick or test. Shinsou has a fucked up sleep schedule from all his overnight patrols so he always stays in the office late, but you? You’ve been trying to rally for the last two hours and now you’ve used all your energy teasing a man whose eyes go bright every time you say his name. It serves you right, collapsing at your desk after using the last of your strength to squeeze as many Shinsous as you could into an evening.

“call me a taxi?”

He rises to his feet, “Will you even be able to get up your front steps?”

“sure hope so.”

“Do you feel nauseous?” He’s shuffling around the room now, plucking keys from hooks, and you watch him sideways with your head still resting in the day’s paperwork. “You gonna aspirate if I let you go home alone?”

“if god’s feeling extra silly”

He scoffs to hide the smile. Shinsou returns to your side to lay his faded denim jacket over your shoulders and then crouches again at eye level.

“Y/n,” he urges, and rests a hand to the back of your head to get your attention, “If I carry you downstairs, will you be able to hold onto me?”

Downstairs is a bluff. With you snug and mostly unconscious between his jacket and his back, Shinsou carries you home. Face full of your clothes, hair, quirk, whatever’s getting in his eyes, under the stars, and down back streets to avoid any publicity, the hero tries to walk gently enough that you don’t whimper from the impact of his steps.

“Thank you Toshi,” you whisper just when he thinks you’ve finally fallen asleep and the big bad underground pro almost stumbles hard enough to fly.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Need more This or That especially with Nando x wife reader!!!

A Quiet Heart and a Racing Legend

Wors Count: 812

Pairing: Fernando Alonso x wife!reader

Summary: Y/n a shy individual steps into the spotlight for a televised interview, accompanied by her husband, Fernando Alonso. With Fernando’s loving support and playful banter, the interview turns into a heartwarming experience, showcasing the deep bond and shared humor between the couple.

______________________________________________________________

You had always been shy, preferring the quiet corners of life, far away from the spotlight. But today, you were sitting on a plush sofa, facing a camera crew, with millions of people ready to watch the interview that was about to unfold. And beside you, exuding calm confidence, was your husband—Fernando Alonso, the two-time Formula 1 world champion.

Fernando noticed your nervousness and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. His touch was warm and familiar, and it instantly made you feel a bit more at ease. You offered him a small, nervous smile, which he returned with a grin that could make the sun look dull.

The interviewer, a woman with a friendly face and a notebook full of questions, leaned forward, clearly excited about the segment she was about to introduce.

"Thank you both for joining us today! We've got a fun little game to play—it's a classic 'This or That' challenge. Y/N, are you ready?" she asked, her tone warm and encouraging.

You nodded, feeling your cheeks flush slightly. "I think so," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Fernando leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. "Don't worry, cariño," he whispered, "it’ll be fun. And I’ll help you out if you need it."

The interviewer smiled at the obvious affection between the two of you. "Alright, let's start easy! Y/N, would you prefer a quiet evening at home or a night out on the town?"

You hesitated, glancing at Fernando for a moment. "Definitely a quiet evening at home," you said, relaxing a bit now that the question was something you could easily answer. "I think we both enjoy our peace and quiet after all the noise of the race weekends."

Fernando nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. There's nothing better than some good food, a movie, and just relaxing together. And I get to hear Y/N's commentary on whatever we're watching, which is always the highlight," he added with a wink, making you blush and laugh softly.

The interviewer chuckled. "Okay, Nando, this one’s for you. Would you rather be invisible or be able to fly?"

Fernando pretended to think deeply about this. "Well, I already go quite fast, so flying would just be overkill," he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "I’d choose invisibility. Then I could sneak up on Y/N whenever she’s lost in a book and see her jump," he teased, nudging you playfully.

You rolled your eyes at him, but there was a smile on your face. "You already do that, and it's not nice!" you protested, poking him in the side. "He thinks it’s funny when I get startled, but one of these days, I’m going to give him a taste of his own medicine."

Fernando laughed, clearly enjoying your shy but playful side coming out. "Oh, I’m sure you will. But we both know I’ll be ready," he said, still grinning.

The interviewer looked delighted with the easygoing banter between you two. "Alright, Y/N, here’s a tricky one. Would you rather always know what Fernando is thinking, or have him always know what you're thinking?"

You bit your lip, considering the question carefully. "I think... I'd rather always know what he's thinking," you said finally. "Not that I don’t trust him, but sometimes he has that look on his face, and I just want to know what’s going on in his mind."

Fernando raised an eyebrow, looking amused. "Oh really? And here I thought you enjoyed the mystery."

You shrugged, feeling a bit more confident now. "Well, maybe. But you’re not always as mysterious as you think you are, Nando."

The interviewer laughed along with you both. "It’s clear you two have a lot of fun together. Last question—Fernando, would you rather win one more world championship or spend an entire month on a deserted island with Y/N?"

Fernando didn’t even hesitate. "The island with Y/N, of course," he said, his voice sincere. "Championships are great, but they’re not what makes life truly special. It’s the moments we share that matter the most."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt your shyness melt away completely. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "Nando," you murmured, feeling both embarrassed and touched.

He looked down at you, his expression softening. "It’s true," he said simply, and you knew that he meant every word.

The interview wrapped up shortly after, and as the cameras were turned off and the crew began to pack up, Fernando turned to you, his eyes full of warmth.

"See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?" he asked, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

You shook your head, smiling up at him. "No, it wasn’t. Especially not with you beside me."

He grinned and leaned down to kiss your forehead. "Always, cariño. Always."

[sunshinedaisywrites777]

Shadows of the Past, Light of the Present (DI!Leon Kennedy x F!Reader)

Warnings- Bad experiences of the reader with her ex, age gap (Leon is in his 30's, reader is in her 20's)

A/N- Thank you everyone for all the likes and reblogs. All are much appreciated 💜

The mall was buzzing with life, filled with the chatter of families, the click of high heels on tiled floors, and the occasional excited squeal from children exploring toy stores. You and Leon wandered side by side, his hand comfortably resting at the small of your back.

“This place is huge,” Leon said, scanning the rows of electronics stores. “You sure we won’t get lost in here?”

You smirked. “We’ll be fine as long as you don’t run off.”

Leon chuckled. “Not a chance. I’m your bodyguard, remember?”

The two of you stepped into an electronics store, your eyes lighting up at the sight of sleek gadgets and shiny displays. Leon leaned against a shelf while you examined a set of wireless speakers.

“This one’s good,” you said, pointing to a compact model with excellent reviews.

Leon crossed his arms, tilting his head thoughtfully. “But does it work with that overkill TV you’re eyeing? Or are we gonna have to come back to upgrade the speakers next month?

You laughed, playfully nudging him. “Hey, quality matters! Plus, you’ll thank me when you’re watching movies with surround sound.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting the banter. Leon frowned as he checked the screen. “Work,” he muttered, his expression briefly serious. “I’ll just take this real quick, okay?”

“Go ahead,” you said, giving him a reassuring smile.

Leon stepped outside the store, leaving you to continue browsing. You were engrossed in comparing two models of soundbars when a voice you hadn’t heard in a long time pulled you from your thoughts.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Your heart sank as you turned to see your ex standing a few feet away, hands in their pockets, a smirk playing on their lips.

“What do you want?” you asked, keeping your tone neutral.

“Relax, I’m just being friendly,” they said, though the edge in their voice was far from kind. “Funny running into you like this. Guess you’re still into shopping for shiny toys instead of fixing what’s real.”

You stiffened. “This isn’t the time or place for this. Just leave.”

But your ex wasn’t done. “I still can’t believe how fast you moved on. Does he know how clingy you get? Or how you used to cry over the smallest things? Must be exhausting for him.”

Their words hit a nerve, memories of the toxic relationship flashing through your mind. You clenched your fists, determined not to let them see you falter.

Just then, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

“I think you’ve said enough.”

Leon’s calm yet commanding tone made your ex visibly flinch. He strode up to you, his expression cool but his eyes sharp as they locked onto your ex.

“And who are you?” your ex asked, their confidence wavering.

“I’m the person who’s lucky enough to be with them,” Leon replied, standing close to you. “And unlike you, I actually know how to treat them with respect.”

Your ex scoffed. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

Leon stepped forward, his posture relaxed but intimidating. “Oh, I know plenty. I know they’re better off without someone who drags them down. And I know you’re wasting your time trying to get under their skin because nothing you say matters anymore.”

Your ex opened their mouth to retort, but Leon raised a hand.

“Save it. You’ve already said enough to prove why you’re in their past. So do yourself a favor and walk away before you embarrass yourself further.”

Your ex hesitated, then muttered something under their breath before slinking away into the crowd.

Leon turned to you, his expression softening immediately. “Hey, you okay?”

You nodded, though your voice trembled slightly. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

He touched your arm gently. “You don’t have to thank me. Nobody gets to treat you like that—not while I’m around.”

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “I mean it, Leon. You’re amazing.”

“Damn right I am,” he said with a small grin, pulling you into a comforting hug.

After a moment, he stepped back, his gaze playful. “Now, let’s get those speakers and grab some ice cream. I think we’ve earned it.”

The two of you continued shopping, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. Later, over bowls of ice cream at the food court, you found yourself laughing at his jokes and forgetting all about the earlier encounter.

That evening, as you set up the new gadgets at home, Leon’s goofy commentary and occasional mishaps filled the room with laughter. The warmth of his presence reminded you that, no matter what the past held, the future was brighter with him by your side.

[cheolsblackgf]

office encounters [l.jh]

⇒ woozi x reader

⇒ word count: 3.8k (including the bonus)

⇒ warnings: just some insults but nothing too crazy

⇒ content: office romance; rivals to lovers; some kissing yadda yadda; little bit of girl bossing

⇒ note: hello pls don’t @ me about how long it’s been i already know.. didn���t think this would mark my return bc i wrote this almost a year ago but lowkey i kinda cooked with this one so i thought i’d share.. also side note PLEASE come to my inbox if you find an error bc i literally proofread like 14 times looking for this one error i saw before but it just disappeared or smth idk so if you find it i’ll give you a brownie!!! anyways 시작해볼까요

“You look pretty today.”

Jihoon from corporate communication usually has a sarcastic quip for you when you cross paths in the copy room. Where humor comes easy for him, annoyance comes easy for you the same. You both seem to get on each other’s nerves in all the right ways; never enough to report the other to HR, but enough that you’d steer clear of him the entire day if he said something that got under your skin. Something like, “Why’s marketing’s posters suck so bad?” He’ll ask, and subsequently answer himself with, “Oh, that’s right. ‘Cause you’re the one making them.” Either he doesn’t know you spend so much time figuring out which design looks best, or he knows and purposely wants to get you riled up. It works, because you’re an emotional person and if someone criticizes your work, it feels like a personal attack.

This time, though, you’re making flyers for the office yard sale slash fundraiser, and he’s making copies of coupons for the local stores. Since there are about forty floors in your building, you’ll easily be occupied for at least two hours, hanging multiple flyers on each floor. Jihoon has his hands full as well, he makes one hundred copies for each store, with there being four stores total in the area. Luckily, you go to the copier first, so when he walks in, you quickly rest with a smug smile on your face.

“Hey,” he says casually. You’re waiting for him to tell you to hurry your ass up on the copier but he doesn’t. Hey?

Instead, you respond, “Hi,” and turn back to the copier to see how many sheets are left. Still sixty five.

“You look pretty today.” He tries next. You almost hit cancel on the print job right then and there. How can he say something like that. You look pretty today? Try again, Lee! It’s not gonna work!

You don’t immediately thank him for his compliment. You just think that somehow, he’ll add in a “—pretty ugly!” and then laugh it off. That’s the Jihoon you know. Not this “hey” man. Usually when you walk into the copy room, he groans and rolls his eyes. He always has a dig ready, too. “Didn’t realise it was loser day at the copy machine.” He’d say. You always have something to come back at him with. “Must be why you’re here.” It doesn’t seem like he’ll bicker with you today at all.

The display on the machine says there’s still forty sheets left. That means you can either pretend you left something at your desk and quickly exit the room until it’s done, or you can brave it and see what this guy is up to.

The second one. “I look pretty today? What are you up to?” You narrow your eyes at him, assuming there’s either a catch or some sort of joke hidden in his praise.

“No gimmicks,” he shrugs. “I just call it like I see it.” Oh, okay.

He’s standing on one side of the machine with you at the other. The polite smile stained on his face drives you up a wall. You feel like if you reciprocate it, it’ll be overkill. Him complimenting you doesn’t change the fact that you are office enemies. His team and your team often clash, as they’re the ones that share your team’s ideas with the higher ups, only after an intense filtering which often strips your ideas down to nothing. It always sucks because he acts so smug about it when your ideas don’t get pitched how you envisioned them. “Get some better ideas then,” he’d say. Of course, you can’t go out like that, so you tell him “Tell your team to think of one idea to begin with. You get your rocks off by stealing ours, your department would be helpless without us.” It’s mostly true, but sometimes, Jihoon has good ideas. When you two are having a good day, you’ll show each other ideas and give helpful feedback. But that usually doesn’t happen if either one of you has a quip locked and loaded already.

“Didn’t realise your mouth was able to produce compliments when it comes to me.” Twenty two sheets left. He reaches over you for the mini scotch tape. “You know, usually when someone compliments you, you just say thank you and forget about it in five minutes.” While he focuses on his task with the tape, you stare at the display on the copier and watch the number of sheets remaining go down, just so you don’t have to look at him.

He’s never called you pretty before. You need everyone to understand this. The only times he compliments you are rare and they’re always work related. Nice job during that tug of war. Those prints look great. These tchotchke designs would surely sell well. The dessert you brought to the potluck was delicious.

New to the list: you look pretty today.

You’re not sure how to feel internally, but externally, your mind is already made up. You’re annoyed. How could he say something like that with such a serious face and not be joking? Why couldn’t he be joking?

“I would say thank you, but I don’t know what this is.” He raises his eyebrows at your comment. “This? I don’t know what it is either because I can’t figure out what you’re talking about.”

The copier chimes to tell you the print job is finished. You log out of the machine and move aside to collect your sheets. You’ll definitely have to make a second trip—and perhaps with a box of some sort to hold all of the sheets—but you just want to leave this room.

Jihoon starts to grab a stack of the sheets as well. “Where are these going?” He asks, sounding nothing but sincere.

“Don’t know yet. I have to put them on each floor, though. I’ll find something to put them in in a little bit.”

“D’you need help?”

You set the sheets down. “Okay, listen. I was fine playing that game three minutes ago, but I don’t get it. Every day you look at me like the bane of your existence. You tell me my designs suck, you only fill my tea mug halfway when I ask for some, and you hog the copy machine whenever I need to use it. What gives?”

It would be hard to refute the fact that Jihoon is very handsome, and you have imagined an alternate universe where he was nice to you and even flirted with you, but nothing past that. You’ve never thought of what it would be like to be his girlfriend, to wake up in the morning beside him, to have him fill your tea mug up until it’s full, to meet in the copy room to steal a few extra kisses—okay, maybe a couple times you’ve thought of this. But it almost always gets overshadowed by his behaviour towards you. He is rude to you. He doesn’t like you enough to give up the act, but he also doesn’t hate you enough to ignore you completely. He has some sort of balance that only works with you. He playfully fights with other coworkers, but only as a stand-alone. Your feud is cemented into the very foundations of the building you each show up to every morning at seven o’clock on the dot. It’s ritualistic. It’s familiar. It sucks.

Jihoon leans against the wall and crosses his arms. “What gives? I just think you look pretty today. Can’t a man compliment his pretty coworker once? It’s really not that unheard of, but if you think something else is going on, you’re right. I like you. I never said it before because I assumed you also liked me which is why we do what we do, but I’m getting the feeling you don’t feel the same way which is fine. We can just go back to how we were and forget this ever happened.”

You take the stack of copies you were holding before and quickly leave the room. Once they’re placed on your desk, you awkwardly make your way back to the copy room and get the next set of sheets. Jihoon hasn’t moved from his position against the wall even after you’ve signed off of the machine and relocated the copies out of the way.

Truthfully, you just didn’t know what to say. Him confessing this way was not only unexpected, but also a bit annoying. To think, he’s liked you all this time but consistently and routinely found enjoyment in belittling you. Granted, you also took part in it against him, but only as retaliation and defense for yourself. The whole reason this rivalry started was because he made a comment against you. Why would you be mean to someone you like?

The week goes by slowly without Jihoon’s teasing. He comes by your cubicle once to offer you a mini cupcake from the convenience store on the fifth floor. You decline. He doesn’t come back again.

You thought of pulling him aside to really unpack and discuss everything, but then you consider how much worse it could get if you do that. Things are already pretty bad if neither of you have spoken or even just said hi to each other.

By Friday of the next week, though, you’ve had it with the silence. Your cubicle conveniently is in view of the copy room so you slyly watch the door waiting for Jihoon to go in there. He always prints to-do sheets on Friday for everyone in his department for the following week. At eleven on the dot, you see him disappear in there and you make your move immediately, booking it for the room.

You casually walk in and shut the door, but not before making sure no one was coming. No one really likes it when the door to the copy room is shut because people have been caught doing … things in there, but this shouldn’t take you long. Definitely not enough time to do … things with anyone.

“Hey,” You try, in the same tone as he used with you last week. He looks up from the machine and gives you a confused yet tired look. “What are you doing?” He sighs.

“You look pretty today.” You smile, hopping up on the counter and swinging your legs. He finishes signing in on the printer and runs his print job. He turns around to face you fully. “If you’re here to make fun of me for being nice to you, I think it’s best you stop now because I don’t find it amusing.”

You grin at him. “The opposite actually. I think it’s cute that you like me, but I really wish you would’ve asked me on a date first. And maybe just been nicer to begin with?” Both your eyes dart to the door as a polite knock is heard from the outside. You jump down from the counter and place your hands on Jihoon’s shoulders from behind. Your head rounds the side of his face. “Walk me to my car later?” And he agrees.

You go to let the person in and see yourself out. It feels a bit elementary, that proposal. Walk me to my car? gives the same energy as walk me home from the bus stop? and if you weren’t already getting some twisted wave of déjà vu, you definitely are now.

You didn’t know Jihoon until last year when he started working for this company. The previous person in his position suffered an extreme illness that forced them to resign so he promptly had to fill their position. He wasn’t trained that well, but he’s done the best he could thus far. You don’t know what you would do if he wasn’t in the office. Of course, some of your coworkers are also people you get drinks with from time to time, but Jihoon feels the most… familiar. Despite having never met with him outside of the office, he feels like the most grounding person since he doesn’t put on any front or act with you. You wouldn’t let him either. That’s why his confession feels so out of left field on the one hand, but normal on the other. He doesn’t hide how he feels from you, but he must have if he’s liked you and hasn’t said it until now.

Later comes. It’s 3:42 PM when you finally wrap it up for the day. Jihoon usually leaves earlier than you, but it appears he waited to clock out so you two would leave at the same time.

Okay, you’ll admit that’s sweet. You don’t think you’d do the same for him, but only because you don’t like your job enough to stay any later.

He meets you at your cubicle. “All done?” He asks, moving into your space to help you with your things. “Yep. If you could just carry this bag for me, that would be great, thank you.” He takes the bag from you with no qualms and waits patiently as you gather the rest of your belongings.

You were sadly unable to finish all the work you meant to get done today, so you’re leaving with a bit of homework—namely designing some flyers for part two of the yard sale slash fundraiser. The first fundraiser didn’t go as planned, so the upper level management suggested a second instalment.

Jihoon probably has the same amount of work too, so you wonder how he’s leaving the office empty handed.

On the elevator ride down, neither of you say anything. All you do is stare at the bright red floor descent display and wait until it gets to 1. Upon this happening, Jihoon lets you off first and you lead the way to the parking garage.

“I take it you didn’t get a lot done today?” He wonders, surveying the various items you’re carrying. “Sadly. Honestly, if Claudette hadn’t announced the second fundraiser, I’d be as carefree and empty handed as you.” You meant to come off as nonchalant, but judging by the way Jihoon completely stopped in his tracks upon your completion of the sentence, it was everything but that. “Carefree and empty handed?” He parrots in disbelief.

“CC is scrambling to get Q3 numbers up before having to report to corporate and nothing is working. Honestly, if Claudette didn’t conjure up another fundraiser, you would’ve had to find another sad sap to carry your things to your car because I wouldn’t be here right now.” He explains, which makes you laugh a bit but otherwise frown. You didn’t realise the company’s numbers were so far down that the fundraiser is essentially a double edged sword, but you figured it couldn’t have been for no reason.

Jihoon has always been very efficient with his work, even if about two months ago (maybe even less) you would’ve scoffed and said otherwise. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.” You say, meaning to be encouraging but not entirely sure if it came off that way. “Thanks. You too.”

With your hands full, you couldn’t grab your keys to unlock your car so you have Jihoon do it for you. “Where is this bag going?” He holds it up just in case you forgot which bag it is. “Uh, you can just throw it in the backseat. Well, don’t literally throw it but um—”

“I got it.” He chuckles at your disorganised thoughts.

Once all of your things are settled in the car, you close everything up and stand face to face with Jihoon. “Thank you for the help, I really appreciate it.” You say. “Anytime. I hope you get all your work done.” You reflect the wish back to him. Sadly, you guys just awkwardly stand there for a bit before realising this conversation is not going anywhere else.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, hm? You have my number, right?” He nods and bids you goodbye. You get into your car but don’t start it. Instead, you watch through your rearview mirror as Jihoon turns the corner to the staircase. Had you known his car was on a different level, you would’ve offered to drop him off since the parking garage’s elevator is out of commission. However, in hindsight, the conversation was already awkward enough.

Later that night, you two text back and forth for multiple hours. All the way until 2AM you guys were exchanging messages. He’s really a sweet guy even over text.

At 2:19, he texts you goodnight and says he’ll see you in the morning.

In the morning, like you expected, you see Jihoon milling about the office floor. He sends you a wave, but his hands are full so it’s nothing more than that. You try to catch him to offer your help, but he disappears in an instant.

The flyers you were supposed to make were only half done because most of your time last night was spent talking to Jihoon. You’re extremely guilty, and you feel horrible because you know all the work you have will carry into the weekend, but you made your bed.

Eventually, Jihoon visits you at your cubicle and apologises for keeping you up last night. “It’s not your fault. I wanted to talk to you.” He smiles at this and gives your shoulder a supportive pat. “You’ll get it done.”

For the rest of the day, he leaves you alone—other than bringing you a mug of tea—and honestly, that was for the best. You do manage to catch up on and finish all the work so you text Jihoon the good news. He suggests ice cream after work to celebrate and you agree.

Your manager stops by your cubicle to compliment your hard work. “And I saw you being extra smiley with Jihoon. Good luck.” Before you can refute her statement with any type of defense, she disappears.

Extra smiley. Hm.

At the end of the day, Jihoon meets you at your cubicle once again and this time, you don’t have anything for him to carry except your comically large tote bag that you bring into the office everyday. Before you two leave, you grab your heels from under your desk that you change out of everyday upon arrival to the office. You attempt to put them in your bag, but Jihoon shakes his head. “Put those on.”

“Why?”

“We’re going out to dinner. As a date.” He reveals. You drop the heels back on the floor. “You really are a sad sap.” You remark, sliding one of your sneakers off. “Not for everyone.”

“So you’re saying I’m special?”

“Something like that, yeah.” He speaks nonchalantly. Coming from him, though, these words mean a lot to you. Ever since his initial confession, you can tell not all of his confidence is there. But it’s your goal to show him that he doesn’t have to try as hard, he’s already got you.

As you struggle with getting your sock off, Jihoon groans. “Hurry up, the reservation is for six o’clock.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Reservation? Wow, you must really like me.” He watches as you slip the other heel on. “You know that already. Come on.” He grabs your hand and leads you to the elevator. You press the down button and wait for the elevator to come up. In that time, Jihoon takes your bag from you and fixes the wrinkles in your dress.

The two of you step into the elevator and after hitting 1, the doors close and it begins its descent. In the reflective doors, Jihoon stares at you. “You’re so pretty.” He says. “Am I?” You respond. He nods. “Thank you, my sad sap.” You add, pausing for dramatic effect.

“Okay, you were pretty until about five seconds ago.” He clarifies, but holds your hand tighter all the while. He thinks maybe you’re right, he is a sad sap. But only when it comes to you.

[the end]

SIKEEEEE

BONUS

You’re almost giggling on your way to the copy room. As soon as you saw Jihoon go in there, you knew it was your cue. It wasn’t any type of plan or anything, but lately, you guys have only been able to meet in the copy room because everyone has gotten extremely suspicious of you guys and you didn’t wanna say anything.

As soon as you make it to the room, you shut the door and see your boyfriend already working on the machine. You hop up and make your place on the counter while Jihoon does his thing. “Clear?” He asks with his back to you. “Clear. For now. Come here.” You hold your arms out just as he turns to you and he makes his way over. “Missed you last night.” You whisper. He leans in to your embrace and presses a kiss to your lips. “Me too. Let’s get dinner tonight.” All your plans with Jihoon have been spontaneous because the workload has been unpredictable lately. If you both end the day with no incomplete assignments, you’ll go out and do something together, but if not, you save it for another day.

His print job ends and he reluctantly breaks away from you to go grab his copies. There’s only maybe twenty in the stack, but he asks you if you have any to make. You hand him the sheet you’re copying and he starts it up for you while you wait patiently on the counter. You zone out to the sound of Jihoon clicking around on the printer settings, so much so that you don’t hear him when he asks you how many copies you need. He asks again, “How many copies, baby?”

“Oh! Sorry, thirty-six please.” He’s not annoyed you weren’t listening. In fact, he smiles a little bit and is amused.

He inputs the amount you need and waits for the machine to start printing before making his way back to you. “What do you feel like for dinner?” He asks, caging you in with his arms. “Not sure, but not seafood.”

He pouts. “But baby, I love seafood.”

“Then you can go get seafood and I’ll stay home and watch Queen of Tears.” He gasps at this idea. Even though you’re not serious, he fakes being upset for a second.

A moment later, the door opens and your manager Claudette walks in. She doesn’t see you two right away, but once she does, she says “Oh brother,” and walks right out. She leaves the door open and you can hear her call out to someone else and say, “You owe me twenty dollars!”

You and Jihoon exchange a look. “Who do you think she’s talking to?” You ask him. He pauses for a second and moves away from you. “Me.”

“What?” But he’s already on his way out of the room. “See you later!” He doesn’t realise that he’s forgotten his copies so you’ll definitely be seeing him again soon.

The office will definitely be on fire by tomorrow with this news, you’re already aware. On the bright side, though, you can finally celebrate your first public couple activity: getting bullied by the entire office.

[the end (real)]

masterlist

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Pin

written for @steddiemicrofic

Prompt: 'pin' | wc: 388 | rated: T | cw: sexual innuendo

Pin the tail on the donkey is, in theory, an obvious game. Wear a blind fold and tack a plastic tail onto a picture of a donkey. Like Henderson said: Easy.

But he’s still siding with Steve. It just seems… wrong.

“Henderson,” Eddie interjects their arguing, throwing his arm around Steve’s shoulders, “I think our darling Steve here has a point.”

He looks at the man, nose brushing against Steve’s cheek, triggering a flush across his jawline. Steve turns and their noses touch. His eyes blow wide, flicking down to Eddie’s mouth. Steve’s tongue darts out to wet his lips and oh god is Steve leaning in?

Before Eddie can get carried away– in front of Robin and the Party and Chief fucking Hopper– he forces himself to turn back to Dustin, whose mouth is hanging open, flopping around a word that looks like darling.

“Pin the tail on the donkey is one thing, Henderson. Pin the bloody nail bat on the hellbeast is a bit poignant.”

“See,” Steve shouts. “Eds agrees and he didn’t even have to fight the stupid demodogs!”

“It’s Will’s birthday, Steve,” Dustin screeches, “and he drew this himself so–”

“Those things almost ate me, Dustin!”

“YOU WANTED THEM TO EAT YOU STEVE!”

Eddie glances over at the game in question, hung up outside the Byers' shed. The juxtaposition of Will’s blue and yellow birthday decorations as a backdrop for the hyper realistic monster drawing isn’t lost on anyone. The nail bats may have been overkill, even for him.

“Alright boys break it up let’s go,” Eddie claps his hands, startling them to attention. “Stevie, you’re with me. Dusty, indulge in some cake with the other tiny tots”

Dustin guffaws but before he can respond, Eddie grabs Steve’s hand, towing him inside the empty house, away from the commotion.

“We’ll make our returns when they conclude their little hellspawn game.”

“Well then,” Steve asks, “what game will we play while we wait?” Tone heavy, his lips curve into a predatory smile. He squeezes their joined hands, crowding into Eddie’s space.

Eddie steps back automatically, but Steve only follows until he’s backed against the wall. He swallows, and Steve clocks the movement, pushing in even closer.

“Because, darling” Steve purrs, “I can think of a few things in here I’d like to pin you to.”

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Seventeen as fake dating scenarios

⟪‘97 + ‘98 + '99 line version⟫

other versions: ⟪‘95 + ‘96⟫

SEOKMIN: dumb and dumber.

He sighed as the two of you walked through the mall, hand-in-hand. You had asked him to go dress-shopping for your friend’s wedding. He was starting to think it was overkill – still, he could never say no to you.

“Okay, what’s bothering you?” you asked him. You were no fool: he’d been sighing every five minutes since you left the car.

He hesitated. “Isn’t this…”

“Isn’t this what?” you urged him, squeezing his hand.

“Isn’t this overkill?” he eventually burst, looking close to tears as he lifted your joined hands. “This. The dress shopping. Who are we trying to impress? Who’s going to care if we’re here together or not?”

You were dumbfounded. “What do you mean? If you didn’t want to come, I wouldn’t have forced you. You can so ‘no’ sometimes, you know.”

“How can I say ‘no’ when you’re just so cute?” he whined. “That’s it. Just actually date me. Stop playing with my heart!”

You could only stare at him, confused, dumb, baffled. “I’m—You—” You tried to find the words to say. Finally, you spoke, “Seokmin, I asked you out like two weeks ago.”

“What are you talking about?” He rolled his eyes. “We started this thing three whole months go. We’ve been fake dating way longer than two weeks.”

“I mean I literally asked you to be my actual, real, very serious boyfriend two weeks ago.”

He froze, eyes wide. “You did?” You nodded. A vague memory flashed through his mind – of you asking him if he wanted to make this real, him agreeing, nearly crying at the question. He screamed. “You did!”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I guess I should’ve asked a second time when you were sober, just to clarify.”

MINGYU: fake dating because he’s tired of his popularity

It was hard to have a single logical thought when he was this close to you. It isn’t like you had a crush on the guy, but you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t fatally attractive up close. Especially when he’s pressing you against the lockers in a hallway.

“Are they gone yet?” he whispered in a manner that must have surely looked like he was mumbling sweet nothings into your ear. You were barely paying attention though, struggling to even find your breath. He sighed and repeated himself. “(Y/n), can you even hear me?”

You blinked rapidly, trying to erase any inappropriate thoughts and images flashing through your mind. “Right, right.” You glanced to the side before sighing in defeat and turning back to him, nose to nose with the most attractive and wanted man on campus. “Nope and they’re staring.”

“Let them stare.” He leaned even closer, as if to mimic a kiss for the people watching. “Don’t be so tense. They’re going to get suspicious and then we’ll be back in square one and they’ll be back to stalking me around campus. So relax.”

You almost growled at his words. “You try to relax with a metal locker digging into your back, idiot.”

“I’m just trying to make it convincing,” he pointed out with a tired sigh. “You think I like this any more than you do? This is just as uncomfortable for me as it is for— Oh!”

You were sick and tired of him. So you turned the tables, just about slamming him against the lockers instead, fingers wrapping around the collar of his stupid white form-fitting t-shirt as you did so.

“Now we’re even, pretty boy,” you whispered into his ear and glanced back at the girls who were staring wide-eyed.

MINGHAO: a family gathering

“Can’t you just be honest and tell them you’re single?” you wondered as Minghao ushered you towards the building his family had rented for their holiday. “I mean, seriously, why am I even needed here?”

Minghao sighed. “I already said I’d buy you lunch for a whole month. How much more do you need to stop complaining?”

“A donation from your fancy tea collection would suffice,” you suggested playfully.

He rolled his eyes, trying to hide his amusement. “Know your place, (Y/n).”

“Oh! What can I call you while we’re here?”

“… My name?”

“No, I mean—” You sighed. “For someone who organised this whole fake dating scheme, you sure do not seem to know much about fake dating. Mińghao, we need pet names.”

He seemed a little disturbed by the idea. “Just… call me whatever feels comfortable.”

“Pumpkin?”

“Is that really the first pet name that comes to your mind when you think of me?”

“If so?”

“Stop it. You can just call me— Auntie!” His grimaced turned into a bright smile as if by magic.

You blinked. “Auntie? Oh!” You followed his lead and smiled at the woman who came to greet you with open arms.

“Auntie, meet my darling girlfriend (Y/n),” he introduced you with a gentle hand on your back. “She’s a little nervous about meeting you guys.”

“Oh, no need to be nervous, dear! You’re practically a part of the family now. Look at you two! Such a handsome couple! Your children will be the most gorgeous little things one day.”

Paling, you nudged Minghao’s side and whispered, “I definitely want access to your fancy teas now.”

SEUNGKWAN: trying to impress an ex at a friend’s wedding

“Oh for crying out loud!” Seungkwan fussed about, hands already reaching up to fix your hair as if it was the worst fashion emergency of the 21st century. “Didn’t you brush your hair at all?”

“I brushed it plenty. If anything, a little too much,” you deadpanned and gently slapped his hand away only to take it into yours and pulling him closer. From the corner of your eye, you could see some of the other wedding guests smiling at the two of you, assuming it was a lovers’ quarrel. You took a deep breath before whispering to him, “Listen, I get that you want to make your ex realise what she lost, but you need to calm down a little.”

“I’m perfectly calm.”

He was anything but and even you, having known him a total of five days, could see that.

“Seungkwan,” you tried again and squeezed his hand a little tighter, offering a smile when he looked at you again. He forced himself to mimic your smile. “There we go. Listen, everyone here already thinks we’re as cute as, if not cuter than, the couple of the day. We don’t need to make it any more obvious to them.”

“Do you think she’s seen us yet?” he asked, gnawing on his bottom lip, nervous eyes glancing around the venue. You pulled him closer until he was forced to rest his hands on your waist.

“I’m sure she’s crying into her champagne glass in the bathroom.”

 “Right. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I just want to prove her wrong so badly.”

You lifted a hand to pat his cheek, prompting a weak smile. “How about we dance instead? To show ‘em how it’s done?”

VERNON: showing you how you should be treated

“Okay, so I’ve been doing some research-,” you started and Vernon groaned immediately.

“Please, for the love of god, tell me it wasn’t on TikTok this time.”

You had promised him you’d never lie. So you stayed quiet instead. He sighed loudly and lifted a pillow to his face to groan into it. Once he felt he was ready to face the world again, he dropped the pillow and gestured for you to continue.

You were glad to take the chance. “So I’ve done some research and there’s this thing I want to try.”

“I knew I should’ve listened to my gut when I agreed to help you,” he mumbled before nodding. “Alright, what is it this time?”

“Why are you so grumpy about this?” you laughed. “Vernon, you’re the one that suggested fake dating me to show me–“ you cleared your throat before lowering your voice to imitate him, “–how a real man should treat his girl. You have no leg to stand on here. Now, stand up, I want you to give this your all.”

“Fair enough,” he breathed out and followed your instructions.

As the two of you stood face to face, you told him, “Now, can you please push me against the wall, hold my hand, and kiss me like you mean it?”

He laughed nervously, fighting a grimace. “… I– Yeah, sure.”

Just as you began to think he was chickening out, he followed the instructions. 

Before you could even fully comprehend what had happened, you were pushed against the wall, your left hand tightly in his. You could feel his breath against your lips and, before long, just as you were on the verge of begging, he leaned into you, his lips pressing against you. Your eyes fluttered closed, your free hand reaching up to rest against his neck.

He had ruined other men for you just like that.

CHAN: fake dating for publicity

“The paparazzi are waiting on the corner of the street,” your manager informed you, “and Lee Chan’s car should be waiting outside. You just have to walk outside, to his car, and look pretty but mysterious.”

“Pretty but mysterious?” You wanted to question the way her mind worked, but it was clear there was some genius behind her questionable instructions. So you nodded. “Got it. I’ll do my best.”

“When these news break out, you’ll be the top story of every magazine for at least a week,” she continued with a bright smile, confident in her plan. “I’ve already “leaked” some material about you two. All you guys have to do is act the part. And you’re good at acting, right?”

“Right,” you breathed out.

“Good luck! Don’t screw this up,” she told you and opened the door to the outside.

You could already see a camera reflecting light in the distance. You tried not to care and headed straight to Chan’s Maserati. He pushed the door open a little before you got there, no doubt to give the paparazzi to get a clearer shot of him.

“Hello there,” he spoke when you sat down. “Where to?”

“Anywhere but here,” you grumbled. “This whole thing is driving me insane.”

“Tell me about it,” he sighed. “My manager told me to be careful to not make a mess. I don’t even know how I’d do that in these conditions.”

“Probably by going off the rails and out of the script. By creating a scandal.”

He paused before smiling mischievously. “Do you want to create a scandal?”

You squinted. “What do you have in mind?”

“You and I, an outrageous date. I know place.”

“With a concept that would make our managers cry?”

“Is there any other kind?”

[airas-story]

Identity porn ironstrange?? Maybe they can't stand each other but turns out they also know each other from somewhere else?

Stephen smiled as a text came in. Very few people texted him; he could be fairly certain it was Edward.

He pulled out his phone and read the message. Ugh, why do meetings exist? Can’t we just send emails and be done with it?

Stephen laughed under his breath. Well, he sent back. That would require you actually read your emails.

Shut up, Vince.

Stephen snorted in amusement. I get it, though. I have a meeting today, too. I’d prefer not to go.

With that one jerk? Edward asked. The one who makes you want to commit homicide? 

Stephen made a face. Homicide was one word for it. Yes, he responded back. He didn’t know why he and Stark had been made the liaisons for their separate groups, but the weekly meetings were overkill. He knew Stark agreed.

Stark irritated him beyond all measure. Stephen wanted to tear his hair out after a meeting with him.

I don’t suppose you’ve got better luck? he asked.

Edward responded immediately. Nope. I’m meeting with Mr. Superiority Complex. Guy thinks I’m scum.

Stephen frowned. Edward never said it explicitly, but since he and Edward had ‘met’ on an anonymous dating site and exchanged numbers, he’d gotten the impression people tended to think the worst of Edward. Don’t listen to him.

Why would I listen to him when I’ve got you reminding me I’m awesome.

Never said that, Stephen replied quickly. I need to meet you first.

It was something they both did, hinting at meeting. Stephen wasn’t sure why they hadn’t met after all this time. He wanted to meet Edward, he did. But whenever they got close… he found himself making excuses. Edward did the same thing.

Someday it’d feel right.

Until then… well he was pretty sure Edward wasn’t going anywhere.

[annes-andromeda]

⚠️Spoilers for Wish⚠️

While I am excited for/ planning to watch Disney’s Wish, I honestly wish (heh) they had gone with the original plan for Amaya’s character and made her a villain alongside Magnífico.

Like, I genuinely think it could’ve been cool to see them as partners in crime and be inspired by classic Disney villain traits: vain, narcissistic, power-hungry, cruel, and enjoyable to hate.

I could’ve seen their relationship as something similar to Scarlett and Herb Overkill from the Minions movie, where it’s two married villains who are clearly terrible people, but are still heads over heels for each other.

I’ve read the golden book and kids book of the movie that some people have uploaded on YouTube, and while those books tend to omit things from the actual film, they give us a basic synopsis of the overall story.

(SPOILERS FOR THE MOVIE BELOW)

——————

Essentially, the story ends with Magnífico being sucked into his staff, Amaya rules Rosas and Star gives Asha a wishing wand (essentially making her a Fairy Godmother sort of character mixed with elements of Snow White)

It’s a pretty basic, cut-and-dry story and I’m not saying I expected Shakespeare or whatever, but imagine how much better the story would’ve been with both Magnífico and Amaya as the villains:

The story could’ve been that the kingdom of Rosas was ruled by Magnífico and Amaya, who both seemed charming and generous on the outside, but were greedy and self-serving on the inside. They essentially didn’t care for anyone but each other.

I’d also add Amaya’s cat Charo from the concept art book, cause it think it would be cute that these two are absolute shitheads, but are still cat parents who spoil their cat and take it everywhere.

Anyways… Magnífico, like in the actual story, only granted the wishes that benefited him (and his wife), while the majority of wishes were stashed away in his tower.

Asha wants to become Magnífico’s apprentice and when introduced to the wishes, wants to grant her grandfather’s wish and finds the kings (and queens) whole wish-granting system unfair to the people (again, like the canon material).

The story would then go like the actual movie: Asha makes a wish on a Star and Magnífico sees her as a threat to his power and hunts her down (only with Amaya by his side).

I’d like to think that while Magnífico has his moments where his true personality shines, I feel like Amaya wouldn’t truly snap until the very end, having a little more composure than her husband (similarly to the Evil Queen or Maleficent or Ursula)

In the end, the King and Queen are defeated and banished into Magnífico’s staff. Asha is named the new Princess of Rosas (or Queen, whichever you prefer), and she actually joins the Disney Princess lineup and it’s not just advertisement. Like the real story, Star gives her a wand and Asha becomes the new wish-granter.

It’s not perfect, but I think it may have been more interesting and entertaining to see rather than the typical director the creators went with the story

These are just my thoughts, however, I’m still gonna watch the movie and see I think about it.

[exactlymaximumgarden]

what i did for love (jschlatt x reader fic)

chapter 1: ...again!

summary: your broadway debut is finally here after years of working toward it. however, an unwelcome face is quick to crash the party. word count: ~1.3k warnings: fem!reader a/n: please don't yell at me if any of the details about the rehearsal process or whatever are factually incorrect. idgaf!!! all love ofc. also, this fic will (obviously) draw on a lot of material from a chorus line, so i’d suggest familiarizing yourself with the show while reading if you’re not already! not essential tho lol song: i hope i get it - a chorus line ensemble

The first thing you noticed was how, no matter where you performed or for how long, you would never get used to the way the stage lights quite nearly blinded you.

Opening night of your leg of A Chorus Line opened in less than two weeks, and you couldn’t be more elated. For years, this had been your dream. To perform, to be onstage, to be on Broadway. And now here you were. The show was undergoing another revival, a more modern take on the iconic musical. The casting directors had issued an open call to all aspiring stars in New York City to scout some fresh talent. They’d mentioned something about wanting to find unknowns, some unrecognizable faces since you couldn’t keep casting the same people over and over. That would be overkill, they said. That was a no-go. Not here. Not in the big leagues or whatever.

Hell, you were lucky that you even made it past the initial round of callbacks. But if you had told the version of you almost a year ago that was stepping into those auditions for the first time that you were going to be chosen to play Cassie, one of the most prominent roles in the show, you probably wouldn’t have believed it. A whole dance number and song to yourself, plus the most dialogue out of the rest of the female characters? It was surreal.

And now, after months of rehearsals, the opening was just around the corner.

It was no secret that everyone involved was growing increasingly antsy the closer opening night drew. Your castmates were collectively full of a newfound energy you hadn’t witnessed from them yet. It didn’t help that today was the first day of full costumes, plus more light and music cueing. Somehow, the show coming together brought everyone’s moods up by a thousand.

These more upbeat vibes were made evident as the cast stood in the primary assigned formation, one next to the other all in a line close to the edge of the stage. You stood, unable to stop yourself from fidgeting with the scarlet tulle of your costume’s skirt while, out in the audience, the production team buzzed amongst each other with directives, ideas on what to cue next, and how. And those stage lights, those damn lights, bore down upon you. You had to tilt your head down to keep the rays from blaring directly into your eyes.

“Okay!” You were no sooner snapped out of your daze at the booming sound of your director Vanja’s voice from out in the audience. Vanja was a middle-aged woman who’d been raised to become a ballet prodigy. She was not only a seasoned dancer but a strict, dedicated spirit, which was only natural considering her upbringing. She was functioning as both director and choreographer, so she was undoubtedly the most strung-up out of anyone involved in the show, but for obviously different reasons. You squinted, trying to search for her limber figure out in the house, but your vision was obscured from your point on the stage. Her eastern European accent (from exactly where, you couldn't recall) oozed through her words like a thick molasses as she continued, “We will be running ‘At The Ballet’ next. Victoria! Step up, please.”

From your left, your castmate Victoria stepped forward. The tall blonde had been cast as Sheila, the character who sung the first section of the aforementioned song. Since the two of you were sandwiched directly beside each other in the line formation, you’d become quite close during the rehearsal process. “Yes?” Victoria answered coolly, not at all intimidated by Vanja’s demanding tone. You couldn’t help but envy her a little bit for that.

“We will start a couple of lines before the beginning of the song,” Vanja instructed. “Isaiah will prompt you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Isaiah!” Isaiah was another member of the cast, having been assigned the role of Zach, or the director of the chorus line the show centered around. Zach was primarily unseen throughout the show save for a few particular scenes, so Isaiah, the lucky bastard, got to sit out in the house for most of the rehearsals. You couldn’t see where he was located either, but Vanja seemed to have spotted him, as you could hear her advise, “Start from, ah… start from, ‘Better, go on.’ Just after she’s taken her ponytail down, yes?”

You heard a deeper voice clearing their throat, indicating Isaiah was beginning to speak his assigned dialogue. “Better. Go on.” 

Victoria, meanwhile, squared her shoulders in an attempt to rapidly lock into character before reciting her own lines. “Oh, how she did it. Well, first, she took me to see all the ballets. And then, she gave me her old toe shoes, which I used to run down the sidewalk in. On my toes. At five. And then-”

Suddenly, the typically fluorescent stage lights dimmed to a faded mix of blue and purple. It would have been a very serene color combo had it not been for Vanja’s deafening voice cutting Victoria’s dialogue off. “Hold!” she yelled. “That light cue is too early! That is not supposed to happen until the music starts! Who did that? Tech! Who did that?”

As Vanja spat out her rampaging words, Victoria turned her head just slightly enough to make eye contact with you. She sent you a discreet side-eye as if to nonverbally say, ‘She’s crazy!’

At that moment, one of the members of the tech crew stuck his head out from the wings of the stage. You recognized his face considering you’d seen him around so often, but you never caught his name. “Sorry, ma’am!” he apologized with a rueful grin. “That was an accident. I’m trying to show the new guy the ropes.”

New guy?

Judging by the tone of Vanja’s voice instantly calming down, she seemed to grasp the situation. “Ah, the new techie boy?” she queried. “I haven’t gotten to see him yet.”

“Oh, he’s right here.”

Almost as if on cue, everyone in the cast’s head turned towards the wing, where a second head popped out from behind the curtain. Your eyes widened. No way.

The new guy in question donned a polite smile, his oak brown curls cascading down the sides of his face into mutton chops you recognized all too well. His golden-rimmed aviator glasses shielded his glinting eyes. “How’s it goin’?” he greeted sheepishly, and to your right, you heard your castmate Ari suck in a quiet gasp. Nobody ever spoke to Vanja so casually.

No way.

“Hello.” Surprisingly, Vanja didn’t seem to mind so much. Or maybe she was just giving him the pass since he was new. “What’s your name? I apologize, I never caught it.”

“Oh, uh, Jay. Lotsa people call me Schlatt, though.”

No. Way.

“Ah. Pleasure to meet you, Jay.” You could practically hear the smile in Vanja’s words. “Come see me when we take a break so I can properly speak to you.”

“Will do. Sorry ‘bout the lights. I’ll be more careful.” 

Your stomach churned. Why the hell was he here? Him, of all people? Victoria, sweet Victoria, somehow seemed to catch on to your less than enthused reaction. In your periphery, you could see her quirking up a brow inquisitively at your expression. You couldn’t even make eye contact with her. You were too busy staring at Schlatt, fighting to keep your jaw from dropping.

And of course the prick had to notice you.

It happened in a split second. As he retreated back behind the curtain, your gazes met. A stupid grin crept onto his face as he saw you, clearly dumbfounded by his very presence in the theatre. If you weren’t onstage right now in front of all these people, you would’ve lunged at him.

You heard Vanja’s voice once more as the lights returned to their normal cue, preparing to resume the scene, but it all might as well have been a distant echo. Somehow, someway, Schlatt had made his way back into your life after fighting for so long to keep him out of it.

Why him?

next chapter