#worlds most awkward job interview

[br1ghtestlight]

love how elusive the years between 18 and 30 are for both bob and linda in the show. we dont know ANYTHING we don't know if linda went to college if she had friends or roommates how she met ginger if she was still living with her parents how she met hugo WHAT HER PREVIOUS JOB WAS?? and for bob we don't know if he still worked at his dads restaurant after their fight if he still lived with him where he could've lived or worked otberwise if he had friends or roommates what his plan in life was. and we'll never know the answers to these questions either bcuz I don't think the writers actually thought that far ahead

[reyalvr]

SHE’S MINE | 00

CATCH ME, I’VE FALLEN IN LOVE FOR THE FIRST TIME.

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers.

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, mild angst, chaotic fluff, smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan, RUMORS isn’t related to anything that happens in this series

word count ┊ 798

author’s note ┊ YAY i finally wrote it! i really love the fake dating/marriage convenience trope and i’ve been itching to write it with kenji. this is highly inspired by one my favorite books of all time, terms & conditions by lauren asher! if you enjoy fake dating i highly recommend reading it. as mentioned at the top, this is only the prologue! i'll be putting out part one and the series masterlist asap hehe... as always, happy reading!

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SOMETIMES YOU WONDERED IF ANYTHING YOU SAID EVER STUCK WITH KEN. For the past year and a half, you had the supposed “dream life” that every assistant yearned for. It confused you, really, as you tried to ponder on what part of your job was envious. Were the late nights drafting NDA breaches so desirable? What about the press statements after altercations, were those résumé worthy? You let out a deep sigh as you watched Ken from the TV in his dressing room, crossing your arms as you sunk deeper into the couch.

He was on a press tour for his latest collaboration, his overconfident persona charming everyone left and right. You had to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes when he used his signature flair to charm the show’s host. At least he was sticking to the script… for the most part. He wore the product, threw in a few adlibs, and of course, flirted. Be it a talk show host or a random photographer on the street, Ken always found a way to leave people smitten with him- save except you. 

It’s not like you were actively trying to hate him, he just made it so easy. At first you thought it was just some awkward phase, like he was just trying to adjust to working with a new team. But then he just kept doing the same things over and over again. A brawl with an opposing team member? Just another Sunday night. A rumor about having a fling with yet another supermodel? Sounds just about right. 

“I mean of course I have to thank my team,” Ken’s voice cut through your train of thought. “It was a dream of mine to play for the Giants as a kid, now I actually get to do it.”

Tone it down, asshole. You thought to yourself, noting the sarcasm laced in his words. Of course the general public wouldn’t have caught on, but you had no doubt his coach and the other players would. Then again, he’d been relatively untouchable because of his rank in the sports world. You poked your tongue into your cheek, shaking your head as you sat through the rest of his interview. The clock on the wall counted down the remaining time, the bright red numbers casting a reflection on the screen. Two minutes left, and all he had to do was to keep the act up…

…Until he didn’t. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what was about to happen next. 

“Now I don’t want to hold here any longer, but you know I have to ask it,” The host teased, almost like an overexcited child ready to tattle. “Any special someone back home?” 

Ken chuckled, just like he usually did when asked the question. “Cheeky question,” He paused and grinned, his eyebrow raised slightly as he shrugged his shoulders. “What if there was?” 

“Well, is there?” The host pushed, his tone eager to have the Ken Sato answer such a juicy question. He gestured toward the crowd before he continued. “I mean there are a lot of fans here today who would love to know more…” 

“Yeah? And if I said yes, then what?” He replied, his smile growing brighter and his eyes shining. 

The crowd cheered even harder, itching to find out the truth. You shared the same sentiments, trying to figure out what the hell Ken was up to now. Did he have a girlfriend? If he did, why didn’t anyone know about it? You stood up straight now, your right hand deathly gripping the remote. What the hell do you have up your sleeve, Kenji Sato? Your inner voice seemed to yell as you waited for him to speak up. 

“I mean only time will tell, yeah?” The host replied, leaning back in his seat. “C’mon Ken, it’s not nice to keep secrets.”

Ken mimicked the host’s moves, leaning back into his sofa chair as well. He shrugged his shoulders, licking his lips as he fiddled with his fingers. He bit the inside of his cheek, and though it was brief you caught it. You knew that look; his look of contemplation. Your grip on the remote was still taut as your breathing seemed to quicken the longer he waited. Granted it was only a few seconds, but those seconds felt like hours. 

He tilted his head slightly then, his eyes staring directly at the camera. It slowly zoomed closer to focus entirely on him, and he let out a small laugh before he finally replied. His gaze was strong, and it almost felt like he was actually looking at you.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” He finally said, throwing in a lovesick smile for good measure. “And she’s the best damn thing in my life right now.”

reyalvr © 2024 … do not repost, alter, or steal my work.

[batshit-auspol]

I just spent some time scrolling through this blog and am suffering from sever laughter. Thanks so much for collating the countries craziest moments. One of my favourites is when Scott Morrison was in Hawaii while the bushfires where burning.

December 2019: As Australia's east coast is engulfed in the worst bushfires in living memory, rumours begin to circulate that Australia's Prime Minister Scott Morrison may have secretly fucked off for a holiday in Hawaii.

Keep in mind, this is what is going down in Australia at the time:

The Hawaii rumour is initially written off as a fringe conspiracy, because surely nobody could be that fuckin tonedeaf, and it was quickly forgotten about... until an Australian man visiting Hawaii UPLOADED A SELFIE ON THE BEACH WITH THE PM THROWING A SHAKA.

At which point all hell broke loose.

Overnight the formerly popular "Scomo" became the most despised man in all of Australia. Think "firefighters shouting out of their windows to news cameras" level of despised.

After about two days of radio silence and pretending like he was still at home running the country, the Prime Minister's handlers finally dragged him onto call with an Australian radio station, where he pinky promised to return to Australia as fast as he could in an attempt to calm things down.

Unfortunately Scott's empathy consultant (a real job) then had to watch Scott pour more gasoline on the dumpster fire by uttering the now famous phrase "Look I don't hold a hose mate" when asked by the radio interviewer why the fucking fuck the fuckhead wasn't fucking in Australia doing his fucking job during a massive fucking crisis.

Testing just how much worse things could get, Scomo then proceeded to NOT rush back to Australia as promised, instead attempting to complete the rest of his holiday, a fact that was exposed when a passerby snapped a picture of him still lounging on the beach two days later.

Eventually, holiday complete, Morrison did reluctantly slink back to Australia, and in an attempt to calm things down, he decided to pay a visit to a small town that had been destroyed by the fires.

Which was a big mistake.

Scomo still had not registered how absolutely and totally he had screwed the poodle with his Hawaiian beach vacation, and he walks into what is now taught in PR classes as one of the greatest examples of "what not do do in a crisis" in all of history.

Scotty from Marketing, as he is now dubbed by the nation, spends a painfully cringe-inducing hour wandering around a burned down town with TV news cameras in tow, having to FORCE PEOPLE TO SHAKE HIS HAND in what is some of the most awkward footage you will ever see.

At this point it's probably also worth mentioning that, before becoming Prime Minister, Scott Morrison's biggest claim to fame in politics was being the guy that was so far up the coal lobby's arse that he literally brought coal into parliament and waved it around, claiming it doesn't hurt people.

So when a protest was organised it turned out to be one big national fuck you to the Prime Minister, the likes of which the world has never seen before or since.

Needless to say, at this point Scomo's career was dead in the water, but thanks to the rules brought in to stop Australian political parties from knifing their leader every two weeks (a popular Aussie passtime) Morrison basically couldn't get fired until after the next election.

And so, when the election rolled around in 2022, we decided that was an opportune time to travel over to Hawaii to erect this bad boy tribute to the Prime Minister, on the very beach where Scomo had sat and drank margaritas that one fateful week in December as Australia burned (thanks to @chaser for funding the ticket)

[whimsiwitchy]

we broke up (one shot)

hugh jackman x f!reader

summary: you get dragged to a work event by your boyfriend of three years when Hugh comes to flirt with you. after you reluctantly tell him you’re taken, he backs off for the most part. a few months later, Hugh tells the story during an interview but little does he know you’re single now. 

warnings: implied age gap (not mentioned), flirting while in a relationship (kinda)

authors note: here's a little oneshot I wrote tonight. enjoy <33

You’d been with your boyfriend, Rowan, for a few years now. He earned a degree in marketing and immediately got a job for a studio. While he enjoys his job and it brings in good money, the events he dragged you to were unbelievably boring. The company he worked for always had big parties after a success on a project. At first they were interesting, often running into celebrities here and there given that it was the success of their movie, but lately you found yourself sitting at the bar more often than not. It was routine at this point. Rowan would show you off for the first hour, then he would toss you aside to fend for yourself. You weren’t the biggest social butterfly, hence why you liked to sit alone, drinking. 

Tonight wasn’t any different. You were at another party for the successful marketing for Deadpool and Wolverine. You’d heard a few whispers that the stars of the movie themselves were somewhere wandering around but you hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing them. Rowan dumped you at the bar a little over thirty minutes ago and you’ve been sipping on some fruity little drink ever since, completely in your own world. You made small talk with the bartender every once and a while but you were mainly people watching. 

“Mind if I join?” A deep Australian accent asks. You look up and see a gorgeous older man. He was wearing a dark blue suit with a pair of black expensive looking glasses. He was deliciously tall and had a thich salt and pepper beard. “Uh no, go ahead.” He sits in the bar stool next to you. He orders a drink from the bartender before returning his attention back to you. “Pardon me if this is too forward but you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” The comment takes you aback. “Oh um, thank you. That’s really sweet of you to say.” He looks down to your glass that’s nothing but melted ice at this point. “Can I buy you another drink?” He asks. “You probably shouldn’t. I’m taken…sadly.” You whisper the last part, unsure if he heard it or not. “Oh! I apologize for coming on to you. You’ve been sitting here by yourself for so long, I thought you might have come alone.” You huff out a laugh. “My boyfriend works for the company. He’s out there socializing or whatever.” You shrug and signal to the bartender, asking for another drink. “That’s a shame. If you were mine, you’d be on my arm all night.” He smirks. “Is that right?” You smile at him. Before he can answer, you feel your phone vibrate with a text from Rowan that reads ‘where are you babe? Time to leave.’ 

“Well, the boyfriends calling, I gotta go.” You carefully climb out of the chair and grab your jacket and purse off of the back. As you start to walk away, the man speaks again. “Wait! What’s your name?” You turn back to face him. “Y/n.” He smiles and repeats it. “I’m Hugh.” His answer surprises you. “Oh! Congrats on the movie. I didn’t even recognize you at first with the beard and all.” He laughs. “Bye Hugh.” You wave before walking off.

—

It’s been a few months since that night in July, it being September now. You and Rowan had broken up mid-August, both of you agreeing that the relationship wasn’t going anywhere. It hurt for a little bit but you knew it was for the best. Living with him had been awkward as you searched for a new place, deciding that he can keep the current apartment. You wanted a fresh start, which is where you are now. Tonight was your first night in your new apartment. You didn’t have any furniture yet but you were happy. You bought an air mattress to make do until you could afford an actual bed. 

It was around midnight and you were doing your nightly youtube watch. You were scrolling through your recommended videos when you saw Hugh’s face pop up. It was an interview posted a few minutes ago from him on some late night show you’d never heard of. You clicked on it, wanting to hear what the man was up to these days. The interview was a standard one, mostly questions on his upcoming movie about some sheep. You weren’t really paying attention, close to dozing off when a question peaked your interest. 

“So Hugh, it’s almost been a year since the announcement of your divorce and the fans wanna know���How’s your dating life doing? Are you seeing anyone?” The woman asks, wiggling her eyebrows. Hugh lets out a big laugh. “I’m actually not seeing anyone. It’s funny you ask because the last time I even attempted to flirt with a woman she turned me down.” The interviewer's eyebrows shoot up in shock. She gasps before asking, “How could anyone turn you down? We need to know the full story here.” 

“Ryan and I were at this party for the marketing team that worked on Deadpool and Wolverine and I saw this absolutely gorgeous girl sitting at the bar all alone.” The interviewer is nodding her head, engaging with every word Hugh says. “I eyed her for a while to see if anyone was with her but she sat there alone for a good thirty minutes before Ryan hyped me up to go over there. When I finally did, I ordered a drink and tried to play it cool but I felt the urge to tell this girl how stunning she was, so I did.” You giggle to yourself and you hear him tell the story from his point of view. “She thanked me and I offered to buy her another drink. I kid you not, in the prettiest voice I’ve ever heard she says ‘you probably shouldn’t, i’m taken.’” His hands go up to his chest, gripping right above his heart. “My heart broke mate. I flirted a little more in true Hugh fashion but she had to go. I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since.” 

“What a lucky woman, I’m sure she regrets it.” 

“Hey, I tried my best.” He shrugs before looking at the camera. “Y/n, if you ever break up with him. I’m all yours baby.” 

Your jaw drops, the sound of cheers blasting from your phone.  

‘we broke up. I’m all yours. @/RealHughJackman’ 

You hit send on the tweet and hoped it would be enough to bring him back to you.

thank you for reading <3

[insidekatmind]

That Girl Is Mine ~ Kylian Mbappé × Reader × Vinícius Jr. (Feat. Jude Bellingham)

Madrid was the city of lights, football, and dreams. The Spanish capital buzzed with fans, paparazzi, and tourists wandering through its charming streets. You were there, an ordinary girl thrust into an extraordinary world. You worked as a sports journalist, but what no one knew—and what you carefully kept hidden—was your secret relationship with Jude Bellingham, the young talent of Real Madrid.

But your life was far from simple. Aside from the secrecy, there was a rather... awkward issue: two of your most famous colleagues, Kylian Mbappé and Vinícius Júnior, seemed to be in a constant battle for your attention.

It was a crisp December evening, and the Santiago Bernabéu was still glowing under the post-match lights. Real Madrid had just won an important match, and as usual, you were busy navigating the post-game interviews. Jude had thrown you a quick, meaningful glance as he passed by. That subtle smile of his was all you needed to feel reassured, even though you had to pretend it was just a casual gesture.

You were packing up your things when Kylian approached you. Still wearing his Real Madrid jersey, his forehead glistening with sweat, his confident and charming smile remained intact.

"Are you sure you don’t want to stick around for a drink with us? I’ve noticed you work too much," he said, his tone low but loaded with a suggestion you couldn’t ignore.

You smiled, keeping your tone professional. "Thanks, Kylian, but I have a lot of work to do."

"Ah, work, work..." he replied, shaking his head. "Sometimes, you need to live a little. You know, there’s so much of Madrid you haven’t seen yet. I could show you the city."

Before you could respond, a familiar voice interrupted the conversation. "Show her the city? Kylian, I don’t think she needs a guide. I’ve lived here longer than you, remember?"

Vinícius had appeared beside you both, a provocative smile on his lips. It was clear he had been eavesdropping on every word. His eyes gleamed with challenge as he looked at his teammate. You, caught in the middle, felt like a pawn in a game you hadn’t chosen to play.

"Vinícius, same old," Kylian replied with a smile, though his eyes betrayed a certain tension. "I wasn’t talking to you, anyway."

Vinícius turned to you. "So, what do you say? The city of Madrid is much more interesting than Kylian can make it seem. We could explore the real neighborhoods, away from the tourists."

It was as if the world had stopped around you. You needed an excuse, fast. "Thanks to both of you, but honestly, I’m tired tonight. Maybe another time."

They didn’t look convinced, but there wasn’t much else they could do but let you go.

Later that evening, you were finally home. Your phone buzzed, and you smiled at Jude’s message.

Jude: "Everything okay? I saw Kylian and Vini hanging around you… I’m jealous. See you tomorrow after training, okay?"

You quickly replied. "Everything’s fine, I promise. See you tomorrow."

Your conversations were simple, sweet, and reassuring. Jude was your anchor amidst the chaos. But the next day, things became even more complicated.

During training at Valdebebas, you were there for a series of interviews. It was impossible to ignore the looks Kylian and Vinícius kept throwing your way as they ran on the field. Even Jude seemed to notice, though he remained focused on his drills.

After the session, Kylian was the first to approach. "You know, yesterday I couldn’t help but notice you always seem distant. Is something wrong? Can I help?"

You were trying to form a reply when Vinícius interrupted, wiping his face with a shirt. "Hey, Kylian, are you interrogating her? Maybe she just wants a bit of peace."

"Maybe you should mind your own business, Vini," Kylian shot back, his tone irritated.

"Guys, please," you intervened, trying to stay calm. "I’m just doing my job."

But inside, your heart was pounding. Their interest was flattering, but also a problem. You couldn’t afford for anyone to find out about your relationship with Jude. And yet, every glance and every word exchanged only heightened the tension.

That evening, as you sat with Jude at your secret spot—a small café hidden in the heart of Madrid—you told him everything. He listened attentively, his face serious.

"I don’t like the way they’re acting," he said, squeezing your hand under the table. "But I understand we can’t do anything for now. I promise we’ll find a way to live all of this out in the open one day."

You smiled at him, feeling safe in his presence. Jude wasn’t just your boyfriend; he was your refuge amidst the chaos of a life that felt like a novel. But you knew the story between you, Kylian, and Vinícius was far from over. And Madrid, with its lights and secrets, was the perfect stage for the next act.

The tension was palpable, like a taut rope about to snap. Over the following days, Kylian and Vinícius’s gestures and attitudes became more explicit. Seemingly innocent comments turned into subtly suggestive remarks, lunch invitations, and lingering glances. Jude, despite his calm and rational nature, had begun to show signs of irritation.

One evening, after a crucial match at the Bernabéu, things came to a head.

After the game, while you were gathering material for an article, Vinícius approached you in the tunnel leading to the locker rooms. He was still sweaty, but his mischievous smile was flawless.

"So, have you thought about my invitation? I’ll take you somewhere no one knows, guaranteed. Just you and me, no distractions," he said, his tone a bit too familiar for your liking.

Before you could respond, Kylian appeared behind you both, interrupting the conversation. "Ah, Vini, aren’t you tired of playing the romantic? Sorry for you, but I think her time is already booked for the evening."

You sighed, trying to stay calm. "Guys, enough with these games. I’ve already told you I’m not interested."

Vinícius laughed, leaning slightly forward as if he found it all incredibly amusing. "Really? You don’t seem that uninterested."

It was then that Jude appeared, striding out of the locker room with a determined walk. He wasn’t smiling. In fact, his face was tense, his gaze a mix of anger and resolve.

"Vini, Kylian, stop," he said, his voice calm but authoritative. Both turned to him, surprised.

Kylian crossed his arms, frowning. "And what does this have to do with you, Jude?"

"It has everything to do with me," Jude replied, stepping closer. He glanced at you briefly before addressing them directly. "She’s my girlfriend. And she has been for a long time. So, with all due respect, you need to stop."

The silence that followed was deafening. Vinícius and Kylian stood frozen, unable to hide their shock. Your heart was racing, but you also felt a sense of relief. Finally, the truth was out.

"Are you serious?" Kylian asked, incredulous. "She’s...?"

"Yes," Jude said firmly, locking eyes with them. "And now that you know, I’m asking you to respect us."

Vinícius looked almost offended. "And you thought to tell us like this, after all this time? Maybe you should have made it clear earlier."

"It wasn’t your business," Jude shot back, his tone hard. "But now you know. Enough with the games."

Kylian ran a hand through his hair, trying to process it all. Then he looked at you, a hint of disappointment in his gaze. "And you? Why didn’t you ever tell us?"

"I couldn’t," you said, your voice firm but calm. "We wanted to keep it private. That doesn’t mean I was playing with you."

Kylian nodded slowly, as if trying to come to terms with the situation. Vinícius, on the other hand, looked less convinced but said nothing. After a few moments of tension, they both walked away, leaving you alone with Jude.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Jude turned to you, his face softening. "I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stand seeing them act like that anymore. They needed to know."

You stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his arm. "You did the right thing. I couldn’t take it anymore either."

Jude sighed, pulling you into a hug. "From now on, no more secrets. I don’t care what people say. What matters is that it’s us."

You melted into his embrace, finally feeling free. Even though you knew the gossip would start soon, you didn’t care anymore. Madrid was full of secrets, but yours was no longer one of them.

[spideybatsy]

Late Night

Summary: GN!Reader gets a cleaning job working at Wayne Enterprises when a certain billionaire playboy develops an obsession with them. Pairing: Bruce Wayne x GN!Reader WC: 3K Warnings: being watched without knowing, mentions of erections, nothing too serious. Notes: Can be read as any batsy you’d like, I personally picture Bale bc I’m a slut for him <3 This is the first chapter in my new series! I haven't written in a year, so be kind Masterlist

The wind pressed against your sweat slick skin as you stepped into the shadow of Wayne Tower. A shiver rolled down your spine, half caused by the weather and half by the ravenous butterflies in your stomach. Starting a new job is never easy but God, you have never needed a job as much as you need this one.

The renewal of your lease brought a steep increase in rent at the same time as your boss announced he was closing the business. You couldn’t really say you were surprised, the bakery was definitely a front for something nefarious, why else would the GCPD come in every other week?

It was a shame, really. You loved working at the bakery, especially during those quiet moments when you could just sit there and watch the world go by. God knows you’ll be rushed off your feet now.

Cleaning wasn’t your first choice, nor was it your second. Hell, it wasn’t even on the list. But you were not in the position to be anything but grateful when your friend mentioned an opening at their work. The hours weren’t the best but the pay was surprisingly good.

You walked into the building and were immediately shoved by someone sprinting to the lift. Taking a deep breath, you regained your bearings, straightened your shirt, and headed for security. You’d been in the building only once, for your interview, but figured you’d need some sort of pass to get into the actual offices. 

The security man who served you was disarmingly attractive and you couldn’t help but blush as he ran his eyes down your figure. His hair was a dirty blonde, pushed back and behind his ears. 

“First day?”

“That obvious?” 

He chuckled, before asking for your name and looking you up on the system.  “I’ll just call your supervisor, Emily, to come down.” 

“Thank you.” The two of you fell into an almost awkward silence. “How, uh, long until your shift finishes?”

“I’m on a morning today, so I finish at 12. How about you?” 

“Well, I’ll usually be doing the 4 till 10 shift but they wanted me in earlier today. So, I'll finish around 3.” 

“Too bad.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Well, I would’ve loved to take you out for dinner.” Were your cheeks on fire or was it suddenly just really hot in here? “Maybe it’ll have to be lunch instead.”

You opened your mouth to respond but was interrupted by Emily calling your name. 

“There you are, I’ve been waiting for you!”

You flashed a sorry smile at him and rushed over to your friend's side. 

“Hey, what’s that guard's name?” Although you knew he couldn’t hear you from here, you still whispered.

You cringed as Emily started to turn back, quickly reaching out and stopping her.

“I think that’s Russell.” She whispered back, “Why?”

“He asked me out on a date.”

“Really?” Well, no more whispering. You simply nodded your head, following her into the lift. “You don’t even have your access pass and you’ve got the men drooling. You dirty stop out.” 

“I haven’t slept with him!”

“Yet.”

“I’ll be telling HR you called me a slut.”

“Hoping they’ll sleep with you too?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, pushing her slightly with your shoulder. As the numbers on the lift drew higher, the two of you settled down. Joking with your friend was one thing but you needed people here to take you seriously, even if you were just the cleaner.

“Are the people here nice?” You weren’t expecting your voice to sound so… small.

Emily looked over at you, affectionately bumping your shoulder. “Yeah, most of them are lovely.” 

“What about the others?”

“Fuckable.”

The lift doors opened and filled the floor with the sound of your combined laughter. 

—-

“And down here, you have Mister Wayne’s office.” You followed Emily down the hallway, looking into an office and making eye contact with an older man. You gave him a quick smile and was pleased when he returned it. 

“That’s Lucius Fox, he’s really the boss.”

“What about Bruce Wayne?” 

“What about him?” Emily stopped at the front of the last door.

“Well, it’s Wayne Enterprises, isn’t it?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

You couldn’t help but gasp as she threw the door open, jumping to apologise to the aforementioned man. 

Only, he wasn’t there.

Emily laughed, walking further into the room. “He’s hardly here, probably recovering from his drunken nights spent with supermodels.”

You hesitantly followed her in, amazed by the so-called office. This one room was probably bigger than your whole apartment. It definitely had better views. 

“I’m not sure you should be talking about our boss like that,” you mumbled, walking over to the floor to ceiling windows. 

Emily came to stand next to you, “it’s not like he’s ever here to hear it.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you jolted around, instantly fearing the worst. Was it possible you could be fired before you even got your first paycheck? How were you going to pay rent now?

You couldn’t tell if you should be relieved or not when you realised it was the man you’d smiled at earlier. Lucius Fox. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Emily replied, turning back to the view. 

Oh my God. What was she doing? “Please excuse my friend, Mr Fox. I think she meant-”

“I know what she meant,” he responded while walking over. 

You opted to say nothing and pretended to look out the window, wishing for the tension to dissipate as quickly as possible.

“You’re scaring them to death, Fox.” 

The older man laughed, coming to rest his hand on your shoulder. “Worry not, dear. You’ll grow used to the banter.”

The tension started melting from your shoulders, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

—

Within two weeks, you’d fallen into a comfortable routine. You came into work at 3:45 to make yourself a tea and read your book, before starting work at 4. You start at the side furthest from Wayne’s office, as they left the earliest. By the time you reached the common areas, the rest of the staff would be leaving, only Fox remaining. He was always the last one to leave, usually close to 7. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, since you knew he was typically the first person in the office too. So, you’d bring him a decaffeinated coffee around 5pm. You’d find yourself talking to him for a while, usually about stories from the past that you could both laugh about. 

Truth be told, you were starting to really enjoy the man's company. He had a dry sense of humour that you found hilarious. Being in the office late could be rather lonely, so you clung onto the moments you had with him. 

A positive of working alone in the office was that you could play all your music out loud. You’d recently gotten into a podcast where three friends read stories and discussed them. A lot of them were light hearted or ‘am i the asshole’ reddit posts.

Tonight, you listened to their supernatural episode as you finished up in Fox’s office when you heard a bang down the hallway. Slowly, you creeped to the door to peep down the corridor but there was no one there.

Maybe the ghost stories were getting to you. You shook your head and turned back into the office when you heard the noise again. Jumping, you looked toward the sound. The only thing down there was Mr Wayne’s office.

Clutching your mop between closed fists, you edged down the hallway. Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and rushed in, hoping to catch the perpetrator in action.

Only the office was empty, of course it was. You couldn’t help the relief that coursed through your veins. It was obviously going to be empty, you had yet to see The Bruce Wayne in this room. You were starting to wonder if it had even been used. Maybe Fox should get this office, that way someone can appreciate the view.

You laughed quietly to yourself before turning off the podcast and putting on some tunes. That was more than enough scares for you tonight.

Unbeknownst to you, you were not alone. A certain billionaire had stumbled in here before his night duty, expecting to find the place empty as usual. He hadn’t been in for a few weeks now but things rarely changed this high in the building.

Then you’d burst into the room, armed with a mop and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. You were the single most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Who were you and what were you doing here? 

He couldn’t help the way his dick twitched in his trousers. No. Now is not the time. 

He stayed in the shadows and watched you work, diligently going from one room to another before stopping in the kitchen to make a drink. You pulled a book out of your bag and read for a while. Bruce found himself creeping closer, eager to see what you were reading. 

Then you looked up and it seemed like you were staring straight at him. He knew you couldn’t see him but he couldn’t stop the way his heart stuttered in his chest. Nor the way his lower half jolted. 

What was it about you that made his infamous control slip? He’d never had this issue, not even as a teenager.

Your eyes widened as you kept gazing in his direction and he slowly turned his head. The bat symbol drifted amongst the clouds. 

He held back a sigh as he shifted further into the darkness. 

Maybe he was due a visit back into the office, after all. 

—

Or maybe not. 

It had been a week since Bruce first saw you in his office, clutching a mop like your life depended on it. Sometimes, when he lay awake in his bed, he thought about how oblivious you were to his presence that night. And every night since.

He should really get you some self defence classes, perhaps send them as a gift from Wayne Enterprises. He hated thinking about what could’ve happened if he really was a burglar. He could only keep you so safe, you needed to be able to handle yourself. 

Then he felt a bit crazy. Here he was, talking about you like you were… part of his life. Although, he supposed at this point you were part of his life. He just wasn’t part of yours. Too many times he’d driven to the building just to never get out of his car.

He’d asked Fox about you at his last equipment meeting. He tried to act nonchalant about it, casually asking if there were any new staff on the top floor. 

“We have a new cleaner.” Fox said, relaying your name. “They’ve been here for about three weeks. Settling in very well.”

Bruce repeated your name, strangely satisfied by the way it rolled off his tongue. 

“May I inquire why you’ve asked about them?” Fox’s words caught Bruce off guard. “You’ve never been interested in the Wayne staff before.”

“Just keeping up to date with the comings and goings of my fathers legacy.” Bruce suddenly found the kevlar padding very interesting. 

“Better late than never, I suppose.” Fox hummed, running his fingers across the fabric. “This kevlar is half the weight of your current gear.”

“Is it still as durable?”

You didn’t come up in the conversation again but Fox filed the information away, eager to ask Alfred about it. 

—

“What does your partner think about you working so late?”

Fox’s question caught you completely off guard, causing you to almost spurt out your tea. He immediately grabbed the tissues off his desk, handing them to you.

“Forgive me, it was an inappropriate question.” 

“No, no, no. It’s fine.” You said, finally swallowing down your mouthful. “I, uh, don’t have a partner. So, I don’t think they mind.”

“I suppose that makes two of us.” 

Before you could respond, he tactfully changed the conversation. 

—

“They’re single, you know.” 

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows but didn’t look away from his newspaper. “Whose single, Alfred?”

His heart almost broke free from his chest when Alfred said your name. 

“How would you know that?” Bruce’s words were more rushed than he would’ve liked, the newspaper long forgotten on the table.

“Every old man has his secrets.”

“You spoke to Fox,” Bruce sighed. “They probably thought he was coming onto them.”

“Worried you have competition, Master Wayne?” 

Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“You know, I may not be the master of romance but I hear that the first step in any relationship is to talk to each other.” 

“Obviously,” Bruce muttered, picking his newspaper back up.

“What you’re doing right now has a name, Master Wayne.” 

“And what is that?”

“Stalking.”

Bruce couldn’t help but flinch at the word. He turned to defend himself but Alfred was already gone, leaving him a pot of tea. 

—

You were sitting in the kitchen, tea in one hand and your book in the other. You’d found yourself in the office a bit earlier than usual but didn’t mind. It was always good to have some time to wind down before you started your shift. 

“What are you reading?” 

You couldn’t help but inwardly sigh, putting your bookmark in. “Just a-” Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up. If Russell was attractive, this man was downright gorgeous. A face carved for a god with luscious hair combed behind his ear. 

He looked eerily familiar but you couldn’t quite place him. You could feel your cheeks heat up as you bought your gaze back down to the book.

“I’ve never heard of The Dry Heart before,” Bruce’s heart leapt from his chest as he took the seat across from you. “What’s it about?”

You sneaked a glance up at him but immediately looked back down when you made eye contact. “It’s about an unhappy marriage, I’m reading it for a book club.”

He hummed, his eyes searching your face. You were even more breath-catching up close. “You must be our new cleaner,” you liked the way he said your name far too much. “I’ve been meaning to catch up with you.”

“You have?” Who was this man? You would remember seeing such a gorgeous face among the office. 

“I try to meet all the new employees but I’ve been a bit slack lately, please forgive me.”

You slowly lifted your eyes to look at him and couldn’t help the way your lips lifted. 

“Consider it forgotten,” you said softly.

He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Fox. 

“Mr Wayne, how lovely to see you again.” Lucius came in and stood beside you. “I see you’ve met our latest employee.”

Your eyes shoot, Mr Wayne? Surely not. In your rushed state, you completely missed the way Fox smirked at Bruce, causing the younger man to stare daggers back at him.

“Of course, it’s important to know everyone in the office.” 

Fox hummed, turning back to you. “Please excuse us, I have a very important meeting to drag Mr Wayne into.” 

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You had a hard time even saying the words, your mind whirling. Wasn’t Bruce Wayne an arrogant asshole? This man was the furthest from that. He was so kind and funny. And good looking. Holy shit was he good looking.

No, you’re not doing that. Not to your boss. Especially not when your boss is a world famous womaniser. 

You can’t help the way your eyes follow him as he walks out or the way they trail down to his perfect ass. Entering the hallway, Fox rolls his eyes when he sees the massive smirk on Bruce’s face. 

—

“I was hoping I’d find you here.”

You can’t help but jump as Bruce walks into the kitchen. “Mr. Wayne, I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“Please,” he sits down at the table and smiles at you. “Call me Bruce.”

“Okay, Bruce.” 

Bruce savours the way his name rolls off your tongue and how your cheeks go bright red under his gaze. His eyes follow as your blush spreads down your neck and under your neckline. 

“I usually take the new employees out for lunch, your turn is well overdue.” He takes a moment before continuing. “I guess ours would be more like dinner.”

“I suppose so,” you smile at him, oblivious to his wandering gaze. “But you don’t have to do that, Bruce. It’s fine, honestly.”

“I insist. How about tonight?”

You brought a lousy microwave dinner for tonight but there’s no reason why it can’t wait for tomorrow. Plus, who doesn’t like a free dinner? Lost in thought, Bruce takes the opportunity to study the way you bite your lip and store it away for later. 

“Sure, tonight is good.”

—

You weren’t sure what to expect during dinner but it wasn’t this. Bent over, your hand clutching your side in an attempt to ease your stitch as you laugh hysterically. Bruce is laughing too, his smile so big it shows his perfectly pearly whites.

“No way, you’re lying.” You gasp between breaths.

“I wish,” Bruce looks away in faux-shame. “I wasn’t always the smoothest.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Your laugh settles into a smile. 

“Why’s that?” He sounds genuine when he asks, curious even.

“Well, look at you.” You immediately heat at the implication, quickly stuttering off an excuse. This is not a date. “Y-You’re The Bruce Wayne. It would’ve been a-all over the newspapers if you, uh, messed up.”

Bruce merely hums, his eyes dropping down to your lips as you bite away at them again. 

This is bad. You cannot be flirting with the boss, especially not your boss's boss. Sure, he might be into it now but he’s not known to stick around with the same person for long. You can not afford to lose this job if things go bad.

You’re saved by the server coming back to drop off the check. Bruce’s hand grasps yours as you go to take the check, sending a bolt of electricity down your arm. His eyes find your own, a small smile gracing his lips.

“I’ve got you.”

Fuck. 

[bluerthanvelvet444]

ᯓ★⋆˚🅰🅿🆁🅸🅲🅸🆃🆈⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

(Peter Maximoff x fem!reader)

tags: smut with plot and a bit of fluff in the end.

warnings: subby!Peter, restraints, handjob, fingering, riding, p in v, denied orgasm, praise, mentions of abuse, mentions of alcohol, mentions of fight, swearing.

summary: Peter gets captured by the villains. This fic takes place after x-men apocalypse and before x-men dark phoenix.

character count: 19k.

full fic under the cut ↓

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Memoir. What’s its provenance? What is it?

According to scientists, memories are “formed as a result of connections between neurons in the brain”. The poet Sylvia Plath, instead, “sardonically embraced the most horrific and vulgar fragments from the storehouse of collective memory”. The great philosopher Aristotle believed that “memory is like a writing that remains etched in wax, and whose inscriptions remain more or less durable”.

Although you continually researched and seeked in books for the perfect depiction, you weren’t able to find anything that could comply with your personal belief. You were staunch that memories are, in fact, the mirror of our being. Disgraceful memories, glorious ones…they’re both needed to construct the way we act, the way we think, and the way we are. You had always been involved in memoir personally, because of your quirk. You had the marvelous capacity of intruding into one’s memories. You couldn’t directly change or interact with them, instead, you could see, reproduce, assimilate and mimic them. Phenomenal, isn’t it? You may think it is but, your biggest gift to you was, in fact, your biggest ruin. Your life started its downgrade the exact moment you found out about it. You remembered it all.

You were standing small in front of your mother, who had either fallen asleep or passed out. The bottle of cheap tequila in her hands made both answers valid. You were just a kid but you knew it wasn’t easy. Your father had left when you were just a fetus in your mother’s womb. Since then, she had never been the same. All the bills, the rent, expenses were on her. Her job exhausted her and the little time she had left, she spent drowning her worries in alcohol. She didn’t need any more problems, so you never told her about that awkward energy growing inside of you. That particular day you felt it bigger than ever, the need to find out what it led to even stronger. So you put your tiny fingers on her temples, as the little voice in your head told you to, and you started seeing. All of your mother's life was flashing in front of your eyes quickly. You stopped at one particular memory, you inspected it. Your mother stood pregnant in front of a man that kept yelling at her. You put the pieces of the puzzles together. It was clear, and the new knowledge of the situation triggered something inside of you, inside of your power. You kept replaying and replaying the scene, tears in your eyes, as the man’s words dissolved from the memory and came directly out of your mouth. That woke your mother up, she was holding her head as the same image kept banging in her mind, and as the man’s voice spit those known words harshly from your little mouth. She yelled for you to stop, and you lowkey wish you never did. As soon as you stopped, she grabbed you and threw you inside of-what you playfully called-the dark room, your basement.

“I-I’m sorry…I can’t-you’re him…I-I see him-” Her words came out broken from her mouth, her sobs stopping her mid-sentence as she locked you inside.

That became a habit since then. You grew up in the “dark room”, hardly ever going outside if not to eat and respond to natural calls. Your main activity was watching TV and day-dreaming about the outside world. You knew it was better than what you were living, it had to be. Especially because you found out that you weren’t crazy or evil but that you simply belonged to a different species. They called them mutants.And apparently, there was a school for kids just like you, the interviews of the famous Charles Xavier were the ones you liked watching the most on TV. As the years went by, your urge to run away grew more and more, and so you did. One day in the early 70s, you grabbed all of your things and left, taking advantage of your mom’s blackout. You took different taxis and avoided the questions about your young age, and you were finally standing in front of Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. Although, it seemed different from what you saw on TV: it looked abandoned, the plate with the name on it rusty and absentmindedly resting on the ground, and the gates closed. You tried peeking inside, before being startled by an unfamiliar voice behind you.

“Don’t waste your time. They can’t help you anymore, but we can.”

This is how you found yourself with a group of mutants who had the exact same hopes you had, before they were broken by the closure of the school. You were guided by The Captain-that is how he wanted to be called-that was trying to create a new safe place for young mutants. And his plan seemed to work, kid mutants were actually starting to come…before Xavier’s school opened again. At this point, your group desperately found itself in front of the school’s gate again. You were dismissed,though, by a blue beast mutant.

“We’re sorry, the school only accepts young kids between 5 and 17-” He told you before turning his back.

“You can try and talk to Charles though, I’m sure he will find some space for y-'' He stopped seeing you had all left.

This is why The Captain’s plan was ever created in the first place. He believed that Charles Xavier was a man only drawn by his personal needs, and that he only used the young mutants to gain popularity and be idolized by the US government.

“This is why we were rejected. Our powers aren’t conventionally pleasing. No human kid would ever desire our powers. So if he believes our gifts can’t be used for good, we won’t use them for good.” He spoke firmly to you all.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Your flow of memories was interrupted by The Captain.

“We’ve captured one. You will watch him while we take care of the others. Do your thing on him and find out his weakness.” He spoke with a deep voice.

You nodded and began making your way downstairs before he gripped your wrist.

“Don’t disappoint me, Y/N.” You felt his piercing gaze in your eyes.

“I won’t.” You gulped and quickly left the room.

When you opened the door you scanned your surroundings. The room was all white, with petty furniture. No windows, a table, a chair, a small closet, and a bed which had a figure laying down on it. You inched closer and scanned the boy. His eyes closed, he was probably knocked out, a few bruises on his skin, his hands and legs restrained by the strong collars around them… he looked your age, his hair was silver with some goggles resting on them. He had a pleasant face to look at, if the circumstances had been different you could’ve even admitted that he was pretty attractive. He was wearing a black protective suit, probably X-men’s equipment, you guessed. The more you observed him, the more you were confused. You expected them to capture the great Mystique, the glorious Magneto…not a newbie. You sighed and started walking towards the desk, ramaging in your bag for a sleeping pill so that you could do your magic without being interrupted.

Peter slowly opened his eyes, he could feel his body sore from the previous fight. He started to panic as he didn’t recognize his surroundings. He tilted his head forwards, noticing the person standing in front of the desk.

“H-hey…! Ppsttttt…Lady! Yes! You! Lady!” You heard his desperate calls.

You walked towards him and stopped at the side of the bed.

“Hi! So there’s a bunch of bad people who captured me and probably want to beat my ass-” You stopped him mid-sentence.

“I know.” You replied with a monotone voice.

“You-you know?! Don’t tell me you’re one of ‘em- oh shit! You’re one of ‘em! C’mon you have to be kiddin’ me…you’re too pretty to be mean! Hey! C’mon help me!” He rushed, his hands and legs squirming at high speeds against the restraints. You didn’t budge at his compliment, instead, you were focused on his movements.

“A speedster, huh.” You mumbled.

“A speed…A speedster?! Babe I'm not a speedster- I’m the speedster! Quicksilver! Peter Maximoff! The one and only!” He replied cockily, almost as if he was offended by your lack of knowledge. You raised your eyebrow, clearly having no clue of who he was.

“Aah babe you’ve got to be kiddin’ me! I’m Quicksilver! The one who beated Apocalypse’s ass! I did it all myself heh- I’m basically a hero, everyone loves me. Don’t ya watch TV or what?” Even though you had no idea who this guy was and what he did to be part of the X-men, you could sense the exaggeration in his words.

“I prefer books.” You shrugged before turning your back and making your way to the desk again.

“Hey! Hey! Where ya goin’?! Are ya a mutant too? Hey, yer not gonna hurt me aren’t ya?! What’s your power? C’mon tell me…What’s your power? Whaddaya do?!”

You rolled your eyes as his continuous questions started to annoy you.

“Will you shut up and let me do what I need to do?!” You snapped while holding between your thumb and index the sleeping pill. His pupils dilated.

“Whoa-whoa…let’s chill down a bit, yea? No need to use that, babe. Ya just gotta ask and I'll do whatever you want me to do.” He said with a smirk forming on his face. You sighed.

“Close your eyes and stay still.” You began pressing your fingers against his temples.

“...Will it hurt?” He said with a nervous smile, big brown eyes looking up at you.

“It doesn’t have to.”

Just like that you were thrown into Peter’s memories. You saw his child self, his mom, his sister…his first time using his powers…Magneto…many memories about Magneto, weird. You decided to dig a little deeper. You replayed the memory where he found out that…

“Magneto is your father?!” You exclaimed, visibly surprised.

“Hehe, I guess…so that’s your power?” He said with a tiny chuckle.

You kept thinking about what you just saw. You never saw a direct contact between Peter and Magneto, so you supposed he didn’t know about his son. That could’ve easily been used against him, you had to tell The Captain. You walked towards the table and gathered your bag.

“That’s a cool power…I’ve never heard ‘bout it. Actually, I’ve never heard ‘bout ya either…do ya have a supervillain name? Why didn’t ya fight with the others?” The words fell rapidly out of his lips. You gulped.

“Just Y/N. I don’t fight with the others. My powers weren’t made for physical combat.” That’s true, they hardly ever let you come with them on missions. You were useless for superheroes as much as you were for supervillains.

“Pffffttt…that’s bullshit! Ya can do those cool things with yer mind! Ya totally have to meet Charles, he’s gott-”

“Charles? Charles’s a selfish man who puts his needs first. I don’t want anything from him.” You scoffed.

“Wha-what? Are ya out of yer mind? Have ya ever even met Charles? He’s the coolest. I was literally a loser who lived in his mom’s basement before meeting him. Always been cool though.” His words made your blood boil, hearing that he didn’t hesitate to help him but discarded you immediately. You told Peter your story, how you truly believed Charles was gonna save you but ended up breaking your inner child’s heart. Your eyes started to water as memories flooded in front of your eyes.

“Hey-I-I’m sorry that happened to ya but- hey- if I get outta here alive, I promise I will take you to the school. The professor will help ya, he always does.” You looked at him, a tiny glimmer of hope appearing in your eyes even though you knew that you couldn’t leave.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

You spent all your day talking to him. He was funny, you had to admit. The nicest company you had ever had. He told you about his family, how he joined the X-men, everything. And before you knew it, the night came.

“Oh uhm. You should get some sleep, you’re probably exhausted.” You said while getting up, ready to leave.

“Wait- uhhh…I can’t really sleep with this armor thingy on. It’s uncomfy.” He complained.

“Oh. Right, I can bring you some clothes. But I…can’t untie you. It’s the rules.” You shrugged.

“No need to. I usually sleep naked.” He winked at you.

“...” You contorted your face, not really knowing how to respond.

“HA! Gotcha. Just kidding. I sleep in my boxers.” He said with a proud grin on his lips.

“...I’ll bring you clothes.” You said before being interrupted again.

“No! Seriously, I just need to take my clothes off.”

You raised your eyebrow.

“...Not because I’m a creep. Simply because my speed speeds my body’s functions, and by speeding it highs my temperature so I get hot.” He spoke as if it was obvious.

“...Right.” You sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.

“How does this thing open?”

“W-whoa whoa…you-are you gonn- wait-” He stuttered as his cheeks slightly reddened.

“You said you wanted your clothes off, and I’m not gonna risk getting scolded by The Captain by freeing you.” You sighed. He gulped and pointed where his zipper was.

C’mon Peter…ya can do this, buddy. Ya just need to focus, yea? Don’t let a fine chick undressing ya speed yer speedy hormones, mh? Peter thought to himself. Your hands gripped the zipper and started pulling it down. Stay focused soldier. His broad chest was revealed as you slowly undressed him. You stopped at his abs to hop on the bed and take his shoes off. As you leaned to pull his boots, your arm slightly brushed his crotch. Holy fucking mother of all the fucking mutants, fuck. She barely touched ya and yer already growing hard, Peter? Must be tha speedy genes, yea, has to be. Totally not has nothing to do with ya being a virgin in your 20s. Nuh-uh. Goddamn you, Peter!

You threw his shoes on the floor, and started pulling his suit down again. You let your gaze linger as he was half-naked in front of you. He was wearing boxers with lightning bolts on them, a tiny chuckle escaped your mouth at that.

“Someone’s excited.” You said with a playful grin on your lips as you pointed at the prominent bulge in his boxers.

“Hey! Not my fault ya got all handsy- how did ya expect me to react?” He said with a tiny blush on his cheeks, he was so cute.

“...And it’s the speedster genes, by tha way. They call me Quickie for a reason.” He replied, annoyed because of how embarrassed he got.

“Do you need help?” You suggested. It may have been wrong, since you were “enemies” and you barely knew each other but…when are you gonna have another cute speedster all for you again?

“DoIneedawhat-” He blurted out, not believing what he just heard.

Your lips curled up in a smirk, and before he could process anything, your fingers grazed his crotch through his underwear.

“Oh- fuck- yea…yes-” He moaned, you giggled.

“So eager, mh?” You teased him by pulling his waistband up and then leaving it smack against his skin. He groaned and nodded, he was so worked up by nothing. You undressed him of his boxers too, his shaft springing free against his stomach, leaving him naked on the bed. His hips bucked up in search of friction. You grinned and gently took his dick in your hand, slowly pumping it.

“Aaah…f-f-yes…please…faster…” He whined.

You giggled and leaned in to kiss his lips gently, muffling his pleas. You started speeding your movements, and he deepened the kiss as his moans rolled off his tongue. As you made out, you could hear the sound of his hands desperately squirming against the restraints.

“Please…let me touch you…” He whimpered, big puppy eyes gazing up at you.

“Mh…sorry, can’t do, baby. It’s the rules.” You smirked and leaned in to peck his lips again. You stopped and sat up to pull off your shirt. He groaned at the sight. You took him in your hands again and fasted your pace even more.

“O-oh..f-fuck...gonna…gonna cum babe…c-cant hold it in…ahh..” You giggled and sped up even more, your mouth working hungrily against his, eating up his moans. He came with a loud groan, muffled by your lips. He kept whining after that.

“Pleasepleaseplease…wanna please ya too…lemme…I’m good at it- I promise…I’m basically a human vibrator-long lasting rose toy- please…” You giggled and nodded, pecking his lips. You took off your pants, before untying one of his hands. He groaned and immediately pulled you closer, his hand making its way under your panties. He suppressed a moan by biting his lip as he felt your slick with his fingers. He gently started circling your clit, and after he heard a few moans of confirmation from you, he began buzzing his fingers against it.

“Ooh…f-fuck…just like that, baby, don’t stop…” You moaned, he answered with a cute whine. He looked up at you, his middle finger gently pushing at your entrance, not fully sliding in. You nodded and bit your lip to suppress any more unholy sound coming out of you as his fingers started to fuck you slowly.

“F-fuck…” You threw your head back. He was gazing up at you with parted lips, as if he had never seen something so breathtaking. He kept picking up the pace, until you stopped his wrist and tied it up again.

“Wha-Wait-Why..? Y-you didn’t like it?” He said with his silver brows furrowed, he was lost and scared of what your answer could’ve been.

“Oh, it was fucking awesome, baby. But I wanna use something else to come, yea? Will you let me do that?” You said in a cooing voice, clearly driving his mind crazy.

“Mhm…yesplease…” He nodded, his gaze not daring to leave your body.

You undid your bra, his eyes widening, and straddled his hips. Your entrance just above his cock. He groaned at the sight, his shaft fully hardening again. You smiled and slowly sinked in, until your hips met his.

“Aaah…w-warm…so warm n’tight…mppph…” He moaned loudly.

You grinned and started slowly sliding your hips up and down repeatedly, reaching a stable pace. You moaned as you started speeding up, yet it wasn’t enough to satisfy you fully.

“Mhh…baby…mind helping me a little?” You said looking down at him.

He moaned and nodded. He started superspeeding his hips to meet yours as you bounced on his cock. The new sensation making you moan loudly.

“Ohhh! Fuck! Just like that, baby…such a good boy…” You groaned as you felt yourself closer. He let out a tiny whimper as he heard your praise and kept speeding up, his wrists and legs straining against the collars, forming tiny red lines.

“Fuckfuckfuck…can i cum? P-please-ah…?” He whined.

“Mhhh...not yet- baby…let me finish first…” You smirked.

He groaned and sped up even more, trying desperately to bring you to the edge. He hissed as he felt that knot in his stomach urging to snap. It didn’t take much for you to come undone. You cried out as you were still jumping up and down at lightning speed. As soon as he felt you clenching around him, he moaned loudly, as he was just about to cum. You quickly pulled him out of you and allowed him to spatter his fluid on your body. He panted heavily, droplets of sweat sinking from his forehead to the mattress. You waited a few moments before grabbing a towel and cleaning you both. You laid down on the bed with him, moving his head on your chest as you ran your fingers in his silver locks, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

“You're my apricity.” You said while caressing his hair and pecking his temple. His eyes were closed, and he was clearly drifting off to sleep.

“Mh?” He mumbled, not moving one single part of his body, still restrained.

“Apricity. I read that in a book.” You chuckled.

“In simpler words?” He mumbled.

“The warmth of the sun in winter.”

“In even simpler words?” He muttered, his voice coming muffled by your chest.

“My life is the winter, you are the warmth.” You admitted. He didn't answer to that. You weren't sure if he actually understood the concept or even just your words, but one thing you were a hundred percent sure of.

He fell asleep smiling.

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taglist: @cxndiedvi0lets @angeldollw @marchsfreakshow @newwavesylviaplath @happy74827 @evpeters87

a/n: raaaahh!!! I'm honestly so proud of this, the fic came out just like i imagined. Anyways, hope you like it, love you all🤍🤍

join my taglist!!

all rights reserved.

[spaghettito3]

It's always been Curly (Pre-crash Curly x Reader)

Captain Curly, the dependable captain of The Tulpar. That's who he was and will ever be.  ... Until you joined The Tulpar.

---

Or; a small look into Curly and his relationship with his name and title, with sprinklings of fluff.

ao3

It's always been Curly. Cur–ly; two syllables, a trip up and down the steps, the natural progression of things, finishing off a dance with a bow. It's Curly from the hiring manager of that fast food place when he'd made it just in time for his interview when he was 18, dressed in a suit; It's Grant from that awkward girl in middle school who decided she liked him after seeing him score a goal, then Curly once she knew him a bit more; It's Captain from his crew, and back to Curly again when they want to get on his good side. He was Curly.

He doesn't know how it all began, but eventually people started to favour his last name. It made sense, though; a name like Curly fits the bill for a dude with golden curls. He didn't mind that shift, either—two syllables always sounded better, together, than one, alone. He was Curly.

Grant is that one person sitting on the seat closest to the pick-up area of a coffee shop that you'd see for half a second when you go to get your drink. Curly is that dependable captain of The Tulpar with a crew that relies on him. Grant is that flower pot bought at a market years ago, left sitting at the back of the closet. Curly is a bundle of flowers packed perfectly in paper from that same market, just a few, more-populated stalls away. He was Curly.

So if that's the case, why do you insist on holding onto Grant so tightly?

When you introduced yourself to him and the crew last minute—courtesy of the Pony Express—you referred to him as Grant. Grant; one syllable, an unceremonious fall down the stairs, an abrupt stop, finishing off a dance with a trip. He'd been so used to everyone referring to him as Captain or Curly that a single word alone felt similar to when the wind back on Earth would sometimes suddenly pick up and make a mess of his perfectly styled hair. And despite seeing the mess you've made, you'd continue as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Grant this, Grant that. No mention of that blond curly-haired captain, save for the one you were choosing to call Grant at the moment.

It didn't bother him; he didn't let it bother him, not when he had a job to do and bills to pay and a freighter to man. Hell, it wasn't even about your usage of the name as well; just the reasoning behind why when everyone else called him Curly. Though it was starting to become less like a small gust of wind and more like a rocky, thorny, bordering-on-uncomfortable bump in the road, and his brain soon added that train of thought to the things he'd think about when he'd try to sleep.

He eventually cracked one sleepless night down by the kitchenette with you.

There wasn't anything special that triggered it; no mocking tone he'd sooner expect someone like Jimmy to use back at home, just a simple:

“Hey, Grant. Couldn't sleep as well?”

“Why do you call me that?”

He remembers the slight falter in your smile when he’d lost himself. Curly wouldn't start the conversation with that if he decided it was even a good idea to have that conversation at all. Your act wasn't hurting anyone; it was just a name. There was no need to confront you.

Though as much as he hated ever asking and wanted to take it back, to his dismay, you took it on the chin and chuckled. “It's your name.” Your eyes remained on his, your mug clink-clink-clinking as you stirred on it.

“Everyone calls me Curly.”

“Everyone calls you Curly,” you repeated. That's when you dropped your gaze, and he hated how his eyes immediately followed the line of sight down onto your mug, as if desperate to chase it. You continued stirring on your coffee—surely it's at a drinkable temperature by now—and he debated on getting his own cup. It'd be a waste of time to try to sleep now; no way that he wouldn't overthink and repeat this conversation ad infinitum in his mind.

Eventually, you looked up and he met your eyes at an embarrassing speed. His gaze flickered onto your lips when they quirked into a smile, as if you remembered something funny. You then, with a gentle hand, slid your mug over to him.

“What if Grant gets lonely?”

That was the stupidest thing you could've said.

After all, weren't Grant and Curly the same person? Why the need for that distinction? That's when he realised your eyes were still meeting his; unwavering, curious. You weren't looking at the curly blond hair, the Pony Express uniform, or the body he'd worked so hard to get—just his eyes.

Grant wanted to laugh—actually, he did laugh, it seemed, when a chuckle bubbled out of him.

“That makes no sense.”

He reached for the mug you offered and took a sip. Then, he lowered his cup to speak, his voice softer this time:

“...But I'm sure Grant appreciates the company.”

That was the stupidest thing he could've said. You told him as such with your own chuckle.

“I'll keep on sticking by Grant, then.”

His eyes flickered onto your lips again, and it became abundantly clear that you’d grin every time you said the name Grant; first, an ‘o’ shape with your mouth for the ‘gr’, then you'd widen the shape for ‘an’—before finally grinning to enunciate the ‘t’. Grant; one syllable, a hop down the stairs, a period in a sentence, finishing off a dance with the last step. He teared his eyes away and brought the mug to his lips again, a faint heat rising to his cheeks, but it was too late; now he wouldn't be able to stop noticing your smile every time you said his name or the way you said it.

Ever since then, every time he'd hear a “Grant!” he'd turn his head that way—no longer out of a sense of obligation, but because he wanted to. Because maybe if he turned fast enough he'd catch a glimpse of your smile mid-Grant… But then he'd probably turn his head right back, eyes wide in a panic, because oh god he's not supposed to be anticipating his crewmate’s smile like this.

He’ll think about the implications of his feelings as the captain of The Tulpar later, but for now… It's not so bad being Grant.

[doberbutts]

The stud article you just posted reminds me of a funny story from my baby queer days:

Basically, I was going to some like Amazon warehouse hiring event, that I had mistakenly thought was more of an interview thing than it actually was. Being very newly out of the closet, I got all dressed up in my newly bought, rather poorly fitted suit obtained specifically for job interviews.

So I arrived to this powerpoint presentation with like 30 other people there, most of whom were in tshirts and jeans or at most like polos and slacks. The whole thing was just like. Let us explain what this job is and then you need to do a drug test and if you pass you can put down your availability and we'll get back to you if it fits with an opening we have. I am seVERELY over dressed for this whole experience and feeling pretty awkward.

Then this very handsome, kinda masc, Black woman walks up to me and we start chatting and actually found out we lived fairly close to one another. Anyway, towards the end of the conversation she asks if I'm "a stud". I, being both a very baby gay and also white, don't quite know what this means and assume it's something closer to "hunk" or lady's man kinda thing. So I was like "lol I'm trying??"

We chatted a while longer and then she had her turn to go sign up for the schedule. I didn't wind up taking the job and tragically never ran into her again, but i still think of that little meeting with fond amusement

Handsome black women my beloved. Truly they make the world go round

[suckerforprettyboys]

illicit affairs- g.hawthorne

in which a simple interview starts fierce rumors of a secret romance.

wc: 1.3K

my inbox is open for requests! xoxo

The backstage room was cloaked in an awkward silence, broken only by the distant echoes of the camera and make-up crew doing their last minute touches. You, a well known and respected interviewer, were sitting patiently waiting for your interviewee to enter the room. You had your papers neatly stacked, hair perfectly set how you liked it, and a bright smile ready. 

Interviews were nothing new for you, it was quite literally your job, but today’s interview would be rather difficult in comparison to the usual interviews. You were interviewing a well known businessman and entrepreneur, the heir to the Hawthorne fortune: Grayson Davenport Hawthorne. 

Your mind is sucked from your thoughts as the door swings open, a rather annoyed and stoic looking Grayson straightening up his suit. He walks over, sticking out his hand for a handshake.

“Grayson Hawthorne, pleased to meet you,” he introduces himself, not even cracking a smile. 

You introduce yourself as well, presenting a sweet smile to go along with your words. He just stares at you, unimpressed, almost looking bored. 

“Oh boy, he seems like a joy” you think to yourself, not letting the negativity of your thoughts slip into your kind and warm demeanor. 

As the two of you settle into the interview space, the atmosphere grows increasingly frosty and tense. Grayson was clearly not in the mood to answer any hard hitting questions today, answering with the most vague responses possible. This left you to navigate through a maze of one-worded answers and dismissive gestures. 

It soon became evident that this interview would be a test of your ability to crack the enigma that was Grayson Hawthorne. 

The minutes ticked by slowly, and you pressed on, determined to unravel the layers of the unyielding celebrity. Little did they know, this encounter would become a battle of wits, a dance between an interviewer seeking to break through his icy demeanor and a stubborn man determined to maintain his impenetrable facade. 

Despite the obvious tension in the room, you continue on with your hard hitting questions, determined to get something out of Grayson Hawthorne. The air hung heavy, each question met with unspoken challenges and calculated responses. Grayson wasn’t a lot in your eyes, but the bastard was good. 

In a subtle shift, you decide to take a less business approach to the questions and quite beating around the bush. 

“So,” You smile sneakily, leaning forward as you fold your hands in your lap. “The Heiress, Ms. Grambs. Any comments on her you would like the world to know, or are you gonna shut this topic down too?” You smirk to yourself as you see a slight glimmer in his eye from your boldness. Maybe it was just the set lights that hit his perfect face just right, but you knew damn well he had something to say from the way he brightened up ever so slightly.

“No comment.” He says coldly, shifting in his chair. He crossed one leg of the other in your direction, body language indicating his slight interest in your approach to the questioning. 

He didn’t trust you, but he was opening up. Ever so slightly.

You smile warmly, laughing softly to try and clear the atmosphere. “Well folks, there’s your answer.” You turn back towards Grayson, looking him straight in the eyes as if willing him to give you something, anything. “Not to sound too forward, but you are a very handsome and wealthy young man. You have stated in previous interviews that, and I quote, ‘dating is not your thing, never has been and won’t be for the foreseeable future if you can help it,” You smile sneakily once again. 

“Does that still apply, or has a special someone changed your perspective on that?”

Grayson goes slightly stiff at your words. You take note of this, deciding that this would be that last romance question in an attempt to get him to feel comfortable. 

“I stand by the previous statements made regarding that particular topic.” He says, unfazed and bored. 

You lean back in your seat, uncrossing you legs and sighing, “Mr. Hawthorne, you are one tough cookie to crack.” You laugh, smiling sweetly at him. “I assume privacy is one of the things you value most?”

“Yes, it is.” He nods, but gives no other indication of emotions.

Bingo. You’ve gotten him to talk. And you are running with it. 

You smile, locking eyes with him again, “And is there any particular situation that made that choice set in stone? Or has that just been something you’ve always lived by?” You watch his eyes flicker with something, but you aren’t sure what.

“I grew up watching what the media had done to family members and the little bit they showed the press and chose to just steer clear indefinitely. It is better to avoid a burning building and wonder what would have happened then to walk in and burn.” He folds his hands in his lap, re-cuffing the sleeves.

You smile from ear to ear, overjoyed that he had gotten out more than a few words. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

“You never had to.” Grayson cuts in, expression cold. It was clear this was a sensitive topic, so you decide not to push any farther. 

“I suppose I never did, my sympathy to those who found out the hard way.” You nod. Then, as if nothing had happened, your bright smile is back.

“Alright, Mr. Hawthorne. I believe that is all the questions I have for today.” You shake his hand again, thanking him for coming out and saying goodbye to your audience. Grayson gets up immediately, looking as if he was fighting to leave the room. 

You choose to ignore it, speaking with the camera crew and production team as the wrap up.

---

Less than a half hour later you are walking back to your dressing room, a nagging feeling in your cut. You feel guilty, not sure for what, but the feeling is there non the less. 

“Fuck it,” You think to yourself, heading towards the guest dressing room.

You knock on the door. No response. 

“Hello?” You call out, only to be met with no response once again. You continue to knock for a few more minutes, ear pressed to the door for any indication of life on the other side of the door.

Eventually, a staff member finds you looking like a creep with your ear pressed to the door. She tells you that Grayson was on his way to his limo and he was quite grumpy. At this news your stomach drops, concerned that you had been the root of his unhappiness. 

You weren’t sure why that particular fact bothered you.

You intercept him outside on the way to his car, hand waving in the air to catch his attention. 

“Mr. Hawthorne!” You yell, causing him to turn. His eyes narrow, brows furrowing as he looks down at you.

“Hi,” You smile, slightly out of breath from chasing him down. “Can I speak with you for a quick second?”

Grayson glances back at his bodyguard, giving a silent signal in the form of a nod. He steps off to the side, nodding at you stiffly. 

“Quickly.” He spits out rather rudely.

“I wanted to apologize.” You say softly, eyes locked on his to show your genuine intention.

This catches Grayson off guard, “Apologize for what exactly?” He slightly quirks a brow, still peering down at you.

“For overstepping the boundaries of the interview. The description of the question I sent your agent had nothing to do with personal life or romance and it was inappropriate of me to ask such things of a total stranger.” You ramble, talking with your hands, the complete opposite from your shiny and perfect interviewer persona. 

Grayson just nods stiffly at you once again, offering no answer as you continue on.

“I’ll have the production team cut anything other than strictly business conversation or we can cut the interview entirely if you wish.”

“No need.” He says quietly. “Just cut the things not described in the papers sent to my agent and myself.”

You let out a sigh of relief, smiling at him “Thank you so much, Mr. Hawthorne”

“Grayson.” He cuts you off. “Just Grayson is ok. Mr. Hawthorne makes me sound old.” He says curtly, turning to leave.

You just stand there as he gets in the limo, waving stiffly at you. Your eyes follow the limo as it leaves, confused as to what had just happened.

The picks up, causing you to shiver slightly, wrapping your arms around yourself. The shutter of a camera catches your attention in the distance. A group of maybe 3 paparazzi were huddled behind a group of bushes, holding their cameras in your direction.

You offer a sweet and warm smile, waving at them as they flick a few more pictures before walking off. You simply shrug, heading back inside for the warmth of the building.

Weird. 

---

Later that evening, you were finishing up with the production team getting the right clips in the right order and making everything look amazing. 

“Ok, guys. Looks great!” You smile proudly, thanking your team for all their great work throughout the day. The sound of your name being called catches your attention, causing you to turn.

Your eyes land on your agent, peeking her head through the door and asking to speak with you outside. You nod, slightly confused, and follow her into the small hallway. 

She looks at you with an odd look, “How are we gonna clean this up?” She says.

“Clean up what?” You laugh nervously, “What happened?”

She quirks an eyebrow at you, telling you to check your phone. You furrow your brows in confusion, pulling out your phone.

The second you laid eyes on it the screen glows with an endless amount of notifications: texts, dm’s, emails, and missed phone calls. Out of curiosity you click on one of the emails, leading you to an article link.

Hawthorne Heir Apparent and Heart-throb Grayson Hawthorne Spotted with Well-Known Interviewer and Possible New Girlfriend, and the cover was a picture of you and Grayson speaking in the parking lot.

Your stomach drops, “Shit.”

[tobiasdrake]

One of my favorite bits of Dragonball trivia is that Yajirobe canonically sounds exactly like Krillin (because Toriyama wanted to make sure Krillin's VA still had a steady job while he was dead). so in honor of that, what are your thoughts on Yajirobe?

I support the commander and general of Yajirobe's Special Forces.

...okay, that probably needs some explaining. A bit the anime liked to do for their filler was to have news cameras and reporters swarm the action to report on everything that's happening. This became very awkward later in the series when it was a plot point that nobody remembered Goku more than ten years after Piccolo's defeat.

One of these bits has reporters interviewing Yajirobe while the Saiyan battle was going on. Yajirobe claims that his elite team are out there engaging the Saiyans. So this became a running joke on another site I was on. Dragon Team? Z Warriors? Nah. Yajirobe's Special Forces.

But in seriousness, let's talk Yajirobe.

As noted, this is a character who only exists because, for a brief period, Krillin didn't. Toriyama killed off Krillin but didn't want his V.A. to go without work, so he purposely and explicitly notes in the manga that Yajirobe conveniently sounds just like Krillin.

"Oh wow, you sound just like someone who would be played by Mayumi Tanaka in the anime adaptation of my adventures!" ~Goku

Yajirobe is pretty unique in Dragon Ball for being a weapon-based fighter. The only other character who relies on a sword is Trunks, and he loses his sword pretty early in the Android arc.

Due to his function as a surrogate character for Krillin, Yajirobe is pretty underdeveloped. He's a wandering ronin wildman Goku happens to run into who's tough enough to hang with 22nd Tenkaichi Budokai top contenders.

Somewhere, Tenshinhan doesn't know why but he's incredibly offended right now.

Though when he does get a chance to attend the tournament, it doesn't go well. Then again, he's pit against God in the qualifiers so that's bad luck.

Don't worry, Yajirobe. Yamcha feels your pain.

God came to defeat Piccolo but he figures, as long as he's here, he might as well humiliate martial artists for lulz. This whole drunken boxing-esque "Whoopsy did I win?" shtick must be so demoralizing to lose to.

As a fighter, Yajirobe leans on his katana. This is what makes him so distinctive, compared to other martial artists. He does fight hand-to-hand when he isn't taking things seriously.

But for Yajirobe, getting serious means going for his sword. He practices iaijutsu, a form of kenjutsu revolving around rapid drawing, striking, and sheathing of one's blade. 90's anime fans may recognize iaijutsu or its older name battojutsu as the basis for Kenshin Himura's style in the samurai anime Rurouni Kenshin.

This kill was brought to you by iaijutsu, a popular art for anime swordsmanship because it's fucking cool. Vegeta would later fall victim to Yajirobe's iaijutsu as well.

Imagine being the second-most powerful being the universe literally on the cusp of annihilating the last line of defense that this pitiful world has to offer, with the only truly dangerous opponent broken in your hand....

And then suddenly you lose everything to Krillin's stunt double. This is worse. This is definitely worse than having God Whoopsy Doodle Headbutt you in the balls. 100%, this is worse.

This was both the first and last time Yajirobe had any meaningful impact on a fight. I don't count killing Cymbal up there because Goku would have done it if he hadn't. That was an establishing moment to show off Yajirobe's abilities.

Rather, despite his abilities and standoffish demeanor, Yajirobe is primarily the party healer. It's super weird. Right from the start, his first contribution is a fish Goku swipes from him to get his strength back.

Goku had no idea that this was stealing. He thought fish just... happen like that sometimes.

Goku's bad at life.

But then everything changes for him, after. Uh. Piccolo kills Goku and then Goku... inexplicably springs back to life for no clear reason at all.

Yeah, this beat-for-beat copy/paste of the Taopaipai fight has some jank to it. But that means Yajirobe's next order of business is to serve as a mode of transportation to bring Goku to healz.

And then he moved in. Now he just. Lives there. Obnoxious college roommate to the God of Martial Arts, running errands in the world below. Karin's personal gofer.

Hey, God wants to see us all for fight practice and also your weird island house is dumb and obnoxious.

Here are your Senzu; Bean Daddy out.

The best thing about Yajirobe is the total lack of fucks he gives about whatever this is. Any time he's onscreen, you can feel his resentment over having to earn his rent by continuing to be a character in this manga.

(And the second best thing is that somehow, Wildman With Sword is the party healer.)

[mirai-e-jump]

Hero Vision Vol.1 (2000/Winter) Changerion Reunion Interviews ft. Takashi Hagino & Aizawa Kazunari (translations below)

Publication: December 31, 2000

Takashi Hagino & Aizawa Kazunari: After 4 years, a date in Harajuku

Hey you two, how are you doing these days? It's been 4 years since the end of the broadcast. You two had a fateful encounter in "Choukou Senshi Changerion," an unusual heroic show that still remains popular to this day. We asked Takashi Hagino and Kazunari Aizawa, who say they still get along well with each other, about their memories of those days, and what their future plans are.

Main Interview Section

"I'm going to say it now. I mean it, I'm really going to say it right now! Changerion was really entertaining! It was truly a masterpiece! Suzumura Akira, a happy go lucky, good natured, 182cm tall, cat eyed, beautiful private investigator, and his partner, Hayami Katsuhiko, a 183cm tall, hot blooded and direct individual with a handsome face, are both on the side of justice. Kuroiwa Shogo, the Dark Knight, is an elite who's handsome, also quite tall I guess, and is running for governor of Tokyo in order to seize control of the city. A slapstick comedy and super cool tokusatsu hero show, with a mixture of fiction and reality, something like this most definitely existed in 1996 Tokyo. On the day of this interview, I was so excited to hear their voices saying, "Good morning~!" The appearance of those two standing there looked really really cool! And so begins the converstions full of laughter between Takashi Hagino, who plays the main character Suzumura Akira, and Aizawa Kazunari, who plays his partner Hayami Katsuhiko."

-Casting!! Secret Stories?-

Hagino: At that time, the role was the same as it always was, wasn't it? I went to a party at some production company, and someone was like, "Ah, you there," and told to come in for an audition. When I went to it, Shirakura-san, the producer, and Nagaishi-san, the main director, were smiling ear to ear once they saw me. I remember thinking, "What, why are you smiling like that?" I was 22 at the time of my debut, so it was about 5-6 years after I dropped out of high school. Before that, the movies that came out around that time made me think that acting was really interesting.

"You've also appeared in a V-Cinema that contains slightly adult content."

Hagino: It's bad. Please don't watch it (laughs). Watch something else where I look cool.

Kazunari: For me, I had just started acting, and my manager took me to Toei's head office to introduce myself. I announced that I was new and would be in their care, and then a strange old man came up to me and said, "Are you the one?" (everyone laughs).

Hagino: Wait! Was he trying to flirt with you?!

Kazunari: Uh, no, you see, my shoelaces became untied in the hallway, so I had to sit on the floor to retie them. He came up to me and said, "What's wrong?" I said, "Ah, no, I'm an actor," and he said, "Come with me then!" Things got carried away, and before I knew it, I went in for an audition.

Hagino: So, who was that guy?

Kazunari: He was……a really good guy to say the least, I actually don't remember his name.

Hagino: You're terrible! (laughs).

Kazunari: No, no. Look, it's because, it's just…anyway, so, at first, I was reading the script without knowing which one of us would play the role. Then, when it was down to just a few people, they asked me, "Which role do you want to play?" I was like, "Well, Hayami, I guess." I wondered if this was it, and then I passed, I passed……huh.

Hagino: Can we get some more joy here?

Kazunari: Well, it's because I really didn't understand. I didn't really feel it when I was suddenly told that I got the job. What's more, I still had no idea how hard it was going to be. No, rather, you really don't know what's going to happen in this world.

"Thank goodness for untied shoelaces and nice people"

-I'm not awkward!-

Hagino: I was asked to read my lines in front of everyone. Naturally, the producer told me that in the future, he would never have me read my lines at the audition for a leading role ever again (everyone laughs). No, I thought it went really well, and while I was a favorite to play this role, somehow I was also the worst. One of the more important people there looked as if he was going "?" all while tilting his head. He looked really nervous. He said, "From now on, when we present leading role auditions to the higherups, we won't make them read lines." He also said, "If you go with this guy, then shut him up and pick him already."

"It's true, Akira's acting wasn't very good, and I felt so embarrassed watching that I wasn't even able to finish the first episode. But, I could never think of anyone else playing Suzumura Akira but Takashi Hagino, and I still think that way after seeing him again after four years."

Hagino: But, back then, I definitely had some momentum. I was always told "You're a perfect fit for the role of Akira!," and a part of me got carried away over it, it felt like my nose was growing just like Pinocchio, except this nose is of brilliant glass. If Pinocchio's nose was made of glass, it would be really beautiful and sparkling.

"He smiles cheerfully and says that such things give him "the power" to play a role."

Hagino: But, you know, it's going to break someday. When that happens, only then will you understand.

"Afterall, Akira, aren't you suppost to be an adult?"

-First Impressions-

Hagino: We first met in an elevator, right?

Kazunari: Yeah, it was in an elevator. When I was on my way to the audition area.

Hagino: I said, "Huh? What's with the long hair?"

Kazunari: Yeah, it was really long.

Hagino: Incredibly long, it was tied in a single knot, along with wearing black jeans and a black shirt. I noticed him and asked, "What floor?" He said, "8th floor, hurry it up."

Kazunari: You liar! No, I politely said, "I'm going to the 8th floor, please."

Hagino: Well, I don't know, I guess that's just how bad my impression of you was (laughs).

Kazunari: Somehow, I never thought that the two of us would be working together.

Hagino: Yeah, I had costume fitting, and they told me that my partner was coming, and then the absolute worst guy came walking in.

Kazunari: Hey now (laughs).

Hagino: Because we seemed so similar in type, I thought there was no way the two of us would be together. Then he came in. And, as you can see, he's handsome, incredibly so. And…uwah. He stands out just by standing still. I really have to do my best here. Even still, I feel good with this guy. I can't imagine anyone else, as I'm already spoiled being stuck with him.

"Oh? Hayami is smiling shyly as he listens."

-Dramatic Drunks-

Hagino: When we drink together, we end up staying up until morning, right?

Kazunari: Yeah, when I see him, all he does is drink.

Hagino: When drunk, this guy tries jumping backwards. He gets really mad. When he stomps, it makes a nice sound.

Kazunari: I see… (pretending not to know)

Hagino: I end up joining him (grinning)

Kazunari: It seems I do alot of unacceptable things.

Hagino: Not really. He says that like I'm trying to wring it out of him. Well, guess I'll just go home then… (walks straight past him)

Kazunari: I do drink abit too much.

Hagino: I feel like a fighter when it comes to alcohol. I'm trying not to lose my memory here.

Kazunari: This guy makes people drink all the time. He'll ask, "Want some sake?" It seems I don't drink for myself, rather, I only drink due to the influence of other people. (to Hagino) Hey, you, you're the reason I always end up getting drunk.

"As usual, they are the best of friends."

-Acting, Theatre and Films-

Kazunari: Basically, about halfway through Changerion's filming, my impression of him was, "Ah, this guy, he's actually really serious.

"Oh? Somehow, Akira looks very happy."

Hagino: That's because, you know, it took me a long time to properly get into the role.

Kazunari: In our current ranks, we don't get into such big roles on TV or movies. I often get a role at the last minute, and have to act on the spot, so I think that because I can practice for a month on stage, movies really require alot of power in comparison.

Hagino: It's definitely different from Changerion, where we could say, "Let's take our time and work on it." I won't be able to make it if I try to wing it. But, if you ask me if I can act in the moment, I can't play the role of a big shot, because I think it wouldn't come off as authentic, but it'll be the best I can do, so it's important to know how much you can work with in such a short period of time.

Kazunari: I think about it alot. When I get a role, I'll think about it for a long time, doing research by watching similar movies, reading books, and so on, then, build up an image. Finally, once on set, adjust it as I see fit.

Hagino: My perception of acting has changed. I'll still watch the videos, and think, "Wow, I really did it~." But, there are also scenes where I'll say, "Oh, I don't think I can do this now." There are so many scenes like that. Although, it's a great opportunity to get into the swing of things, because you end up transforming yourself. The more I got into the rhythm, my surroundings were also in rhythm, so I was able to stay on track. Changerion was a a unique experience, and I don't think I could have done it alone.

Kazunari: The final broadcast was on Christmas, right?

Hagino: For some reason, I don't want to talk about the final episode. It went something like, I drank alot before the shoot and just had alot of fun, since we basically had a day off…

"Does this mean you were having a rough time before the end of the broadcast?"

Hagino: No, no, that's not it. We had about four days off before we started shooting, and I'd never had such a holiday weekend before, so I got alittle too relaxed.

"Does that mean things ended on good terms?"

Hagino: Yeah ❤️, that's how it felt. That's why I don't want to remember.

Kazunari: Like-I-was-say-ing, you…

Hagino: No, no! For me it may be just a past memory, but it's an important one.

Kazunari: Yeah, it was alot of fun.

"Never ending stories and overflowing emotions. I was happy to meet them. Changerion, beyond time…and for all eternity."

[kaysfanficcorner]

Celebrity Crush, Part 1

Author’s note: I know I should be writing chapter 9 of Out of this World, but I finally watched The Bubble over the weekend and Dieter Bravo temporarily took over my brain. I promise that Din’s still in there and he’ll be back soon. This is just a cute little one off ficlet that will likely consist of a series of one-shots. If you like my writing, please feel free to check out my Din series Out of This World.

Masterlist

Summary: Dieter Bravo makes a new friend and tries desperately not to fuck things up for once.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, drug use (weed), light sexual tension, if you are under the age of 18 you are prohibited from this work of fiction. Minors DNI.

AO3

*****

Charming.

That’s the best word he can think of to describe the energetic, voluptuous woman before him. Sure, she’s fucking gorgeous and he’s already daydreaming about bending her over and fucking her right there in the secluded little corner of the coffee shop, but Jesus fucking Christ is she fucking charming. 

The ease with which she cracks silly jokes, laughing brightly at her own sense of humor. The genuine excitement she displays as she talks about things for which she feels passionately. The little smile she sends his way from across the table every now and again. He can tell she’s nervous, who wouldn’t be, but she’s handling herself so beautifully in spite of it. 

Dieter Bravo, currently living in New York for a lengthy stint in the theater, finds himself in the midst of the most cliché fucking meet cute of all time. She’d been rushing around the corner with an iced coffee in one hand and a phone in the other, and he’d been rushing around the same corner struggling to get a freshly rolled joint lit in the cool autumn breeze. Neither of them had been paying attention to their surroundings, and so the two had collided right into one another. His joint, broken in half and rendered useless, laid soaking in the creamy tan puddle from her fallen cup.

She’d apologized profusely, going so far as to offer him one of the THC gummies from her purse to make up for the destroyed joint. He tells her that he’ll only take a gummy if she’ll let him replace her coffee, to which she agrees. It’s the least he can do when it was equally his fault. His favorite spot for coffee is only a few blocks away, so he leads her there and they get to chatting along the way. He’s surprised by how easy she is to talk to while they are standing in line to order, and soon enough he’s seated across from her in a secluded booth on the second floor even though he’d intended to just replace the coffee and fuck off. Now she’s seated across from him at his usual table, the staff knows him well enough to make sure no one else sits near him while he’s there. The second floor of Hellfire Roasters, a satanic themed coffee shop, is all theirs until they choose to leave. 

Which turns out to not be for a long while. He wasn’t expecting to stay for very long. He figured that he’d get her the coffee, take the gummy, and move on with his day. But then he really gets to talking with her, and he can’t seem to physically pull himself out of this social interaction. He’s glued to his seat, even after the awkwardness of his identity is brought up and subsequently glossed over. She’d known who he was from the second they’d bumped into each other, but it doesn’t seem to effect how genuine she is. 

Apparently she just turned thirty, deciding to uproot her entire life to move to New York on a whim. She tells him that she woke up one day and realized that she couldn’t let her life pass her by anymore. So she threw away half of her belongings and emptied out her savings account to get a tiny little apartment with a friend of hers who also wanted to try out life in the big city. The gorgeous creature seated across from him wants to get into the film industry, horror specifically. She’d actually just been leaving a successful job interview to work on a very small indie film when he’d accidentally knocked her victory coffee from her hand. It’s endearing to hear her speak so bright eyed and bushy tailed about the industry which has been slowly sucking the life from him for the last couple of years. It reminds him of himself when he’d first started out, before he won the Oscar and everything slowly went to shit.

“So yeah, Fright Night from 1985 is the reason I decided I wanted to make monster movies.” She says, eyes sparkling.

He can’t help but grin over his cup, “I mean that’s a great reason, it’s such a great fucking movie that not enough people talk about. Classic 80s schlocky bullshit with John Hughes-ish teen high school kids thrown in? The Peter Vincent shit is also such a fun homage to Hammer Horror.”

“So you weren’t posturing, you do know your horror shit after all.” She sends a cheekily little grin his way, and he knows he’s fucking done for right then and there. 

“You’re pretty when you’re being a smart ass,” he flirts, hoping that it gets the point across without coming on too strong. He’s gotten a lot better when it comes to begging people he just met to fuck him.

“So I’ve been told.” Another cheeky grin finds her lips, this time with the straw of her pumpkin iced coffee nestled between her teeth before she takes a sip. He might start begging soon if she keeps that up.

“M’sure you have, muñequita,” he replies back. “So what specifically about Fright Night does it for you? Like, if this is your favorite movie of all time then there’s got to be multiple reasons.” 

She shrugs, “I dunno, I just love everything about it. The performances, the effects and make up, the humor, the unresolved vampire romance. It’s got everything.” 

“Unresolved vampire romance?”

Her eyes widen as she gawks at him. “Oh my god, do you not remember? When Jerry has that old painting in his house that looks like Amy, Amanda Bearse’s character, in the past. The one dude even says something like ‘she looks just like her’, and later in the movie Jerry just tells Amy something vague like ‘she’s someone I knew a long time ago.’ But that’s all they ever do with it. It used to piss me off that they didn’t go further into that backstory. Charley and Amy defeat Jerry and get to have a happy ending. What about Jerry’s happy ending? I’ve always wanted someone to make a monster movie where the monster actually succeeds in getting the girl, and when no movies like that ever came out I figured I just have to make it myself then.” 

He’s in awe of her, adoring every second of her passionate rantings. She even does little voices when saying the quotes from the film, and Dieter is practically in shambles because of this adorable movie nerd. “You might be the most interesting person I’ve met this year,” he says honestly when she’s finished.

She scoffs, waving him off. “It’s only October, you’ve still got a few months left.” 

He shakes his head, “I highly doubt I’m going to meet anyone better than you between now and January. Or ever, really.”

*****

You’re blushing, trying to hide how much what he just said affects you. This can’t be fucking real. This sort of thing happens in cringey fanfiction, not in real life. Play it cool, dickweed, you have to talk yourself off the ledge before addressing the Academy Award Winner before you. You have no idea how you’re still keeping yourself composed at this point, but he’s easy to talk to so that helps. It’s frankly shocking that he’s being so chill, given that his reputation as a wild man used to proceed him.

“Oh stop,” you gush, “I’m sure you’re going to meet someone way cooler than me later today. You’re Dieter fucking Bravo.”

Dieter shakes his head of messy brown hair, and watching it move about is mesmerizing. “Not a fucking chance! You take the cake, muñequita. I never meet people like you. You have good taste in horror, you’re charming.”

You shake your head, feeling the calming effects of the gummy as little waves of pleasure circulate through your nervous system. Hearing this man of all people say things like that to you might very well break you if you let it. So you change the subject, “I don’t know about you but I’m definitely high. I feel like my edible hit harder than I expected it to and all of this is in my head. Or when we bumped into each other, I actually fell and hit my head so now I’m in a coma. There’s no way I’m sitting across from you of all people, having a cup of coffee and a great conversation. I’ve lived in New York for a week and I’ve already had the best celebrity encounter of all time.”

“Who’s your favorite?” He asks suddenly, leaning forward a little as his brow swoops down to a more serious face. It’s nearly too much for you, how handsome he truly is suddenly taking hold.

“F-favorite what?”

“Celebrity,” he draws out the word, his voice driving you wild internally. Watching his hand gestures as he talks isn’t helping much either.

You choke on the pumpkin latte a little, your own brow shooting up towards your hairline. “I don’t know how to answer that,” you say earnestly. 

“Oh come on. We’re already here, you might as well just be honest.” Dieter pushes, practically poking at you with a stick. 

“You promise not to think I’m a lunatic stalker who ran into you on purpose?” 

“Promise.”

“Honestly? It’s you.” 

He scoffs, “You’re just saying that.” 

You chuckle, knowing you must look as awkward as you feel. “I’m pretty sure the original painting of yours that I have hanging in my living room would beg to differ. My mom special ordered it as a birthday slash housewarming gift because she knew I’ve always wanted one. Your style is so dark and raw. I love it.” 

*****  

Dieter can’t help it. The self centered part of him, the reason he enjoys being a celebrity despite the isolation, is so thrilled to hear this revelation from you. “So… why me? I’m curious.”

You mull this over for a long while, sipping from your iced coffee as you look at his face. It’s insane how calm you are right now. “There was that one horror movie you did early on in your career,” you start, being cut off for a moment when Dieter interrupts you.

“Oh fuck,” he says knowingly, “no one ever talks about that.” 

“I mean, it’s a little outdated at this point but you were so good in it. The fact that no one talks about it is such a crime. First you think its a ghost movie, then it turns out to be a slasher movie, and then you turn out to be the killer? What a fucking ride that was the first time I saw it. I had such a crush on you after that even though you were way older than me. Nearly wore out the VHS tape because I would watch your scenes over and over.” Then your hand flies to your mouth, unable to stop that last sentence before it already left your lips. “Oh Jesus, that is so embarrassing.”

Dieter chuckles, shaking his head as he grins at you. His earring is distracting. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Most people have a celebrity crush.” 

Your face is on fire. “Yeah but most people don’t get to have a cup of coffee and split an edible with their celebrity crush.” 

He leans back in his chair, taking a sip from his London fog. “I guess you should thank your lucky stars, then. And I should thank mine that you’re not a total fucking weirdo.” 

“Oh, I’m definitely a weirdo. Just not a stalker,” you chuckle, feeling at ease once again.

The two of you sit there for another two and a half hours, chatting about movies and music and drugs and everything else under the sun that you’re both interested in. He ends up ordering the both of you food when he realizes that he’s completely missed the lunch meeting he was supposed to have. Fuck ‘em. You are way more interesting than whoever he was supposed to meet. It wasn’t a meeting about a job, so fuck it. 

Dieter knows he could sit there and talk to you all night, but curtains go up in three hours and if he doesn’t get to the theater soon the director and his agent are going to actually kill him. He knows that one of the missed calls that just vibrated in his pocket has to have been one of them. You’re mid sentence about your favorite food, and he has to interrupt you even though it pains him to do so. 

Dieter looks you over after the interruption, and you can’t help but think that he looks almost nervous. “Sorry to cut you off, but I really have to get going. I’d say that I hate to be forward, but that would be a lie. Can I give you my number? It was really nice to meet you and get to know you a little. I wouldn’t mind seeing you again.” 

You’re so floored by this that your mouth hangs open and you nod dumbly. He holds his hand out expectantly and you just stare at it for a moment before realizing that he wants your phone. Plucking the thing out from your purse, you pull up the contact book and hand it over. Dieter smiles across the table at you, the tip of his tongue poking out from the left side of his mouth as he types. Then he takes a silly selfie. On your phone. Dieter Bravo just took a selfie on your phone. 

He hands your personal device back over, and you look down a the newly added contact.  It says “Celebrity Crush” instead of his name and the accompanying picture is the selfie he just bestowed upon you. Its the cutest picture of him you’ve ever seen, and you get to keep the only copy of it all to yourself. 

“Well if you get to do that then give me your phone,” you say, holding your hand out in the same way he had to you. He gives you a similar but newer model of the phone you’ve had for several years, so you make quick work of adding your contact information. After taking a similarly silly selfie and handing it back over, you chuckle as Dieter reads what you input into his contacts. 

“Coffee Shop Weirdo,” he reads out loud, “that’s perfect. And this picture is fucking cute.” 

“Thanks,” you blush, cheeks heating up. “You better get going, Bravo. Maybe I’ll come see your show next week.” 

Dieter’s face lights up, becoming that of a wound up puppy before a bowl of fresh kibble. “If you want to come tonight I’ll have them save you a ticket at the box office. Doesn’t have to be tonight if you’re busy, but if you’re not and you want to.”

“Are you sure it’s not too late notice? I heard it was sold out for opening week.” 

Dieter shoots you an incredulous look, “I’m the star. I can get you a fucking ticket.” 

After a millisecond of hesitation you agree, knowing that this entire day has been a once in a lifetime kind of day. From getting the job, to meeting Dieter, to this invitation. This is the kind of life changing shit you’ve been aching for. “Okay, sure. I’d love to see your acting chops live. I’ll just run home and change into something nice and head over to the theater.” 

“Perfect,” he breathes, grinning ear to ear. “I’ll be on the lookout for you after the show.” 

“Great, thank you. And thank you again for lunch. This was nice.” 

“Yeah it was, wasn’t it?” Then his phone starts vibrating with the fifth call in a row and he groans, tapping the green answer button with his ringed thumb and placing the thin device to his ear. He immediately pulls it back out a few inches with a grimace when the voice on the other end starts screaming at him. “Fuck, Barbra. You don’t have to fucking scream at me. I’ll be there soon, I’m only ten blocks from the theater.” 

You can hear the shrill female voice clearly ask, “What in the name of fuck was so important that you didn't come back from your lunch break for three fucking hours?”

Dieter looks directly to you and grins, “I was making a new friend.” 

“I swear to fucking god, Bravo. You better not be back to your old habits. You fucking promised me that shit was done. If you weren’t making me so much money right now I’d fucking kill you myself.” 

“Love you too, Babs. See you soon,” Dieter says cheerfully as he hangs up. 

“Sorry I got you into trouble,” you offer awkwardly, feeling a little bad that he’s late because of you even though you’re well aware that he could have left at any time. 

He stands, gesturing for you to join him as he laughs a little. “I can assure you that I’m the only one who ever gets myself into trouble, muñequita. Don’t worry about my agent, I can handle her. She’s a bitch and a half but they all are and she gets me good gigs like this Shakespeare show.” 

Dieter leads you to the exit of the coffee shop, leaving a generous tip with the barista on the way out. Once outside he dons his shades and pulls the collar of his black pea coat up in an attempt to not be noticed by anyone. He’s late enough as it is, he doesn’t need to stop for selfies fifty times on his way to work. 

“I really do hope you come to the show tonight,” he says, looking down at you as he scratches the back of his head. What you wouldn’t give to run your fingers through that fluffy hair of his.

You grin up at him, “It’ll be a close call with the train but if I’m quick about changing my clothes, I should make it back to this end of town just in time. I’ll be there, Dieter.” 

His very genuine smile melts your heart right then and there. Fuck, this is about to get complicated.  

“Great!” Your celebrity crush says, “See you tonight!” 

And then he’s gone as quickly as he had appeared, around a corner and out of sight in all but a moment. You head for the nearest train station, having to use your gps since you’re nowhere near accustomed to life in New York just yet. The city is so huge that it’s overwhelming when you’re tying to go somewhere quickly. 

After sending a text to your roommate that you’ll be home soon and that you have something fucking insane to tell him, you get ready to board the train heading towards your little apartment in Queens with a podcast playing in your ear buds. Soon enough, as in like an hour later, you’re back home and frantically looking for a nice dress to wear to Dieter’s play. It’s bad enough that fancy clothes aren’t really something you ever bothered to have on hand before moving to the city, but the fact that you’re not done unpacking doesn’t help your case either. 

“So you mean to tell me,” Henry, your best friend of over a decade and the only person crazy enough to move to New York with you, is standing in your doorway with a cup of instant noodles in his hands. He’s speaking between slurps of broth, “that the dude who I have to look at a hideous Funko Pop of whenever I go into the kitchen met you on the street, bought you lunch, gave you his number, and invited you to see his play for free? How much of those edibles did you take today?” 

“I’m not high, you fucking asshole.” Gritting your teeth, you glare at Henry before upending a box of clothes right on top of your bed. 

“Yes you are,” Henry grins, laughing as he dodges the small black throw pillow you throw his way.

You roll your eyes, digging around the pile of clothing, “Okay, yeah, I’m high. But I’m always a little high and everything I just told you really fucking happened. I showed you the picture he left in my camera roll, I can’t make this shit up!”  

Henry taps a finger to his chin, feigning deep thought. “How do I know that wasn’t from instagram and this isn’t some sort of break in your psyche because you read too much fanfiction about that space character he plays. You know, the funko pop in the kitchen?” 

“Oh god, I should delete my tumblr.” 

Just as you say that, your phone goes off with a little ding. A feeling you haven’t felt in a long time, titillating anticipation at a text from someone of the opposite sex, arises within you when you glance over and see the name of the contact.

“Oh my god. He fucking texted me,” you start to bounce around the room, “I can’t open it. What if he’s like ‘never mind don’t come and delete my number’?”

“You’re a crazy bitch, but I love you dearly,” Henry says, moving to grab your phone. You try to snatch it from him but he’s a good bit taller than you and holds it up so that you cannot reach. He unlocks the phone with ease, having known your password for years. “Two texts from ‘Celebrity Crush.’ Ugh, really? That’s so corny, but for some reason I don’t hate it.” 

“Oh my god you fucking dick, what did he say?!” You’re practically jumping up and down grabbing for your phone. 

“Text one: Your ticket is at the box office. I left them your name so just make sure you have your ID.” Henry reads the message, pretending to fan himself. “Oh my this is hot stuff. Text two… Oh… well this is quite a development.”

The way he says that makes you feel horrified, lunging for the phone once more. “What?! Is it a dick pic or something?!”

“Pfft, I wish. No, text two says: I can’t stop thinking about how good Fright Night is thanks to you. I haven’t seen it in years. If you’re not busy after the show, would you want to come back to my place and watch it?” Henry gapes at you, finally relinquishing the phone. 

“Holy shit. Holy shit! What do I say?” You look down at the two messages and then back up to your best friend with pleading eyes.

Henry looks you up and down, putting a hand on your shoulder.  “If this really isn’t you fucking with me, then for the love of Christ say yes!” 

You take a few deep breaths, “Okay, okay. I can do this. Go make me something to eat please so I can get dressed and get the fuck out of here.” 

Henry starts to leave your room but turns in the doorway to look back at you. “Wear the black dress from New Years 2018. Don’t pack anything, that way you have to wear his clothes if you spend the night. Speaking from personal experience, when your booty call wears your clothes its a huge turn on. And make sure your location is on so I can come rescue you if he’s a secret serial killer. I know you love him because he played one once, hopefully that was just a role.” 

“Noted. Go make me food before I throw something at you, please.” You send a joker-like grin his way and watch as your best friend walks off with a laugh. Then you glance back down to your messages with Dieter, seeing that he’s typing again. 

Celebrity Crush: Hey sorry to bother you again, just wanted to say no pressure about coming over. I know we just met. 😅

Feeling badly about leaving him hanging long enough to make him doubt himself, you quickly tap out a response. 

Coffee Shop Weirdo: Hey Dieter, thanks again for scoring me a ticket. If you think you’ll really feel up to it after preforming, I’d love to come over and watch Fright Night with you. 😊

The typing bubble pops up immediately after your text shows as read, causing a little smile to tug at your lips and a flutter in your belly. 

Celebrity Crush: Great! I’m looking forward to seeing you again. Stay put after the show and I’ll come find you. 

Coffee Shop Weirdo: I’m looking forward to seeing you again too. So glad you knocked my coffee out of my hands today. 

Celebrity Crush: Oh so it was all me now, huh? I see how it is, muñequita. 🤨

You highlight the word muñequita, clicking the translate button to confirm that it’s Spanish for little doll, and your grin widens even more.

Coffee Shop Weirdo: You flirting with me, Bravo?

A moment goes by with the message having been read, then the typing bubble pops up again. 

Celebrity Crush:  Yeah, if you’re okay with that.

Coffee Shop Weirdo: I’m definitely okay with that.

Celebrity Crush: I’m getting called away. Wont be able to message you again until the show’s over. Be safe getting to the theater, see you soon. 

Coffee Shop Weirdo:  See you soon. Break a leg 🦴 

After sending the last text, you manage to find the black dress from 2018 that Henry suggested. He’s right, its perfect. Floor length with a slit up the right thigh, the sparkly long sleeved gown is perfect for the occasion you so desperately need it for. True to your own sense of style, you pair it with ankle length black combat boot platforms and black accessories. 

Henry brings you a cup of noodles which you practically inhale before getting dressed and quickly attending to your hair and makeup. 

Soon enough you’re back on the train, heading for the theater district feeling as if you’re living someone else’s life because this can’t possibly be yours. 

*****

@missbabyjay you’re welcome 😉

[fictionalfantasist]

Wanda maximoff x reader

Summary: Y/N is not a hero—just a stunt double, living in the shadows of others' spotlight. But when her path crosses with Wanda Maximoff’s, their worlds begin to collide in unexpected ways. Drawn together by fate, their bond deepens as they face forces neither of them fully understands. In the fight to protect what matters most, they’ll discover that when two worlds collide, the aftermath leaves nothing untouched—and everything at risk.

Chapter 1

The morning sun hung low in the sky, still burning off the thin layer of mist that clung to the Hollywood Hills like a blanket. The backlot of the Avengers set was buzzing with energy—crew members rushing to adjust equipment, directors shouting orders over megaphones, and costumed actors casually sipping coffee, their faces painted with a curious mixture of anticipation and boredom.

And then there was Y/N.

Perched on the edge of a towering scaffold, overlooking a massive rig designed to simulate an explosion, Y/N adjusted the straps on the harness and secured the last of the gear. Their job for today was simple, at least on paper: a high-flying, pyro-filled, mid-air collision sequence. The directors had already referred to it as "insane" at least three times that morning.

"Don't die on us, Y/N," the assistant director quipped as he handed them the final safety check clipboard. He said it in a half-joking, half-serious tone, which was probably warranted, considering the number of moving parts involved in this particular stunt.

"Die? On *this* set?" Y/N smirked as they signed off the checklist, handing it back. "I've survived worse hangovers."

The assistant director chuckled nervously, unsure whether they were serious or not, then backed away toward the rest of the crew. That was the thing about Y/N. They carried this effortless calm with them, as if nothing really got to them—whether it was a fiery explosion or an awkward conversation at craft services. Cool, mysterious, and, in a way, untouchable.

And definitely sarcastic.

Y/N was used to being the one people whispered about, the anonymous face in the background doing the death-defying work for the more marketable stars. It suited them just fine. They didn't need the limelight; they just liked the thrill.

Today, however, things were different. Word had spread across the set that Wanda Maximoff—well, Elizabeth Olsen—was visiting today for a few interview segments to help promote the movie. Apparently, some of the new magic sequences were going to be inspired by her suggestions, so she'd been invited to consult on a few scenes.

Y/N didn't pay much attention to it at first. It wasn't like they hadn't seen stars on set before. The only difference was that *this* star had unknowingly been part of Y/N's life in more ways than one. But that was a story for another day.

The crew was getting into position when a sudden hush fell over the set. From the corner of their eye, Y/N spotted Elizabeth—no, Wanda—walking onto the scene, flanked by a couple of producers. She had this easy grace about her, not in an untouchable Hollywood way, but in a quiet, composed sort of way. She wasn't wearing anything flashy, just jeans and a simple jacket, her hair loose around her shoulders. Her eyes, though—they were sharp, taking in everything around her.

Y/N leaned back against the scaffold rail, adjusting their gloves as they watched Wanda from a distance. For a moment, they considered how wild it was to see her in person, after all the times they'd watched her on screen. But then, duty called, and Y/N's attention snapped back to the present. The stunt coordinator was shouting final instructions, and Y/N could feel the buzz of excitement creeping up their spine.

"Okay, Y/N," the director called out. "We're rolling in five. You ready to do your thing?"

"Always." Y/N's voice was light, but their focus was razor-sharp.

As the cameras started rolling, Y/N took a deep breath. The stunt was about as dangerous as it could get without crossing into 'this is just asking for trouble' territory. The plan was to leap from the scaffold, crash through a series of glass panels, and then land in a roll just as the pyro charges went off. A split second too early or late, and it wouldn't be pretty.

The moment the signal was given, Y/N leaped. The air whipped past them, the world blurring into a rush of color and noise. Glass shattered around them in a symphony of chaos, perfectly timed with the crackling explosions that bloomed behind. For a few heart-pounding seconds, it was just them and the stunt—adrenaline surging as they twisted mid-air, every muscle primed for impact.

Then, the landing. A perfect roll, and they were up on their feet in an instant. The set erupted in cheers and applause. Y/N casually brushed some glass shards from their jacket and smirked as they caught their breath. Not bad. Not bad at all.

But as the cheers started to die down, Y/N noticed Wanda standing at the edge of the set, her eyes locked on them. She had that look—the kind people had when they weren't quite sure what to make of you. It wasn't the usual admiration that stunt performers got, but something more. She was intrigued, maybe even a little impressed. Y/N shot her a wink, just to see what would happen.

Wanda raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

After the take was done, Y/N made their way over to the side of the set where the crew was resetting for the next shot. They grabbed a bottle of water from the table, taking a long drink when they felt a presence behind them. Turning slightly, they found Wanda standing there, arms casually crossed, still watching them.

"Not bad," she said, her tone teasing but warm.

"Not bad?" Y/N raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. "I risk my life for this movie, and all I get is a 'not bad'?"

Wanda chuckled softly. "Well, I've seen explosions bigger than that. Maybe you're just spoiled by the CGI."

Y/N laughed, leaning back against a table. "Fair enough. Guess I'll have to blow up something bigger next time."

She took a step closer, her curiosity evident. "Do you always make a habit of throwing yourself into danger like that?"

Y/N shrugged, a grin playing on their lips. "What can I say? I like to keep things interesting. Plus, it's not as bad as it looks."

Wanda gave them a long look, as if she were trying to figure out what made them tick. "You must be either very brave or very reckless."

Y/N tilted their head, pretending to think it over. "Why not both?"

There was a moment of silence, filled with the distant sounds of the crew bustling around them. Wanda looked at Y/N, her eyes flicking with something almost playful. "Well, just so you know, next time you jump through fire, I expect to see a little more flair."

Y/N chuckled. "Oh, trust me. You haven't seen anything yet."

Wanda's smile widened before she gave a nod and turned to walk away, leaving Y/N standing there with a mischievous grin on their face.

"By the way," Y/N called after her. "Let me know if you need a stunt double for your magic tricks. I'm pretty good with sleight of hand too."

Wanda paused, glancing back over her shoulder with a smirk. "I'll keep that in mind."

And just like that, she was gone, melting back into the chaos of the set. Y/N couldn't help but feel that this wouldn't be the last time they crossed paths. Something about her intrigued them too—and they were never one to shy away from a challenge.

As the crew reset for the next stunt, Y/N pulled their jacket a little tighter and prepared to go again. The day was far from over, and who knew what other surprises it held?

[wonhuihonwuiii]

jun and cheol pairing (juncheol)

I have STILL been seeing people criticize Jun's relationship with the members. I cannot stress enough how adorable and unique each ship is so I have decided to do an analysis.

Starting off with quite an underrated duo, Juncheol!

I feel like the first thought would be: are they even aware of each other’s existence? HAHA 

BUT then again, as the leader, Cheol does such a wonderful job of maintaining a close relationship with ALL members.

I think Cheol sees Jun as a younger brother whom he guides every once in a while but is generally independent (does this make sense)

In interviews for example, Cheol pays extra attention to Jun’s screen time by stopping members from talking every time Jun attempts to speak. He literally goes “shhh mode” to everyone to make sure that the attention is on Jun.

There is this particular clip of them that I absolutely love! I think it was Jun talking about his struggles as a foreigner and how he eventually saw a silver lining overtime. Then beside him, there was Cheol with the PROUDEST SMILE EVER. It’s just so touching to know that Cheol must be aware of what Jun had to endure and how much he has grown over the past couple of years. I feel like he makes his presence known for Jun through the little things because they both prefer keeping it that way. They’re close enough to be considered friends but then again, it is known to us that they aren’t each other’s first choice because we have jeonghan, joshua, mingyu for cheol and minghao, wonwoo, and joshua for jun and it’s completely NORMAL to have closer friends especially in a bigger group like Seventeen. 

I think instead, Jun respects Cheol A LOT as their leader. With that certain level of respect, you’d expect them to be a bit distant with each other but no! At the end of the day, they DO have interactions every once in a while and I’d say that while it’s lowkey, you never feel any tension or awkwardness. It’s just straight up WHOLESOME.

For example, there’s this clip of them wrestling and giggling in one of their GOSE episodes. It was funny because they weren’t even sure if they had any cameras on them, showing how natural the interaction was. Then in BETS Manila Day 1 and 2, they both gave each other piggyback rides during aju nice. Again, it doesn’t seem forced at all and kind of like a “spur of the moment” kind of interaction.

On the other hand, I also noticed that sometimes, Cheol does something silly and Jun just kinda lets him. I feel like in most cases, Jun would AT LEAST slap back but he tolerates it more if it’s their leader. (Insert clip of Cheol pouring water on Jun’s head and instead of seeking revenge, he just turns to the camera with a smile) 

Aside from their playful side, I also recently saw a clip of Jun comforting Cheol during caratland 2023 and the former also helping Cheol down the stairs as he was limping during follow again to Incheon. I don’t know about you but i love seeing the members take care of cheol for a change because it shows how their dynamic truly is. Just because Cheol is the oldest and their leader, doesn’t mean no one should look out for him. I just admire Jun’s subtle caring side regardless of how playful he is.

The last thing I’d like to mention would be the skinship between the two of them. Cheol is naturally clingy to the members so obviously Jun is no exception! It’s just super cute when they hug or when Cheol rests his hands on Jun’s legs. This is mostly because they seem like such an unlikely pair to engage in skinship but they do! Similar to most of their interactions, it also comes so naturally that Jun just lets Cheol because there are times that the former would restrain any form of physical contact with the members. (NOTE: compilation videos of Cheol grabbing Jun’s waist during world is my ABSOLUTE WEAKNESS)

Overall, I love their soft chaotic energy!

[denimbex1986]

'If you’ve ever read an interview with the Irish actor Cillian Murphy, you might think him shy, irritable, or even neurotic. Journalists love to write about how closed-off he is, that if you ask him anything too personal he’ll shut down and give one-line answers. This makes their job very hard, they say. But what those interviews don’t tell you, is that if you let Murphy talk about a subject that he actually wants to talk about – such as his epic new film about the father of the atomic bomb J. Robert Oppenheimer – he’ll go on for ages. And he’ll be very open and interesting while he’s doing it. He might even make a joke.

He does this when NME meets him at a posh hotel in Soho. We’ve just walked into the room. Murphy is sat down, wearing a black v-neck jumper over a white t-shirt, black trousers and a pair of very pointy Chelsea boots. He seems relaxed, and greets us with a cheery “hello!”. Then he recognises the thick paperback tucked under our arm as a copy of American Prometheus, the Pulitzer Prize-winning biography from which Oppenheimer is adapted. We’d intended to read a quote from the book later but Murphy cuts in on our explanation. “No, you brought it in here to be pretentious,” he grins. “Would you like me to sign it for you?”

There are people who would sell their grandmas for a mere glimpse of Murphy, let alone an autograph. He’s been dogged by screaming fans since the early days of his career – when he broke out as often-shirtless apocalypse survivor Jim in Danny Boyle’s 2002 horror hit 28 Days Later. Brummie gangster series Peaky Blinders made him a global star, but his most famous film roles are notable because they’ve often come from collaborations with the same director. Christopher Nolan’s sci-fi blockbuster Inception, war thriller Dunkirk and his Batman trilogy all featured Murphy as the supporting curio – a side character that pops up every so often to steal your attention from the main protagonist. But in Oppenheimer, the duo’s latest creative partnership, he finally is the main character.

And he’s a good one too. Oppenheimer was an American scientist who made vital discoveries in quantum physics during the 1920s and ‘30s, going on to oversee the creation of the atomic bomb for the US Government – two of which were dropped on Japanese cities Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945, killing an estimated 220,000 people. Oppenheimer spent the rest of his life campaigning for disarmament, appalled at the weapon (his preferred term was “gadget”) he had helped to give the world. He also drank heavily and had a reputation as a womaniser, despite being quiet and sometimes socially awkward. Murphy calls him “contradictory” and “complex”, which is like saying Suella Braverman doesn’t like immigrants. “I do think that he believed it would be the weapon to end all wars,” Murphy continues, attempting to explain how a left-leaning humanitarian could spend two years perfecting the ultimate killing machine. “He thought that [having the bomb] would motivate countries to form a sort of nuclear world governance.” Murphy pauses. “He was naive.”

Was that naivety a choice though? Oppenheimer had an explosive ego, once attempting to poison a university professor who chastised him when he was a student. Could his desire to achieve such as historic breakthrough have led him to ignore his own better judgement?

“That’s an interesting take,” says Murphy. He runs his hands through his hair, which is styled into wavy curtains. He does this a lot when thinking a question over. “Chris used this amazing phrase. We were talking about Oppenheimer’s arc and he said, ‘You know, he’s dancing between the raindrops morally.’ That unlocked something in my mind when I was preparing.”

To play the role of Oppenheimer, Murphy went very deep. He read the Bhagavad Gita – a 700-page Hindu religious text that the physicist famously quoted from (“Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”) Then he started “skipping meals” in an effort to slim down to Oppenheimer’s rail-thin frame. During the actual shoot, Murphy smoked so many fake cigarettes that he worried it harmed his health. “They can’t be good for you,” he told The Guardian. Oppenheimer himself died of throat cancer in 1967.

On top of the physical strain, Murphy delved into some pretty dark emotional places. He had six months to research before filming began in February 2022, and during the 67-day production he often worked 18-hour days. War, genocide and the nuclear holocaust are unpleasant to think about at the best of times, never mind your every waking moment. It must have been brutal.

“You always have to take a holiday after a job,” he concedes, as though being a Hollywood actor is no different from plumbing toilets. “It’s not because… as some journalists like to think, you’re a method actor or whatever. It’s because you give so much time to the job and then suddenly you stop. You have all this displaced energy, you know, so you kind of don’t know what to do with yourself… But I’m a very easygoing sort of person. It doesn’t weigh me down.”

We suspect Murphy isn’t being entirely truthful here. Such is the intensity of his performance – all simmering discontent and wide-eyed panic attacks – that it’s difficult to believe he just shook the weight of global armageddon off each night before climbing into bed. Emily Blunt, who plays Oppenheimer’s wife Kitty in the film, has said Murphy regularly skipped cast dinners because of the “monumental” pressure he felt. “Of course he didn’t want to [eat] with us,” she told People magazine. Matt Damon, brilliant as mustachioed military boss General Groves, agreed: “His brain was just too full.” When we push Murphy on the subject, he reveals a little more. “I didn’t go out much. I didn’t socialise much, mainly because of the amount of work I had to do… I became so immersed in the role.”

To make the experience yet more profound, cameras rolled only “a couple of days” before Russia invaded Ukraine. The West united to impose stringent economic sanctions on Vladimir Putin and his people. The value of the Ruble plummeted, Russian billionaires were booted out of London and Moscow became a cultural ghost town with the likes of Green Day and Iron Maiden cancelling gigs. Putin’s response? To start lining up tactical nukes along his borders. Armageddon seemed closer than at any moment since the Cold War. Murphy (and his castmates) felt the heat. “It was everywhere, and we were fully aware of that,” he says. “The threat [of nuclear war] has escalated and receded over the years since 1945… and now it’s back. It’s always there, this Sword Of Damocles that is hanging over us.”

Murphy, 47, knows what it’s like to exist against the backdrop of conflict. He grew up during the Troubles in late 1970s and ‘80s Cork, Ireland, where reports of sectarian violence in the north often dominated the news. His mum was a French teacher and his dad worked for the civil service. As a teenager, he was obsessed with music. He read NME and loved Frank Zappa and The Beatles. To illustrate his fandom, he tells us about a trip he took to Liverpool, later in life, to see the legendary Cavern Club, where the mop tops first cut their teeth on stage. “I walked down to [the street where the Cavern Club is supposed to be],” he says, “and it wasn’t there. It was somewhere over there!” He gesticulates with his hands. “It’s not the real Cavern. It’s just a mock-up!”

Inspired by John, Paul, George and Ringo, Murphy and his brother formed a band: The Sons of Mr Green Genes, named after a Zappa tune from the avant garde groover’s 1969 album ‘Hot Rats’. The songs were similarly experimental, filled with “wacky lyrics and endless guitar solos”. Eventually, an indie label based in London, Acid Jazz, put a five-album deal on the table. He and his brother turned it down, citing reasons of artistic independence, but for a while rock and roll appeared more inviting than the movies.

Murphy is often disparaging about his songs to journalists, but they must have been doing something right. He’s also self-deprecating when we bring up the underrated 2002 short film Watchmen, which he co-wrote with BAFTA-winner Paloma Baeza – his only attempt at a screenplay. “I just never thought that I was good enough really,” he says. “It’s why I haven’t, you know, pursued the music either… I like to do one thing quite well.” He adds that it’s unlikely this will change in the future.

Murphy will be far too busy to write songs or screenplays for a while anyway. The first reviews for Oppenheimer are out, and some critics have him earmarked for an Oscar. He’ll charm his way through awards season no doubt, just as he does at the Paris premiere the night before our interview. Done up in a black suit with mustard shirt and matching oversized tie, he looks a bit like the handsome English teacher your best mate had a crush on. Walking the red carpet, he is happy to answer questions, speaking at length about Nolan’s genius and the “amazing” reaction to Oppenheimer so far. You can tell he’s enjoying himself.

Murphy’s not on duty tonight though, with London’s premiere scheduled for the day after our chat. Then he’ll be waiting to get on with his next gig, the dark indie drama Small Things Like These, adapted from Claire Keegan’s bestselling 2021 title, in which he’ll take the lead role. Following his breakthrough blockbuster with a low-key Irish drama is typically understated of Murphy, so not unexpected. More box office projects loom on the horizon – a standalone Peaky Blinders movie and the long-awaited horror threequel 28 Months Later – but he says he has “no new information” on either.

It’s difficult to say what Oppenheimer means for Murphy. He is a household name in the UK and Ireland, but less so in the States, where some still see him as a ‘TV actor’. In a recent interview to promote the film, Robert Downey Jr. talked of Murphy’s life “changing” after Oppenheimer, as if he’s a fresh actor on the scene. In a sense, Downey Jr. is right. This is Murphy’s first lead role in a sure-fire smash. And the parts he gets offered now may be a bit starrier. But don’t expect to see him in spandex on a Marvel soundstage anytime soon.

“I like unknowable, ambiguous, kind of enigmatic [characters],” he says. “To me that’s human life: the knotty, weird grey areas… A good man’s life is wholly uninteresting.”'