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uncleasriel · 2 days ago

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via @dogmasquerade

#for everyone in the tags who doesnt get it: futanari porn. its a reference to futanari porn

This little post has inspired to recount a (slightly) true tale of white guys pretending to know Japanese, and the delightful tension between actual facts of the matter and feeling like it sounds right to you.

I utterly loathe when business folks who know barely any Japanese try to bandy around perfectly ordinary Japanese words and ideas. They often do this to make themselves seem smart and worldly. In the corporate world, that type of Business Motivational Speaker loves to speak very authoritatively of that time they spent a few months in Japan. They barely learned even conversational Japanese, yet are all too happy to act like they are utter experts on the Japanese way of life. It's worse than even the extreme end of the weeaboo spectrum, because while the rabid anime fan may delude themselves and other their obnoxious certainty about what Japan is really like, they usually keep their nonsense in online fandom spaces. They don't try to leverage their misreadings of mundane Japanese words for ordinary concepts like cleanliness or orderliness or patience as profound philosophical concepts that are leveraged to justify the radical restructuring of businesses and people's livelihoods towards the simple end of making a quick buck for the next fiscal quarter.

Such was the stupid little man who I found was teaching the mandatory customer service course my perfectly productive group of records clerk coworkers were forced to spend an afternoon listening to. The company Needed A Change,you see; that is to say, the C-Suite wanted to look good for their investors, and that end, subjecting the hundred-plus workforce of the firm of to unnecessary job-specific training for no other purpose than to "keep our skils sharp" (a euphemism for "it looked good on paper. don't ask questions".)

And thus, the stupid little man teaching the course. He was ex-army, had been stationed in Japan, and even got his Business Degree while he was finishing off his tour of duty there. He'd not foot in the country since the 1990s, but such facts couldn't stand in the way of his believe that was an expert on East Asia and on Business. He loved to make allusions to the Art of War, and claimed it had so many hidden insights into how Asian people think and do business. I scoffed at this, because Sun Tzu's wrote Art of War to teach stupid young Chinese Aristocrats in the 3rd century CE how to avoid getting their nation's soldiers countless soldiers and their lands sacked by blindly pursuing glory. People who compare the act of running a corporation pillaging and conquering a nation understand neither activity, and an sensible person should take great pains to prevent such people from doing either.

Alas, saner powers had failed in this endeavor, and so this stupid little man had been permitted to tout how his New Customer Service Method to us. The Method involved adhering a rigid and inhuman-sounding script he'd developed, one which was scientifically proven to make us more efficient in answering internal information requests that came from within our company. It was hogwash,of course - our group got along very well, and even our section head often shared stories of praise he'd heard from other groups about how well we did our jobs. Alas, this did not spare us from this afternoon in an auditorium with the stupid little man. Between the rigid script, the man's insistence we adhere to it, and his insufferable recurring reference to how Japan made him understand The Philosophy of Business, I was beginning to get annoyed.

As this went on,and we were presented with handouts, I could see the rest of my team was not buying it. This was a mandatory meeting, after all, and our workflow had gotten more intense now that we had to take an afternoon off and listen to this drivel, while the rest of the company was whirring away doing business as usual. Staggering the training days between working groups was more important, and never bothering to think about the operational impacts was proof that our C-suite was Good At Business. So when the sweetest 50-something grandma in my group asked why we needed this fancy new script when the group was already performing very well, the stupid little man began to ramble in perfect business-speak.

Business speak is an art in the way war is an art - it is sometimes necessary for surviving a turbulent world, but too often messy, pointless and cruel. This was no exception. The stupid little man began to talk about corporate change, and how he'd seen so much of it over his career. So much so, in fact, that we went on to found his own company, with the intent of helping others along along. (Naturally his time in Japan was the main reference point.) He dithered and digressed and eventually managed to twist the account of Sun Tzu and the Imperial Concubines as Sun Tzu commanding an army and executing his generals for failing to correctly follow orders. The implication was clear: those who question their masters lose their fucking heads.

This was the point where I got really fucking livid. That stupid little man was not only wasting our time, not only answering honest questions with veiled threats, not only had taken his frustration at being challenged on the most inoffensive and loveliest person on the team..... he even got basic facts about his supposed area of expertise absolutely fucking wrong. This was unforgivable to me, both as a knowledge worker and as a human being. I could feel anger fermenting with in me, threatening to percolate into something nasty.

But I too had read Sun Tzu. And in that moment I recalled a fundamental lesson of the Art of War: all warfare is based on deception.

So I waited patiently. The stupid little man went with his lecture. It was tediously predictable, since most business speakers are tiresomely predictable. They try to be storytellers, and while they may polish their presentation, their stories tend are boringly similar. "The company was in this market sector. Things were doing well and then they didn't. They then looked into the thing they were doing, and learned something, and then did this other thing instead (one which you've paid lots of money for me to pretend I'm an expert on) and that's how they all became productive/profitable/prominent." Such was the stupid little man's lesson, and his captive audience sat and listened and we began to go over the rigid script and nod along like it was an insightful and transformative artefact that would improve our working lives thanks to the stupid little man's hard-won brilliance. "After doing this for a few weeks, you won't even need to read the script." He said,as his audience looked back with a mixture of dead-eyed compliance and nervous eagerness. "It'll just come automatically. You won't even need to think about it." I saw my moment to strike. Summoning my most professional demeanor of polite cordiality, I spoke up "Ah, yeah. it...it makes sense. This script..once we really get it, it becomes 'Golden Flow'... " I looked him dead in the eye, hungry for his reaction. "You know...it's like the Japanese philosophy of omorashi."

I had just compared the stupid little man's lesson plan to being sexually excited by the thought of pissing yourself.

He seemed surprised at first. For a brief moment I thought that the stupid little man had understood what I had said; that he would have acknowledge the knowing the Japanese words for a gross paraphilia or else must struggle to save maintain composure in front of a crowd that he'd just tried to bludgeon into compliance minutes previously. But my hopes of effacement were dashed when his reply of "Yes, exactly!" came with the same vacuous unblinking confidence that only a five-figure speaking fee can buy. He hadn't been surprised by my words; he'd been surprised that I'd spoken intelligently about a topic he claimed to be an expert on.

"It means 'going without thinking'." I added, eager to see what I could get away with. "It's quite popular among some Japanese business leaders."

"Really? That's so interesting. I've never heard of that." " He seemed surprised, yet his words were strangely incurious. I began to suspect he was unable to quite process that someone other than him knew about how they did business in Japan. Did I threaten his unearned sense of expertise? I redoubled my efforts, pushing harder into my feint.

"Buddhism is an old tradition with many different streams," I offered. "Like zen!" came his too-eager reply. "Well, omorashi was little known outside of obscure Buddhist schools, but since the internet began to spread it became quite popular among knowledge workers."

The stupid little man smiled as he seemed to process this. "Ah, that explains it then." He said, his baseless confidence returning. "I don't tend to work with that kind of industry,usually." A dangerous admission to make in front of a group of records clerks, but the stpud little man's stupidity was apparent. " You learn something new every day." He said, before he proceeded to return to his script, and the comforts of exerting petty power over a captive audience. I sank quietly back into silence. I had prevailed, and assured victory against the invading force.

We all forgot to use his script after a week and a half. Our manager quickly dropped reminding us to use it, and after a few months everyone in our department (and outside of it external customers) agreed that we were quite good at doing our jobs. The C-Suite was very happy they spent all that time and money training us, and as the metrics trickled in we were able to show improvements that wholly justified the expense. It's so wonderful to keep your job when your soverign CEO is impressed on their huge expenditures.

But every so often, I think about that petty, stupid little man and his petty, stupid class that wasted both our group's time and our company's money. And I smile.

Because, you see, I handle storing the financial records in the records for the Training department. And I noticed a memorandum on a file that explicitly stated Company would no longer be doing business with the stupid little man's training firm.

I made a few, and eventually heard back from a friend in IT. He wore a look between amusement and discomfort when when I asked the stupid little man, and his stupid little business, and it was in hushed tones that he explained how he'd been flagged by a notification on the company's firewall around the time the stupid little man was in a meeting with the Chief Financial Officer. My friend's supervisor had noticed the incident, and told him to remain quiet about what had transpired. But it seems that, on the day of the meeting, the little man's computer records showed that he accessed Japanese adult content on a work computer, right around the same time he was giving a presentation to the CIO. The response had been swift,quiet, and very effective.

Golden Flow. Going without thinking. Wisdom from the Art of War.

Truly, the way of omorashi is a philosophy without peer.

Guy trying to invent a plausible sounding Japanese name that won't inadvertently reveal they've definitely heard one Japanese word before in particular: Yeah "Wukanari" sounds good, post it.

#omorashi #business #entrepreneur #startup #companies #couldn't have happened to a nicer guy #this is a story based on real events #facts have been changed to protect the innocent #the guilty can get pissed on #short fiction

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dixonsbugaboo · 2 days ago

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𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦.

ꜱᴀᴊᴀ ʙᴏʏꜱ🎵

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 6 - 𝘔𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴

Summary: Reincarnated in the body of a demon from the last film you saw before you died, you have decided to change the script of the story in your favour. But you didn't count on your presence in the story changing everything.

Warnings: slow burn, swearing, men, jealousy (subtle but there it is), Abby being smelly, ooc (probably), cringe (surely), no proofread (oopsie)

Word count: 2600+

A/N: First of all: thank you. Thank you all for all the love and support that you are giving me through your likes, reblogs and comments. I really appreciate them. I'm trying to answer to all of you, at least to show you how much it means to me ;^;

(REMINDER: Baby: Byeol / Abby: Sang / Romance: Dasom / Mystery: Minjun)

Ch. 5

︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿

You slowly opened your eyes. Your head hurt like hell and was still spinning. For a demon, your healing abilities were a bit pathetic.

Where were you…?

Was that your room?

Yes… you were in your room.

You were in bed, in fact, covered up to your neck with sheets and a cold towel on your forehead. You tried to sit up slowly, pressing your temples to ease the pain and causing the towel to fall to one side.

How had you got there?

The last thing you remembered was feeling like you were being cooked alive in the sauna, like a giant shrimp...

The sheet slipped off your body when you sat up, and you realised that you were still only covered by the towel you had used in the bathhouse.

Something didn't add up.

You couldn't teleport.

And you didn't remember waking up, getting up and walking home.

So, although you were grateful to be alive, you weren't quite sure how you got home.

Had someone found you and contacted the others somehow?

Or...

Had one of the guys done it?

At least you still had the towel.

Then you realised something: what would happen if you died? What would happen if you died again?

You weren't quite sure what happened when a demon died. When its body died, did it disappear forever? Was it sent back to hell, with another chance to return to the world of the living? But what would happen if you died? What would happen if a demon with a soul died? Because in fact, the body you occupied wasn't yours, so if it disappeared forever, well… but what about your soul? Where would your soul go? Would that be the final form of death?

The more you thought about it, the more your head throbbed.

Just then, as if to signal you to stop thinking about it, someone knocked on the door.

‘Come in,’ you managed to say. Your voice sounded slightly hoarse.

How long had you been out of action?

The door opened a crack and Baby poked his head in, as if he needed permission to come in. He looked surprised to see you awake.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked softly.

His efforts not to disturb you touched you. After making sure you were still covered, you motioned for him to come in and sit down.

‘Honestly, I feel terrible.’

'It's normal. You fainted in the sauna.'

So, was it Baby who…?

You saw him look down, embarrassed.

'I want to apologise,' he said as he finally came in and sat down slowly at the foot of your bed. 'You left me in charge, and even so… I almost let you die.'

What?

He looked up briefly to look at you, but was unable to hold your gaze and looked back down at his hands.

'You insisted so much that we shouldn't go into the women's bathhouse… even when I sensed something was wrong because you were taking so long, even when Mystery insisted so much on going to look for you because you were taking too long… you left me in charge and… I did nothing. We almost lost you.'

Oh, no. You already understood what had happened.

Trying not to let him see that you were still wearing only the towel, you sat up a little straighter on the bed and raised your hand to his face. You forced him to look up at you. His green eyes looked tormented.

Why did he look so devastated?

You caressed his face with your hand, and he leaned towards you, seeking more contact. Seeking to be closer to you.

‘I'm fine,’ you assured him, partly for his sake, but also for your own. ‘I'm still here, everything's fine.’

But for Baby, nothing was fine. They didn't know exactly when you had fainted, but they knew that if it weren't for Jinu, you would be dead.

Yes, that's right.

Jinu.

When they returned home without you and explained that you were taking it easy and would come home when you were ready, he let the alarm bells ring in his head.

With a “poof”, he disappeared, and less than ten minutes later he reappeared in the flat, carrying you in his arms, unconscious. You looked like a doll, your head tilted back, your hair loose, the towel that had been holding it back long gone. But you barely had a pulse, your body was radiating heat and you were very pale.

As soon as Jinu reappeared in the living room, looking very serious and carrying you unconscious in his arms, chaos broke out in the living room.

Abby exclaimed your name, running towards Jinu; Romance wanted to lift you up in his arms himself to see what was wrong with you, but Jinu wouldn't let him; Myst was speechless, afraid to come closer and discover that you were no longer... alive; and Baby felt his heart break into a thousand pieces as he felt guilty for what he was seeing.

Jinu held you against his chest, with one arm under your legs and the other around your back. Your body was covered by the towel you had brought into the sauna, and on top of that, Jinu's shirt, as if he was trying to give you some... privacy.

‘Is she alive?’ Romance managed to ask amid the commotion of seeing you like that.

‘Yes,’ Jinu replied without looking at you. ‘She fainted in the sauna from heatstroke.’

None of the others were sure how likely or unlikely it was for a demon to get heatstroke, but at least you were okay.

‘How could you leave her there, even if she was taking a long time to come out? Didn't you think something might have happened to her? What if she had run into the hunters?’

The others hung their heads in shame. Jinu sounded angry, but that was normal. Abby and Romance were convinced that since you always took so long in the bathhouse, it would be the same in public bathhouse, and even though Myst had said that something must have happened to you, they dismissed it and...

And now you were like this.

'I'm going to let her rest in her bed. I'll put a damp towel on her to bring her temperature down, and we'll take turns to check if she wakes up.'

Without waiting for a reply, he disappeared down the corridor with you in his arms.

‘How long have I been… unconscious?’ you asked, pulling Baby out of a turbulent cloud of recent memories.

‘Several hours. It's getting dark. Are you hungry?’

You shook your head.

Did demons take ibuprofen when they had migraines?

You lowered your hand to your lap, not seeing the pain that gesture caused in Baby's eyes. You took a deep breath through your nose and let it out slowly through your mouth.

‘Thank you,’ you said, smiling at him. ‘For taking care of me and worrying about me while I was in that state. I'm sure I just need to hydrate a little and rest for tomorrow.’

Baby couldn't bring himself to tell you that you were there thanks to Jinu, preferring to keep to himself the fact that he wasn't the only one who was completely freaked out by the accident… there was no need to stress you out any more.

‘Got it. I'll go get some water then,’ he said, heading for the door. ‘By the way,’ he added before leaving the room. ‘We printed the posters for tomorrow's presentation.’

You smiled at him, grateful. And as soon as he left and closed the door behind him, you hurried to put some clothes on.

You weren't an exhibitionist.

¸.*☆*.¸.*☆*.¸.*☆*.¸.*☆*.¸

Everyone loved hearing that you were awake and as grumpy as ever. But one of the boys was particularly lost in thought.

Lying on his bed with his legs propped up against the wall and his head hanging over the short side of the bed, Minjun was trying to sort through both his thoughts and his feelings.

The last few days had been a rollercoaster ride, and he felt… confused.

Especially about your relationship with Jinu.

He wanted to bite his nails, but remembered that he had gotten a manicure (with you) and decided to avoid doing it.

The day before, when he went out to run errands with Byeol, he had seen you, as radiant and full of energy as ever.

You reminded him of a little animal, so expressive and cheerful, but who would fight tooth and nail to defend yourself at the slightest provocation.

And just as he saw you, he also saw Jinu appear. He saw him lean towards you, so close to your face that he felt his hands burning, eager to push him away, and he clearly heard him say:

'You're beautiful when you blush.'

Mystery was absolutely certain that you hadn't heard him, because if you had, you would have thrown your drink at him and he would now have a black eye.

He also saw how he drank from your drink, how he looked at you, how he smiled at you. Something inside him twisted, as if he wanted to be in Jinu's place, with that confidence to talk to you and touch you without an excuse.

‘If you listen to that music at that volume, you're going to go deaf,’ he had added before leaving.

Mystery also saw him trip over his own feet while leaving you behind, although you hadn't noticed.

Next to him, Baby had tensed up like a cat about to pounce, and he knew that he hadn't liked what had just happened either. But neither of them said anything about it. They both kept their thoughts and opinions to themselves. They felt it would be less real if they didn't vocalise it.

But Mystery didn't know if that bothered him more, or seeing Jinu carry you home in his arms, unconscious, half-naked, your wet hair stuck to your face and cascading down your back, pale as a corpse. He didn't know what exactly bothered him about the scene: seeing you in that state, being aware that he should have trusted his instincts a little more, or that it was Jinu, the one who rejected you the most, both your intelligence and your company, who had saved your life. Or all of the above. Whatever it was, he didn't like feeling his chest so tight.

He didn't like feeling anything, in general, and even less so the emptiness that grew every time he felt you were far away, or sensed that you were upset.

He hadn't been lost in his thoughts for long when Byeol opened the door, entered the room and threw himself face first down on his bed.

Clearly, your accident had everyone on edge.

And to make matters worse, they were making their debut the next day.

¸.*☆*.¸.*☆*.¸.*☆*.¸.*☆*.¸

You hadn't slept much, but you had rested.

You had dreamed that you were falling into an endless void, and that strong arms were helping you and lifting you up. You had dreamed that someone was hugging you, and many voices were repeating your name softly, as if saying it too loudly might hurt you. You had dreamed of green eyes, cascades of icy water, and someone who smelled really good…

But when your alarm went off, you jumped out of bed.

The day of their debut had finally arrived.

You rushed to shower and get ready, and when you came out of the bathhouse with a towel wrapped around your wet hair, you were greeted by the smell of freshly brewed coffee coming from the kitchen.

‘Good morning,’ you said to Romance, who returned your greeting with a smile.

He was wearing an adorable pink lace apron and sipping coffee from a steaming mug.

'Are you feeling better?' he asked, carefully placing the mug on the table. It was a mug he had stolen (just before you gave him a lecture on how honourable demons don't steal) with “best dad in the world” written on it.

You nodded and licked your lips as he took a jar of jam out of the fridge and a couple of slices of bread out of the toaster just for you.

You loved breakfast. And you loved that Romance always made sure there was coffee, orange juice, cereal, and toast. You didn't know that Romance loved watching you eat breakfast, getting your face all messy, and licking your fingers just thinking about what to put on your toast every morning, and that was the only reason he made breakfast.

Shortly afterwards, Abby appeared, who must have just come back from the gym, smelling like pure sweaty armpits.

‘Ugh! Don't come into the kitchen when you smell like a sweaty monkey, Abby,’ Romance scolded him, throwing an apple at his head, which Abby skilfully caught.

‘I'm starving. I'll shower later, I promise.’

You wrinkled your nose and tried to focus on the smell of coffee and not on Abby.

‘By the way, manager,’ you were called. You had grown tired of correcting them and telling them not to call you that, so you let it go. ‘A girl gave me this in the gym, what is it? Is it rubbish?’ he said as he handed you a piece of paper.

‘Abby! It's a phone number! She even drew a heart at the end!’

'How was I supposed to know that?!'

'Humans know what a phone number is!!'

'And why did she give me a phone number?'

'Because it's not 'a' number, Abby, it's HER phone number. She gave it to you so you can call her.'

You slapped yourself in the face. For a heartbreaker, he was a bit clumsy.

Abby shrugged in response.

‘Well, I don't feel like calling her,’ he added with a pout.

Then Baby came in, practically throwing himself on the coffee pot, followed by Mystery, who usually only had a glass of juice or water and a couple of pieces of fruit for breakfast.

‘Jinu has gone out to hand out flyers for the debut,’ said Romance, getting everyone's attention. 'So as soon as you finish breakfast, we're leaving. Today we have to start with the “Steal the fans from the hunters” plan.'

When they were ready, you looked them over from head to toe, looking for any mistakes, anything to correct.

And the only one who hadn't changed their outfit against your judgement and orders was Baby.

Abby had somehow shrunk his floral shirt, which now looked like it was about to burst at any moment.

Mystery had ripped the sleeves off his jumper.

And Romance had painted hearts on the back pockets of his trousers (when you told him, he accused you of clearly looking at his ass, and Myst had to hold you back to stop you from biting his eyebrow.)

Although… wasn't that how you remembered it from the film? Whatever.

You sighed.

It's not like you could change it now, right? And it's not like the new look didn't suit them.

Myst approached you and, with a gesture, asked your permission to hold your hand. You just nodded with a smile.

He took your hand in one of his and wrapped his other arm around your waist. And with a “poof”, he teleported you both to the city centre, the place of the debut.

You split up to hand out flyers, and the scene from the film where the boys first met HUNTR/X kept replaying in your head. It was time to start plotting how to get their souls and will back.

When the agreed time came, the boys got into position. It was time to make their debut.

Everything was going according to plan.

But then, why, just a moment later, did you find yourself cornered against the wall, with the edge of Rumi's sword digging into your throat?

︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿

A/N: and I oop! What was that??? A cliffhanger attempt??? Next chapter is already in the oven guys, be patient! It's going to be a little tiny bit angsty, but not too much xD I hope you liked this one too!

And, NOW YOU KNOW WHAT JINU SAID!!!! 🤭 Omg they're all SO into you... helpless 🤭

Also, remind you I'm also publishing this in Wattpad!! If any of you want to drop there, be my guest! My user name is Nunibunn :)

Again, thank you all for all the love! Let me know what you think about this one.

Thank you for reading, for all your support and kind words. Remember that those comments, likes and reblogs help me a lot as motivation! 🥹🩷

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heliosunny · 10 hours ago

Text

Persistent Persuasion

Yandere!Reca x Reader

You’re an actor who swore you’d never take Mr. Reca’s role offer. But Reca doesn’t take no for an answer.

*⭒ ۫ .⭒ ۫ ˑ⭒*⭒ ۫ .⭒ ۫ ˑ⭒*⭒ ۫ .⭒ ۫ ˑ⭒*⭒ ۫ .⭒ ۫ ˑ⭒*⭒ ۫ .⭒ ۫ ˑ⭒*⭒ ۫ .⭒ ۫ ˑ⭒*⭒

“You’re the only one who can carry this scene.”

You cross your arms, shifting in the plush velvet chair that probably cost more than your entire apartment. “I told you, I’m not doing it.”

He sighs dramatically, as if your refusal wounds him deeply. “I know, I know. It’s just—” He pushes the script an inch closer, fingertips drumming on the cover. “You have this… gravity. Anyone else, and the audience will see right through it.”

You raise a brow. “You mean they’ll see right through you.”

He chuckles. “Is it so bad to want the best?”

Your apartment has become a graveyard of unwanted bribes. Flowers, boxes stacked by the door like barricades you never asked for. Your manager curses under their breath as they haul the last armful of jewelry cases back to the car.

*⭒ ۫ .⭒ ۫ ˑ⭒

You’re watching the street from your window, half-expecting to see him lurking in some ridiculous disguise again.

Because he would. He has.

It started with the voicemails. The last straw was him showing up at your fan event, hidden under a cheap hoodie and sunglasses. “I’m your biggest fan. Can I get your autograph?”

His cologne gave him away before he even pushed the photo across the table. When you looked down, there was no photo — just the script, printed on glossy paper, your name scrawled over the title page.

And now your phone buzzes again. Another voicemail. He’s relentless — if he weren’t Mr. Reca, celebrated director and studio tyrant, you’d think he was just another obsessive fan.

You think of his last words at the event

“If I have to stand at your doorstep every day, I will. If I have to buy every seat in this industry until there’s no one left but you — I will.”

*⭒ ۫ .⭒ ۫ ˑ⭒

The studio lot hums with chatter and camera rigs clattering over concrete. You’re half hidden behind your script when you catch sight of him in the middle of a gaggle of fresh-faced actors clinging to his every word.

You roll your eyes and tug your costume tighter around your shoulders. It’s just a cameo role — two scenes, easy money.

You’re steps away from the soundstage door when you feel him before you hear him. “Your collar’s crooked.” he murmurs. He’s so close you can see the faint stubble he missed shaving this morning. He smooths the fabric with precise fingers, careful not to look you in the eye until he’s done.

“There. Perfect.”

You don’t thank him. You don’t look back. But you feel his eyes on you the whole damn scene.

*⭒ ۫ .⭒ ۫ ˑ⭒

You almost refuse his invitation. But something about the way he’s ditched the entourage makes you curious.

A bar, what could go wrong?

He orders you a drink without asking what you want.

“If you want it me you can have it. Body. Soul. Every breath, every heartbeat.”

You study him across the rim of your glass.

“And what do I do with your soul, Mr.Reca? Hang it on my wall? Put it in my pocket?”

“If that’s what it takes. If it makes you stay.”

You push your glass away and lean back. “So this isn’t about the scene anymore.”

He shakes his head.

*⭒ ۫ .⭒ ۫ ˑ⭒

The bar closes behind you like a sigh when he gestures for you to follow him. Maybe it’s the faint haze of the single sip you did take or the low, lulling hum of his voice weaving promises through your resolve like threads through fabric.

“I want to show you something.”

You hate yourself for stepping into the car with him. Hate yourself more for not asking where you’re going. When the elevator doors part on the top floor of a hotel that costs more per night than your rent in a month, you stand there blinking while he slips the keycard in with a casual flick of his wrist.

You stand near the window while he tosses his coat aside, loosening his tie with a careless tug. For a heartbeat your mind jumps to something darker, but he just drapes it on a hanger, turning back to you with that same calm insistence.

You flick the AC on because it’s easier than asking why you’re here at all. You scan the coffee table — scripts stacked in neat piles, new covers, fresh annotations in his looping scrawl. You pick one up, thumb through the pages, realizing quickly this is not the same story you refused before. Your fingers freeze on a margin note: It must be Y/N L/N. No stand-ins.

You don’t notice him behind you until the faintest heat of his breath grazes your neck. Then his teeth press into the curve of your ear, a fleeting nip that makes your pulse trip. His fingers ghost over your waist, pulling you back just enough for your back to brush his chest.

The whisper spills out in that same honeyed tone you’ve grown to dread: “Play it... just once... and I’ll never ask again.”

You shove him away, the script slipping from your hands. “Enough, Reca!”

He stumbles back, a ghost of surprise flickering through that perfect mask, then it’s gone.

“You must take the role. You have to —”

But the words melt away because the suite dissolves around you like sugar in water. One moment you’re standing by his designer couch, the next you’re staring at your own bed.

The pages of his script flutter onto your nightstand, exactly where you don’t remember placing them. He’s still there, impossibly standing in the corner of your room. You wondered if it's something like bending reality. Just like in the films he created — illusions so real they leave you doubting which door you stepped through.

“There’s nowhere you can run from this. Or from me. You must take it, because this story doesn’t exist without you.”

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #mr reca

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masked-daydream · 2 days ago

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DATE EVERYTHING! SELF-AWARE AU

Unhinged! Player x Self-Aware! Dateables

Another version of the Self-Aware Au by writing-munchies but the Player is like @kingtism1 aka Antonio from TikTok who says the most unholy stuff to every dateable.

like I said I will quote some of the unhinged stuff that the guy says and also add some of my own. I really recommend you guys watching his interactions but only if you are 🔞 like this fic.

I WANT TO... (Pt. 2)

Crossposted on Ao3

Part 1, Part 2

⚠️ 🔞 Content Incoming ⚠️

'What in the absolute hell was that?!'

You say to yourself while resting in bed after you immediately shut down your computer after the most weirdest thing that has happened to you.

'Is it possible that it's just part of the game?'

You wonder remembering the moment when Keith the bastard Key manages to call your name perfectly like his voice actor literally pronounced your name as the character looked at you with his gray eyes.

You keep thinking about that moment as tossing and turning in your bed then you immediately sat up staring at your desk where your computer lies.

As much as you are spooked by that interaction, you remember your research about the Keith on the net on how he was a Content-Aware character meaning there was a chance that interaction was part of his creation.

'Yeah.. maybe that's why...'

You try to convince yourself, as you stared towards your computer you begin to feel a weird pulling sensation like an urge to go and play the game again.

I mean even with that odd interaction you still really love the game, the characters, the voices, hell you really miss the way some characters blush while you're flirting with them. Which is probably the reason why you cannot hold your tongue and start saying your deepest desires.

You begin to sit up from your bed looking at your computer for a moment and for a few minutes you begin to think for a bit.

'It's just one creepy interaction, what's the worse that could happen?'

Then you finally sat on your gaming chair preparing to open your computer to play the game. Promising yourself to just play for an hour after all it's the middle of the night and you just want to confirm if what happened is just another glitch in the game, maybe it will only happen on one character...

As time passes...

As you begin another playthrough of the game you can't help but admire the characters once again

Each treble of their voice went through your skin and through your heart as you interacted with another flirty character.

Volt one of the two personifications of electricity is currently making your heart rate spike a little too fast with his deep-accented voice you can't help but let your impulsive thoughts win.

"How about you explore my holes you stud, I want you inside my pussy and my ass - Get Eddie too I need you both to double penetrate the fuck out of me- Eiffel tower me! Please get active and fill me with your cum!"

You say with no shame to the currently blushing character. Not knowing about the dirty thoughts also going around the Electricity personified's head after hearing your confession.

Volt knew about your dirty habit on telling your deepest desires from the other objects from the household. He just didn't expect that your desperation not only applies to him but to Eddie as well.

He then licked his lips knowing that you won't notice his actions. As he has quite a strong control over his sprite that you won't notice any difference from his character unless...

He then changed his character sprite to the one where his holding his hand out to the player as his light-blue eyes stare at you and his other hand settles on his chest. As he goes out of script for one line.

"Well now let's not get ahead of ourselves livewire, I'm sure that me and Eddie will have time to fulfill anything you desire~ ;)" Volt declares his voice getting a bit more deeper as he speaks.

Your face gets more redder as you hear Volt's next line not knowing that he went out of script. But you feel his electric eyes stare into your soul making you grow a bit hotter.

"Damn. This fucking game..." You say to yourself as you cover your flustered face with your other hand, as you click again his sprite changing back to his normal one as Volt continues his usual lines.

You didn't notice Volt smirking at your reaction. As he plans to get you to love Him and Eddie more as you interact with them.

As more time passes as you play the game you get a bit more tired slowly closing your eyes hearing Volt and Eddie's voice as you nearly accomplished their love ending... You then lay your head on the side of your desk, closing your eyes as sleep finally took you.

You didn't notice the arms slowly going around you, carrying you to your bed.

You also didn't notice someone touching your face gently as you sleep and you also didn't notice the kiss given to your lips like a promise they plan to fulfill.

And you also didn't notice your game saving by itself and you're computer turning off by itself as well.

You didn't notice as you slept deeply feeling the touch of someone who wants you inside and out.

The Next Day...

As you begin another playthrough you notice some characters getting a bit more flirty than usual.

Infact those who are not normally as Flirty are having lines that clearly imply that they're very interested in your character (or just probably you in general).

Making you get more flustered than usual you couldn't help but get more and more redder as every character say's a line that clearly imply something more dirtier than usual.

You didn't really think much of those lines as it fits the current scenario I. What's happening for each character. So you clearly didn't mind.

Infact you were quite happy that you managed to get a lot of the love endings. So you have decided to go through the harder ones to romance to see if lady luck is shining on you today.

As you aimed your dateviators to the vacuum you then mentally prepare yourself for the Vacuum personified as you have already saw him during Eddie and Volt's route and also reading some comments about the game on him being one the hardest ones to romance to the point that others say they needed a guide.

You finally decided to just see the route for yourself and play without the guide, you might as well challenge yourself instead of doing things the easy way.

Your eyes then widened at the handsome face who for some reason is already blushing, appear on your screen. You then let the first words that come to your mind out without thinking

"Yeah...He may be the vacuum but I'm the one that's doing the sucking." You move closer to the screen admiring the beauty in red and white.

"Whip out your penis- I'm gonna suck and blow you - you beautiful fine piece of ass."

Henry Hoove know's what to expect from you infact everyone in the household knew what to expect from you every time you open that sinful mouth.

He just truly wasn't ready for it. As you approach the laundry room where he and other dateables are located he thought you picked someone else.

Imagine his suprise when you open the closet door and with no hesitation immediately aimed the dateviators at him. He didn't have time to prepare himself as he hears your dirty confessions about him.

He feels his pants getting more tighter as you offer to blow him. As he tries to control his character sprite to change into his first pose.

As he finally changes his sprite into a normal one and say his intended lines. He can't help but observe you as your eyes keep staring at him intently, very willing to pay attention to your choices so you can get the Love ending with him.

He knows he's a hard one to romance but maybe he would try to make your interaction with him a little easier. After all he really wanted you to hold on to your words and also get a piece of you as well. ❤️

'Oh~ how bold'

Ben-Hwa thought to themselves as they hear your extremely unholy confession. Every word you say makes every part of their body shiver with excitement as they also imagine doing the things you say as she observes you from your head to your hips.

They feel a bit disappointed that they cannot see your bottom half from this angle, but they just settle in hearing more about how you want to be dominated by them.

"-want you to use any type of sex toy you have on your body right now on me as I beg for you for more as you tease my holes till I break an-" You rambled as more words come out of your mouth getting more dirtier by the second.

If Ben-Hwa had a type of music they like, it'll definitely be your voice as you confess your sins or in the future probably you whimpering and moaning underneath them.

"-od I want you to to just use me as your sex toy- right now!"

They just smile, already planning the ways to make your dreams come true~

As you click Mac's screen you hear their cheery voice through the screen of your own computer.

You sigh dreamily remembering their interactions with you before you achieved their love ending.

"I want this computer so fucking bad, I will literally lay it on the floor and start rubbing my pussy lips- up and down the screen, leaving trails all across it - I need it so fucking bad- I'm taking e-sex to a whole new level with this computer- You don't even understand-" you stop yourself getting a bit aroused as you move your character away from the computer.

God you are getting way to desperate for the characters on this game.

You didn't even notice the computer themselves breathing heavily as they imagine you doing that to them, as Mac feels their insides purr with want.

As they hear your character move away from them, they immediately touch themselves through their pants and begins to try and relieve themselves just with their imagination of you and the scenario you gave them.

As Tyrell begins to talk more about his towel buddies he hears you talk in an urgent tone then he immediately went silent as he realizes, on what you just said

"Tyrell, you're making my pussy wet- so get down there with your towel. And when by towel I mean your dick and get to drying my pussy!" You demanded licking your lips as you stared at Tyrell.

Tyrell's shocked face turned red as your words finally register into his mind as he begins to stutter as you click on him.

"Th-th-th-th-those w-w-ere...." Tyrell tries to say his next line.

But as your words begin to settle on his mind and the redness on his face moved to his lower half, he immediately ran away-

Cutting of your interaction with him as your screen begins to freeze and turn black.

Your eyes widen in confusion as you clicked your mouse urgently, just as you stopped and decided to check the screen.

Your computer opens again with the game still on but you're character is just looking at the towel where your last interaction with Tyrell is supposed to be.

"What the hell just happened?" You ask knowing that no one will answer, as you begin to wonder again.

'Maybe it's another glitch' You think to yourself but as your mind wanders on why-

A text box pop out of your screen. Your eyes widened bewilderment but you couldn't help but let curiosity get the best of you as you click the text box.

Your shock turned to fear as you hear the narrator read the text as your heart skipped a beat.

(They want you as much as you do, If given a chance. Would you let them fulfill your desires?)

(Yes.)

(No.)

Choose Wisely...

#date everything #date everything au #date everything self aware au #homeowner x dateables #volt the electricity #henry hoove #ben hwa #mac the computer #tyrell the towel #date everything x reader #date everything nsft

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sevsevteen · 3 days ago

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ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ [ laces // collar // midsole ]

The feelings didn’t come sudden. Not as fast as you thought, anyway.

It was a quiet kind of realization - something that crawled in at 3 in the morning while you were waiting to fall asleep, just staring at every speck of dust on the ceiling fan.

Seventeen was the family that was always chaotic. Loud. Overwhelming.

But he was never overbearing. Never too close. Never too far.

He was just there.

Like the quiet at the end of a long day.

And while the others tackled you onto beanbags or roped you into tiktok challenges, Wonwoo would quietly pass you the charger you forgot to grab, or pull you into his side when you looked too tired to sit up straight during meetings.

You didn’t know when it started too, really.

Maybe it was the night you found him in the kitchen at 2 am, making ramyeon with glasses slipping down his nose. He didn’t say anything - just added a second portion without asking and shared it with you with that small tilt of a smile.

Or maybe it was the third time you found yourself laughing over something only he whispered into your ear, one the others didn’t catch but made your chest flutter quietly for the rest of the day.

You never felt nervous around him.

But you did become hyperaware.

The way he’d hold your wrist to guide you through a crowd.

The way he immediately walked out the door whenever you called him needing a ride.

The way he didn’t try to make you laugh - but did anyway, with nothing more than a quirk of his brow and a dry one-liner meant just for you.

It was…different.

Not loud. Just soft. Familiar.

Just like the shoes he gifted you (aka the ones you wore everywhere now).

You were seated at the kitchen table, hunched over a script you were preparing for a year-end video. Everyone else in the dorm was already asleep, or pretending to be.

A warm mug of honey tea slid into view.

Of course.

“How do you always know whenever I have a headache?” You looked up. “I’m starting to think you’re in love with me,” you joked quietly.

“Am I?” Wonwoo spoke, sipping his own mug as he slid into the seat across from you.

The room reclaimed its quiet, your eyes focusing back on the piece of paper.

But the thumping of your heart definitely wasn’t silent.

You played with the edge of the ceramic cup. “Do you ever think about how weird this is?”

“What?”

“How we just…get each other.”

Wonwoo hummed, eyes thoughtful behind his frames. “It’s not weird. Some things just fit.”

Your heart jumped once. Twice.

“Wonwoo,” you said softly, “do you think—”

“I do.” He looked at you, calm but certain. “Whatever you’re about to ask, I think I already do.”

You blinked. “That’s unfair. You didn’t even let me ask.”

“Didn’t need to.”

Another beat of silence.

And then you smiled, the kind that tugged at the corners of your mouth like something secret and sure.

“Okay,” you whispered, “so what now?”

Wonwoo stood, only to ruffle your hair gently as he walked by to place his mug in the sink.

“Now?” he said, voice warm like honey. “Now I keep making tea. And you keep pretending you don’t wait for me to.”

The two of you weren’t rushing toward a label. You didn’t need to.

Because whatever it was, it already lived in the way he passed you his coat when you were cold.

In the way you made space for him on every couch.

And in the way that, when the others joked about how “you would never date one of them,” Wonwoo only smiled quietly from across the room.

Because you already fell.

Just…not that loudly.

Yet.

And one accidental witness was all it took.

a/n there will be a pt 3!

#seventeen 14th member #seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen drabbles #svt imagines #svt 14th member #svt scenarios #svt

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gher-bear · 2 days ago

Text

Agreed. As someone who is very touch adverse, I get it! One is unnecessary and often unexpected in a way that I don't like and now I have to figure out what the appropriate response is. The other is a transactional or scripted thing that I explicitly agreed to or that needs to happen, and there's a bit of control in how it happens. It's why I flinch at hugs but love massages. There is An Agreement as to what is going to happen (massage) and why (I asked for one because I am hurty and I paid for the service you are providing). Same for MB. There is An Agreement as to what (cut open spinal column) and why (it needs repair and you are someone I trust with this task).

Murderbot: Don't touch me

Murderbot 5 minutes later: Okay, so what you're gonna do is cut open my back, crack open my spinal column, and then slice out a part of my spinal cord. Got it?

Mensah: .......

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lilghostiequinni · 1 day ago

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Enjoyable Interview?

Main Masterlist Lando Masterlist

Pairing: Podcaster!female oc (Vanessa Van Draak) x Lando Norris

Warnings: Fluffy, 2nd person point of view

Summary: It is the first interview that he truly enjoyed; the result was hours of unfiltered content and also a relationship with the cute interviewer.

Requested: NO / yes

Lando wasn't one to enjoy interviews, much like Max, but he just hides his dislike better than said Dutchman.

The few interviews he does enjoy are the ones usually after a win, especially the ones from after Silverstone.

There are others, and those are the ones that revolve around the fans and fan interactions.

The McLaren team, both PR and Media teams, thought it best to give Lando an interview with you, a podcaster who covers many different topics, after being reached out to by your own team.

You were born in the Netherlands and moved to Belgium when you were just two years old, and you moved even further to Northern France when you were nine, and moved again when you were eleven to Britain.

The British Grand Prix was one race you never missed because it meant something to your father; it was the one race he never missed while he was alive, and you liked to continue the tradition he started.

You started your podcast around the end of September in 2024.

After you had gotten your podcast up and running, it was within weeks that you had gotten a good following, you didn't block one subject off, even going and starting theme days: Homestyle Monday, Crime Story Tuesday, Wednesday's Words of Wisdom, Media Deep DiveThursday, Freestyle Friday, Review Saturday, & Sport Sundays.

Sometimes it got hard to do a podcast episode a day, but there were some that your team had filmed in advance that you could start taking breaks when you needed them.

You also had seasonal and holiday-themed episodes. People came back to your podcast because you gave off this energy that drew people in and made them want to stay and listen.

Your voice was also something people could listen to for hours, with you mostly having a British accent with hints of Northern France, Belgium, and the Netherlands.

The Dutch part of your accent was very slight, but some words sounded very Dutch, especially when you spoke in Dutch.

Your mother told your team, mainly your best friend, who was also your assistant and manager, about the tradition your father held with the British Grand Prix, and looked into who the winner of the British Grand Prix was and reached out to get an interview.

The race was actually about a week and a half before your best friend reached out to McLaren.

McLaren had agreed, not even talking to Lando before agreeing, just telling him to be there because this was one interview he might actually like.

Lando, though, had little to no great expectations walking into this interview, having been given no context for what the interview was about.

He got to the building where you held your podcast and walked in, seeing the receptionist and waving as he walked over to her.

"Hello, what can I do for you?" She asked politely as she looked up at Lando from her desk.

"I am Lando Norris, I was told to be here and I have no idea what is going on," Lando tells her.

The receptionist chuckled at him and nodded as she called for your best friend, who also just happened to walk through the door from the back as the receptionist hit call.

"Hey, Jennie, I got it from here." The receptionist nodded and went back to her work as Lilla turned to Lando, "Hello, Lando, I'm Lilla, if you would follow me."

Lilla then turned and opened the door she had just come out of as Lando followed her.

"Were you given any parameters on what was going to be discussed?" Lilla asked Lando as she briefly glanced back at him as she led Lando down the hall.

"No, I was just told to be here," Lando answered her honestly.

Lilla chuckled then spoke, "So, this is for the Sports Sunday episode set to come out in a couple of days. I don't think that there is any set script or anything. It is more focused on Formula One, more specifically, Silverstone. But it does not have to stay on that topic. You can move it, she can move it. It doesn't even have to be focused on Formula One after your win at Silverstone is discussed."

Lando nods and just follows.

Lilla looks to him and then stops in front of the door, "Just - be yourself."

Lilla then opens the door and allows him through before closing the door.

Lando just stands there for a second and then looks forward and sees you reading through the notes that you have as you sit in the chair. You look up at him after you hear the door open, then close.

You smile at him and stand to greet him.

"Hello, I'm Vanessa Van Draak," You say as you hold your hand out to him.

"Lando, Norris," Lando says as he returns your handshake.

"Ready?" You question as you point to the chair opposite of you.

Lando nods and takes a seat in the chair.

"So, these are the main questions I have and will discuss. After these, we don't have to stay on topic," You tell him.

Lando nods, "Okay, I wasn't told much about what this interview was supposed to be beforehand, so this helps greatly."

After just a few minutes, he nods to you as you look at him, as there is a message coming through from Lilla about being ready to start.

"Hello and welcome to Curated Corner, I'm your host Vanessa Van Draak, and this is Sports Sunday."

Sports Sunday theme music plays through the speakers, making Lando smile at the quirkiness.

"Today I am here with eight-time grand prix winner, with his latest race win in his home race of Silverstone, Lando Norris."

"Hi," Lando said with a smile that could be heard for miles.

It was an interview that was scheduled for only two hours, but you two sat there for over four hours talking about more than just the race win or Formula One.

When the episode was released, you posted to your Instagram about how more than two episodes were needed to hold all of what was talked about, with each episode of the other two episodes coming on Thursday and Friday.

The fans went crazy over the three episodes, saying that you brought out this side of Lando that wasn't seen much anymore. One that was carefree and didn't need to watch himself and what he said around the media.

Within days, there were many edits of the two of you together, from just these three episodes.

Before the season was even up, Lando was in a relationship with you, and fans noticed before you two had even gone public with your relationship, because Lando was happier.

And to think it all started with an interview that Lando thought wasn't going to be enjoyable, but it was enjoyable, probably the most enjoyable interview he's ever done.

A/N: Winner in the 400 Follower Cele This or That poll

Tags: @poppyflower-22 @samantha-chicago @barcelonaloverf1life @tallrock35 @ellen3101 @llando4norris @mcmuppet @issi-loves-dannyric @1800-love-me @barcelonaloverf1life @scopeiguess @01rrdbull @charli123456789 @smashcrabsblog @hadids-world @amz824 @taetae-armyyyyy @watermelonslut @wishesofficial @gigicisneros @hellothere9597

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop

#f1 #formula 1 #lando norris #ln4 #mclaren #lando norris x reader #lando imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris x oc #lando norris x you #lando x reader #ln #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 fluff #lnfour #ln4 fic

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lonerslug · 2 days ago

Note

could u make a fic about arcane but the characters are just acting? Like they are actors filming the show arcane. (it could be about all the characters or just sevika:3)

“AND… ACTION!”

Sevika kicks open the prop door, cigarette in her mouth, artificial metal arm gleaming under the studio lights. She stalks in like she owns the bar. Because she does. According to the script.

“You think you can just waltz into my territory?” she snarls at Vi, voice deep and gravelly. Vi doesn’t flinch.

“I didn’t come here to talk,” Vi says coolly, fists clenched, chin up.

They stare each other down.

Silence.

Then Sevika pauses, squints.

“…is that a redbull in your back pocket?”

Vi bursts out laughing.

“CUT!”

Someone from behind the camera groans.

“You guys, please. This is the eighth take.”

Sevika waves her cigar around like a conductor’s wand. “Why is she allowed to smuggle energy drinks onto set? I get a pat-down for gum.”

Vi’s still laughing, holding up the offending can. “I was gonna drink it after, but Queen of Metal Arms here got so close I felt it crushing my ass.”

The director facepalms. “Can we reset? Back to one. Sevika, maybe just don’t sniff her pocket this time?”

“Not making promises,” Sevika mutters, smirking.

INT. MAKEUP TRAILER - MORNING

Sevika lounges in a chair wearing pajama pants and a robe, eyes closed as a makeup artist buffs fake grime onto her cheek.

Next to her, Silco’s actor is sipping an oat milk latte and reading The New Yorker.

“You see Jinx’s stunt double sprain her ankle yesterday?” he asks casually.

“She flew across the set,” Sevika says. “I told them the zipline was too fast.”

“Production says they’ll ‘tone it down.’” He makes air quotes. “So probably just send someone else flying into a wall tomorrow.”

“Love this job.”

“Insane job.”

They sip their drinks in synchronized deadpan silence.

INT. COSTUME HOLDING – LUNCH BREAK.

Caitlyn’s actor is sitting on the floor, eating chips from her corset.

Jinx is upside down on the couch, legs dangling over the backrest, hair full of bobby pins. She’s mid-rant.

“So then I told the intimacy coordinator I wasn’t kissing Vi,” Jinx says, gesturing wildly. “And he goes, ‘Why not? It’s subtextual.’ And I’m like, what’s subtextual is that I want to push her down a flight of stairs, not kiss her!”

Vi, entering with a burrito: “I’d let you. That’s real friendship.”

Caitlyn: “I thought you two were fighting about the stunt choreography?”

“We are.”

“We’re always fighting,” Jinx calls.

“We’re sisters,” Vi says with a shrug. “Canonically and spiritually.”

They bump fists. Chips fly everywhere.

INT. STAGE B – NIGHT SHOOT.

Scene: Silco’s death.

Sevika’s supposed to be holding back tears, rage bubbling under her stoic surface. The lights are low. Everything is quiet.

Except the crew can hear someone wheezing behind the set walls.

“Who the hell —” Silcos actor sits up, breaking character.

The boom mic guy peeks out. “Sorry. Jinx tried to make me laugh by texting ‘Silco dies like a girlboss’ and I couldn’t hold it in.”

Sevika loses it.

“GIRLBOSS?!” she wheezes. “HE DIED IN MY ARMS.”

Jinx, “Feminism, babe.”

INT. AMBESSA’S TRAILER – LATE NIGHT.

The cast thinks Sevika goes home after shoots.

She doesn’t.

She slips into a black trailer with tinted windows, where Ambessa waits with her hair tied up and a glass of red wine.

“How many retakes today?” she asks, lounging on the couch in silk pajamas.

“Too many. Vi kept forgetting her lines. Jinx knocked over a camera. I forgot how to walk once.”

“Charming,” ambessa says, sipping.

Sevika flops onto the couch beside her, pulls her boots off with a grunt. “This show’s gonna kill me.”

“You love it,” Ambessa teases, brushing hair from Sevika’s forehead. “You love pretending to be angry and grizzled and morally gray.”

“I am angry and grizzled and morally gray.”

Ambessa smirks. “You cried at the end of Paddington 2.”

“That bear was framed.”

They kiss, quietly, off-script.

INT. CAST WRAP PARTY – LAST DAY OF FILMING.

Everyone’s screaming. Jinx brought a karaoke mic. Viktor is drunk. Ekko is dancing. Caitlyn is telling Jayce to shut up about his personal brand.

Sevika’s in a suit jacket over a tank top, dancing with a drink in one hand and Ambessa’s hand in the other.

“You know people are gonna ship us now,” Ambessa murmurs in her ear.

“They already do,” Sevika says. “There’s fanart.”

“What?”

“Someone tagged me in a drawing of us making out. In full costume. On a tank.”

Ambessa laughs, deep and rich.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” she asks.

Sevika just pulls her closer, presses a kiss to her neck, and whispers:

“Hope they post more.”

a/n: i hope this was okayyy??

taglist: @georgiahs-stuff @illbecanon @riotstemple29 @shanesevikasfuckdoll @sapphicstrawcore @sevikaswinkinghole @shxdy0ariia @barelykiramman @sevikas-whore

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xxfangirl365xx · 2 days ago

Text

OKAY I NEED TO PUT MY THEORY OUT HERE I WAS TALKING ABOUT ON DISCORD LAST NIGHT SO IF I AM RIGHT I CAN LOOK BACK AND SEE!!!

so, I think every show will be different, it will all be different props,costumes,scripted pieces and be more like a whole musical being acted out every night until we get to the end (the Mexico city shows) where they have "unfinished business"

because the other shows in south east asia r NOT marketed as long live shows. They dont have the font and any of the marketing the long live ones do.

I think the black parade is going to overthrow the dictator and we will get to watch them go on a crazy rampage around the country before ending it in Mexico.

(edited at 1:27 pm cause I didnt read something fully oops)

I need to find the interview but there is a interview of gerard from 2014 (ish) during HA era and he says about how they were planning for paper kingdom (ik this tour is not paper kingdom btw) they wanted to do a whole stage production, like a play and costumes and scripts and acting it out.

SO WHAT IF THEY R DOING THAT NOW

THIS COULD BE A MUSICAL LIKE PRODUCTION HE HAD WANTED TO DO BEFORE THE BREAK UP!

SO NOT THE SAME STORY BUT THE PRODUCTION VIBE!

timestamp 1:13

youtube

so I think this is the vibe chat!

let me know what u think tho and ofc don't forget frank telling us were not prepared for what they have in store <3

#my chemical romance #mcr #my chemical fucking romance #gerard way #gee way #g way #ray toro #frank iero #mikey way #Youtube

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thatonegrimm · 2 hours ago

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Helluuu, I just read the post/req that reader called saja boys "husband" to get a creep to scram

Sooo, what about marriage proposal 😍 like, will saja boy ask the big question??? 🥰

(No need to do if ur too busy, thank you!)

Thank you for the request! This is such a sweet idea ❤️ Here you go!💌

🌙Saja Boys x Reader—marriage proposal

---------------------

🧿 Jinu

Jinu had the ring for weeks.

It lived in a tiny box tucked inside an even tinier compartment in his nightstand, where he checked on it more often than he’d admit. He practiced the words under his breath while brushing his teeth. Rehearsed with Derpy. Even tried to script the moment—quiet music, nice dinner, sunset maybe.

But none of it felt right.

Until one lazy morning, you walked into the kitchen wearing one of his hoodies, hair messy, yawning like a cat. You rubbed your eyes and said, “Hi,” like it was the best part of your day.

And something in him broke open.

"Wait," he said, heart in his throat. "Don't move."

You blinked, confused, as Jinu bolted to the bedroom. When he returned, he was breathless, ring box clutched in hand.

“I was gonna wait,” he said, “but then you walked in like that and I just—no. I wanna wake up to that face for the rest of my life. Please?”

You stared.

“Please marry me,” he added, stumbling through the words with zero coolness and full sincerity. “I’ll re-ask it better later. But for now. Say yes?”

Your mouth fell open—and then you smiled so big it made him tear up.

“Yes,” you whispered, arms around his neck. “Even if you do re-ask it later.”

He absolutely would.

But the first time was already perfect.

---------------------

💪 Abby

It was the day after a grueling performance—everyone sore, exhausted, barely functioning. But Abby insisted you come with him to the beach, just for an hour. “Fresh air,” he said. “You’ll like it.”

You didn’t expect to find a blanket already laid out. Your favorite snacks. A thermos of cocoa. And Abby, trying not to look proud of himself as he offered you a seat.

“Okay,” you said, narrowing your eyes, “what’s all this?”

He shrugged. “Wanted to spend time with you.”

He did. But also, he was nervous as hell.

You lay side by side for a while, watching the ocean. It was quiet. Golden.

And then Abby shifted. Sat up. Fished something out of his hoodie pocket.

“I’m not great with fancy speeches,” he started, voice low and a little shaky. “But you already know that.”

You turned toward him, breath catching.

“But I’ve been thinking… if I’m gonna build something strong—like really strong—I want it to be with you. And I want to protect it for the rest of my life.”

He opened the box.

Simple. Classic. Completely him.

“So, yeah. Will you marry me?”

You didn’t even let him finish before throwing your arms around his neck.

“Abby,” you whispered, laughing against his shoulder. “You absolute idiot. Of course I will.”

He held you tight like he’d just won the whole damn world.

---------------------

📚 Mystery

Mystery didn’t make plans like this. Not usually.

But tonight, the rooftop was clear. The moon was covered. The night sky was soft.

And you were beside him, legs tucked under a blanket, sharing the silence.

He reached into his coat and pulled out something small—a folded scrap of paper. At first, you thought it was a note. But when you unfolded it, something heavy slid into your palm.

A ring.

Plain but smooth. Black, with faint silver etching along the inside.

You looked up, heart thudding.

Mystery didn’t smile.

He looked at you. Like really looked, in that way only he could. Quiet. Intense. Real.

“I didn’t think I’d ever want to be known this much,” he murmured. “But you made it feel… right. Like the world got quieter when you said my name.”

You couldn’t breathe.

“I’m still a work in progress,” he added. “But if you want me… if you’ll have me…”

He paused.

“I want to be yours. Every strange, sharp part of me.”

You didn’t say anything for a long time. Just slid the ring onto your finger and curled your hand around his.

“Yes,” you whispered. “Always.”

Mystery didn’t smile.

But his hand trembled when he held yours.

---------------------

💋 Romance

You thought it was just a regular performance night.

Until the lights dimmed early.

And the screen above the stage flickered to life.

Photos of you. Candid, blurry, sweet. Clips of your voice, giggling off-camera. A song you didn’t recognize but that clearly had you in the lyrics.

And then—

Romance.

Walking onto the stage in a fitted black suit, looking nervous for the first time in your life.

“This,” he said into the mic, “is the scariest and easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

You froze.

“I fall in love with you every day. In dressing rooms, in traffic jams, in grocery store lines. You’ve turned every ordinary thing into a love story.”

A hush fell over the room.

“I don’t want it to be a story that ends.”

He knelt. Right there. With a ring that sparkled under the lights and a gaze that didn’t look anywhere but at you.

“So please, my love,” he said. “Let’s make this permanent. Marry me?”

Your hands flew to your mouth.

And through a blur of happy tears, you nodded.

He was on his feet in a flash, lifting you into his arms.

The crowd exploded.

But he only looked at you.

As if none of them mattered. Only you.

---------------------

🔥 Baby

He didn’t ask your size.

He just made the ring.

Melted scrap metal, crushed stones, laced it with fire and a whisper of demon magic. He worked on it when you weren’t looking, lips pursed, soot on his cheek, hands covered in tiny burns.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was his.

The night he gave it to you, there were no candles. No setup.

Just Baby handing you a small black pouch in the hallway, looking like he might combust from nerves.

“…I made you something.”

You peeked inside.

Your heart skipped.

“You didn’t even ask if I’d say yes,” you said, voice catching.

Baby crossed his arms, defensive. “Yeah, because I know you’ll say yes.”

You stared at him.

He looked ready to fight you for your own hand in marriage.

You stepped forward, eyes shining.

“Of course I’ll marry you.”

“…You will?”

“Yes,” you whispered, brushing your thumb over his jaw. “You chaotic, flame-sneezing gremlin. I love you.”

He blinked.

“…Okay cool,” he said, trying and failing not to smile. “Yeah. Cool. Good. Okay.”

Then he kissed you like you’d just promised him eternity.

Because you had.

---------------------

M-List

#kpdh x reader #kpop demon hunters #saja boys x reader #baby x reader #jinu x reader #mystery x reader #abby x reader #romance x reader #kpdh

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which-star · 5 hours ago

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if you have more american university au ideas PLEASE keep talking about them this is so funny

at what point does Zoey find out about the hunters? and how does she react?

oh wow, yes! I wasn't expecting that post to blow up as it did but I have plenty ideas! Here's some specifically silly ones and the answers to your questions! I didn't want to make it too long but here we are 😭😭

Rumira dorming together! Celine did what she could but she could NOT get Rumi a private room. This naturally makes everything so much harder.

Zoey is a commuter student. She's complaining about the long, awkward in-between classes time and wanting to take a nap and Mira completely unprompted goes "you can nap in my bed"

USAmericans have a universal script and whenever they veer off the typical "How are you" "I'm good" speel, Rumi panics hard. She freezes, she can only think of two phrases and it's thank you and I'm fine. She gives Zoey the most pathetic puppy eyes screaming SOS

Mira HATES tip culture. She hates that we have to add the tax mentally. She especially hates how food delivery ends when the restaurants close. What do you MEAN I can't order chicken at 3AM?? I'm literally hungry?

Rumira don't understand the American way of showing up to class in your pjs. Imagine two of the hottest international students in your class at 9AM dressed to the nines and a Zoey shaped gremlin drowning in a tourist tee, pj bottoms, and Christmas socks. It's September.

Zoey lovessss boba. Of course she does, she's Asian-American like hello? Rumira do Not get the appeal and think it's too expensive like wdym it's $8 for a boba drink it's like half that in Korea? Just for sugar balls?

God. So many language barrier problems. Zoey yaps in circles around them in English and rumira are struggling to keep up. Wtf does ily pls don't go bald mean...

Mira also keeps using Korean acronyms and slang Zoey is Not caught up on. Like help... her Korean slang knowledge is five years behind... she still uses the terms 인싸/아싸... When Mira hears Zoey use the saying "no jam" 100% seriously she almost cries laughing bc girl... that's sooooo 2010s....

Zoey orders for them when they go out together. Imagine two kicked puppies trailing behind their sole provider. Yeah.

Zoey genuinely thinks they're joking about being hunters the first time. Like yeaj.... we're hunters... right... and then she runs into demons and she subsequently has a meltdown

They were trying to prime her mentally for this beforehand but Zoey kept brushing them off like oh it must be their hyper fixation or special interest lol idk why else they'd want to constantly talk about Korean mythology otherwise

At one point she thinks they're part of some cult. She's heard from her mom that cults are a big problem in Korea, that's a viable reason for their weirdness, right?

She's a lot more on board after the demon incident, but she doesn't see the point in moving to Korea

I haven't quite nailed down their majors. I was debating Zoey being a music major either in piano or general production but I can also see her in music education or, curveball, marine biology/veterinary science :) Mira feels very liberal arts major to me and Rumi would definitely choose something more by-the-book. Feel free to send more asks!

#asks #kpop demon hunters #polytrix #zoey kpdh #rumi kpdh #mira kpdh #I came back from the movie theater to 99+ notifs I was like omg....#kpdh #I've had kr student friends make me and other korams do spellings tests lmaoo #they also quizzed me on my korean geography? things I have no business knowing

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juceys · 1 day ago

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home jey uso

— where you and jey quickly became a fan-favorite mixed tag team with chemistry that no one could deny… chemistry that stems from a past relationship that ended — in a word, terribly.

pairing ex!jey uso x female reader wc 7.2k+ (sorry… lmao) genre exes to lovers fluff angst suggestive warnings explicit language implied smut not proofread leki’s note lil gift from me for 100+ <3 writing this mid writers block was such a PAIN ,,, hopefully i did it some justice lol.

mini playlist strange, celeste. ring, cardi b ft. kehlani. nothing left to say, mint condition. back to friends, sombr. f2f, sza. blessed, daniel caesar. all night, beyoncé. i swear, all-4-one.

your name is trending again.

not for a win. not for a loss. not for a scandal. but for the chemistry.

specifically, the undeniable, insane, tense, can’t-take-your-eyes-off-it chemistry between you… and your ex.

jey uso.

“wwe struck gold with this duo” was the main headline for multiple media outlets. pairing two old rivals, both coming off solo losses, into a new mixed tag team with heavy “can’t stand each other” energy.

the audience? obsessed. backstage crew? buzzing. you? losing your mind every second of every day.

if only people knew that “can’t stand each other’ energy wasn’t just a façade, and that you really weren’t acting. if you could, you’d pick a different partner simply to strangle jey.

you’d seen some of the fans’ tweets — some convinced you two have history with each other, others denying it by saying “they’re just good at selling.”

truth is that you and jey have more than just history together. what you two had, was a house you built too fast — then watched fall in slow motion.

only your shared tight and close circle knew — the late night drives and road trips. the hotel rooms that smelt like sweat and hope. the kisses that felt like fireworks. the plans for the future together, whispered under the covers. the arguments that grew fast like his ego. the breakup that shattered your world.

you laughed at the predicament you’re in. getting ready to go out with jey — the man who used to whisper love into your skin then let you go as if you meant nothing. you curse your past lives for what ever karma their actions have bestowed upon you now.

“aye,” he says, low under his breath, still focused on wrapping his finger. “you remember the beats?”

you nod. sharp. distant. “yeah.”

you catch him in the corner of your eye as he glances at you for a split second, before looking ahead. “‘ight.”

then the music hit. the crowd went feral, an immediate pop at the sound of your music. the promo tonight was supposed to be simple. you’d come out first, delivering a harsh line regarding your tag opponents. then jey would come out, interrupting you with his cocky swagger, get in your face and tease you until the tension “snapped.”

the key words were almost snap on the script.

not fully snap.

you stepped into the ring, mic in hand, heart pounding harder than it should. your promo was smooth, sharp, biting — everything the crowd was wanting. you could tell the crowd was into it when you said —

“and if our opponents think this “dysfunctional duo” can’t get the job done and work together — well, you can ask them how “dysfunctional” i looked last week pinning that so-called champion.”

cue his music. cue that cocky walk down the ramp. cue that familiar smirk you used to kiss first thing when you woke up.

he slid into the ring like he owned it, leaning on the ropes with his eyes locked on yours. but that look wasn’t on script. and heat growing in your chest wasn’t either.

“aw, so now you tryna brag?” he asks, voice smooth as silk. “that was cute. you practice that one in the mirror, baby?”

the crowd laughs.

“oh please,” you roll your eyes. “just telling everyone how i’m carrying the team since someones been a bit slow lately.”

the crowd oohs.

he steps closer. you hold your head higher.

“you always talk like this when you talk ‘bout me?” he asks, tilting his head. “or is it ‘cause miss bein’ this close to me?”

boom. off-script.

you blink. the crowd howls.

he was supposed to say, “you always talk this much when you nervous?” and another line that you’ve now forgotten. that’s what the writers gave him. that’s what you’d rehearsed. but this?

this got personal. fast.

your jaw tightens. “funny. you want me to miss you when it was you who let me walk out those doors without putting up a fight.”

he stilled. the pop from the audience was deafening — but not as deafening as the silence that hung in the air between you. they thought this was part of the show, but the vulnerability in your voice wasn’t.

jey moves right in front of you. “i did fight,” he says, voice lower. “that was real.”

you stared up at him. “you didn’t fight for shit.”

you feel your blood boiling, and that’s when you remember what you’re supposed to be doing. you turn back to the crowd, shoulders tense.

“y’know, people say chemistry in and out the ring is the most important thing for a tag team. and some could argue that me and him? no chemistry whatsoever. but you know what? we don’t need chemistry if we still come out as winners. and that’s all that matters.”

the crowd ate it up, immediately doing your signature chant as others began yeeting. little did you know, that jey stood behind you, blood boiling just as much as yours.

the promo was over. but everything felt unfinished.

you barely made it through the curtain before the adrenaline came crashing down.

your feet hit the floor hard, each step echoing down the hall as you walked away from gorilla. you felt lightheaded, blood rushing to your head all at once. stagehands, crew and producers scrambled past you, throwing glances. everyone knew the promo went sideways — not because you two broke character, but because something real slipped through. something painful.

but you couldn’t care less right now. right now you just needed a peace of mind.

you made it down a quiet corner, just past the locker room. somewhere dim, quiet, out of traffic. you squat down, head on your knees as your hands continue to shake. from the performance, from the heat, from him —

“aye.”

you didn’t have to look up to recognize the owner of that voice.

“not right now, josh.”

he hears the slight unwavering in your voice, and immediately softens. he squats down too, “hey, you good?”

you look up at him. you see the genuine look in his eyes, but it doesn’t stop you from pushing his hand off. “i’m fine. just told you i don’t wanna do this right now.”

he scoffs. “you don’t wanna do this? i ain’t the one who threw that line out there first.”

your jaw clenched. “you went off-script.”

“so did you.”

you hate how good he looks. you hate how he still smells like the past. you hate that part of you still wants to reach for him, rather than shove him.

“because you made it personal, joshua! you started this shit the minute you wanted to go off script!” you hissed, jabbing your pointer finger into his toned chest.

his jaw tightens the second he hears ‘joshua’. you never called him that, even after your breakup. except for when things were bad… like, really bad.

“you think i don’t know that? you think i ain’t feel it when you said that allat ‘bout walking away?”

you stand up and look away. “good. you should feel it.”

he moves to be completely in your view, forcing you to look up at him. “you think i ain’t try to fix things? that night you left, i-“

“you didn’t do shit, joshua.”

“you didn’t run after me. didn’t call. didn’t show up. you let me leave,” you say, voice bitter and harsh.

“i didn’t know what to do, aight?!” he says, voice rough. “you left like it ain’t mean nothin’. like we ain’t mean nothin’. you wan’ me to be real? to be honest? i was scared as hell.”

you blink, shocked at his sudden vulnerability. but you shoved it back, anger rising once again.

“i was scared too, josh!” you snap. “i was scared, but i was more than willing to find a way to make things work, if it was you. and i would’ve stayed if you had just given me one reason to.”

a beat of silence stretched between you two — pulsing, heavy, electric.

he stared at you, chest rising. you could see the veins in his forehead and neck, the frustration, the ache.

he closes his eyes, “you felt that out there.” his voice is softer now, quieter. “don’t lie.”

you stayed quiet. still.

“you still feel this,” he adds, stepping so close your foreheads are lightly — barely touching. “even if you hate me right now.”

your heart hammers against your ribs as you swallow. you can’t move. and even if you could, you wouldn’t.

you sigh before whispering, “it’s not that simple, josh.”

his eyes open at that, “it never was.”

his eyes drop to your lips for a split second, and God, the way your body reacted was unfair.

you want to slap him. you want to kiss him. you want to scream and grab him by the collar. you want to strip him out of his clothes and let everyone know he’s yours.

his fingers are twitching by his sides, like it’s taking everything in his power to not touch you. (it is.)

“don’t do that,” you breathe.

“do what, mama?”

you feel a rush at the mention of that nickname. a rush that only he knew how to fix. a lower body rush that you couldn’t let be the reason you finally cave after all these months.

“look at me like that.”

he doesn’t budge, body still on fire.

your hand twitches, like you might reach for him. like maybe, just maybe, you’ll let yourself want him again. and you think you’re about to, when — buzz! it breaks the trance you’re both in as you read a text from trinity, remembering you had dinner plans with her tonight.

“i gotta go,” you murmur, walking past him.

he didn’t follow, didn’t call after you.

but you both knew this was far from over.

the windows are down, cool breeze mixing with your playlist you queued up. thankfully the restaurant trinity picked out wasn’t too far from your hotel, so you were able to freshen up a bit before heading on over.

as you stop at a red light, your mind is still consumed with the thought of jey. the interaction in the hallway. that’s the most you’ve talked to him since getting paired up.

you think back to how you even became a tag team in the first place.

…

“me and him?” you asked, in disbelief.

you were sat in a chair opposite to the head writers and staff, jey was standing near you, opting to not sit in the chair next to you.

“it’ll be good, for the both of you! you two are our hottest superstars right now, it makes sense. you two’ll draw in more attention together than you would individually,” creative said.

there was a beat of silence as creative looked between the both of you, the silent tension becoming more and more obvious by the second. hell, your seat was faced away from jey and you two didn’t share a word at all.

“is there something we’re missing between you?”

“no!” you were almost too quick to respond.

furrowing their brows, “so you’ll do it?”

you were about to speak for the both of you, since you were the only one talking when —

“yeah,” jey nods. “we’ll do it.”

you looked at jey, not even surprised he agreed without asking you. then you looked back at creative, about to stand your ground.

“perfect! we’ll get you your guys’ scripts soon.”

and that was it. now you’re two weeks deep into this storyline and you wish you told creative you’d rather eat a pile of dog poop than be paired with him.

…

you’re drawn out of your thoughts when you realize f2f by sza was playing. oh fuck this shit, you grumble as you turn off your playlist completely. there goes your attempt of trying to drown out your thoughts while avoiding silence.

you eventually make it to the restaurant, catching each other up on small details that occurred after your brief face-time a few nights ago.

dinner was going by smoothly — the restaurant was dim, warm, quiet. it’s the kind of environment you’d usually relax in.

until trinity took notice of your untouched plate.

“you haven’t touched your food,” she says with a tilted head.

you stab half-heartedly at a piece of grilled chicken, “guess i’m not that hungry.”

“bullshit.”

your eyes flicker up to hers. if there’s two things trinity knows best about you, it’s that you’re always hungry and would never pass up on a meal, and that no matter how hard you’ll try to hide things, she could always read straight through you. like glass on a window.

“you’re spiraling,” she says gently.

she sets down her glass, leaning towards you. “this about the promo?”

you stayed quiet. you didn’t know how to answer. in fact, you didn’t know if you wanted to answer. saying it out loud would make it real, and you weren’t sure if you’re ready to handle that all over again.

so she answers for you.

“that wasn’t scripted, was it? that was really you talking.”

you let out a breath and drop your fork onto the plate. “it wasn’t anything. it doesn’t mean anything.”

“don’t lie to me babe,” she says, giving a knowing smile. “i saw the way you looked at him. the way he looked at you. you still get that feeling, don’t you?”

your throat tightened, closing your eyes as you replay that moment in the ring. crazy how the person who hurt you the most, can also be the person you yearn for the most.

“i almost gave in, trin,” you say, barely audible. “i almost touched him, let him touch me.”

trinitys expression softened even more. “and?”

you swallowed hard. “i didn’t. i couldn’t. i can’t let him back in trin, not like this. and especially not this fast.”

“couldn’t?” she repeats. “or wouldn’t?”

she reaches across the table for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“what you and josh had, that was something real. something worth putting into storybooks. but the way things ended? it was awful, not only on yourself but for him too. you know just how upset i was at him too,” she says.

you remember that night like it was yesterday. and even if you didn’t, nothing could erase the pain that still burned like it was yesterday.

…

“joshua, are you fucking kidding?” you burst, anger consuming your whole being.

it was another night with another argument. arguments seemed to be a frequent occurrence the last few weeks of your relationship.

you didn’t want to fight. you didn’t want to feel angry. but when he walked in, smelling like a perfume that you definitely don’t wear, what other choice did you have?

he’d came home late after a night out… again. it was always the same excuses. “works getting rough, jus’ need some time for myself,” or some variation of that.

but you were growing tired of it. you were sick of sleeping alone. over the distance that was slowly starting to grow between you two. frustrated with hearing people talk, saying things regarding jey’s flirty nature.

but that night, you woke up to texts and missed calls from friends. you opened your messages to find videos of some random girl all up on, what looks like, to be jey. he wasn’t necessarily touching her, but he wasn’t pushing her off either.

“baby, it ain’t what it look like, i swear,” he says, reaching for you but you back away.

“isn’t what it looks like?! joshua, you let that girl dance on you! you let her twerk and do only God knows what else that wasn’t on video! you didn’t stop her at all, and you wanna tell me it isn’t what it fucking looks like?!”

you feel your body heating up, your chest burning like you downed too many shots of don julio.

“i wasn’t born yesterday.”

he looks apologetic, but there’s nothing he could do or say that could fix any of this.

“i swear it ain’t like that! baby, it was a mistake! i shouldn’t have let her do allat, i know, and i’m sorry mama.”

you look at him — into his eyes — and you realize this isn’t the joshua you know and have grown to love with every fiber in you. this isn’t the josh that held you during your worst, and celebrated you at your best.

this was… this was someone else.

maybe he was right. maybe he was spending too much time at work. maybe he let ‘main event jey uso’ image consume his whole being, even outside of work.

even when he was supposed to be just josh at home with you.

you can’t deny it anymore. not the distance. not the video. not when the man standing in front of you, isn’t even yours anymore.

“you’ve changed, josh. and not for the better,” you say, breath shaky, holding back the tears forming in your eyes.

“i don’t know who you think you’re feeling like, but you can go ahead and pretend to be this person you’ve convinced yourself you are, without me.”

thankfully, you packed a bag the minute you watched the gut-wrenching video, assuming this would be the way the night ended. so with that, you grabbed it, grabbed your keys, and left.

and jey? was still stuck in the room. still stuck in his mind. he felt paralyzed, not moving an inch.

he should’ve stopped you. ran after you. chased after you. but he didn’t. and now, it’s too late. the woman he loves most, was gone.

…

the sound of trinitys voice snaps you back to reality.

“i know things only ended a good 7, 8 months ago. and i know you’d rather run from your feelings, and him, than face it. but i think it’s been enough time for you to both grow individually, you know? you don’t have to let him back in all the way babe… but you can let him just stand in the doorway a little while.”

“just because something broke, doesn’t mean it can’t still mean something to you.”

trinitys words cut deep. this was the first time you’d talk about your new tag team situation with her, always avoiding the topic since you knew it’d end like this — her clocking you, per usual.

you stare at your glass, suddenly unsure if you’re holding it for comfort or if it’s replacing something else you want to hold onto.

you flash a small smile, “y’know, i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

she reciprocates the warm smile, “you know i gotchu girl… always.”

eventually, you wrapped up dinner with trinity, saying your goodbyes before you each went to your separate hotels. you flopped onto the bed, body still warm from your shower. today was… a day, to say the least. from the intense conversation with jey, to your dinner with trinity, it was a lot for one day alone.

both of their words lingered in your head, and you think you’ve never felt so confused before. however, your brain feels fried after being put on overtime, so you snuggle under the covers and finally shut your eyes — after slightly wishing jey would show up in your dreams.

and maybe, in that dream, you’d finally figure out what you want.

a week flew by before you knew it. you started allowing yourself to be in his presence — without flinching, without having a cold exterior, without hating yourself for not hating him.

and it didn’t help that the producers forced you to be in each others presence either. “obviously, you two still have some tension,” they said. “might as well room together, yall can work that out off-camera.”

you wanted to laugh, or maybe break down. or both. instead, you just nodded — like this was fine. like sleeping five feet away from the man who used to sleep five inches apart from you, wouldn’t drive you insane.

it’s been four nights of sharing a hotel room with the man you once loved so hard, it nearly broke you.

and surprisingly, it doesn’t feel strange anymore. it doesn’t feel foreign as you once made it feel.

the first night was — stiff. you both felt like you were walking on eggshells around each other. you barely shared words, and if you did, they were short. cold. never too much, but not too little. you both stuck to your sides of the room as if you’d get scolded if you didn’t. that didn’t stop him from giving you one of his pillows though, remembering that you can’t sleep without holding something.

the second night cracked things open just a little bit. it was a much longer and exhausting work day, and the even longer press interviews didn’t help either. he ordered food, ate in silence, then laughed — like genuinely laughed — at some side comment he made about the show that was playing. you actually held small talk with him too, surprising the both of you. just talking about surface level things, nothing deep or serious — but still, you both went to sleep with that warm feeling in your chests, one that only ever came with each other.

the third night, you think you’ve fallen into a rhythm. you shower first while he orders, refusing to let you pay. guess some things never change, you figure. you swap places, and you set up everything to start eating once he gets out. you were more comfortable this time around, ignoring the little voice in your head telling you to push him away. you missed this. the intimacy only you two could have.

tonight was your last night together for the rest of the week, before flying back to atlanta for a two day break. you just finished packing your suitcase, now sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone when there was a knock on the door.

“i got it,” you hear from the bathroom door. you hear the muttered words between the dasher and jey, before he finally makes his way over to the living room area. and suddenly, you regret letting jey get the door instead.

normally he’d get dressed in the bathroom, coming out when he was clothed. but now he was standing in front of you with a towel around his waist, and another thrown over his shoulder. drops of water trail from his hair, to his inked chest, down his happy trail… stop right there, you tell yourself. now is not the time to be eye-fucking your ex, or at least you hope he didn’t notice.

he did. the smirk on his face told you so.

a part of you feels as if this is deja vu. the way he’s relaxed —shoulders noticeably lower — clean and half-dressed, walking around the shared space like he belongs there.

like you belong there too. like nothing’s changed, and you two are the same people from 7 months ago.

he eventually throws on a pair of shorts and a black wife beater, and if you thought that wasn’t bad enough, he then moves his chair to be right next to yours. “so i can see the tv better,” he said. yeah right, you thought.

you barely eat, staring at the tv then back at your food. you feel… overwhelmed, in a sense. the smell of your waffles was replaced with the scent of jey. if you slightly moved to your left, you’d be skin to skin with him. you remember you didn’t tell him your exact order, only shouting a “yes” back when he asked you mid-shower. yet he still remembered.

he takes notice of your untouched plate and mind that seems to be elsewhere. “you okay?” he says, soft and gentle.

you look at him, still focused on the chocolate chip waffle in front of him. “yeah… just thinking.”

he hums, “yeah? ‘bout what, mama?”

here he goes again with the nickname. he knows how bad you used to fold at the mention of said nickname. and he knew just how wet it’d make you too.

you ignore the feeling in your lower stomach. “about how… weird this is. how it’s weird this is all still so, easy.”

“it never stopped bein’ easy. you just stopped lettin’ it be easy.”

you swallow. hard.

you think back to trin’s words. maybe this was one of those moments where you allow him to stand in the door. where you let your vulnerability show through.

you take a deep breath in, mentally preparing yourself. “i missed this. missed you.”

he stills before looking at you. there’s a glint of guilt in his eyes. he looks caught off guard, and rightfully so considering you were the one who blocked him on everything.

“pretty girl…”

you feel embarrassed at the lack of response, feeling the flush of blood rushing to your cheeks. “forget it,” you say, looking down to your lap.

“i missed you too, mama.”

now, you still, meeting his eyes.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” he says, firm. sure of himself. “you all i think about. every day, nonstop.”

you feel your throat swell. you didn’t realize it, but you two had moved closer to each other. you feel his soft breaths on your cheeks, and you can see he’s aching to touch you. to feel you.

you grab his hands for him, placing one on your cheek, dragging the other down your body, slowly. the air between you isn’t just thick — it’s drowning the both of you. months of tension, miscommunication, regret — and it’s all piling up at once. you’re sure you’re gonna regret doing this, but honestly you couldn’t bring yourself to give a damn. not when you’re finally sure of what you want for once.

and that would be wanting jey, in this moment. right now.

“show me then.”

“show me how bad you missed me, baby,” you whisper, stopping the hand moving down your body, right over the wet patch forming on your panty from the minute he walked out the bathroom.

you hear a low growl before he moves to capture your lips with his. clothes were soon torn off your body, as you both stumbled onto his bed. scratch marks were forming on his back, while hickeys blossomed all over your body. especially between your inner thighs. your screams and moans were muffled into the pillows, while his grunts were bouncing off the walls. apologies were whispered into your ears with you barely processing them — not when his mushroom tip was hitting that spongy spot that made your toes curl.

you woke up the next morning with your legs tangled together, his face pressed into your neck. his arm was slung around your waist, holding you like you were still his.

for a moment, you let yourself stay still. you let yourself breathe him in — the familiar scent of skin and sweat and the barest trace of your perfume still clinging on him.

like his body didn’t want to be apart from yours again. even if that meant it had to hold onto your own scent.

your fingers hovered over his arm, lightly brushing the inked lines decorating it. for a second, you thought about how easy it’d be to stay like this. how easy it’d be to pretend none of the hurt ever happened.

but easy didn’t mean right.

and comfort didn’t mean healed.

he stirred behind you, a sleepy breath warming your shoulder. “you up?” he murmured, voice rough and thick from sleep.

“mhm,” you hum.

his grip on you tightens ever so slightly. like he was afraid you’d slip away the moment he let go.

you stay in bed a little while longer, both of you being too scared to say something first. you were now facing each other, your head on his bicep as you trace the intricate tattooed lines across his chest. and he watches, he knows the cogs in your head are turning, and it’s only a matter of time before you both have to face reality.

you look up at jey to see he’s already looking at you. there’s a look in his eyes — one that’s familiar. one that you grew to love, then grew to hate.

and you knew. last night wasn’t fake, nor were the apologies. he looked like josh. not jey uso, or the persona he’d let overtake him. he was simply, josh. your josh.

you wished that things could be easier. that you could look past the pain he caused, as long as it meant you’d have these moments with him all over again.

but you can’t.

“this… this was a mistake,” you say.

not because it didn’t feel good. but because it felt too good.

his brows furrow, “what?”

you sit up, “we shouldn’t have done this.”

jey’s typically a patient man (only when it comes to you), but right now, he could feel his patience dissolving.

“what? you gon’ tell me that this ain’t mean anything?” he says, voice still as gentle as he could make it be. but you can sense the frustration seeping through.

you stand up, fumbling to freshen up and put some clothes on. “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have pushed you to do all this last night, i shouldn’t have-”

“you ain’t pushed me to do nothin’.”

he says, still on the bed, slowly moving. he knows that what had happened would’ve forced a conversation, but he didn’t think it’d be one like this.

not when you both told each other you still love each other.

“stop actin’ like i ain’t want it just as bad as you did,” his voice is firm. not unkind or harsh, just edged.

you freeze, “it doesn’t matter.” your voice drops to a whisper, “wanting something doesn’t make it right.”

jey feels like his heart was punctured — punctured by your words. he finally rises to his feet, moving slowly to you. he stands close, not too close, but close enough.

“you scared,” his voice is low.

you close your eyes, “of what?”

“you scared of this bein’ real again. scared that maybe i ain’t the only one who ain’t moved on yet.”

his voice is gentle, and it pains you to act like he’s wrong. it hurts to not let yourself give into him.

you let out a shaky breath. “yeah well… maybe if you didn’t give me a reason to be scared in the first place…” your voice wavers.

“we wouldn’t be in this position.”

ouch.

“you think i ain’t tryin’ to make up for it?” his voice cracks under the weight. “you think i ain’t spend every damn day the last seven months hatin’ myself for what happened?”

you scoff, folding your arms tightly, like it was the only thing holding yourself together. “then why didn’t you say anything? huh? why wait until we’re in this hotel room together to bring this shit up?”

“‘cause you blocked me! on everything! you ghosted me! i couldn’t say shit even if i wanted to!”

“i blocked you after you broke me!” you snap. you’re breathing heavy, chest rising and falling. “you say i ghosted you, but you ghosted me long before i did to you. you’re the one who changed joshua, not me.”

you feel your voice beginning to crack. “you don’t get to flip this around like i’m the one who walked away first.”

he runs a hand over his face, chest heaving. “i never wanted to lose you-“

“but you didn’t fight for me either!” you cut him off, eyes stinging.

“you didn’t show up, didn’t call — didn’t even try to fight, even before i left. it was like i was fighting myself!” you say, throat raw.

“you just let me go, joshua! and you expect me to think that shit wasn’t easy for you?!”

“you think it was easy?” he barks, stepping impossibly closer now, voice strained. “watchin’ you leave? knowin’ i was the reason? i ain’t even slept right since-“

“don’t,” you say, holding a hand up to his chest, tears welling in your eyes. “don’t act like you’re the victim when you’re the one who fucked everything up,” your voice is shaky as you push on his chest, emphasizing your words.

tears are falling down your cheeks now, as he stares down at you, heart breaking at the sight.

his voice is barely above a whisper when he says, “you right. ion get to play victim. and maybe, i don’t deserve to be forgiven.”

he gently takes your fragile face into his hands, forcing your glossy eyes to meet his. he’d do anything to go back in time and undo all the pain he’s caused you. even if it meant giving up wrestling.

“but i never stopped loving you. even when you hated me.”

you sigh, “that’s the problem, josh.”

“i never hated you. even though i should.”

the days passed and suddenly, you were gearing up for smackdown tonight. but you haven’t seen or spoken to jey since landing back in atlanta.

and to say things were awkward between you, would be an understatement.

you don’t exactly remember what happened after. but you do remember the silent uber to the airport. the tension between you two on the plane. and the awkward fist bump when you both went your separate ways home.

you had unblocked jey’s number a few weeks ago, when you first got paired up. but now you were debating on blocking him all over again.

you’ve ignored every text, every call and every voicemail he’s left you so far. and by ignore, you mean that you’ve read and listened to every one, but he doesn’t know that.

i jus’ needa know if you’re okay, mama.

there was a pause before you heard him take a deep breath in.

i love you… always.

the specific voicemail keeps replaying in your head. does he really? does he mean it? can you trust his word? you don’t know. and quite frankly, it has your head scrambled.

and now you had to face him in the ring, for the first time since that morning.

the lights were blinding. the roar of the crowd was thunderous. and yet — you can’t hear a thing over your pounding heart, pulsing in your ears and your chest.

you stepped into the ring as if it’s second nature, your shoes echoing against the mat as you look around. your entrance theme still pulsed in the background, but the ovation was deafening. the crowd loved you. you just hoped you wouldn’t crack under everything tonight.

the script was a light one — a simple promo to build up the tension for your next big match come monday night. it was mostly harmless banter. controlled tension.

or at least, that was the plan.

“last week wasn’t luck. wasn’t a miracle. and it sure as hell wasn’t because of him,” you smirk, tilting your head.

the crowd pops on cue. perfect.

“i carried the team, like always. and if any of you disagree, i’d love for you to come up here and say it to my face.”

and cue jey uso.

like always, he makes his way into the ring, wearing the same smirk that used to have your knees weak. instead, it’s making your stomach twist in knots.

he’s slowly circling around you. “carried the team?” he repeats, eyes flicking you up and down. “ma, only thing you carry is that grudge on your back. maybe allat attitude too, huh?”

laughter breaks out. your jaw ticks.

“well somebody gotta carry something considering your back went out months ago.”

the crowd oohs, echoing throughout the arena.

he steps closer. closer than the script called for.

your breath hitches.

“all that fire, baby… sounds like i ain’t the one who can tame it anymore.”

you think jey must love going off-script and giving you stomach aches. can we stay on script for once, you think to yourself.

your eyes narrow at him as the air crackles between you. the energy shifts — noticeable to those watching at home, but subtle enough for the producers to stay in their seats. you tilt your chin, staring at him head-on. you weren’t backing down.

you breathe in slowly.

“yeah?” you say, voice quieter but just as sharp. “it’s cause you think talking slick’ll make me forget about everything you let fall apart.”

well, now both of you went off-script.

you hear the crowds sounds of amusement, though you don’t think you can hear anything besides yourself and jey.

his smirk falters ever so slightly.

“nah… i ain’t forget, baby. i remember everything. especially the parts you ain’t let me explain.”

your chest tightens. you weren’t supposed to feel anything tonight. you don’t think you prepared yourself to feel at all tonight in general.

you step back slightly, suddenly feeling suffocated by the small amount of space between you.

but he follows, stepping towards you again.

“you mad at me for not doin’ enough. saying enough,” he says softly, mic still in range. “but you ain’t stick around long enough to listen either.”

something about the way he says it — raw, stripped, almost broken — hits you right in the gut.

you feel sick. your throat burns as you blink quickly, trying to swallow back the lump that’s quickly forming.

get out of there, is the only thing your mind tells you.

you suck in a sharp breath in an attempt to steel yourself.

“y’know what? it doesn’t matter,” you say quickly. “next week, we’ll get our week. and after that? maybe we’ll go back to being strangers. you’re better as that anyways.”

you exit the ring faster than the camera can follow your direction, leaving jey speechless and the crowd that’s howling at your “great performance.”

you nearly crash through gorilla.

the moment you were out of sight, your composure crumbled. your chest heaves. that lump in your throat? now a fully formed ache. your hand presses to your stomach as you quickly move down the hallway, trying not to fall apart completely. you duck past the staff and stagehands, ignoring their concerned looks and every “you okay?” sent your way.

until you see trinity walking straight towards you.

she saw right through you the minute jey went off-script.

she gently grabs your arm, “you leavin’?”

you nod quickly, eyes glossy. “tell them i don’t feel good. please.”

she softens, giving you a firm squeeze and light smile. “i gotchu, sis. go. i’ll cover.”

you whisper a quiet thank you before disappearing.

you’re thankful tonight’s show’s in atlanta, the comfort of your own home being right down the street as opposed to a plane ride away.

when you finally made it home, you beelined straight to the couch, not bothering to turn on the lights. the tension in your shoulders refused to melt and your mind was still stuck in the ring. replaying the whole “promo” over and over again.

your chest burned from holding everything in. you felt it out there, and you know he did too. but you hate that it still got to you — that he still got to you.

then there’s a knock on the door.

what the fuck, you think.

you didn’t tell anyone besides trin that you were running home… who the hell could that be?

throwing a hoodie on, you move to look through the peephole. your stomach drops.

outside stands jey, drenched in guilt and the atlanta night air.

you crack the door open, just slightly.

your heart clenches. and so does his.

there’s a beat of silence.

“can i come in?” he asks gently.

you don’t answer — hesitating before moving aside.

he walks in slow, looking around like he half-expects to be kicked out in seconds. you fold your arms before letting out a long breath.

“why are you here, joshua?”

your voice is soft. defeated. and jey wishes he could swap places with you, taking your pain so you don’t have to.

“‘cause you ain’t okay. saw it in the ring, saw it backstage. i couldn’t let you go home like that.”

your jaw clenches.

“you went off-script again.”

“you did too.”

a pause. he bites his lip before continuing.

“you felt it too, didn’t you?” he asks softly.

you want to lie. you want to tell him ‘no’ and to get out. but you’re tired. tired of pretending. and your heart is too sore to pretend to be strong again.

you whisper, “yeah.”

“you almost cried.”

your throat burns.

“yeah well… couldn’t give you that satisfaction.”

he steps forward.

“it ain’t about me,” he says, voice hoarse. “this? this ‘bout you still hurtin’. and me still… still tryna make things right.”

you exhale shakily as he takes another step closer.

“i know it don’t fix nothin’, but i meant it. every word. i still love you, wit’ all of me,” he says while you feel tears prickling.

“i can’t change what happened back then, but i need you t’know i regret it everyday. not runnin’ after you. not tryin’ hard enough. not bein’ man enough to give you what you needed.”

now he’s face to face with you.

“but i can change what happens now. and i need you to know that i mean it — even if you never let me say it again. i love you, mama. ‘s always been you. us.”

silence falls. you study his face — the softness and slight gloss in his eyes, the tension in his jaw.

you close your eyes as you let out a breath.

“i never stopped loving you either.”

he swallows.

your voice is barely above a whisper, “but i’m scared, josh.”

he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest.

“y’don’t gotta be. just let me help pick up the pieces, ‘til you’re ready to put it back together.”

and this time — you don’t pull away.

that night, you finally felt at home. not because you were physically home, but because you were asleep in the one place you felt safe. in jey’s arms.

that night, you finally felt at peace. the problems and difficulties that lied ahead were a problem for tomorrow. you’d figure them out later. oh, and figure out what you’d tell your boss for leaving early.

whoops.

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