#it was a lot more different that i anticipated

[meazalykov]

the critic

lena oberdorf x reader

summary: when lena gets tagged in a video clip, she approaches you

before the cameras, before the viral clips, before the edits, before your voice became synonymous with women’s soccer commentary, there was your games itself.

you used to play, back in the day. soccer was your life—practices in the morning, matches on weekends, hours spent refining your craft, the feel of the ball at your feet something almost sacred. 

you had dreams, big ones, of playing at the highest level, maybe even for the national team. but that all came crashing down when a spinal injury took you out of the game. 

one bad fall, a rough tackle by three players at once in a crucial match, and suddenly, everything you had worked for was gone. 

the doctors said you were lucky to be walking and running again, but for a long time, it didn’t feel like luck. 

it felt like a curse, like soccer was ripped away from you when you were just starting to get your footing in the world of professional sports. 

lyon was close to signing you from your childhood club. however, that changed. the deal had to fail and so did your dream.

so you had to shift gears. you couldn’t play anymore, but you could talk about the game, share your insights, your passion, your love for it with the world. 

and, as it turned out, people loved listening to you. your analysis was sharp, your delivery honest, your humor was sweet, and soon enough, you became a well-known voice in women’s soccer commentary. 

you poured everything you couldn’t put on the pitch into your work, and it paid off.

now, here you are—2023, world cup, germany vs colombia. the stadium is electric, fans buzzing with anticipation. 

it’s your job to capture all of it, to bring the game to life for those watching at home. 

alongside you in the commentator’s booth is tyrell, your close friend and co-host for one of the biggest sports streaming sites in the world. 

you adjust your headset, eyes scanning the field as the camera pans over the players. 

"alright, tyrell, we’ve got quite the matchup today," you say, your voice carrying across the broadcast. 

"germany is looking to bounce back after their last game, and colombia has been on fire in their latest matches with caicedo. it’s anyone’s game today."

"no doubt," tyrell agrees. 

“but you know i’ve got my eye on germany’s midfield. lena oberdorf, she’s got a lot of weight on her shoulders in this one. one of the best defensive midfielders in the world is on the pitch tonight." he finishes. 

you nod, your gaze locking onto oberdorf as she moves across the pitch. 

she’s been a standout for years—strong, composed, a true force in the midfield. 

you’ve always admired the way she plays, the way she commands respect on the field as she will roughly stop any opponent attack. 

but today, something feels off. you’ve been watching her closely during the first half, and you can’t help but feel like she’s holding back.

"honestly," you start, pausing to gather your thoughts, "i expected more from oberdorf during that first half."

there’s a brief silence as tyrell turns to look at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. 

it’s not often that you call out a player like that, especially someone as highly regarded as oberdorf. 

"really?" he asks, curious. "what do you think’s going on with her?"

you lean forward slightly, watching as the replay of germany’s midfield play rolls across your monitor. 

"she’s not playing with her usual aggression. oberdorf is known for her ability to dominate the midfield, to break up play and transition quickly. but today, she’s been hesitant. this can’t continue if they don’t want someone like caicedo to get in their box. oberdorf needs to press harder, get more involved in the attack. if she steps it up in the second half, she can make the difference that germany needs."

your words hang in the air for a moment before tyrell responds, and the conversation shifts back to the overall match. 

but you can’t shake the feeling that your comment will stir something up. 

sure enough, by the time the game is over—colombia managing to scrape by with a fantastic win—your phone is buzzing nonstop. 

social media is ablaze with the clip of you critiquing oberdorf, the internet having latched onto the rare moment where you offered up something negative about a player you so clearly admired.

fans of both you and lena are eating it up, dissecting your analysis, making memes, and some even suggesting you had ulterior motives. 

it doesn’t help that you’ve been vocal in the past about your respect for oberdorf’s game. 

and maybe, if you’re being totally honest, there’s more to it than just respect. 

you’ve followed her career closely, always a little more interested in her games than others. not that you’d ever admit to having a bit of a crush on her—not publicly, anyway.

across the city, at the team hotel, lena oberdorf is stretched out on her bed, headphones in, trying to decompress after the match. 

her body is exhausted, germany didn’t get the result they needed. her phone buzzes with notifications, but she ignores it for now, lost in her thoughts.

that is, until laura freigang walks in, a mischievous grin on her face and her phone in hand. 

"lena," she says, her voice sings, "it looks like someone’s got their eye on you."

lena sits up, raising an eyebrow. "what are you talking about?"

laura tosses her phone onto the bed, and lena catches it, her eyes narrowing as she watches the video that’s already queued up. 

it’s you, sitting in the commentator’s booth, talking about her. her. 

"honestly, i expected more from oberdorf during that first half."

lena blinks, her mind processing the words. she’s used to hearing praise, especially from someone like you, who’s usually more positive in your analysis. 

but this? it feels different. not harsh, but… honest. like you know she could do better, and that, in a weird way, feels almost flattering.

"see?" laura says, flopping onto the bed next to her. 

"she noticed you. she expects more from you, lena."

lena rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide the faint smile tugging at her lips. 

it’s no secret, at least among her teammates, that she’s always found you attractive. she’s mentioned it once or twice—half-joking, half-serious—how she watches your broadcasts not just for the analysis but because, well, you’re easy on the eyes. 

but she never thought it would go beyond that. you were based in new york city, worlds away from her, and probably didn’t even know she existed outside of your job.

but now? maybe things have changed.

"i don’t want to get your hopes up because it could’ve been a simple analysis but maybe this is your shot," laura adds, nudging lena with her elbow. 

"go for it. what’s the worst that could happen?"

lena hesitates, the idea forming in her mind. it’s bold, sure, but she’s never been one to shy away from taking risks. "yeah… maybe i will."

later that night, you’re sitting in the hotel bar, winding down after a long day of commentary in australia. 

the buzz from the viral clip still lingers in the back of your mind, and you’re half-expecting to get some flak for it. but instead, it seems like people are more entertained by the whole thing than anything else. 

you take a sip of your drink, eyes scanning the room, when you hear a voice behind you.

"hey y/n-- I'm sorry, uh I hope i’m not interrupting."

you turn, and your breath catches in your throat for just a second. it’s lena oberdorf, standing right in front of you, looking a little nervous but still carrying that air of confidence she always has on the pitch.

how did she find you? maybe the german national team stayed nearby? i mean, you were told this was a popular bar in sydney.

however, why would lena go to a bar if she has to prepare for the important match against south korea?

"not at all," you manage, trying to keep your cool despite the sudden rush of nerves.

"what’s up?"

"i, uh, saw the clip," she says, rubbing the back of her neck. "the one where you talked about me."

you chuckle softly, feeling a slight flush in your cheeks. "yeah… i didn’t mean to come off too harsh. just being honest, you know?"

you didn’t know how to react, so you smile. no player has confronted you about your comments before. this is a first.

"no, i get it," she smiles, her eyes locking onto yours. 

"honesty’s good. i just… wanted to ask if you’d like to grab dinner sometime. maybe when you’re in germany next? i’d love to take you out." lena speaks in perfect english. 

you blink, surprised by the offer. of all the things you expected tonight, this wasn’t one of them. but looking at her now, her smile genuine and her eyes soft with hope, you can’t help but smile back.

"yeah," you say, heart racing just a little. "i’d like that."

you were a little older than her, older by two years, but she carried herself in a way that pulled you to her.

the world feels a little smaller, the distance between you and lena shrinking with a single conversation. 

you think that maybe you should critic her more often, kidding— of course.

my masterlist is here if you want to read more fics <3

[wanderingblindly]

hi hi hi, kiss prompt 29 anon here!! i totally understand, i was just going with the "safest" option. i am a lover of rarepairs my self so choscar, maxcar, maxlewis, are some examples i am currently obsessed with. but write with any pairs youd like or think fit the prompt best, im just here to enjoy your thoughts on them!! thanks in advance

thank you for sending a second prompt!!!! And thank you extra for understanding my previous response <33333333 have some Chocsar, set loosely before Monza! It's my first attempt, and I'd like to workshop it more but i fear doing so would... result in my never posting ever so. tadah! Prompts!

Hunting, Hunted

F1 is, all things considered, not that different from F2 – at least not to Oscar. There's the learning curve, there's the growing pains that keep him up at night, and there's the spotlight; it's not all the dissimilar from the F3 transition to F2, really.

But there's one thing that he hadn't anticipated.

It's a lot more… He shifts in his seat as he thinks about it, not paying nearly as much attention to the driver's briefing as he should. Charles looks over at him, sat between Max and Pierre, and his eyes are like pins in the wings of a butterfly – sharp, painfully sharp and oh so focused.

As fast as he looks at him, he looks away.

Oscar swallows.

It's a lot more like foreplay, like some really fucked up foreplay where everyone wants to claw out your eyes before they shove you down.

Frankly, Oscar's not sure if he's handling it well; he's certainly not handling Charles Leclerc and the way he can wrap anyone around his finger with a one dimpled smile. Lando's give him looks before, the silent one where Oscar's positive he's calling him an idiot, because he's caught him staring at Charles in the paddock – Charles laughing through interviews, Charles jogging after Carlos with his racesuit tied low around his hips.

But it's not the looks. Beautiful men, like many things about F1, aren't that new from F2.

It's Charles, and everything about him, specifically.

It started in Belgium, lap thirty-six.

Oscar managed to beat him on the outside line, managed to show him that he was that much more confident, that he was that much better. And it felt good, it felt fucking electric; Oscar nearly let himself smile in the car, and maybe he would have if he'd spared a look back – but he hadn't.

Somehow, that made it so much sweeter.

Charles had given him a look cold enough to freeze hell later that day, and Oscar had taken it in stride – literally. He kept walking by, not giving him the pleasure of even a raised brow. But that was normal, at the time, or at least Oscar wasn't alarmed by it. Competition is competition, and tensions run high. They did in F2, they do in F1, whatever.

But by Zandvoort, Oscar realized he was wrong.

Charles had sought him out after the race, still dripping champagne and rubbing at his eyes – trying to will away the blinding sting. In the fading daylight, he still looked shockingly alive, as if he drained himself in the weeks away from the podium like a sacrifice. Before Oscar could mumble out a disingenuous genuine congratulations, Charles beat him to it.

"No smart move from you today?" He smiled, all teeth and no sweetness.

It punched Oscar in the nose. As the crush of post-race circus swarmed around them, Charles drove a knife right into his smarting cuts. He twisted it.

"I was hoping for a better fight. From you, I mean." He continued, and all Oscar could do was stare, mind gone entirely blank. With a wink, one of his better attempts, Charles clapped Oscar on the shoulder and started to walk on – pressing him down like a disobedient dog. "Try harder for me next time, yes?"

Belatedly, at a speed entirely unacceptable for a racing driver, Oscar put the pieces together. Charles wanted to do more than beat him, dominate him. He wanted to consume him after breaking him down into miniscule pieces, but he wanted a fight; it makes his stomach twist, makes somewhere lower than his stomach ache.

Rolling his shoulders, mentally brushing off the feeling of Charles's hand on his fireproofs, Oscar moved on like nothing happened.

And now Charles is looking at him again.

Pierre turns and looks too, losing interest immediately and whispering something in Charles's ear. Charles swats at him blindly, still holding Oscar's gaze – almost as if to prove that he can. He needs to prove that he won't look away first, maybe. Or that, more importantly, Oscar will.

He doesn't.

Neither looks away as the briefing ends, pulled together by some invisible string amidst the casual chaos of the drivers dispersing. They stand nearly chest to chest; Charles smiles like he wants to lean forward and bit Oscar's nose off, spit it down at his feet.

They wait, peripherally aware of the room growing empty, the air becoming still. The wait until it's just them, just the sound of Charles's voice.

"This circuit is mine." Charles says, faux-casually. It's loaded with meaning, loaded with an unspoken 'so try and take it from me'.

Oscar raises a brow. "Thought it was Ferrari's."

"Is it not the same thing?" He leans closer, taunting.

"Guess so," Oscar agrees, voice not betraying his heart rate. "Beaten both before, anyways."

Charles laughs a little, haughty and toying – like a cat watching a mouse try and work out some clever escape. Their faces are too close together for Oscar not to feel it, for it not to leave a trail of blushed Ferrari red on his cheeks.

Charles still hasn't looked away. Neither has he.

"Make it a good fight, I want to earn it." Charles finally says, voice ringing in Oscar's ears.

"You think I'll just roll over for you?"

"I would never," His voice drops low, head tilting slightly to the left – lips parted like he wants something from him. "Because I want to rip it from you, the podium. So promise," Charles's breath is hot on Oscar's lips. So close. Their eyes stay open. "Promise to try and get me."

Oscar moves first, leans forward to steal Charles's lips in some sort of psycho-sexual moment of delirium. He takes Charles's breath, he takes Charles's hands in his hair, he takes every bit of Charles that he can get under his nails and teeth and tongue, as some sort of agreement – some sort of 'I promise'.

[geotjwrs]

hey hope your doin’ well bro… Can you do a Olivia Rodrigo x male reader… one were he ask her to be his girlfriend with maybe a bit of smut at the end?

kiss it better (18+)

Pairings ; Olivia Rodrigo x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; short smut

The café was one of those quiet little places that felt like a well-kept secret. Nestled away from the busy streets of Los Angeles, it had the kind of charm that made you feel like you could stay for hours, just talking, sipping on coffee, and forgetting the world outside. It was your and Olivia’s go-to spot. You’d spent countless afternoons here, laughing about anything and everything. But today felt different. There was something hanging in the air between you two—something you’d been thinking about for a long time.

Olivia sat across from you, leaning back in her chair with her arms loosely crossed, a soft smile playing on her lips. She was in one of those oversized band tees she loved wearing, paired with ripped jeans and her favorite pair of worn-out sneakers. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, but she still looked effortlessly beautiful. She was talking about a new song she’d been working on, her eyes lighting up with excitement. You’d heard that tone in her voice before—the one where she got completely lost in her music.

“…and then the chorus just kinda hits you, like all the emotions at once, you know?” she said, waving her hands in front of her as if the music was right there between you.

You nodded, though your mind wasn’t entirely focused on the song. You couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation you wanted to have. It had been playing in your head for days, weeks even. Every time you were with Olivia, it just felt… right. And tonight, sitting here with her, the soft glow of the café lights casting a warm hue over her face, you knew you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Liv,” you started, your voice a little quieter than usual.

She paused mid-sentence, her eyes darting to yours, noticing the sudden shift in your tone. “What’s up?” she asked, the curiosity clear in her voice.

You took a breath, running a hand through your hair. “I’ve been thinking… I’ve been wanting to tell you something.”

Her eyebrows raised slightly, and she leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. “Tell me what?” she asked, her tone now softer, more attentive. The way she was looking at you—like you had her full attention—made the nerves in your chest flutter. But you had to say it. You had to get it out.

“I… I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you,” you began, stumbling a little over your words. “These past few months, hanging out, talking… It’s been amazing. But I’ve been feeling something more than just… you know, friendship.”

Olivia didn’t say anything, but you noticed the way her expression shifted ever so slightly, her eyes widening just a touch. She was waiting, hanging on your every word now.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is… I want to be more than just friends. I really like you, Olivia. A lot. And I’ve been wanting to ask you if you’d… if you’d be my girlfriend.”

The words tumbled out, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down. The usual hum of the café’s background noise seemed to fade, leaving just you and Olivia in this small bubble of anticipation. You watched her, every second feeling like an eternity.

Her lips parted slightly, and for a second, you wondered if maybe you’d messed it up, maybe you’d misread everything between you two. But then she smiled—slowly at first, like she couldn’t quite believe what you’d just said. Her eyes softened, and she bit her lip, like she was trying to contain her excitement.

“Wait, are you serious?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, a nervous chuckle escaping you. “Yeah. I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while, but… I didn’t know if—”

“I’d love that,” she cut you off, her smile growing wider. The relief that flooded through you was immediate, and you couldn’t help but grin back at her.

“Really?” you asked, your voice a little incredulous, though you didn’t know why.

“Of course!” she laughed, standing up suddenly from her chair, her excitement overflowing. “God, I was starting to wonder when you were going to say something.”

You blinked, not sure if you’d heard her right. “Wait… you were waiting for me to ask?”

“Duh,” Olivia teased, making her way around the small table to stand in front of you. “I’ve liked you for ages, Y/N.”

Your heart skipped a beat at her words. She liked you too? This whole time? She slid into the seat beside you, her knee brushing against yours as she turned to face you fully. She was close now—closer than she’d ever been before—and the air between you felt suddenly electric.

Her hand reached for yours, her fingers intertwining with yours gently. “You have no idea how happy this makes me,” she said, her voice softer now, her smile still bright.

You could barely believe it was happening. Everything felt surreal, like you were floating. But the warmth of her hand in yours grounded you, made you realize that this moment—this perfect, intimate moment—was real.

Before you could respond, Olivia leaned in, her breath warm against your skin. Her lips hovered just inches from yours, and you could feel the tension building, the anticipation crackling in the air. You didn’t need words anymore. You closed the small gap between you, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

At first, it was gentle, almost shy, as if you were both testing the waters. But then Olivia’s hand slipped to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. Your heart pounded in your chest as you felt her body press lightly against yours, the heat between you rising with each second that passed. Her lips moved against yours, soft yet insistent, as though she’d been waiting for this as long as you had.

When you finally pulled away, your breath came in short bursts. Olivia’s eyes were dark, her cheeks slightly flushed, and her lips curved into a smirk.

“So… that was a yes, then?” you asked, your voice playful, though you were still catching your breath.

Olivia laughed softly, her fingers still tracing the back of your neck. “Yeah, I think that was a pretty solid yes.”

You leaned in again, unable to resist the pull between you two, but this time the kiss wasn’t gentle. It was heated, filled with the pent-up emotions that had been building between you both for so long. Her hands tangled in your hair, and you felt her shift, moving closer, almost on your lap now.

The café, the people, the city outside—all of it faded into the background as the world narrowed down to just the two of you. Your hands slid to her waist, pulling her flush against you, and you could feel the heat of her body through her clothes. The intensity of the moment was dizzying, and every touch sent a jolt of electricity through you.

Just as things began to blur into something more, Olivia pulled back, her forehead resting against yours. You both sat there, breathing heavily, your hearts racing, the tension thick in the air.

She looked up at you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “We should probably get out of here before we give these people a show,” she teased, her voice low, but there was something more behind her words—a promise of what was to come.After leaving the café, you followed Olivia back to her apartment. As she unlocked the door, she turned to you and whispered, "I've been thinking about this all day." She pulled you inside and pressed her lips against yours.

Your hands explored her body as you kissed, feeling the curves of her hips and the softness of her breasts. You broke the kiss and trailed kisses down her neck, making her moan with pleasure.

Olivia led you to her bedroom and pushed you down onto the bed. She straddled you and began to grind against your growing erection. You reached up and squeezed her breasts through her shirt, causing her to gasp.

She pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it aside, revealing her lacy bra. You reached behind her and unclasped it, freeing her breasts. You took one in your mouth and sucked, making her moan even louder.

Olivia stood up and slipped out of her pants, revealing her matching lacy thong. She crawled back onto the bed and straddled you once again, this time with nothing between you.

You reached down and stroked her clit, making her wet and ready for you. She positioned herself over your cock and slowly lowered herself down onto it.

You both moaned as you felt the warmth of her pussy surrounding you. She began to ride you, grinding her hips against yours. You reached up and squeezed her breasts, causing her to moan even louder.

You flipped her over onto her back and began to thrust into her harder and faster. She wrapped her legs around your waist and pulled you deeper inside of her.

You could feel yourself getting close to climax, but you wanted to make this moment last. You slowed down your thrusts and reached down to stroke her clit.

Olivia moaned and bucked her hips, getting closer and closer to her own orgasm. You could feel her pussy tightening around your cock as she came, triggering your own release.

You collapsed onto the bed next to her, both of you panting and covered in sweat. "That was amazing," Olivia whispered, snuggling up against you.

You smiled and kissed the top of her head, already looking forward to your next intimate encounter.

[koiiiji]

lookism x reader. between takes

summary ; lookism actually is a series, and all guys are just actors, same as you, so you happen to meet with them backstage.

starring ; seongji, jungoo, jongun, gimyong

SEONGJI x demon!reader

the bustling film set was alive with energy. you were taking a break from your role, when you spotted Seongji Yook across the lot. his team was filming scenes for “lookism,” in the mountains of cheongliang too. you couldn't help but smile at the sight of your friend. Seongji noticed you and waved, making his way over with a grin. “nice horns. going for a new look?”

you laughed, adjusting your tail. “just trying something different. how’s the day going on your end?” he shrugged, glancing at his hands and feet. “i feel kinda weird with this,” he said, gesturing to the fake extra finger on each hand and foot.

“really?” you asked ironically, pointing at your demoniacal makeup, horns on your forehead and the tail behind you. “i think we’re both quite the spectacle here”

as you both found a quiet spot to sit, the conversation flowed easily. you talked about your roles, shared behind-the-scenes stories, and teased each other about your costumes.

“you make a pretty convincing demon,” Seongji said, his tone teasing yet sincere. “i’d say you’re stealing the show.”

“thanks, but i think you’re the real star,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “i saw you on set, your scenes have been incredible, your appearance in “lookism” will blow the whole show.”

there was a comfortable silence, the kind only shared between good friends. yet beneath it, there was an unspoken tension, that nobody dared to speak about. Seongji leaned back, watching the crew set up for the next scene. “you know, i’ve always admired how dedicated you are to your roles.”

your heart skipped a beat, his words feeling more personal than casual. “thank you, Seongji, i really appreciate it!”

and before you knew it, the break was over, and you both had to return to your sets. as you stood, Seongji hesitated for a moment. “hey, maybe we could grab dinner after filming wraps up?”

the invitation hung in the air, filled with possibilities. “i’d like that,” you replied, trying to contain your excitement.

with a shared smile, you parted ways, the encounter leaving you with a sense of anticipation.

JUNGOO x pirate!reader

cozy coffee shop was bustling with the morning crowd. you felt a bit out of place in your full pirate costume — with oversized shirt, high knee boots and tight corset, complete with a big hat adorned with feathers and all small accessories everywhere. your team took a break from filming, you all needed a caffeine boost. as you waited for your order, the door chimed, and in walked Jungoo Kim. you heard that his team filming “lookism” somewhere near your location. his costume torn in some spots and covered in fake blood, his skin in bruises from a fight scene and hair is messy. despite his rough appearance, he carried himself with his usual charismatic confidence.

your eyes met briefly, and you both did a double take. you recognized him instantly — you kinda were his fan, he is an actor you secretly admired and respected.

he recognized you as well, approaching with a playful grin, trying to play it cool. “ahoy there, captain,” he called out with a playful grin as he sauntered over. “looking for treasure, or have you already stolen it with that outfit?”

you laughed, tipping your hat. “just trying to keep myself and the crew in line.” you smiled, waving your head to the side where your set colleagues were sitting, feeling your cheeks warm. “and what about you, mister criminal? fighting off enemies before breakfast?”

Jungoo smirked, leaning in conspiratorially. “thought i’d see if the rumors were true about a captivating pirate queen causing a stir. seems they were right.”

you leaned back on the counter, smiling conspiratorially at him, playing along with his little performance, “ah, so you're not here by chance, and it's you the one who are looking for treasure here” you smiled teasingly, lifting your chin, the feathers on your hat trembled slightly.

“well, you caught me,” he chuckled, eyes twinkling. “i do have a knack for looking for treasures. maybe i should join your crew — think you could handle the competition?”

“only if you promise not to steal my spotlight,” you bantered back, imagining him in a tricorn hat and boots.

Jungoo leaned closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “i promise to keep the spotlight firmly on you. though, i might steal a dance from the captain.”

the playful exchange left you smiling, and you found yourself enjoying his company more than expected.

“i have to admit, i’ve been a fan of your work for a while,” he confessed, suddenly trying to sound nonchalant. “your performances are always captivating.”

surprised and flattered, you replied, “really? i’ve been following your career too. your fight scenes with sword are legendary.”

but as the director burst into the cafe and barked at everyone, urging them to return to set to start filming, Jungoo offered you a wink. “break a leg, captain. i’ll be here to catch you if you fall.”

with a wave, you returned to your role, feeling a bit more buoyant from the encounter.

JONGUN x black swan!reader

film studio was a maze of sets and props, buzzing with activity. you were navigating the corridors, adjusting to the thick black eye lenses you wore for your role as the black swan in upcoming film. they made everything difficult to see, but the effect was stunning on camera.

as you carefully made your way to the break room, you suddenly collided with someone. the impact, unexpected and strong, caused you to lose your balance and fall.

“whoa!” a deep voice exclaimed. you found yourself looking up at Park Jongun, who was also wearing the same intense black lenses for his role on the neighbor set.

“i’m so sorry!” you said, embarrassed as you tried to regain your footing. Jongun quickly helped you up, grabbing your wrist, pulling. you to his broad chesr, a little harder then he should have. his grip steady. “no, it’s my fault. these lenses make it hard to see anything.”

“tell me about it. i’ve been bumping into everything.” you laughed softly, brushing yourself off. he glanced at your costume, noticing the contrast between your delicate ballerina attire and his all bruised and blooded body makeup. “looks like we’re playing quite opposite roles.” he said, finally losing his grip and letting you go.

“yeah,” you admitted, feeling a bit self-conscious. “i had to lose a lot of weight for this role, so i’m not exactly steady on my feet.”

Jongun offered you a charm smile. “you look incredible, though. very convincing as a ballerina.”

“thanks,” you replied, appreciating his kindness. “i’m guessing you’re the tough guy in your film?”

he nodded, a hint of pride and amusement in his voice. “yeah, shiro oni, always ready for few crazy fights. but i promise i’m not as scary in real life.”

as you continued talking, you found Jongun to be easygoing and surprisingly funny. you shared stories about your roles and the challenges of filming with these horrible jet black lenses.

“next time, we should get a guide dog,” he joked, making you laugh.

“or maybe just a cane,” you suggested, enjoying the lighthearted banter.

eventually, it was time to return to your respective sets. “it was nice bumping into you — literally. let’s try to meet again when we can actually see each other.” Jongun smiled dazzlingly again, gently clasping your wrist, and leaving a light, soft kiss your knuckles.

“deal?” he asked with a charm grin, while you stand there smiling shyly, feeling a newfound connection.

“i’d like that,” you replied, feeling grateful for the unexpected encounter. with a wave, you both headed back to work, the meeting leaving you with a smile and the possibility of a new connection.

GIMYONG x targaryen princess!reader

sun was beginning to set over the bustling film set near the sea, casting a warm glow on the neighboring sets of two popular series. one set belonged to the fantasy series where you played a targaryen princess, and the other to the hit show "lookism," where Gimyong had one of the main roles.

he had often glanced toward your set during breaks, intrigued by the regal world of dragons and thrones. he'd heard about y&u from mutual crew members and quietly admired you from afar.

but today, fate seemed to favor him. a scheduling overlap meant both productions were on a break simultaneously. seizing the opportunity, Gimyong wandered over, pretending to be curious about the elaborate set design.

as you stepped outside, still in your flowing, black gown embroidered with red and gold threads, depicting scales, tails and heads of dragons on the sleeves and collar. you saw Gimyong standing nearby, looking somewhat out of place in his black coat. classic black trousers, white shirt and loafers amidst the medieval backdrop.

“hey, aren't you from "lookism?"” you asked, recognizing him from the posters plastered around the studio. he abruptly pulled his hand away from the blue weird machine that soon will be turned into your dragon with computers cgi effects help. he beamed at you, intensively nodding. he was a bit surprised but pleased you knew of him. “yeah, i'm Gimyong. i've been curious about your set for a while. it's got quite the atmosphere.”

you smiled, appreciating his interest. “it's definitely a different world over here. i'm [y/n], by the way.”

“it's nice to finally meet you,”he said, but paused himself for a moment, glancing back at weird blue platform. he noticed once, that your team usually shoot scenes of flying on dragon's back on this thing. brilliant pick up line immediately was born in his head.

“sooo that’s supposed to be your dragon on screen, right?” he grinned, swinging onto the platform from behind, trying to play it cool, but it came out a little awkward, as you can see he is clearly nervous. you giggled softly, but decided to play along, already understanding what he was leading to.

“yes, his name is Vermithor, really huge dragon.” you elegantly covered your mouth with your hand, trying to hide a shameless smile, at Gimyong’s attempt to flirt.

“you know, im kinda dragon myself, being the son of a golden dragon… so how about safe the dragon and ride-” you couldn't let him finish the sentence, bursting into laughter from his pickup line and such a self-confident face. Gimyong was truly humongous man.

in fact, he was not confused or upset by your laughter, because in the end he amused you. his light laugh joined yours and he was happy that he made you laugh.

“no, but seriously, i’ve heard great things about your performance.”

“thank you! it’s been a dream role for me,” you replied warmly, your genuine smile still playing on your lips. “i’ve seen a few episodes of lookism — i absolutely in love with it! your character is such a gentleman.” you exclaimed admiringly, remembering all the scenes where Gimyong was filming with his 'mother', and how cheerful his character was, representing a wonderful leader.

as you talked, the conversation flowed naturally, and Gimyong felt his initial nervousness fading away. he found himself captivated not just by your talent, but by your genuine enthusiasm and kindness.

“maybe you could give me a tour of your set sometime?” Gimyong suggested, hoping to extend the conversation — and his time with you.

“i’d love that,” you replied, intrigued by the idea. “and maybe i could visit yours. i’ve always been curious about how you bring such a cool fightings to life.”

with a shared promise to explore each other’s worlds, Gimyong returned to his set with a newfound excitement. meeting you had been even better than he imagined, and he couldn't wait when you will visit his set, to show off in front of you with his skills and muscles.

[maybe-moonchild]

CH4 𓆣 James Potter x Slytherin Reader summary: the first match of the season arrives and you receive the last name 'POTTER'. wc: 6.3k ⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ

The first Saturday in November arrived and you were so nervous that you couldn’t eat breakfast. 

You’d barely been able to sleep either, having arrived at the dining hall earlier than necessary. Every nervous drum of your fingers against the table did nothing to calm your nerves. Absentmindedly pushing your eggs around your plate did nothing for your appetite to return.

Lance was in the same boat like usual, always a bundle of anxieties before each game. He was the picture of overthinking. His leg bounced before you finally nudged it with your knee. When you quit, Keith quit without a second thought. He’d been the Slytherin seeker, having spent the past five years going head to head with Lance to go after the snitch. 

“This is weird, huh?” Keith sighed as he slipped into the seat across from you. The two of you shared a grimace while Lance barely hummed in response. “I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t playing on game day.”

“First game. Fifth year,” Lance droned. “You had detention.”

Pausing from reaching over our friend, Keith considered that before shrugging. That checked out, you hadn’t won that game which had been a massive disappointment for your house. 

“Sounds like you’ll be catching a lot more snitches this year,” he teased and dropped eggs on his plate.

Lance mumbled something in Spanish. The only thing you could make out was something like ‘bite me’.

You nudged Lance's plate in his direction to get his attention. “Stop freaking out. They have a new Slytherin seeker. How good can they be?”

The Gryffindor shot you a flat look, “You’re  literally freaking out too.”

“So?” You scowled. “Different reasons.”

Keith tossed a breakfast potato at both of your heads to divert the tension. It was a weird morning and the last thing anyone needed was more weight hanging over the results of the match. 

“You,” he pointed at Lance, “Stop spiraling. I helped with tryouts last year, unless our house has been harboring a secret quidditch star, you're fine. They were all awful.”

Your smug look vanished when it was your turn to be pointed at. “You, also stop spiraling. If Gryffindor loses, Kaston never even needs to know you were involved. There. Now pass me the bacon.”

It didn’t take long for Remus and Peter to join you, soon followed by the other star players, Sirius and James. You were holding it together but every second that ticked closer to the start of the game just made the dam of panic harder to contain. 

“I’ll make sure to send a bludger directly into Kastons face,” Sirius winked as he slipped between Remus and Lance.

“Focus on the plays Black.”

James chuckled as he squeezed to sit beside you, nearly spilling Peter’s orange juice to make room. "Now, now, Padfoot," he said with a grin. "We want to win this match fair and square. No need to stoop to Kaston's level."

The atmosphere at the Gryffindor table was buzzing with excitement and anticipation. The first game of the season was always a big deal, and this one especially so, with the tension between Gryffindor and Slytherin running high this year.

Somehow, the act of Remus elbowing Sirius in the side looked incidental. “Don’t get disqualified in the first game of the season. You already know how thin of ice you're on already with McGonagall.”

“Watch it you tosser,” he muttered around a mouthful of breakfast. 

“Oh my god, please don’t get disqualified,” you groaned, covering your face in your hands. Someone clapped you on the shoulder but you didn’t bother to look up. “Why am I so nervous? I never got this nervous the past six years and I’m not even playing.”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to catch the snitch in the first five seconds since I’m no longer up against Keith,” Lance joked, grinning at the bored looking Slytherin at his side, donned in his jersey. Keith always got Lance’s good sweaters considering he hoarded most of them the entire year. 

You were content enough to watch the game in the red and gold scarf, paired with the matching mittens. 

James tried to give you a reassuring smile, hoping to ease your worries. When you still hadn’t looked up, he sighed and lifted your head with one hand. "We'll do fine," he said, his tone comforting, yet determined. "We have practiced our asses off, and we know all of Kaston's tricks."

He knew this game was important to you. To him it was maybe even more personal than just... house pride.

“Now shush and eat something so you don’t make yourself sick. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

You held his gaze, glowering under his cheerful watch. James just leaned over you, his arm grazing yours as he dropped your favorite muffin on your plate. Letting him win, you picked up your muffin in defeat in the hopes that his good luck would continue and translate to the score.

“If I wasn’t so desperate for you to win,  I’d hope your karma comes in the form of a quaffle to the head,” you grumbled back,voice lacking any real bite.

“Here, I’ll hand feed you. Hand me your fork.”

“Taking it back. I hope you win and get a quaffle to the head.”

Eventually the players needed to head down to the locker rooms to get ready to warm up. The groups said their goodbyes, exchanging words of encouragement before splitting up. 

You joined the players, no one batting much of an eye that you were hanging around after you’d been doing it the past two months. 

“Kastons aim is better when he has the chance to be still. Odds are, if he’s not stopped, he’ll hit the bludger at the closest player, specifically to his left,” I rambled, going over what I could for the hundredth time in the past few days. “Simmons is faster when going up and to the right. When going to goal, aim down and left. Oh! And-”

James listened to you intently, his expression focused as he tied his shoes and pulled on his jersey. He knew how important this information was for the upcoming game, but at some point, what was done was done. There was no more drilling and studying that could be done besides applying everything he knew. 

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he glanced over at you, "I got it, I got it," he assured you, a hint of playful teasing in his tone. "I've got it down, don't worry."

He stood up and stretched, turning to face you fully. At some point over the past two months, his physical touch no longer felt foreign, his hands coming to grasp your shoulders until you relaxed. 

James smiled at you, eyebrow cocked as he waited for you to crack. It only took a few seconds before you folded, finding it impossible to do anything but bite down on your lip in semblance of remaining stoic. But James knew he had you when he grinned proudly. 

It was hard not to believe in him when he looked so damn sure of himself. 

Despite how obnoxious you’d always found him, you actually enjoyed spending the past few weeks scheming and strategizing. 

And as much as you hated Elias Kaston- which you did vehemently with a white hot passion- if he hadn’t ran you off the Slytherin quidditch team… well, you wouldn’t be standing there, face inches from James’s very pretty one. 

You liked being there. 

Seemingly satisfied that you were no longer about to fly off the handle, he stepped back to continue getting ready for the match. The match you had to believe he was going to successfully lead his team to win.

“I know. I know that. You’re… you’re great.” When you realized what you’d said, your eyes widened and you stuttered to correct yourself. “At quidditch. You’re great at quidditch and you’ll be fine.”

Damn it, the damage was already done. James couldn't help but grin as you corrected yourself, a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes. 

"What was that? You think I'm great? Sorry, did I hear that right? You did use the word great, yeah?" 

At the realization you’d just made his ego swell before your eyes, you hang your head in defeat. 

“Oh, I'm never going to hear the end of this,” you groaned under your breath, arms folding over your chest as you leaned back against the locker. 

Sirius grinned as he passed, “Oh you are certainly not.” You scowled when he clapped you on the shoulder. The two boys exchanged nods, Sirius first as if giving his friend the okay to do something. You were a bit too distracted taking a breath to calm your nerves that were threatening to bubble up again. 

Most of the team had either already slipped oJames reached for his bag, rummaging around for a moment before pulling out the extra jersey. He held it up, presenting it to you as he stood up from the bench.

"Here," he offered, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. "You better wear this and cheer extra loud for me. A good luck charm for us." 

out of the locker room and onto the pitch, the space growing quieter but the sound rising as students filled the stands. That was your cue to find the rest of the group and take your seat. 

James took a breath and reached for his bag, rummaging around for a moment. "Here," he offered, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. You barely managed to catch it as you held it up, inspecting it with furrowed brows.

It was his spare jersey. The shirt was the exact same as yours had once been, aside from the red and gold material and the name POTTER stitched on the back. You’d barely registered what it was before looking up to see James already back towards the door.

"You better wear this and cheer extra loud for me. A good luck charm for us." 

“Why?” you blurted out. All you received in response was a shrug, cheeky grin and a wink before he was gone, the curtains of the tent flapping closed behind him. That was it; he was gone and it was just you and his jersey remaining in the locker room. 

That was totally on purpose. 

You scoffed, mouth falling open in disbelief. “That asshole.”

For a while, you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but stare at. The material was familiar in your hands, making you frown as you studied it like it would make everything make sense. 

If you put it on, you were accepting something. You just didn’t know what that was. That was what scared you. Putting on this jersey wasn’t the same as throwing on one of Lance’s generic sweaters in support of the Gryffindors.

You wouldn’t just be supporting their house; you would be supporting James Potter specifically. You would be broadcasting that support right on your back. 

Not wearing it… well, it would be rude not  to wear it…

You were quick to strip off Lance’s scarf and toss it into his locker, slipping James’s jersey over your head. Maybe if you somehow did it fast enough, it wouldn’t have happened by your own doing. Like magic. 

Finding Peter, Remus and Keith in the sea of red took longer than you anticipated. It was a struggle to track their faces through the giddy students nearly bouncing in their seats. You pushed through to join them, ignoring their shared and knowing looks as you took your seat.

You had maybe three, whole seconds of peace. 

Keith grinned, his smirk widening as he studied the jersey you were wearing. "What's this? Trying to show some Gryffindor pride?" He teased playfully, bumping your shoulder with his own.

“Shut it.” You didn’t even turn in his direction, focusing up at the players warming up around the pitch. 

“Just saying.”

“You also ‘just said’ that there was something particularly softer about Lance’s sweaters-” your mumble was cut off by a playful swat of your head but you didn’t miss the pink flooding Keith's cheeks. 

“He doesn’t use magic to wash his clothes, they are softer.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved a dismissive hand in his direction, your eyes narrowing in Kastons direction when you saw him flying around. “I get it. I’m a real cheerleader.”

Remus, who was sitting on your other side, raised an eyebrow. While he said nothing, you knew he had something to say. Whatever it was, he kept it to himself and pretended to be very interested in the players above your heads. 

“Well, we are happy to have you in the stands with us today,” Peter said warmly as he leaned forward, flashing you a smile that you returned wholeheartedly. 

Watching the place you had once been spent all of your free time hurt, but not as badly as you’d anticipated it to. There was a flash of a moment that your eyes stung, throat constricting around the fact that your time playing quidditch had come to an end. As quickly as it came, it was gone; because it was okay. 

You’d get over it, you really would. That was clear now. 

You also had more fun with quidditch the past two months than you had the past six years. No one had undermined your abilities or ideas, your efforts were appreciated, taken into play. It just felt right. While you were a good player, maybe you were a better coach when you had a receptive team. 

James hovered in the center, running over your notes and information in his head as he accounted for all of the Slytherin players. His teammates worked on practice drills, warming up and exuding tenacity. 

The sight of you wearing his jersey caused a wide grin to spread across his face, and he fought hard to keep his focus on warming up and not swooning. The knowledge that you were proudly donning his jersey to watch him play had his heart racing with adrenaline.

Sirius' laughter rang out from where he was circling, slowing to a stop beside James. "You know, you’re  probably going to be insufferable after the game," he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement.

James couldn't help himself. He smirked up at Sirius, his eyes gleaming with a fire that couldn't be contained. "Oh, absolutely, Pads. I'll be riding this high for weeks. No, months. I'll ride this high for months."

A wry smile tugged at Sirius’s lips. "Months, eh?" He asked, arching an eyebrow playfully. "Are you sure it'll be months and not years?"

"Probably," James agreed with a nod, his cocky grin widening. He glanced down, his gaze resting on your form once again. Your eyes darted around the players, making it clear you were running plays through your own head like James was doing himself. Occasionally, you’d lean over and murmur something to Keith, directing him towards a Slytherin player with a nod of your head. 

James could get used to his name stretched across your back and he wasn’t even scared of that thought anymore. 

Gryffindor played with a ferocity and focus they had never played with before. Their plays were clean, flight patterns direct and intentional as the Slytherins struggled to catch up. They didn’t even know what hit them. Every move they made was calculated, as if they knew exactly what would happen next. Which they kinda did, thanks to you. 

James was unstoppable, relentless as he flew around the pitch, scoring goal after goal

Kaston's frustration was evident on his face and in his flying, his anger growing and making his bludger hits erratic. He lost control on where he was sending them and they rarely met their mark. 

You cheered. You cheered with every goal, cupping your hands around your mouth to yell with the crowd. The energy was electric and you were not disappointed at the experience. 

You couldn’t place the exact Kaston figured it out. At some point he had, likely when he saw you repping ‘Potter’ on your back and realized that all of Slytherin’s tactics had spread to their rival team. Which was why Sirius had to block three bludgers that Kaston had tried to hit into the stands, another attempt to take your head off and you weren’t even playing. 

No one seemed to notice that it was intentional aside from you and your friends around you. The game had become ruthless and fierce, with every score against Kaston sending a wave of pride and excitement through the crowd. The tension was palpable, the atmosphere charged with the intensity that was building between the players.

You were on the edge of your metaphorical seat when Lance and the new Slytherin seeker caught sight of the snitch. Given the score, 130 to 40, you expected the fight to catch the snitch would be more intense given it normally was between Keith and Lance. 

But no, Lance left him in the dust; easily weaving through the game in pursuit. 

And then, the moment you had all been waiting for – Lance finally caught it. The crowd went wild, cheering and screaming as the Gryffindor team surged forward, celebrating their victory. Your section erupted in celebration, the energy infectious as they all stood to cheer and yell in celebration.

You nearly lost your footing when Remus, Keith and Peter slung their arms over your shoulders, their whoops and hollers making you laugh. 

He had done it- well the entire team worked for the win- but James was the one that delivered his promise. He led his team to victory, kept his end of the deal to humiliate Kaston and his team after what they had done. They swarmed their captain, clapping for themselves and their performance. 

James, grinning brightly on his broom, shoving his dark hair off of his forehead and clapping his team on the back, had never looked more like the sun. 

There was a collective wince from the crowd when Kaston slammed right into James on their descent. You gasped as the force of the impact sent both boys tumbling to the ground. It didn’t stop there as Kaston and James grappled in the grass, their limbs twisting in a dangerous dance as both fought to regain control.

Your eyes were wide, completely taken aback at the blatant violence from your old teammate. Remus didn’t miss a beat, shoving at your shoulder to get you to move. 

“Go. Go. Go,” Remus urged and you moved, pushing Keith forward who complied. The four of you shoved through the crowd and down down the stands, all of the students starting to cheer or boo depending on their hoped outcome of the fight. 

By the time you got down there, fists were flying. 

Everyone was yelling as you jogged over, both teams adding fuel to the fire as they circled the altercation. Sirius was not attempting to hold James back, instead chest to chest with Alder as they shoved at each other. Lance was shouting to calm the two of them down but no one seemed to be listening. 

You slowed to a stop, hands flying to cover your mouth at the sight of James; his usual happy go lucky demeanor something else entirely. He was nearly unrecognizable, grappling on his back before managing to get the upper hand. 

Keith intervened first, like always, to run and step between Lance and Alder. Remus was moving forward in an instant, focusing on yanking Sirius back to keep the violence from spreading. You just stood there, unable to move. It wasn’t like you could really help at this moment.

Kaston's eyes were filled with fury as threw James off of him and onto the grass. "You think you've won," he spat, his voice laced with anger. "You think she's won this game for you. But you've got another thing coming."

"You think you can get away with that?" James shouted, his voice echoing across the field. "You'll pay for last year you Git!”

He moved fast, launching himself at the Slytherin captain with a violent intensity. A sickening crack echoed through the silence as his fist connected with Kastons’ jaw, sending him stumbling backwards with a pained cry. Your hands flew to cover your mouth in shock, unable to move from your spot beside a wide eyed Peter. 

Kaston roared in pain and anger, launching himself into the fight with a feral growl. He pounced forward, landing a hard punch of his own into James’s nose with a satisfying crack.

"You think you're above me, Potter," he growled, hatred seeping into every word. "But you're just a lucky prat with a pretty face. And she-“

James stumbled back from the intensity of the hit, his teeth gritted as the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. Anger flared through him like wildfire, his vision tinted red as he launched himself at Kaston once more. 

"Shut. Up," James growled, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps of air. His nostrils flared as he wiped his bloody nose on his forearm, his expression filled with rage. "Don't you dare mention her," he snarled. "Do you know what I'm going to do to you, you filthy rat?"

Sirius and Remus were trying to separate the two, but they weren't having much luck. Sirius pulled at James, trying his best to pry him off of Kaston. "James, snap out of it!" As Dumbledore and McGonagall, followed by Slughorn, crossed the field in a concerned hurry, you were at least thankful that no one was swinging anymore. 

Lance helped keep James at bay with the others. You were hardly surprised that Keith was trying to keep Kaston back, only because he didn’t have to be gentle with the asshole. 

Tension seemed to be dying down, the fire in their eyes starting to diminish as their flared nostrils turned to panted breaths. You were stunned and maybe you shouldn't have been considering Kaston tended to speak with violence. 

Kaston managed to make note of you, his eyes finding your place in the crowd. 

“Enjoy the mudblood, blood-traitor.” His sneer revealed his red tinged teeth before he spit near your feet. 

You sucked in a breath, stiffening at the word like it had delivered a blow to your own face. It set James off again, the boys stopping him mid lunge from landing another blow. 

"You don't get to speak to her like that," James seethed, his voice low and dangerous. He felt a fire surging through him, his teeth gritted, his fists clenched so hard that his knuckles were turning white.

But Remus held him back firmly, his eyes dark with anger. "Prongs, enough," he said, his voice low but stern. "You need to calm down."

“What on Earth- Potter! Mr. Kaston,” McGonagall shrieked, her voice cutting through the chaos. All of the spectators in the crowd barely quieted themselves but the players on the field were happy to fall still. “Enough! Both of you, to your locker rooms now!”

James’s shoulders heaved up and down but, without tearing his eyes away from Kaston, he let his friends tug at him until his feet moved. 

From the pursed lips and set stance of your professor, she clearly was livid, containing her emotions until she unleashed them later. Most likely that rage would be directed at Kaston because he had thrown the first punch and called you something no one should ever be called. 

“Both of you will report to my office immediately after you are presentable.”

It seemed Slughorn was in agreement as he curtly nodded, looking flabbergasted at the behavior of the new quidditch captain he’d picked for the Slytherin house. As if on cue, he caught your eye. Slughorn frowned and you looked towards the ground. It wasn’t like things couldn’t be pieced together now; why you’d turned down his offer to resume your position as captain for a second year after being so successful. 

If you could lift your head up, then you would've seen the matching frowns on Dumbledore’s and McGonagall’s faces, the two of them likely putting together the same events. 

The two groups retreated as they were told. Despite spending the past hour standing out in the November chill, you were hot all over. You watched James’s back, watched his head turn and he caught your eye. Instantly, the fire in his eyes seemed to dim immediately at the sight of your distress. 

James’s blood still boiled with anger and anger consumed him, but he forced himself to look away. He didn't want to see the look on your face – he didn't want to see the disappointment or disgust. He couldn't bear it.

And then he was gone, successfully shoved through the curtains of the Gryffindor locker room by Remus. 

“What the hell just happened?” you breathed out, eyes trained on the spot he had just disappeared. Only Peter remained at your side, the other boys having followed James to follow McGonagall orders. 

"Bloody hell," Peter muttered under his breath. "James went mad. I’ve never seen him so angry before."

Now that the show was over, the students' excitement began to settle, their interest no longer obtained as they trickled out of the stands. You glanced at the professors speaking in hushed tones as they huddled together. As soon as you made eye contact with McGonagall, it was clear that you were a part of their conversation. 

So you nudged Peter and nodded towards the exit. “Come on. Let’s head back and wait for them.”

It was almost an hour before Lance and Keith spilled into the Gryffindor dorm room, sans one James Potter. You and Peter had opted to sit on the beds in quiet- well you were quiet- quiet and appreciative of Peter filling the silence in an attempt to brighten the mood. 

They informed you that after James’s cool down, he’d gone off to have a stern talking to with McGonagall before being sent to the infirmary. It was clear by your fidgeting that you were dying to go there to see him.

You weren’t sure whether you wanted to hit him yourself or-

Oh. 

Oh.

Clearly you must’ve been more shaken up than you had thought if… kissing him… had been… instinctual…

That was weird.

Waiting around became too much after two minutes but no one seemed surprised when you shoved off the bed and out of the room. You had to remind yourself not to run through the halls, especially when the occasional student passing by glanced in your direction. The need to see him, see that he was okay and why he didn’t stop fighting him and ask him why you felt so overwhelmingly concerned for his stupid well being- you just needed to see him. 

You might've over compensated with your enthusiasm, shoving open the infirmary door a bit harder than you intended. You almost stumbled into the room, catching yourself before actually tripping. When you looked up, there were three pairs of eyes already on you. 

James sat up straighter immediately, his eyes wide in anticipation of your presence. His jersey had been exchanged for a dark colored sweater and jeans. That served as a reminder that you were still clad in his own jersey, the sleeves rolled up so you didn’t drown in its size. All traces of blood had been wiped from his face, his perfectly messy hair indicative that he’d showered before Madam Pomfrey cared for his injuries. 

There was little evidence of the fight at all. Aside from the faint bruises on his cheek, jaw, and nose that were already healing. You still were impressed with the magic of healing in the wizarding world.  

“Hi,” you said lamely.

Sirius had to look down in an effort to not laugh, receiving a subtle kick from Remus to shut up. 

James couldn't help but feel a tinge of anxiety as you took in his injuries, feeling self-conscious as your eyes studied his face. He still was unable to look away as he tried to guess what was running through your mind.

Perhaps you were disappointed or even disgusted at his behavior. 

“Hi,” James returned just as breathlessly. 

The boys exchanged a look before getting to their feet. If your presence wasn’t enough of a sign to leave you alone, then the long stare the two of you shared only solidified that their presence was unnecessary. Their movement in your peripheral finally made you look away and clear your throat. 

“Hey.” You greeted them again as you approached the bed just to break the quiet. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Look who it is!” Sirius called out, a beaming grin crossing his face at the sight of you. "The mastermind behind our win!”

From across the room, Remus raised an eyebrow and glanced at James, giving him a knowing look. He missed it entirely since he was too busy staring at you. Sirius' eyes twinkled with mirth as he greeted you with a mock salute to break the ice.

You shook your head, “No. That was all you guys. Congratulations. You played really well, cleanest game in a while.”

“Cleanest game I’d seen. Well, up until Kaston got his blood all over the field-”

“Padfoot, out. Now.” Remus just groaned silently, ensuring you and James that they would see you later as he pulled a pouting Sirius out of the infirmary. 

For the past hour, you hadn’t been able to get your brain to shut off. Memories had been playing on a loop, plaguing your mind with images of James’s head snapping back or the glob of blood tinged spit landing in the grass at your feet. 

But now, standing there in front of him, you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. 

You expelled all of the air from your cheeks just so there was sound before dropping down on the edge of the bed. A sudden urge to reach out and touch him shot through your nerves, insisting that you brush the hair from his forehead, to trace his split lip with your fingertip. Purple ebbed along his knuckles, matching the purple on the bridge of his nose under the frames of his glasses. 

“I think this was proof enough that you truly are the most dramatic person I’ve ever met.”

His shoulders sagged in relief, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, despite the pain that still coursed through him. He let out a soft chuckle, his eyes shining with warmth. You did the same, peeking up at him from your lashes to confirm some of the tension had broken. 

Your quiet voices carried along the stone, the empty infirmary lacking any audience. Kaston must’ve been recovering separately to prevent any more altercation. 

"What can I say," he shrugged, an easy grin spreading across his face, "if I'm going to get myself into trouble, I at least want to make it memorable."

“Oh, I’m aware.” You leaned over him to pick the half melted ice pack up from the table, tossing it between your hands absentmindedly. “How much detention did you get?”

"Oh, you know me, just a week's worth. Got an earful of it from Minnie.” He reached over and snatched the ice pack from your hands and placed it back on his shoulder, wincing at the cold. “Just her usual ‘hitting is wrong even if deserved’ and ‘leaning more on your back leg will land a harder hit’.”

There was more damage hidden under his sweater, the sling on the end table was evidence of that. You grimaced at the sight, guilt tugging the smile on your face into a frown. He’d really gotten hurt at the end of the match, hitting and getting hit in front of the entire school. 

You looked down and sighed, “Sorry. This shouldn’t have happened. That was… oh god… that was bad and you shouldn’t be sitting here like this.”

James shook his head instantly, looking somber as he scooted down the bed to sit next to you. 

“Hey, don’t apologize. I wanted to hit him, and he deserves it, honestly. He’s a prick. I should’ve done it before."

His hip brushed your lower back as he settled closer. your breath would’ve caught in your throat but you were too distracted by him reaching out to touch your chin. You let him nudge your head in his direction, reluctantly meeting his eye, unable to look away. 

“Can’t say I’m not jealous,” you snorted softly. “I’ve been itching to hit him since first year.”

Not trusting yourself, you kept your hands clasped together in your lap, attempting to suppress the urge to touch him back.

"Jealous? No need to be. I'd be happy to lend you my services any time. Just say the word, and I'll hold him down so you can land a hit or two.”

And then he smiled. 

Your stomach did that thing, a flipping sensation that you always associated with nose diving on your broom. Pulling up at the last second kept you from smashing every bone in your body. The risk only made the thrill more intense the longer you could go before giving in. 

Right then, you were well aware that you were horribly and irrevocably fucked.

James' hand didn’t fall away when you looked down at the comforter. He only secured the home of his touch on your face, cupping your jaw with the faintest of touches. 

“Congratulations, by the way,” you said after a long second, voice softening unsurely under his stare. 

"For what? The fight or the win?" he asked, ducking his head to try and meet your eye. James got quieter as he found it harder to bite down his smile. "For being so great?" 

You rolled your eyes but the flat look you tried to give him was far too fond to do any damage. All it did was make you aware of how close the two of you were. 

“All three. It was great,” I breathed out, leaning into his hand as we sat side by side on the edge of the infirmary bed. “It was really great.”

"Not as great as seeing you in my jersey." His hand on your cheek grew firmer as he allowed himself to feel the warmth of your skin against his fingertips.

Your head was beginning to spin, thoughts tangled in a dizzying mess of questions and desires. But amid the chaos, one thing remained clear: you enjoyed being with him, more than you ever had thought possible.

James Potter had an ego the size of a lake, but a heart to match.

James’s leg dangled off the edge of the infirm bed, the toe on his hightop grazing your own. The other was tucked under him, adding more contact between his shin and your thigh. The two of you had spent the past two months bumping elbows, his chest brushing against your back when he’d lean from behind you to read something over your shoulder. 

At the beginning of the year, his touch made you tense, you’d hold your breath until the moment passed. Along the way, it stopped feeling like your heart was thrown off the top of the astronomy tower as you formed a routine together. 

This was different. This was intentional. 

You wondered if he could feel how hot your face was under his palm. It was almost embarrassing, how you felt like one of the first year girls that would giggle with their friends as he ran past. It would’ve been embarrassing if it didn’t feel so good. So you leaned your head into his hand.

“You make no sense. It’s like, anytime I think I have you figured out, I realize I have you all wrong, again.”

With a cocky grin, he leaned in towards you, his face mere inches from yours. "Ah, but that's what makes me interesting, isn’t it?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Keeps you on your toes, keeps you guessing. I'm a complete mystery. I don't even understand myself sometimes." 

You scoffed and he leaned a bit closer, the warmth of his breath now brushing against your cheek. "But isn't that what makes me so fascinating?”

“I still think the most fascinating thing about you is how you manage to get your massive head in the air with your broom,” you murmured.

“Oh, you thought my head was big before? Just wait until you see how big it is after I do this.”

James closed the distance, his mouth finding yours with ease. His thumb slid under your chin to tilt your head back, allowing him to lean further over you. 

You’d had your fair share of kisses over the past few years, but none had ever felt like this. This was like drinking liquid luck until you got sick. You gripped his collar, pulling yourself closer and he was happy to wrap an arm around your waist to tug you closer. 

Every sense was heightened, the touch of his mouth sending your mind spiraling. Everything faded away, the world narrowing down to the feeling of his tongue swiping your bottom lip, the slight weight of his hand resting against the side of your neck, the sound of your own uneven breaths.

This was what it must have been like to taste the sun. It was like laying under an open window and basking in the early morning light on the first day of summer. Tangling your hands in his hair was like growing roots into the earth as it orbited around the sun.

You were burning alive and nothing had ever felt better. 

The two of you pulled back after what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, your breathing ragged and eyes wide. You searched his face for any sign of dislike and were ecstatic when you couldn’t even imagine what that would like on his face. 

Not when the two of you were breaking into smiles. 

If you had thought James Potter glowed before, now he was blinding.

“Yeah,” he drew out and brushed your hair behind your ear. “I’m about to be insufferable now that I’ve finally done that.”

quid pro quo master list here

[lxvsiick]

THE STARS ARE SHINING BRIGHTLY | HAN TAESAN X READER

[PART 2 -- VERSION 2]

PAIRING: ex! han taesan x ex! fem! reader

SUMMARY: After running into his ex, Y/n, Taesan chases after her--and what happens after was all he could ever wish for.

GENRE: fluff?, angst?, exes, imagine

WORDCOUNT: 1.1k

A/N: i guess everyone deserves a happy ending 😒 jk ,, i apologize for the pain i have caused 🙇🏻‍♀️ btw pink and blue go so well together — i love how the title turned out

❝ ❞ ✧ ೃ༄

Every step felt heavy with anticipation, each breath a mix of excitement and anxiety. He didn’t know what he’d say or what he hoped to find, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a chance he couldn’t let slip by.

Finally, he spotted her again, standing on the corner, waiting for a bus. With a deep breath, he approached, trying to steady his racing heart.

“Y/n!” he called out, trying to keep his voice calm and steady.

She turned, a look of surprise crossing her face as she recognized the urgency in his voice. Her eyes widened as they met his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Everything around them seemed to disappear and it was only them there. Y/n’s look of surprise turns into a smile, her sparkling eyes meeting him.

“Hi.”

“It’s been a while,” he said, his voice low, struggling to keep his emotions in check. He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “How... how have you been?”

She gave a small, distant smile. “I’ve been doing better, actually. A lot better. Things are finally looking up.”

Taesan nodded, though her words twisted in his chest. Seeing her happy without him felt like a double-edged sword—he wanted this for her, but it hurt to realize he wasn’t part of her happiness anymore.

“That’s good to hear,” he managed. “I’m really happy for you.” A pause hung between them before he continued, his voice dropping to a more vulnerable tone. “Idol life has been good for me, too, I guess. But... I’ve missed you. You’ve never left my mind. Not once.”

Her smile faltered as she listened, her eyes softening as his words sunk in. She didn’t say anything, but the way she looked at him spoke of memories they both shared, memories that still lingered.

“I regret everything I did,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “The way things ended... I keep replaying it in my mind, wishing I could have done things differently. Better. I’ve thought about you so much, and I’ve been kicking myself every day for letting you go.”

She remained silent, her gaze steady but full of emotion.

“Have you... have you ever missed me?” His voice was barely above a whisper now, laced with a desperate kind of hope.

For a moment, she didn’t answer, her eyes dropping to the ground. But when she spoke, her voice was small, fragile. “I did... I still do.”

His heart jumped at her words. His chest tightened with a hope he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in months. “Then... maybe... maybe we could try again?” he asked, stepping closer to her, his heart on the line. “I promise, I’ll do better this time. I’ll be the person you deserve. Just... give me another chance.”

She looked up at him, uncertainty and love battling in her expression. They stood there, the weight of their shared history hanging between them. Her eyes searched his, and for a moment, it felt like the world stopped.

“I never stopped loving you,” she said quietly, her words tentative, as if she was afraid of what might come next.

He swallowed hard, feeling like his heart might burst. “I never stopped loving you either.”

After what felt like an eternity, she nodded, her eyes filled with both fear and hope. “Okay,” she whispered. “We can try again.”

Relief washed over him, his chest swelling with hope and gratitude. He couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face, genuine and full of emotion. “Thank you,” he breathed. “I promise, I’ll make it right this time.”

As they stood there, the weight of their past seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the possibility of a future together.

❝ ❞ ✧ ೃ༄

The night sky stretched endlessly above, a canvas of twinkling stars that reflected in Y/n’s eyes as she stood on the private balcony, her hands resting gently on the railing. The cool evening breeze played with the curls of her long hair, causing strands to dance around her face. She wore a stunning cream-colored dress that flowed elegantly in the wind, perfectly complementing the glow of the moonlight that bathed her in a soft, ethereal light.

It was a perfect night—peaceful, serene. But a soft sound from behind pulled her from her thoughts. She turned, her gaze falling on Taesan, who was walking towards her, a bouquet of white daisies—her favorite flowers—held in his hands. The sight of him, standing there with that warm, familiar smile, made her heart skip a beat.

"These are for you," he said softly as she walked up to him. His voice was gentle, filled with a tenderness that never seemed to fade, even after all these years.

She took the bouquet, her fingers brushing against his for a brief moment, sending a spark through her. "You remembered," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her smile lighting up her face.

"How could I ever forget?" he replied with a playful smile, his eyes locked on hers.

Suddenly, music filled the air. She blinked in surprise as the rest of the BOYNEXTDOOR members popped out from behind the door, Sungho strumming a guitar while the others began dancing in sync, clearly having rehearsed this. Laughter bubbled up from her chest as she turned back to him, her heart swelling with affection and love.

But Taesan gently pulled her attention back to him, his hands wrapping around hers as the music continued. His expression grew serious, his eyes soft as he gazed down at her. "These last four years with you... they’ve been the best of my life," he began, his voice full of emotion. "I will always regret letting you go the first time, and I can’t thank you enough for giving us another chance."

Her breath hitched as his words sunk in, her heart racing as she saw the shift in his expression.

"And now," he continued, his voice catching slightly as he dropped down on one knee. The world seemed to slow down around her as he pulled out a small velvet box from his pocket and opened it, revealing a delicate, sparkling ring inside. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

Tears instantly brimmed in her eyes as she looked down at him, the love she felt for him overwhelming her. She couldn’t speak for a moment, her throat tight with emotion. All she could do was nod, her tears spilling over as she whispered, "Yes, of course."

The members behind them erupted into cheers, with one of the members dramatically clutching his chest. "Finally! She’s taking him off our hands!" they joked, their voices full of joy as the others continued playing and dancing in celebration.

Laughing through her tears, Y/n dropped to her knees in front of Taesan, pulling him into a tight embrace, her heart full and her future clear. They had found each other again, and this time, they weren’t letting go.

❝ ❞ ✧ ೃ༄

PART ONE | PART TWO VER.1 | MASTERLIST

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, lxvsiick, 2024

[bangpop91]

The Breakfast Aisle

I am finally caught up! This is is my story for Day 5 of @bucktommypositivityweek and today's prompt is coming out scenes. I hope you all enjoy this short little drabble.

Buck and Tommy had a rare Saturday where both of their days off lined up, so they were taking advantage of it to spend time together while catching up on domestic chores and errands. That morning they’d already gotten the laundry sorted and several loads of laundry finished, written up their meal plan and shopping list for the week. Currently they were traversing the grocery store, getting their weekly groceries and picking up the ingredients for the chopped salad and Tiramisu they had been told to bring to the 118 family barbecue that evening.

They were in the middle of the breakfast aisle comparing the nutrition labels for two different brands of pancake mix that proclaimed to be high in protein.

“Buck?” He turned around at the familiar voice, not expecting to see Taylor standing there with her own basket of groceries over her arm. 

“Hey Taylor.” He says, doing his best to be friendly. Their breakup had been as amicable as it could have been given all of the circumstances of the last few months of their relationship. He might not be the biggest fan of her tell-all book about the 118 but he is grateful she protected their identities at least. “How've you been?” He asks, trying not to sound uncomfortable as Tommy sticks the chosen brand of pancake mix into their cart and marking it off the list.

“I've been good, really busy.” Buck nods, he's sure. Last he'd seen online Taylor had been picked up by a major news outlet as an investigative journalist. “How've you been?” The conversation is awkward and stilted despite their best efforts.

“Good, busy as well.” He says vaguely. Tommy is patient as ever, letting Buck try to wrap up the conversation while answering a text on his phone. Taylor nodded uncomfortably, shifting her stance.

“Um, who's your friend?” She asks nodding towards Tommy, who snorts at the question.

“This is Tommy, my boyfriend.” He says doing his best to maintain the attempt at friendly yet awkward conversation. He watches as a complicated emotion flashes across Taylor's face before settling on neutrality.

“You're gay.” She says flatly and it makes him feel defensive. After figuring he's bi, and started coming out he had thought that would be it. He'd be out. He hadn't anticipated that he would be spending the rest of his life coming out or having to clarify his label.

“Bisexual.” He responds defensively. Taylor looks like she wants to say more.

“We should keep going, Darlin. We still have a lot to do today before the barbeque at Bobby and Athena's new place.” Buck could kiss Tommy for giving him an out to end this awkward conversation with Taylor. Buck nodded to Taylor.

“Good to see you Taylor.” He said simply as he and Tommy started moving towards the other end of the aisle, Tommy grabbing a box of his preferred protein bars and a box of Jees's preferred granola bars for when they babysit in a few days. Taylor says her own good-byes moving in the opposite direction. It definitely could have gone worse, but he also hopes he doesn't run into his ex again for a long while.

[gratelove]

*I usually don’t write in first person, but I hope you like it! I wanted to try something new and I think it worked out!*

I Think About You

Stiles Stilinsky x Reader

You sneak in through Stiles’s window, per usual, but tonight he’s different. More on edge and nervous than usual. What you didn’t expect is why he was acting this way. You didn’t expect it was because of what he was about to confess.

The night had that familiar chill in the air, the kind that made your skin prickle with anticipation. In Beacon Hills, it was never just the cold that made you nervous—it was the feeling that something could happen at any moment, something far beyond your control. But tonight, as I slipped out of my house and headed to Stiles’ place, the nerves swirling in my stomach had nothing to do with the supernatural.

I knocked lightly on his window, and a second later, it slid open. Stiles poked his head out, his eyes wide and that familiar mess of hair falling into his face.

“You know,” he said, his voice already tinged with nervous energy, “there’s a perfectly functional door right over there.

I grinned, stepping through the window like I had done so many times before. “And miss out on the excitement of sneaking in? No way.”

He chuckled softly, but I could see the way his fingers fidgeted against the windowsill. He always had this energy, like he was thinking a million things at once, but tonight, something about him felt different—quieter, more tense.

“So,” I started, breaking the silence, “what’s going on this time? I’m guessing something dangerous, as usual.”

Stiles turned to face me, biting his lip for a second before he spoke. “Yeah, uh, there’s been some weird stuff going on. Scott’s acting off, and I think… well, something’s coming. I can feel it.”

I could tell he was distracted, his mind not entirely on the danger that was brewing. I moved closer, gently nudging him. “Hey, you okay? You seem a little… off yourself.”

He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Me? Off? Nah, just, you know… regular Stiles stuff.”

But the way he was avoiding eye contact told me there was something else. It wasn’t just the usual supernatural mess that had him on edge. I watched him for a moment, my heart beating a little faster. I knew what I was hoping for, but I wasn’t sure if he felt the same—or if I was just imagining the moments between us.

“Stiles,” I said softly, stepping a little closer. “What’s going on? Really.”

His eyes flickered up to meet mine, and for the first time in the chaos of Beacon Hills, I saw real hesitation. Not because of danger or fear of monsters, but because of something far more personal. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, his brow furrowing in that way it did when he was deep in thought.

“It’s… it’s nothing,” he mumbled, turning away slightly, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “I mean, it’s not nothing, but it’s probably stupid, and I’m just making things weird—”

“Stiles.” I reached out, grabbing his hand, feeling the way his skin warmed under mine. “You’re not making things weird. Just talk to me.”

He took a deep breath, his gaze darting between me and the floor. His hand tightened around mine for just a second before he let it go, stuffing both hands into his pockets like he didn’t trust himself to keep still.

“Okay, so, here’s the thing,” he started, his voice a little shaky. “You’ve been… around a lot. Like, when stuff gets bad, you’re always there, and I—” He broke off, laughing awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. “Wow, this is harder than I thought.”

I waited, my heart pounding. I could tell he was struggling to say something important, and for some reason, it made me even more nervous than when we were facing the usual supernatural threats.

“Stiles, whatever it is, just say it. You know I’m not going anywhere.”

He looked up at me then, his eyes soft and uncertain, and for a second, I saw right past the sarcasm and the quick wit. There was something deeper, something he was scared to let out.

“Okay, so… I guess what I’m trying to say is… I think about you. A lot. More than I should, probably, because we’re always, you know, fighting for our lives and all that, but—” He stopped, biting his lip again, and I could see the way his hands clenched into fists in his pockets. “It’s just… I like you. A lot. And I don’t know if that’s okay or if I’m just being an idiot because maybe you don’t feel the same way, but… yeah.”

His words tumbled out in a rush, and by the time he finished, his face was flushed, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and vulnerability. My heart practically melted at the sight of him, standing there, waiting for me to either laugh or reject him.

But instead of doing either, I stepped closer, my hand resting against his cheek. His breath hitched slightly, his eyes searching mine for some kind of answer.

“Stiles,” I whispered, feeling my pulse race, “you’re not being an idiot. I’ve been waiting for you to say that for a while now.”

His eyes widened in surprise, his mouth falling open slightly. “Wait, seriously? You—?”

Before he could finish, I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips against his in a soft, tentative kiss. He froze for a moment, clearly caught off guard, but then his hands moved out of his pockets and rested gently on my waist, pulling me closer as he kissed me back.

It wasn’t perfect or graceful—Stiles was too nervous for that, and I could feel his heart racing as much as mine. But it was real, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the supernatural world, not the danger waiting for us. Just him and me.

When we finally pulled apart, his face was flushed, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Wow. I—I didn’t screw that up, did I?”

I laughed, resting my forehead against his. “No, Stiles. You definitely didn’t screw it up.”

He smiled then, that familiar lopsided grin, but this time there was something softer behind it. “Good, because I really didn’t want to.”

We stood there for a while, the world outside quiet for once. His hand stayed on mine, his thumb gently brushing against my skin. The chaos of Beacon Hills would find us soon enough, but for now, we had this moment. And for the first time, I wasn’t just the girl sneaking into Stiles’ room in the middle of the night—I was the girl he’d been thinking about. The girl he wanted by his side.

And I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

[futturmanspookie]

˗ˏˋBreak୨୧

Summary: Josh is feeling a bit needy during work, so you take a break and go see him at the janitor's closet. Pairing: Josh Futturman X GN!Reader Tags: Smut, sex on inappropriate places, penetration, complimenting, unprotected sex, Josh whines a lot. Word Account: 1k

A/n: Hey guys! i know i've been a long time without posting and i'm so sorry for that, i also know its a pretty short fic, mainly for me, and im sorry for this too! I've been through some shit and i really hope you enjoy this! Love yall 🫶🫶

-Nic

Your moans echo through the room. The insistent banging of the old product cabinet against the wall of the janitor's closet is getting more intense and a little louder.

How did you ended like this? Easy. It was Josh's fault. Like always.

The two of you have not had enough alone time this week. The last time you both even tried to make out, Gabe -Josh's father-, barged in saying it was taco Thursday.

Anyways, Josh needed your touch. So he did the most rational thing he could; Interrupt your job just so he could get a bit of attention.

"Hm... Babe." He said, stopping by your door and looking inside. He looked like a lost puppy in need of care. "Oh, sorry- No babe during work-" He mumbled.

"It's okay." You answered shrugging. He was acting a bit strange, that's for sure. It was clear he wanted something. "What do you need?" You ask softly, scanning his expression.

"Hm... I wanted you to... Go to the janitor's closet with me... There's something i really need to show you." He replied, and it sounded like a big excuse just to have you alone with him.

It's not like you're innocent anyway, so you agree to go with him. Even tho you already knew what was going to happen.

"So? What did you want to show me?" You ask, looking around at the peeling walls and old shelves that threaten to fall any moment.

Josh shrugs and smiles. Then he moves closer and seals your lips in a kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, his hands instinctively gripping your hips and pushing your back against the nearest cabinet. He ran his tongue over your lower lip, parting them slowly and exploring your mouth with his tongue.

"We can get fired-" You whisper against his lips, your breath getting even heavier as your heart rate picked up.

"I don't care-" He replied, moving the kisses down your neck. He lets go of your hips, clumsily unbuckling his belt.

You sit up on the cabinet, not sure if it can support your weight. Josh carefully spreads your legs apart, kneads the soft flesh of your thighs over your jeans, then moves closer and kisses your lips softly.

"You're so pretty... I still can't believe you date me." He mumbled, smiling a bit and moving his kisses down your jaw and neck. You blushed and sighed, unbuttoning Josh's shirt slowly.

"I could say the same about you-" You whispered, kissing his lips softly and running your hand over his bare chest.

Josh was usually shy and insecure, but when he got horny, he started acting different. He gained a little more confidence and was able to say things without having to think of 12 better ways to say it. It excited you, more than you would ever admit.

Josh started kissing your neck, undoing your pants. "I've been thinking about you all day..." He whispered, it sounded a little desperate and whiny.

You bit down at your lower lip as Josh started pushing your pants down to your ankles. As soon as they were on the floor, he got between your legs and tugged his own pants and underwear down.

You looked down at his now exposed cock, the pink tip was leaking with precum and it was throbbing.

You blushed more and he slowly moved closer, pressing his tip against your entrance. "Can i?" He whispered in your ear.

You nodded quickly, anticipating him inside of you. He slowly pushed him, his hand tightening on your thigh. Josh sighed, his breath hot against your ear.

He started with slow thrusts, but they quickly got faster and deeper. Your hands held on Josh's back, your fingernails digging on it.

Josh's free hand found support on the wall, his whines getting needier with each thrust. "I love you-" He whimpered against your ear.

You instead of answering just buried your face in Josh's neck, trying to suppress your moans. The continuous pleasure and adrenaline left your mind hazy, you could swear this was your best fuck, ever.

Some items fall from the shelf above you, but it's not like either of you cared. Josh was so concentrated in how you felt around him, that he didn't cared to anything else, not even a bit. The world could explode and he would die happy.

He kissed your neck right above your ear, moaning lowly. "You're so pretty..." He whimpered, nuzzling against your skin.

His thrusts slowed down a bit, but he let out a long and loud whine as felt your walls clenching around his cock. You scratched on his back, moaning too.

"God- Babe... I'm close-" He whimpered, trying to keep it down. You nodded, humming lowly and clenching around him again.

His thrusts started to get unsteady and his whines started to get more breathless and hoarse. Your started to buck your hips forward, not being able to support the eagerness.

He thrusted deeply, biting your shoulder as spit his hot seed inside of you. Even after his orgasm, he kept fucking you.

Why? It was simple; He wanted you to cum. He wanted to feel you melting around him, trembling and crying out his name.

He moved his hand down and slowly started to stroke you, kissing your neck and shoulder.

"Cum for me... Please?" He asked, groaning softly as kept moving slowly.

Your breath was fast and shaky and you were moaning like a bitch. God, you loved Josh, you loved his face, his mouth, his dick, his hands... Everything on him. He was so hot and so good at pleasuring you, it's like you needed him.

Your moans got a bit louder scratching on his back again. He thrusted deeper, feeling you shudder and moan louder.

"Josh! Oh fuck!" You moaned, quickly feeling him covering your mouth with his hand as you finally released. It was the best orgasm of your life.

He pushed out slowly, kissing softly on your neck and smiling at you.

"Oh... What a mess we made..." He mumbled, smiling proudly as looked down at your legs.

"Shut up." You said, rolling your eyes.

"Sorry!" He replied, chuckling and pecking your lips.

You got up and started dressing, trying to make yourself presentable. You turned around and looked at your boyfriend, that had a big goofy smile and his pants down to his ankles.

"Don't forget zipping your pants." You said, pecking his lips and leaving.

[hamletunfortunately]

gonna ham post violently today

Have we ever EVER considered a Hamlet thats simply monotone? one that isn't screaming his emotions and crying in your face?

what about the Hamlet that only yells when hes truly angry? that just gets slightly aggressive body language and a stern voice when people annoy him?

maybe im just an idiot, maybe i just dont understand Shakespeare, but i genuinely have never been able to read TBONTB in this.. aggressive..loud, yelling manner! he seems dead! tired! like he's over it, clearly at some point in the play hes just OVER it, right?

it might not be good performance-wise, maybe not as interesting, but damn, it sure would be a joy to watch a quiet, dying Ham. maybe a guy who got worn out of talking with his entire body, or shouting every word, that maybe he just got *tired* and decided "i dont have the energy to put on a show right now".

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Dungeon Meshi: Delicious in RPG!

(Sprites + bonus art here!)

[dazais-guardian-angel]

kinda wild to me that one of the most compelling aspects of both Chuuya and Kunikida's characters to me, that I never really see talked about, is how they're heavily set on a doomed crash course towards complete and utter destruction, and how I am so, so worried for them both.....

[jichanxo]

early sunday six 🌼

tags! @four-white-trees @passthroughtime @phantasy14 @overdevelopedglasses @skysquid22

here's something with kuwana that also has lost judgment spoilers. (i don't remember who has and hasn't played, so excuse the tag😭)

Here he thought when he was disgraced and fired that he wouldn’t have any more parent-teacher interviews. Now they wracked his nerves something fierce, and he had a corpse left afterwards instead of paperwork. Hell of a trade-off, that was. Sometimes third year students used to ask why he decided to become a teacher, and he’d shrugged and given some canned response about how fulfilling it was. 

Kuwana’s got another bully’s corpse tucked away in a safe, isolated corner of the world. At least now when parents asked him what he had to gain helping with such an act, he could muster up a little more gusto when he called it fulfilling. Even though most of them gave him a look like he was full of shit, they’d trusted him enough to follow through with it, didn’t they? 

[archersgoon]

the thing about bartolina dying is that it did doom finnikin to be a freak about women but i don't think it's just due to the lack of her presence i think there's several other factors. because bartolina dying fucked everyone up forever. (see the rock & in particular celestina jr.'s response to jasmina.) like finnikin wasn't lacking for female role models in his early life he spent a lottt of time on the rock & his only named family members are the celestinas. but i think it's possible they were a little um. permissive with bartolina's son. in a way they might not have been if bartolina herself had been around.

i guess there's abian. but i don't think she was as present as she would've needed to be to offset the rock-nexus/king's guard (u know many of them were on some insane shit re women) split finnikin grew up with. because she was there when he was a newborn but she was speedrunning her relationship with august, so i think she would;ve been like. moving away & then busy, esp. w/ celie (celie disabling childhood illness truthers rise up), so she (& august) were a lot more distant than they may have originally planned (& trevanion (and maybe bartolina depending on what you think her rship w/ abian was like) may have wanted them to be). like you can see he doesn't really engage with them post-curse (pre-canon) & pre-curse it mostly seems to be a matter of "well august's my dad's friend, i guess i can play with his weird fucking kid. oh & abian's here too". so you end up with a finnikin who only really recognises his father & the guard as like. real guys with a life outside of him. & then post-curse obviously we know what sir topher's like. i'm going to be honest here guys i don't think he did a good job with the deeper-level stuff but i've lost my thread with this so i'll move on

like i think a good contrast here is lucian. bc he still has misogyny problems but they're much more in keeping with what seems to be like, standard in-universe. bc 1. he presumably still remembers his mother to some extent. 2. his life pre-canon was a lot more stable (i think saro -- and presumably his wife -- being a couple decades older than trevanion & having well-established job descriptions is a major factor in this) even post-curse the monts stayed sedentary & together. 3. he doesn't have being bartolina's son hanging over his head, but he does have many many female relatives both willing and able to say can you be serious for five fucking minutes you miserable worm. jesus fucking christ. any time he says something particularly egregious

[tellmegoodbye]

“Gabriel's killer having something to do with Carlos' past (I have a little more in depth spec on this if anyone is interested 👀)”

Harley, I’m definitely interested! 👀👀

This isn't fleshed out by any means but this is just an idea that's been floating around in my head, pretty much since the finale!

I think when it comes to Gabriel's killer, it actually doesn't have anything to do with Gabriel himself. The assumption as of now is that this murder is in relation to one of his cases, or maybe even something in his personal life, but it would be an interesting plot twist to learn that Gabriel was only the beginning and only one factor in a much larger story, one that includes Carlos being at the center of all of it!

Over the course of his investigation, maybe Carlos learns that he actually has a history with this person. This opens up the potential for an episode that introduces us to Carlos' past. We get to see how he knows this person, and what exactly happened between them. It could possibly be related to something he worked on years ago, or even a more recent case that we saw on screen.

As well as that, we also get to see him experience some guilt for not realizing this sooner, and see him blame himself for his father's death, and maybe even potentially putting TK and the rest of his family in danger.

Maybe the thing that initally causes Carlos to fall back into his obsession is learning that this person has been after him the entire time, and when he learns that Gabriel was just the beginning, he will have no choice but to keep digging. Especially if TK ends up being threatened or is in danger in any way. We could even have some really angsty scenes between him and TK if he neglects to tell him that he's working on the case, or why he's working on it, because of course he'll want to protect him!

I know a lot of us want to see Carlos go feral on anyone who hurts his husband (and we do know TK gets hurt at some point 👀) so I'm manifesting it!

[lxvsiick]

THE STARS CONTINUE TO SLEEP | HAN TAESAN X READER 

[PART 2 -- VERSION 1]

PAIRING: ex! han taesan x ex! fem! reader

SUMMARY: After running into his ex, Y/n, Taesan chases after her--but what happens after crushes his heart.

GENRE: angst, exes, imagine

WORDCOUNT: 675

A/N: I AM SORRY 🙇🏻‍♀️ i’m just here to cause pain honestly 🤷🏻‍♀️ ummm ENJOY!

ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `

Every step felt heavy with anticipation, each breath a mix of excitement and anxiety. He didn’t know what he’d say or what he hoped to find, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a chance he couldn’t let slip by.

Finally, he spotted her again, standing on the corner, waiting for a bus. With a deep breath, he approached, trying to steady his racing heart.

“Y/n!” he called out, trying to keep his voice calm and steady.

She turned, a look of surprise crossing her face as she recognized the urgency in his voice. Her eyes widened as they met his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Everything around them seemed to disappear and it was only them there. Y/n’s look of surprise turns into a smile, her sparkling eyes meeting him.

“Hi.”

“How have you been?” He asks, taking a step closer. Taesan felt like he couldn’t breathe–she was really standing in front of him.

Her expression softened, and she gave him a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Dongmin, it’s been a while. I’m doing better now. A lot better, actually.”

He could see it. She looked different—happier, healthier. There was a spark in her eyes that hadn’t been there the last time they saw each other. It was like she’d shed the weight of the world that had once dragged her down, and it hurt him to realize how far away she felt now.

“I’m glad,” he managed to say, his voice low. “I’ve been... doing well too, I guess. Idol life has been busy.” He paused, his throat tightening. “But I’ve missed you. You’ve never really left my mind.”

For a moment, silence fell between them. Her eyes flickered with something—maybe surprise, maybe regret—but just as she opened her mouth to respond, a voice called from the distance.

“Y/n!” a guy’s voice echoed down the street.

Both of them turned to see a tall guy walking toward them, his expression calm but curious as he approached. Taesan felt his heart sink instantly, the pang of jealousy hitting him like a ton of bricks.

The guy reached Y/n's side, placing a casual hand on her lower back as he looked at Taesan. Taesan forced a smile, but his hands clenched slightly by his sides.

“Hey, sorry about that,” Y/n said, her voice a little softer now. She gestured between the two of them. “Dongmin, this is Minhyung, my... boyfriend.”

The words struck him harder than he’d imagined they would. His chest tightened painfully as he glanced at Minhyung, who gave him a polite nod, but there was an air of awkwardness between them.

Taesan swallowed, forcing himself to remain calm, even as the bitterness inside him twisted deeper. “Nice to meet you,” he said, offering a strained smile.

“Likewise,” Minhyung replied, his tone friendly but firm.

After a few more brief words of awkward small talk, Taesan realized he couldn’t stand there any longer. The pain was too raw, too real. With one last look at Y/n, he gave her a tight, bittersweet smile. “I should get going. It was nice seeing you again... really.”

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, as if she had something more to say, but all she managed was a quiet, “You too, Dongmin.”

He nodded, unable to bear it any longer. Turning on his heel, he quickly made his way back to the cafe, his chest feeling heavier with every step. His hands trembled slightly as he pulled his mask back up over his face, trying to shield himself from the world, but the growing bitterness inside him was impossible to escape.

As he entered the cafe, the sound of his members’ laughter surrounded him, but all he could think about was the image of Y/n with her new boyfriend. Even though he had tried to move on, she had never left his heart.

And now, seeing her happy—happy without him—it hurt more than he ever thought it would.

ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `

PART ONE | PART TWO VER.2 | MASTERLIST

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, lxvsiick, 2024