#yes i realize that's what i was doing before

[sayangrafayel]

Them reacting to a "Deez Nuts" joke. I'm so sorry.

I'M SO SORRY I JUST NEED TO DO THIS FOR MYSELF. How would they react to a deeznuts joke? Would they laugh, cringe, or shake their head?

Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Caleb.

Sylus

Got deeznuts-ed by the twins before. Trust me. I know.

"Sylus! I like dragon." "Oh, do you now?" "Draggon deez nuts all over you!!!" "You too..? Did the twins teach this to you?"

Felt BETRAYED. He trusted you.

Xavier

Doesn't realize. It literally flew over his head.

"Have you heard about the news in Kenya today?" "No, tell me more." "Well, Kenya fit deez nuts in your mouth." "Can I fit what in my mouth..?"

You end up having to explain the joke to him, it became a whole lecture. He eventually found it funny and you guys try to get back at each other for the rest of the day.

Rafayel

Too late. You can't get him. Nope.

"Fishie, do you know Candece?" "Can deeznuts fit in your mouth?" "DAMN IT!"

You end up being the one who gets "deeznuts" jokes for a whole week until you literally waved a white flag asking for mercy.

Zayne

You were both sitting on the sofa doing your own thing and you suddenly remember the joke your co-worker told you.

"Dr. Zayne, do you like puddin'?" "Yes, especially-" "Puddin deez nuts in your mouth! HAHAH-" "...."

He SIGHED but deep down he found it a little amusing. He did it to Greyson the next day. Greyson was so shocked though.

Caleb

He's the one who taught you the jokes.

You tried to get back at him many times ever since you were both little, he Never fell for it. You won't catch him slipping. Ever.

"Aren't you tired, MC? You should give up." Oh but you won't. You'll get him someday. You swear on it.

[ariaste]

Props to OP for answering so gracefully, but I'm not going to answer gracefully. It is more important than ever to call out fascism whenever you see it -- especially the quiet, soft, poisonously insidious kind that Anon is practicing here.

Anon ostensibly wants to know: "Do authors realize that they're writing about things that some people might find disturbing, horrific, upsetting, repulsive, or simply just TMI?" (Yes, obviously they know. Authors are not stupid; that's usually a requirement of the job (not always. But usually).)

But what Anon is actually asking is, "Why don't authors stop themselves from doing a Bad Thing? Why doesn't anyone else stop them?" The assumption underlying that question is: "Surely if they realized that they were doing something disgusting, they would stop immediately." Even more covertly implied: "I think writing about certain things automatically taints you with moral degeneracy--that is, it marks you as a possible or potential criminal."

To that I say: My friend, writing is just thoughts copied onto paper, and thinking is not a crime. Only actual actions can be crimes. What does it matter what other people think about? Literally so what? Why do you want people to be stopped from thinking about those things ("did their editors ever gently ask them...")? Why do you care? Do you feel that an author should provide a list of justifications and excuses before it's permissible for them to write about something? Why? And who do you think should be in charge of that? The government???? YOU???????

To any person reading this post: If the above questions are personally upsetting to you, if you find yourself huffily thinking something like, "Well, I care because it could normalize--", NOPE, STOP RIGHT THERE. 🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩 This is a big red flag: You (much like the Anon) are exhibiting some early warning signs of Fascism, and that is not something to take lightly in the current political climate. There are some drugs you shouldn't experiment with even once, and fascism is one of them. Repeat as often as needed: THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS THOUGHTCRIME. WE DO NOT LIVE IN GEORGE ORWELL'S 1984.

But we already talk about thoughtcrimes now and then, don't we? I can't remember seeing someone talking about crimestop (also from Orwell's 1984):

In the Newspeak vocabulary, the word crimestop denotes the citizen's instinctive desire to rid himself of unwanted, incorrect thoughts (personal and political), the discovery of which, by the Thinkpol [Thought Police], would lead to detection and arrest, transport to and interrogation at Miniluv (Ministry of Love). The protagonist, Winston Smith, describes crimestop as a conscious process of self-imposed cognitive dissonance: The mind should develop a blind spot whenever a dangerous thought presented itself. The process should be automatic, instinctive. Crimestop, they called it in Newspeak. . . . He set to work to exercise himself in crimestop. He presented himself with propositions—'the Party says the Earth is flat', 'the Party says that ice is heavier than water'—and trained himself in not seeing or not understanding the arguments that contradicted them. Moreover, from the perspective of Oceania's principal enemy of the state, in the history book The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism, Emmanuel Goldstein said that: Crimestop means the faculty of stopping short, as though by instinct, at the threshold of any dangerous thought. It includes the power of not grasping analogies, of failing to perceive logical errors, of misunderstanding the simplest arguments if they are inimical to Ingsoc, and of being bored or repelled by any train of thought which is capable of leading in a heretical direction. Crimestop, in short, means protective stupidity.

Read that twice, and then reread the Anon's question. Translate it through that lens: "Why," says the Anon, delicately disgusted, "are these authors not practicing better crimestop? I practice it all the time. Why aren't they?"

Great question, Anon. Why AREN'T they? Turn off your crimestop and give it some real thought.

(Hint: If the answer you come up with is "Because they are moral degenerates" or anything in that neighborhood, you are unfortunately still doing fascism. Try again. If you have tried several times and the only answer you can manage to come up with is a still a synonym of "moral degeneracy" then this is above my paygrade and I would recommend talking to a trusted grownup, a therapist, a spiritual leader, or possibly your least-online friend.)

Do you think authors sometimes don't realize how their, uh, interests creep into their writing? I'm talking about stuff like Robert Jordan's obvious femdom kink, or Anne Rice's preoccupation with inc*st and p*dophilia. Did their editors ever gently ask them if they've ever actually read what they've written?

Firstly, a reminder: This is not tiktok and we just say the words incest and pedophilia here.

Secondly, I don't know if I would call them 'interests' so much as fixations or even concerns. There are monstrous things that people think about, and I think writing is a place to engage with those monstrous things. It doesn't bother me that people engage with those things. I exist somewhere within the whump scale, and I would hope no one would think less of me just because sooner or later I like to rough a good character up a bit, you know? It's fun to torture characters, as a treat!

But, anyway, assuming this question isn't, "Do writers know they're gross when I think they are gross" which I'm going to take the kind road and assume it isn't, but is instead, "Do you think authors are aware of the things they constantly come back to?"

Sometimes. It can be jarring to read your own writing and realize that there are things you CLEARLY are preoccupied with. (mm, I like that word more than concerns). There are things you think about over and over, your run your mind over them and they keep working their way back in. I think this is true of most authors, when you read enough of them. Where you almost want to ask, "So...what's up with that?" or sometimes I read enough of someone's work that I have a PRETTY good idea what's up with that.

I've never read Robert Jordan and I don't intend to start (I think it would bore me this is not a moral stance) and I've really never read Rice's erotica. In erotica especially I think you have all the right in the world to get fucking weird about it! But so, when I was young I read the whole Vampire Chronicles series. I don't remember it perfectly, but there's plenty in it to reveal VERY plainly that Anne Rice has issues with God but deeply believes in God, and Anne Rice has a preoccupation with the idea of what should stay dead, and what it means to become. So, when i found out her daughter died at the age of six, before Rice wrote all of this, and she grew up very very Catholic' I said, 'yeah, that fucking checks out'.

Was Rice herself aware of how those things formed her writing? I think at a certain point probably yes. The character of Claudia is in every way too on the nose for her not to have SOME idea unless she was REAL REAL dense about her own inner workings. But, sometimes I know where something I write about comes from, that doesn't mean I'm interested in sharing it with the class. I would never ever fucking say, 'The reasons I seem to write so much of x as y is that z happened to me years ago' ahaha FUCK THAT NOISE. NYET. RIDE ON, COWBOY.

But I've known some people in fandom works who clearly have something going on and don't seem to realize it. Or they're very good at hiding it. Based on the people I'm talking about I would say it's more a lack of self-knowledge, and I don't even mean that unkindly. I have, in many ways, taken myself down to the studs and rebuilt it all, so I unfortunately am very aware of why I do and write the things I do most of the time. It's extremely annoying not to be able to blame something. I imagine it must be very freeing. But it ain't me, babe.

Anyway, a lot of words to say: Maybe! But that might not stop them from writing it, it might be a useful thing for them to engage with, and you can always just not read it.

Also, we don't censor words here.

[sinstear]

abby dressing your daughter up exactly like her, just to see your reaction 🥹🤲🏻

ohkay fluff! yes, we love. this is perfect 🫶🏻 kinda all over the place.

abby’s memorized your work schedule completely since she started dating you, and she knows that in exactly 25 minutes she’s going to hear the keys in the door, you kicking off your shoes once you step inside and hang up your jacket and bag on the coat rack, and will be in search for her and your daughter.

tying the hair band around her hair once she finished the braid, abby smiled and kissed her forehead gently. “and what do we tell mama when she gets home?”

“uhm, to not mention the candy drawer beside your bed!” your daughter giggled and rubbed her eyes.

abby’s eyes widen and she’s quickly shaking her head with a nervous laugh. “not that, baby, anything but that, she won’t let me live it down.”

“eating too much candy is bad for you, mommy.” she huffed and abby could already hear your voice in the back of her head when you once told her that your daughter huffs, pouts and frowns just like abby does.

“i birthed her, and she copies everything you do.”

“it is, but—”

“you have to be in good health to take me to the park and to see the ducks, you can’t eat any more candy.”

“oh, is that right?” abby laughed softly.

“yep, i say so.”

before abby could reply, both sets of ears perk up at the sound of the key sliding into the lock, and the jiggle of your key chains had abby smiling. “remember what we said?”

“tell mama we love her!” she cheered quietly and brushed away wispy bits of hair in her face with a grumble. “and keep the candy a secret?”

“exactly, we’re learning, baby.” abby laughed and kissed her head a final time.

you’ve barely stepped foot in the apartment when you feel a force against both your legs, and you smile tiredly when you look down to find your daughter snuggling her face against your pant-covered leg. “well, hello there, baby girl— what are you wearing?” you blinked, looking at her outfit, finally realizing. 

“i look like mommy!”

you notice the light shade of green cargo pants, similar to abby’s but not the exact same, and you bite back a laugh when your eyes peer up to the black long sleeve shirt; abby usually wears white or a light green, and to finally top it all off, you notice the braid. “it’s very neat, i remember doing yours for you.” you commented softly towards your wife.

“years of practice, babe.” abby winked at you before smiling. “what do you think? little mini me, huh?”

“you look very adorable, baby,” your smile widens when she giggles and wraps her arms around your leg again. “now, let me take a shower, change out of these clothes and then we can take some pictures for grandad.”

“grandpa!”

“you and dad spoil her way too much,” abby commented as she watched your daughter run back into the living room. “remember the day she was born and he bought her an entire dollhouse?”

“ah, yes, jerry did have good taste in dollhouses, wasn’t it pink and purple?”

“something like that,” abby nudged your shoulder with hers and kissed your cheek. “which reminds me, dad’s coming over next week, was on about helping me fix the broken sink in the bathroom.”

“may i remind you that you broke it.”

“it was an accident!”

“you rested on the sink, trying to do a push up, or whatever the excuse you used was, and broke it, abby.” you deadpanned and shook your head.

“just too strong, huh?”

“something like that—”

“mommy! peppa pig is on!” your daughter called from the living room, giggles falling from her seconds later.

abby’s eyes light up and quickly clears her throat when she spots you looking at her with a smirk. “what’s the face for? just us watching peppa pig together.”

“strong until it comes to our daughter.”

“It’s hard to say no to her, baby.”

“well you better practice because you’re gonna be the one to tell her that me and you are going on a small vacation next week and that she has to stay with jerry for the weekend.”

“me? babe, you’re kidding right? babe, babe, come back!”

[haziells]

my way

until it reaches the void state

(this will be a long post)

1. the end, the beginning.

I knew about the law of attraction years ago thanks to social media, so there it was, like every day trying to manifest my desires.

I was fed up, every day was the same.

My heart healing and breaking everyday, the same cycle of hope and hopelessness continues.

was it always going to be like this?

would I always have to let fears take over me?

I couldn't trust, I didn't believe that just by believing I could get what I wanted but at the same time I had no other option.

I couldn't go on like this, I didn't want to go on like this, I just wanted to end my life, I gave up and cried, cried, cried thinking that this would be the end, that I wouldn't be able to be happy and that was it.

I gave up and thought I was resigned to living a shitty life.

But I cried so much that all the sadness that was in me came out, all the fears that were clinging to me came out.

That's when I felt peace, when I realized that no, I wasn't going to give up that easily, that I first have to do it and do it well, not keep trying.

So I persisted for only 2 days, as I already had my desire for that moment and yes, after 2 days my 3D had already reflected it, it was exciting.

did i reallt do that? was it just a coincidence?

No, it was really me.

I was happy for a few days until the fears returned but this time I was afraid of losing my desire, that's when I realized that fears have no meaning.

I already have it, why would I lose it?

2. I discovered Tumblr and the void state.

I didn't know what void state was, but as soon as I read about it, it caught my attention.

By then my self-concept had improved, I was still dealing with my fears but not as much as before.

So, I made a friend who explained to me more about the void state and she told me that she manifested her house through the void state.

I got excited and hopeful, I read some methods on how to get in and tried to do it, but I couldn't.

I couldn't do it, the simple idea of getting everything so easily sounded easy and fantastical to me.

But one day I realized who I really am, that I am everything, that nothing and no one has power outside of me.

I was filled with satisfaction, joy, peace, I felt like laughing knowing who I am and how easy everything is.

How did I first enter the void state?

so I had a subliminal audio playing in the background while I was meditating.

I thought...I am so powerful, I am capable of anything, I can have whatever I want whenever I want.

At that time I was very sleepy because I had taken some exams, so I just thought "my physical body is going to sleep and rest and I'm going to the void state"

After all, the void state is me and there is nothing easier than being me.

And so it happened, I entered the void state and knew that I already had everything just as I wanted, then I came out and continued sleeping while I didn't stop smiling and feeling a sensation of peace and extreme happiness.

I woke up and stood calmly until I realized what had happened...

I was scared shitless when I realized that I had entered the void state for real and that at that moment I should have everything I wanted and that was when 3d reality disappeared before my eyes.

Everything began to collapse and I felt a huge current of energy running through my entire body, as if it were a waterfall flowing inside me.

I was very scared, I won't deny it, but after all I did it.

(I swear that just as you see in the gif, that's how I felt at that moment)

The following days I couldn't stop shaking and feeling scared because I didn't understand how it was possible that 3D could disappear just like that.

Then I read someone here talking about non-dualism. @lotusmi

Then I understood my experience.

Since that day everything is much easier for me.

I have entered the void state 3 times.

that manifests?

.cure my depression.

.cure my anxiety.

.trust myself.

.longer eyelashes.

.my desired person in love with me.

.money.

.be able to manifest easily.

.prettiest voice.

.I am spoiled.

The rest of the things I manifest are more private.

But basically for me this is the best thing that could have happened to me.

I will mention who were the bloggers that I read to understand more about the void state and about who I really am.

@gorgeouslypink

@lotusmi

@beesfairlyland

@msperfect777

I will also mention a blogger whose information I also like and I find it cute.

@sugarplumfairy777

If you want to know more, you can send me a direct message, no problem.

[voxslays]

MY LOVE IS MINE ALL MINE — HWANG IN-HO

Pairing: Hwang In-ho/Frontman x Fem!Reader

Misery. That’s all you felt. It all started when your husband had told you he needed to go to the island to watch over the games, and practically begged you to come along so he could keep an eye on you and your unborn child. It all seemed so innocent and simple.

That was until Gi-hun, a former winner of the games returned once more to play ‘the hero’ as your husband liked to say. After he helped the players survive in red light, green light, your husband was given no choice but to join the games—leaving you, your unborn child, and a few circle guards, who acted as personal bodyguards, alone.

You watched from afar as your husband disguised himself as player 001, hiding himself amongst the crowd and personally joining Gi-hun’s circle. You were so close to the due date, and scared. What if your husband wasn’t back in time? What would you do then?

As the days passed, you could feel the baby kicking more frequently, a reminder of the life growing inside you and the husband who should be by your side. Instead, you were left alone in the mansion, with only the guards for company.

Meanwhile, the Gi-hun and a few other players were planning to infiltrate the games and kill the frontman. Little did they know, he was with them all along. In-ho was quick to fake his death, scurrying to get his triangle and square guards to finish the players off, and stop Gi-hun.

In-ho runs up the stairs to your shared private quarters, stopping at the sound of a distant wailing cry. As he slowly gets closer, he pulls out his gun, just in case. As he turns around the corner, he is surprised with the sight of a few circle guards (masks off), two doctors, a nurse, and a small infant in your arms. You had given birth? Already?

“In-ho!” You look up from the mewling newborn. “You’re back.” You smile warmly. "I am." He gives you a rare smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. He watches you coo at your new bundle of joy. In-ho sees the circles under your eyes, your messy hair, and your tired expression. He realizes how much pain you must've gone through giving birth alone, guilt filling his stomach. "Was it painful?"

“Yes. But I’m alright now.” His expression softens. In-ho slowly approaches you, setting his gun down on the nightstand before carefully sitting down next to you. He looks at the small infant with a hint of curiosity and fondness. "Can I hold him?"

“Of course.” You smile, tiredly handing your son over. “He is your son after all.” He gently takes the baby, supporting his tiny head with one hand. His eyes search your face, a flicker of something tender and vulnerable there. "He's perfect…" He cradles the baby closer, then suddenly looks concerned. "Have you eaten? Had water?"

“Yes, Jagiya.” You coo in Korean, gently cupping his face. Jagiya—My darling. It's a term of endearment that warms his chest. In-ho leans into your touch, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. When he opens them again, they're filled with a fierce protectiveness. "I apologize for not being here."

“I forgive you.” You smile as he hands your newborn son back into your arms. “I love you.” You say sitting up to kiss him as you cradle the little tot. In-ho captures your lips in a tender kiss, his heart aching with love and regret. He holds you both close, feeling the warmth of your bodies and the gentle coos of your baby.

For a moment, he forgets about the games, the players, and his role as the Frontman. All the pain and suffering he has gone through because of the games. The loss of his first wife and child. It all disappears as he mutters three words. “I love you.”

[tsuutarr]

(Yandere Otome Isekai Harem [commoner MLs] x Reader)

"Thrust into an unfamiliar world, you have to navigate your role as the Heir to the Arrington Estate. Luckily for you, you have allies that are eager to help you. Maybe a little too eager, in fact."

The Arrington Estate [Chapter 1]

When you wake up, the first thing you want to do is throw up. You feel so deathly ill that you’re on the cusp of feeling like you’re not alive at all. But you’re in so much pain that you know you have to be alive – there’s no other way your nerves would be filled with what feels like molten lava.

“Breathe.” A voice, gentle and low, soothes from beside you. A warm hand settles itself on your back and you’re not even sure how you managed to register it, but you do. “Drink.”

You’re not fully conscious of how the liquid pours down your throat, but you soon find your eyes fluttering shut. Your nerves settle down as you’re lulled into a peaceful rest.

Time is foreign to you when you wake up. Your body still feels heavy, but it doesn’t hurt like it did prior. Processing things is difficult, your mind being bogged down with thoughts that have no end. All you can do is stare at the ceiling made of ornate golden patterns. Gorgeous, but…

It isn’t familiar to you.

Panic should be shooting through your spine, but there’s a feeling of… emptiness that seems to sink into your heart, making the situation seem dull rather than frightening.

“Are you awake?”

You didn’t even realize that there is someone beside you – beside the bed you’re in. Slowly, you turn your head to see a man sitting poised and proper on a wooden chair. His long chestnut colored hair is tied in a neat ponytail, a pleasant smile on his face. But what really draws your attention are his eyes – golden, almost.

“It appears that your complexion has returned. That is a relief,” he says, but you can’t really discern the emotion on his face.

“Who are you?” The words come out of your mouth before you’ve even processed them inside your brain. 

There’s something eerie about the way his expression shifts – it doesn’t shift too noticeably, but there’s a hint of pensiveness that makes you nervous.

“My, I suppose your illness has rendered your memory quite poor. That is unfortunate,” he murmurs, but you’re not entirely sure if he means it or not. It’s a weird contrast – he speaks so kindly, so gently, that he seems so harmless. But he is a stranger to you. You don’t know him – if you can trust him. 

Perhaps he notices the wariness on your face, but he relaxes his body somewhat, offering you a friendlier smile as he introduces himself, “My name is Geoffry Cullen. I am your butler.”

“B… Butler? Mine?” you ask, your brain fog slowly receding. Everything about this situation is so foreign to you, from the ornate ceiling to the luxurious bed you’re on to the man who claims he serves you.

You’re pretty sure this isn’t the life you remember.

“Yes, yours.”

“Who am I, then?” you ask, trying to piece together something – anything that can give you a hint.

“Why, you’re the heir to the Arrington Estate,” he states as if it is the most obvious fact in the world. And perhaps it is the most obvious fact to everyone but you.

You can’t help but doubt the validity of this “fact” that’s been told to you because, while you don’t remember much, you do remember something:

You are, in fact, not the heir to the Arrington Estate.

Perhaps your expression gives away your entire dilemma, because Geoffrey offers you a sympathetic smile. It’s the kindest he’s looked so far.

“You must be hungry. Let me bring you your meal.” He stands up gracefully, adjusting his suit jacket as he does so. “In the meantime, please get some more rest.”

He bows, before exiting the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You’re still utterly lost and confused, the uncertainty of your own situation making you nervous.

Despite your legs still feeling wobbly, you force yourself to rise. Stumbling, you make your way to the mirror. It’s probably the fanciest mirror you’ve ever seen – it almost looks like a jewelry box. It’s so fancy that you’re undoubtedly certain that you aren’t home. There’s no way you could ever afford a mirror of this quality.

What’s odd, though, is that you actually see yourself in the reflection. A part of you wondered if you’d possess another body or something of that sort, but… you look identical to how you remember looking. But you shouldn’t look like yourself, right? After all, the butler – Geoffrey – had claimed that you are the heir to the Arrington Estate, which you aren’t.

Now that you’ve been allowed to wake up fully without the pain from prior, things are slowly coming back to you. You recall your home, your friends, your family; and it’s all just so normal compared to the grand room you’ve found yourself in. This room feels too fantastical to be real.

In fact, it reminds you of the stories you had read about reincarnation and transmigration back in your world. Everything, from your confusion to the room to the butler, seems like the hallmarks of one of the transmigration or reincarnation stories you had read back then. Only… you’re not certain what story you’re in. Geoffrey as a character is unfamiliar to you. The Arrington Estate as a place is unfamiliar to you.

Furthermore…

Why do you still look like yourself? 

You can’t wrap your head around it. Sure, some people retained their appearance when they got teleported into another world, but they usually had a role that did not already exist. These people are the “hero” that got called to help save the world, so it makes sense that they retained their appearance.

But it doesn’t make sense for you. You’re considered the Heir to the Arrington Estate, meaning that you must’ve taken over the role of someone who already exists. And yet you still look like yourself.

You groan, feeling tired. You feel lost and confused. There are too many things you don’t understand – too many variables. 

It’s all too much for you.

Slowly, you trudge back to your bed, settling yourself under the plush covers. You’re pretty sure that the blanket itself is enough to pay your rent for a year. You don’t even want to think about how much the pillows, the bed, the entire room may cost. You’re certain that it’s more money than you would’ve been able to see in ten lifetimes, at least.

But now you’re able to see all this money – it’s yours, technically.

It doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense. It makes your heart beat loudly inside your brain, making your ears ring as you stare up at the ornate ceiling. Somehow, looking at the ceiling makes the buzz in your brain quiet. Your eyes follow the curves and edges highlighted in gold. Your eyes follow the ceiling’s patterns again and again and again until you lull your tired body into a dreamless slumber.

Geoffrey returns to your room a bit later, only to see you slumbering peacefully. He places your meal down on your bedside table, before taking a seat on the wooden chair by your bedside. Quietly, he watches as your chest rises and falls softly, breathing even in your sleep. 

Yes, you must’ve been quite tired, that much is certain. It’s not easy to come back from death, after all. And you should be dead, yet somehow aren’t.

“Curious, isn’t it?” he murmurs, softly, his gaze lingering on your face for any clues.

Yes, it’s quite curious. You should be dead. He was certain that you wouldn’t be able to recover.

Oh, yes, he was quite certain. 

After all, he’s the one that killed you.

And yet, here you are.

[wonderjanga]

Billy’s Ideal Hero

Billy has had so so so many years to think about being the ideal hero. He’s finally come to the conclusion as to what being the ideal hero is.

It’s being super mysterious and suave. Mary thought him that last word.

Thankfully, he came to this conclusion before he started fully interacting with the public so no one needs to know about his normal, not hero-like self.

Billy didn’t realize how much of an impact this persona had on history and other heroes in general. The first time he found this out was, after the time bubble popped, when he was in DC because he needed to talk with some government people. On his way back to Fawcett, before he could leave the city, he spotted some kids bullying another, and he swiftly put a stop to it.

Marvel: *lands behind them with a smile* “I think it’d be wise for you boys to stop.”

Bullies: *turn and scream before running off*

Marvel: “Now then, are you alright?” *picks up some books on the ground*

Kid: *gobsmacked and takes the books back*

Marvel: *raises a brow but starts to float off the ground so he can fly off again*

Kid: “WAIT! WAIT! Are you the real deal?”

Marvel: “Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kid: “That’s… Awesome!”

The kid started yapping and yapping about something Billy didn’t entirely understand. The kid then shifted his books around so he could get to a history textbook.

Kid: *flips to a page* “This is you, right? You said this!” *shows it to Billy*

it was a black and white picture of him, making a speech in front of a crowd.

“It is a heroes job to protect anyone they can. Weak or strong, black or white, man or woman. It should not ever matter. If it does, you were simply never a hero in the first place.”

— Captain Marvel, circa 1949

It took every bone in Marvel’s body to not scrunch his face and look away and embarrassment because WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’S IN THE TEXTBOOKS?! But alas, he has to remain that cool mysterious disposition.

The second time he realized the impact of this persona was when he was also in another city. Metropolis. See, he’d wanted to talk to this so called ���Superman” but before he could, a giant foreign aircraft made itself known. Naturally, he went through the proper proceedings of telling the aircraft to leave and that it was in a foreign airspace. Instead of leaving it shot at him. None of its weird doohickies worked though. How humans have developed… Anyways, that ended up with him luring the ship to the middle of nowhere. After all, he would never fight it in a city. He’d have to be an idiot to do that.

He took care of the ship itself in a minute, his lightning frying it. Then he took care of the invaders inside. Turns out they were from a different planet. He took care of them in a couple minutes. In the end, he was covered in alien guts and picking it out of his suit and gloves.

After Marvel steps out of the ship…

Supes: *standing there confused as to why the aliens weren’t attacking and suddenly sees Marvel and stares*

Marvel: *stares back and stops picking alien intestine out of the hood of his cape* (idk I just like it whenever he has a hood on his cape. Think of the injustice version of him if you don’t know what I mean)

*silence*

Marvel: “I presume you’re Superman?” *steps forward, ignoring that he’s covered in blood because that wouldn’t be very mysterious or suave of him to acknowledge*

Supes: “Uh…” *looks behind Marvel and sees a bunch of dead aliens* “Yes?”

Marvel: “Wonderful!” *moves in front of Clark, takes off a glove (Yes he also wears gloves because I really like his injustice costume if you ignore all the black and replace it with either red or white) and holds out a hand for a shake* “It’s amazing to meet a new hero, let alone one from outside of Fawcett.”

Supes: “Really? It’s a pleasure to meet you too, sir.” *shakes his hand*

And it really was, even if Clark kept looking between Marvel and the aliens because he hadn’t heard a single sound of pain from the ship. That either meant Marvel did it quickly or he did it quietly. Clark wasn’t sure which was better. It was still a shock to see a revered hero, a hero Clark actually idolized, look like the person responsible for a massacre.

The two talked though and Clark wasn’t picking up any homicidalness so…? They actually managed to get smoothies after the Captain cleaned himself up with magic. Clark didn’t even know how they ended up in a smoothie joint. It’s just the other hero was so- so- so suave and mysterious. It reminded Clark a wee inseey weesy bit of Bruce. (Billy would internally cheer upon realizing that his persona was working) The other hero was also extremely easy to talk to and actually liked a lot of things Clark did, like reporting!

it almost made the kryptonian forget about the fact he was pretty sure the other man massacred a bunch of aliens. Almost. He brought it up to Batman immediately after their little little hangout session.

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

I got a super cute idea of Shadow and reader going out in the snow and playing around, having a snowball fight then crashing down together in a big pile of snow while laughing and smiling

(inspired by the fact that I went out and played in the snow bc you’re never too old to do that and It reminded me of a scene from my first anime ‘Wolf children’)

Also ello once more😄👋🏼

“Fun in the Snow”

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader

Requested: Yes (by @shadowchan009 ).

Description: Shadow never really liked the snow. Good thing you were there to change his mind!

Notes: Eeee more excuses for fluff let’s goooo! I hope you enjoy! And hello again! ^^

(Reader will be gender-neutral.)

(Not proof-read/beta-read.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

Ah, another winter day.

You were snuggled against your fluffy partner, Shadow, snow falling from the sky outside your window.

Wait, snow?

Sitting up, Shadow’s arms still around your waist, you look outside. Sure enough, there’s quite a lot of snow outside, probably about five inches. You mentally thank yourself for reminding Shadow to park his motorcycle in the garage.

You hear Shadow grumble from the bed, missing your warmth.

You smile at him, petting between his ears, causing him to start doing his click-like purr.

“Morning to you as well, Shadow,” you say.

“It’s too early,” Shadow mutters. “Come back to bed.”

“Shadow, it’s nearly nine,” you tell him. “I need to make us breakfast.”

He grumbles but lets go of your waist, and you give him a kiss on the forehead, getting up from the bed and heading off to the kitchen. Shadow follows behind, letting out a yawn.

“Eggs sound good?” you ask him.

Shadow makes a hum of affirmation, taking a spoon out from the utensil drawer before taking his coffee beans off of the counter and to the table with him. He eats a spoonful before looking over at the window, seeing the snow. He grumbles, but he feels thankful you reminded him to put his motorcycle in the garage.

“Alright! Eggs are done, made ‘em how you like ‘em, over-easy,” you say, placing the plate in front of Shadow, the plate housing the egg and two pieces of buttered toast.

“Thank you,” he says with a small smile. He always enjoyed your cooking.

While eating, your gaze falls on the snow again and you start remembering how you would play in the snow with your parents and the neighborhood kids.

Shadow didn’t get to experience any good memories with snow, you realize.

“Hey, Shadow?” you ask.

Shadow tilts his head in confusion.

“Would you want to go play in the snow?” you ask before quickly adding, “With me, of course.”

“Why would you want to play in the snow?” Shadow asks. “It’s cold and serves no purpose.”

“Come onnn, pleeeeease?” you ask.

Shadow lets out a sigh.

“Fine. But you’re wearing layers,” Shadow states.

“You’re wearing layers too, mister,” you tell him. “And don’t give me any of that ultimate lifeform crap.”

“Fine, fine,” Shadow mutters. “Finish your breakfast first.”

After you two finish said breakfast and finish getting ready for the day, the two of you start dressing up for the cold, with you putting on your snow pants, peacoat, normal coat, scarf, hat, boots, and double gloves on, forcing Shadow to do the same, minus the boots.

“I look like an idiot,” Shadow grumbles through his layers.

“You look fine, now come on! The snow awaits!” you say, dragging him outside.

As soon as you’re outside, you find a good place to sit, laying down on your back and making a snow angel with your arms and legs, Shadow watching with curiosity.

Once you deem the angel done, you sit back up and push yourself off the ground, admiring your creation.

“Ta-daaa! Snow angel!” you say.

“Hm. Interesting,” Shadow mutters. “What else is there to do?”

“Weeeell, we could do a snowball fight,” you tell him. Shadow tilts his head in confusion. “It’s pretty self-explanatory. You make a snowball with your gloves,” you start, doing so. “Then you throw ‘em at your opponent!”

You throw your snowball at Shadow and he ducks to avoid it, his hat being hit off in the process.

“Oh, you’re so on,” Shadow says with a playful smirk.

Game on.

The two of you rush to different patches of snow, with you being able to make more snowballs quicker due to you being experienced, but Shadow quickly catches on, you and him throwing snowball after snowball at each other until eventually, a snowball hits Shadow in the back of the head, one that wasn’t from you.

Shadow looks behind him and gets hit in the face with a snowball thrown by none other than Sonic the Hedgehog.

“Ha-ha! Gotcha, Shads!” Sonic says.

Shadow shakes his head, getting the snow off his face, and you and Shadow share a look, the both of you smirking.

“Uh, guys, what’s with the evil smirks?” Sonic asks.

You and Shadow both prepare a snowball, standing side-by-side, grinning evilly at Sonic.

“…Oh no,” Sonic mutters.

“TAG TEAMMM!” you yell out, you and Shadow throwing snowball after snowball at the running and screaming blue hedgehog, laughing your butts off.

After chasing Sonic off, the two of you fall back into the snow, out of breath, but also while laughing, a big smile on both of your faces.

“Did ya have fun?” you ask him.

“It was…interesting, to say the least,” Shadow states. “I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

You inwardly cheer.

“Wanna go in and get some hot cocoa?” you ask.

“That sounds perfect,” he says.

Shadow gets up and holds out a hand, pulling you out of the snow, the two of you heading inside after your awesome day out.

[lavenders388]

hey :) I was wondering if you could do a Dae ho fic, where he and the reader are absolutely oblivious to their feelings and Jung-bae decides to do what he can to push them together (the ultimate wing man) Thanks

~Oblivious~

Kang Dae Ho x Reader

requested 💌

a/n: this is the cutest request ever:) i love jung bae and dae ho together and this is such a sweet idea! sorry if this seems a bit rushed!! i wrote it before school:3

"during lights out, we should keep watch over the group in pairs." gi hun states sternly. he is met with some mumbled "why?"s, but out of desperation and lack of anything else to follow in the place, everyone has silently agreed to just go with what he says.

as the recorded voice echoes throughout the large, intimidating room you all will call home for the night, you look around to who could be your second for watch duty. you think about choosing maybe guaem ja or her son as they have become the closest to you, closest to friends.

"hey y/n, you watch with dae ho tonight." you hear from the bunk next to you. you look and see it to have come from jung bae, the man who knows gi hun from before the games. you've grown to trust him as well, his genuineness aiding in delivering moments of relief from the awful place you've all found each other in. you notice he's trying to hide a smile.

"okay sure!" you say with a small smile, relieved to know what the plan is for the night as well as to have someone to spend it with. the thought of not being alone relieves your fear massively, and then thought of dae ho being your partner made your twinge.

"may i stay here until it's my turn?" you ask gi hun, referring to your bunk that's across the X side of the room. "yes of course, it wouldn't be safe to walk all that ways in the night." gi hun replies. the reminder of the unsafe situation makes your skin crawl thinking about what could come throughout the night.

all you want is to just go home, but knowing that home wouldn't be much better makes your spirit falter. you've grown to enjoy being apart of your group, the community being something very starkly different than what you're used to. you had a few friends before coming to the game, but you were never super close. they probably haven't even noticed you're missing yet. as the brisk thought of them not having a clue of your whereabouts crosses your mind, you look around to the group who decided they would protect you throughout this before even knowing you. they're all talking amongst themselves, joking and being kind. its refreshing. it makes you forget all about where you are.

you decide that when you're out you wont be notifying your friends back home. you'll take the money and spend your time with the people you're with right now, the people who chose to care for you out of the kindness of themselves.

thinking about this makes you realize how much you don't want to stop spending your time with these people. your thoughts are interrupted by a soft hand on your shoulder. you turn and see dae ho.

you smile at him, and listen as he begins to tell you why he got your attention. "we should stay close together until its time for our watch. would you like to sleep in the bed next to mine?" he says with his normal confidence, all though you notice his voice faltering a bit when he asks you to sleep next to him. "of course dae ho, thank you for asking." you say smiling at him again.

"actually would you guys be okay taking the first watch, it would probably be the safest one." you hear from above you as you see jung baes head poking out of one of the taller bunks. you both agree and get out of bed heading to where gi hun designated the watch point of your little base.

after you get settled, an awkward silence falls on you. "do you really think that people will try to fight us tonight?" you ask dae ho in a whisper, trying to start a conversation but also speaking your worry in a way that might make you feel better. "I'm not sure, but gi hun said that's what happened last time. he didn't say it was every night though, so maybe we'll be okay tonight." he says in a soft but still confident tone. it makes you feel safer, knowing that fighting may not even break out tonight. his voice comforts you as well.

"what do you plan on doing with the money when you get out?" you ask him, looking up at him for the answer. "well first i would pay off some debts, then i think i would buy a house, or even an apartment depending on how much i get. and then after that i haven't really thought of anything." he says with a chuckle that brings a smile to your face. "what about you, y/n?" he asks you. "honestly the same as you. like exactly. I wanna pay off whatever I can and then settle down somewhere. and then I'm not sure." you say to him with a smile. you think its funny you both have the same plan.

"i think thats a great idea y/n." he says to you softly and genuinely. you've grown to really appreciate the way he speaks to you, to everyone. you smile at him again as another awkward silence falls over the two of you. "if you make way more than what you think you will, then what do you think you would do?" he asks sweetly, caring for your answer as well as to dissipate the silence. "I have no idea!" you say a little louder than you should've, with a hint of sarcasm. "i think maybe id get like a cool car or something i don't know." you say laughing at yourself. your laugh makes him smile.

"what would you do dae ho?" you ask him in return. "i might start up a business or something, like maybe a coffee shop or a little market." he answers. you find this endearing. "that's really interesting!" you reply. "that sounds really fun, maybe ill do that as well."

"maybe we could do it together."

he states, his mood shifting from small talk to something more.

"i would really like that." you reply.

"hey lovebirds its our turn to watch." jung bae says laughing with gi hun from behind the two of you. you wonder how long they've been standing there.

as you crawl back into the bed next to him, you begin to hope there was truth in jung baes words.

[tsunaso]

"OH MY SWEET SUMMER CHILD"

pairing. (Implied) Omega!Mikey x Alpha?Sanzu x Alpha!male reader

synopsis. when Alpha Sanzu messes with the wrong omega, he learns the hard way that karma never misses. — 1.5k words part one.

warnings. mdni, amab reader, dead dove, drugging, (Implied) bitching, degradation, dubcon (due to altered state), physical restraint, dark omegaverse, humiliation, mentions of death.

alpha Sanzu who is a joke of an alpha. has little to no respect for beta’s nor omega’s, and acts like he can get whoever he wants when he wants. thinks that his looks will let him get away with harassing omegas, but karma always catches up.

alpha Sanzu who messes with the wrong omega one day and lives to regret it for the rest of his pathetic life. the omega who he had almost gone too far with was mated to the gang leader who owned the city!

　　　　　　　　　　　　⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ☆ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅　　　　　　　　　　　

“What the fuck is going on!?” Sanzu yells practically foaming at the mouth as he struggles against the ropes tying him to a wooden chair. 

“My my… what am I going to do with such a dumb fucking alpha, practically came here willingly, with the way you jumped at the smell of omagan slick.” M/n lowly purred as he strolled into the room. his scent glands work on overdrive as he pumps it out into the bare room. 

Sanzu instinctively starts to pump out his scent to try and dominate M/n’s but for some reason, his scent is a hint sweeter than usual, he makes a face but he doesn’t pay any mind to it.

“You know you're lucky that it was so easy to bring you in,” M/n face drops into a scowl. “Otherwise you would have been shot dead.”

“What are you even talking about?!” he rages, “Once I’m out of these stupid ropes I’m going to fucking gut you.” Sanzu roars with venom as he starts to growl.

M/n ignores whatever nonsense Sanzu is yapping about before sparking a lighter to light his cigar. He takes a puff before finally looking at Sanzu again. “You don’t even know why you're here… do you?” M/n says in mock pity as he lets out a quiet laugh. 

Sanzu finally stops posturing and really takes in the situation. His eyes dart around the room as he notes that he has been kidnapped to an unknown second location and is trapped in a bare room with a chair, mattress, sink, and toilet.

“Where am I?” Sanzu says quietly as he finally stops pulling at his restraints. His bright pink hair falls onto his cheeks as he tilts his head slightly. This action made his eyes contrast with his hair beautifully, you could almost say he looked cute.

M/n looks at him amused by what he is trying to do. “You’re in my-” M/n cuts himself off as he hears the door open. “Actually, hold that thought…”

M/n fully turns around to meet his mate's gaze. “Love! I’m so glad you came!”, he pauses “I know it must’ve been hard for you to come… here,” M/n says in a softer tone.

Sanzu’s eyes widened as he realized who had just entered the room. A relatively short man with long black hair and equally black eyes stared blankly at Sanzu. The man's face cringes before looking away and stepping closer to M/n.

“Is this why you kidnapped me? For some no-name omega?” Sanzu questions, his face mask of disbelief and shock. This was the omega he was messing around with in that club's alleyway!

M/n’s eyes narrow sharply, his scent souring in anger. “Watch your fucking mouth, you're talking to my mate.” M/n rages on, “You put your dirty grubby hands on my mate.” 

M/n clenches his fist, before letting out a quiet sigh when he feels his mate rest his hand on the small of his back. “This was the one that hurt you, yes?” M/n asks, turning to face his mate.

As soon as M/n says those words the tension in the room thickens as Sanzu’s mind races, as he tries to think of just who M/n is… did he really piss off such an important person?

The black-haired omega stiffly nods, a pinched look coming across his face. “I should’ve rocked his shit in that fucking alleyway” the omega lets out a growl, just thinking about the event made him angry.

Omagan pheromone starts flowing into the room like an angry river but, just as soon as it appears, it disappears. “Just.. leave me out of whatever you're about to do.”

Sanzu watches as the small omega struts away, he had never scented anything like that before. With pupils blown wide, he tries to come up with what it smells like but he can’t put it into words.

Why was he perceiving that omega's scent like this? He had scented him before… and he didn’t smell anything great, so why did he smell so different?

“Are you finally feeling the effects of the drugs?” m/n inquires, bending slightly to take in Sanzu’s ever-sweetening scent.

Sanzu blinked slowly, his pupils blown wide as the realization began to settle like poison in his bloodstream. His scent was sweeter. Too sweet. Like ripe fruit on the verge of rotting—cloying, wrong.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” His voice cracked as the first tendrils of fear curled around his throat.

M/n smirked, blowing out a slow stream of smoke that lingered in the air like a noose. "What do you think, Haruchiyo? Or should I say… soon-to-be Harumi?” 

He crouched down to meet Sanzu’s panicked gaze, tilting his head mockingly."That’s a cute nickname, isn’t it? You better start thinking of one because you won’t be the same 'big bad alpha' much longer."

Sanzu thrashed against the ropes again, his muscles straining, but it was futile. His movements felt sluggish now, like his limbs weren’t entirely his to command. The scent swirling off him was intoxicating—too intoxicating, and the disgusting sweetness of it made bile rise in his throat.

"You drugged me?" His voice was shaky, cracking on every syllable. He wanted to sound angry, but even he could hear the fear starting to bleed through.

M/n let out a low, mocking chuckle. “Oh, it’s so much more than a drug. You see…” He leaned in close, letting the embers of his cigar illuminate his smirk. 

“We’ve been working on something special for alphas like you. Arrogant pricks who think they can take whatever they want without consequence. It speeds up the shift—unlocks a side of you you’ve probably felt in your worst nightmares. You’re going to be softer, sweeter, more… submissive than you’ve ever dreamed of being. Just think of it as karma.”

Sanzu’s heart pounded in his chest as his body betrayed him further. The gummy sweetness of his scent thickened, curling around him like a noose. His mouth was dry, his skin too warm, and his thoughts felt like they were swimming in syrup.

“Fucking liar,” Sanzu spat, though it came out weaker than he intended. “You’re bluffing. This isn’t possible.”

“Oh, but it is.” M/n grinned and straightened up, casting a glance toward the door. "I thought about just killing you, you know. But, my mate is merciful, and I figured—what’s worse? Death or living the rest of your pathetic life as what you perceive to be at the bottom of society, as an omega? You’ll be crawling for scraps, begging for mercy, begging for attention.”

The sound of footsteps approaching the room pulled Sanzu from his growing panic. The door creaked open, and in stepped the omega mate once again, his dark eyes locked on Sanzu with unrelenting hatred.

“Still talking, huh?” the omega muttered. He crossed his arms, his posture deceptively casual. But his scent—it sharpened, cutting through the air like a blade. Even drugged, even in his haze, Sanzu felt the command embedded in it.

“M/n,” the omega said, his voice cool and steady, “how long does he have before it starts? The heat, I mean.”

Sanzu froze, his eyes snapping between them. The heat?

M/n looked at the omega with a knowing smile, shrugging casually. “Oh, not long now. A couple of hours, maybe? By then, he’ll be begging someone to knot him. Doesn’t even matter who.”

He exhaled more smoke, his tone darkening. “You’ll finally know what it feels like to be hunted, Haruchiyo. You’ll know what it’s like to be nothing more than a toy for someone stronger than you.”

Sanzu’s breathing turned shallow, panic clawing up his chest. “You’re lying! You can’t… You can’t fucking do this to me!” he snarled, but his voice wavered, and his pheromones betrayed his fear.

“Oh, darling,” M/n purred mockingly, leaning close enough that Sanzu could feel the heat of his breath against his ear. “I already have.”

The omega stepped closer, standing just within Sanzu’s line of sight. He tilted his head, studying him like one might a bug under a microscope. “He’s still posturing,” he said flatly. “Let me stay and watch when it starts.”

M/n arched a brow, smirking. “You’re so cruel, my love.”

The omega’s lip curled in a wicked smile. “I told you before—we should’ve killed him in that alley. But I guess watching him crumble works too.”

Sanzu wanted to snarl, wanted to roar, wanted to say something, anything that would put him back in control. But his body was growing weaker. His scent—the sickly sweetness was almost unbearable now, and the ache in his lower abdomen made his stomach churn.

He was losing.

And for the first time in his life, Haruchiyo Sanzu was terrified.

[euphoria-looney]

Who Said Money Can't Buy Happiness?

"I want that new money. Crisp money, Straight-from-the-mint money. Fresh money. Young money. Push against the tide~" New Money from the Great Gatsby.

Yan?Batfam x Neglected!F!Reader

Pt. 1

Divider Creds: @selysie and @anitalenia

This plot was inspired by @niwaart and @mimiiiiiiiiisstuff

You know I've never pegged myself as the type to be too careless and get hit by a truck, because I'm not, that truck rammed into me and I was on the sidewalk, so, if I wake up, I'm suing.

That's what I thought would happen if I woke up in my world. newsflash, and spoilers, I seemed to wake up in this cliche bat family story as the neglected girl. This is actually the story "I Stole the Loving Family of the Villainess."

We follow around a girl named Serena, a cute name, by the way. It fits her as the female lead. She has blond hair and blue eyes, and multiple love interests, from Connor Kent to Wally West, and so on. She is adopted by the royal family, the Waynes.

And do you see this cute portrait with her in the middle brothers to the left, sisters to the right, parents on each side of her, oh and how can I forget even the main bulter, and can you see that small blot of paint, if you squit a little more. Ah- there I am.

That blot of paint- that's me.

While I'm monologing this I'm PUSHING SERENA DOWN THE STAIRS.

You know you can't help but feel bad for me like I'm the legitimate daughter and I get nothing.

Yes, you hear this my bitches, bros, and non-binary hoes. I'm the Villainess. If you guys spent less time fondling over the basic y/n of a female lead you realize how miserable [name] is as a character.

Her mom is too busy caring for her other siblings that she finds it too bothersome to deal with the least talented or least intelligent that goes for Alfred too because, in this story, we're royalty meaning more than one maid and butler, so why waste your time when you can have someone else do it.

Doesn't help that [name] has ears so she hears every mocking word that is uttered by her servants.

And of course, the main family does not give a pinky toe if she dies so that's so cool.

So [name] being a cliche Villainess is exactly stupid and untalented but all she wanted was her family's love and affection which is why she kept sabotaging Serena, which led her to her death.

Getting her memories suck, I mean my ego that was skyrocketing got hit with a pebble which is not a lot but that's because my ego is huge, this girl put herself down so much that I swear if her self-esteem was a rock she'd be crushed by now.

I mean the size of her self-esteem was so low it would be the opposite of my ego.

I mean how can it not be high? I'm rich, pretty, intelligent, and I've had diplomas in more than one field, Mary Sue? More like Barbie. I'm perfect, in more ways than one, except for relationships I've lacked in that department but I've never had one before so does that count? No.

Did I mention I was rich?

So anyway got her memories, it's so... tragic, but don't worry snookums because even in this life there's one defining trait that I still have, I'm rich. Okay, so not rich out of my pocket, I am a princess umkay, but I wasn't a woman in multiple men's fields for nothing.

Anyway back to the case in point, before I "woke" up [name] was having an impulse, her hands were itching to shove this one good orphaned girl that stole her place in the family, what timing do I have to come back right when [name] decided to take action on the impulse.

Hey, at least a perk of being the main character is that you don't take any damage whether that be physically inside or out. But I don't think the family will let it slide they are yanderes.

Yandere is a term for a character who is initially normal but soon develops an obsessive-compulsive grip on the person they like.

"I-I don't know one second I was walking down the stairs and the next I f-fell... but the only person behind me was [n-name]" Serena whimpered, ah- yes the struggles of a female lead the stuttering.

"[name] I can't believe you shoved Serena! This is-" Meet Palmola, my mother.

"So what?"

"Huh?" Palmola's eyes widened.

No in fact the whole family's eyes were in shock.

Since [name] would always make some batshit crazy excuse like the ghost of Grandpa pushed her or something. But why lie, I did shove her, for a good reason too.

"She walks so slow and sloppy, does she have any etiquette? I hope she would, with the amount of time she likes to spend with you Palmola. Fast, efficient, but proper. You did drill that into my head since I was young, didn't you? You even got mad when I did it wrong, is it so wrong I treat her like how I was treated?"

"Young lady-!"

"We'll discipline her later, Serena are you alright? Here take my arm sweetheart." Bruce let Serena wrap her arm around his.

The siblings paired up with each other, and Palmola took one of her son's arms. Leaving me with no one. A normal occurrence, at first it did numbers in the social circles, and still does, so each time I was left embarrassed. How annoying.

"Announcing the Imperial Family, the Gotham Empire, The Waynes."

Everyone flocked to each of the family but mainly focused their attention on Serena, whether it be her face, jewelry, dress, or how sweet she was compared to me.

"Announcing the Imperial Family, the Metro Empire, The Kents." Meet two of the love interests that right she goes for the big brother and the little brother, originally I'm engaged to Connor, but tonight that would change, the engagement is getting annulled, and his reason to the court is "I have set my eyes on someone new, and with many competitors, I can't lose."

It wasn't hard for anyone to know who it was, I think the only one that didn't notice was Serena herself.

Actually, this was a huge arc in the story when all the love interests fight for her love, there was no victor as she did the poly relationship, which really confuses me doesn't she need to make many offspring for each of the families respectable titles, you can't just combine into one entire thing, can you? That be very messy, I guess you could just give away titles but then who gets-

Anyway, that had a lot of readers mad, usually the whychoose situation would be okay, but she mainly focused on Conner so there was actually no reason to choose this route.

Never mind, that's a conversation for another day that I'll just forget.

Connor approaches me grabbing both my hands, attracting attention.

"[name] there's something I have to confess..."

"You're breaking off the engagement"

"I'm breaking- wait what?"

"You've found someone new, that has many competitors and you can't lose a battle you haven't even tried winning, I get it. But I'd like a downpayment of 10,000 gold and you can give the 490,000 gold later to my personal account and we call it even. Deal?" Hustling, though it's a 50/50 shot with many deals with enough eyes on us I'm sure he'll give in.

"S-sure, right. Right- I'll get that to you immediately-" I gave his hand a firm shake before heading off to the...

If you guessed balcony you're wrong, I'm heading over to the food table.

"Did just see what happened?"

"Is she planning something?"

"500,000 gold?!"

"Sister, what are you planning?" Barbara came over.

Also, who calls their sibling sister, like sure, that works.

"What do you mean?"

"That marriage was meant to connect our kingdoms, you'd let that go so easily, and we both know your gaze on Connor, what are you planning." She spoke through her fan, in a hushed voice.

If I made a scene as to not let him go I'd be embarrassing you guys, but if I show that I'm okay with him leaving me I'm ruining a political standing that wouldn't even work out, I'd still do something wrong.

"Have some decorum sister, we haven't had a proper conversation in years, and this is the first thing you say to me? Typical Barbara you think you know everything since you're older and more "mature""

You could tell Barbara didn't take that lightly as she gripped the fan handle tightly, I literally didn't even do anything.

"I'll spare you from any more veins popping up on that face, don't be an ass, we both knew Connor is in love with Serena and that me begging him not to break the engagement would only bring shame onto our family, so I did us both a favor and ended it." I tossed my hair back before grabbing some croissants that were covered in chocolate, powdered sugar, and some strawberries.

Life really is great.

"What about the scandal that would break out."

"Again, it would break out either way, now do me a favor and go back to your group they're staring at me and it's ruining the snack that I have on my plate."

She let out a deep breath before heading off.

Speaking of which I'd rather have a place to place my food and eat it, pretty sure there's a table in the garden under the gazebo if I remember correctly and I don't but whatever.

Just to find a moping Jon.

"Should you be out here?"

"It's unfair once again he gets to have everything"

Oh? Do tell.

I raised an eyebrow at him cutting my croissant in half before placing a half in front of him.

He finally looks up his face turned shocked like I was a ghost or something.

"[name]?!"

I bit into my croissant, nodding.

"Why'd you have to go and break off the engagement, now I have Connor as competition."

I knew this happened in the novel but I just remembered how young he was he's around Damian's age and I'm about the same age as Serena so this was a cry for help.

"Why do you even like Serena?"

"I don't really, it's just... I wanted something that he couldn't obtain he was going to be the first in line, and he's just better than me in lots of things because he has training so I thought, at least I had Serena."

Sometimes I forget that back then age gaps had no restrictions.

"That just means fewer responsibilities anyway, aren't you a little too young to be worrying about any of that? Now, I brought over this croissant but since I'm nice I gave you half." I ruffled his hair and he tried to swipe it away.

"I guess you're right." He started gobbling the desert down.

Honestly, I don't even know why this was a love interest he's literally a minor, maybe that's why the author got backlash against that and the novel was an overall dumpster fire with a basic self-insert MC.

I don't know what's worse the fact that they kept dragging on the storyline or the fact that I'm now in the storyline.

I mean seriously he only liked her because of the plot, he got over this situation so quickly that you wouldn't even know why he was moping earlier.

-

Now back to the circumstance at hand I was at home and seems the family never forgot about me shoving Serena down the stairs, they almost forgot about me breaking off the engagement.

"... what if she got a scratch on her face? Or if the clothes ripped?! Are you listening to me?!" I zoned out for a good second.

See we had gone back to the castle and they kept rambling on and on about what could've happened to Serena had the fall been more steep or rough, but like does she even have even status to attend these events in the first place?

"Since you seem to not care about this we're cutting you off of money for the next month!" She hollered in my ear once more.

"What were you thinking at the ball?" Tim cut into Palmola's ramblings.

"Normalize giving contexts, Tim." He scoffed.

"I was sparring with Kon the other day and he made some bogus statement saying he was breaking off the engagement, I didn't think he would do it, but allowing him to? Have you any idea what this caused?"

"Who am I to stop Crown Prince Connor, Tim? He has a woman to chase, and wasn't going to give it up for this contracted engagement." I glanced at Serena who flinched and hid behind Jason.

"I still doubt that you'd let him go that easily, you've been obsessed with him since you laid eyes on him."

"And you know that because you're my caring younger brother or because you like to throw it in my face on the downfalls of my life?"

"[name]!" Palmola scolded me.

Bruce could only sigh at the scene.

"Palmola!" I retorted, bringing a tense atmosphere to occur.

Alfred arrived at the scene handing me a letter.

"To you, Princess [name]." I opened it to see the rest of the money that Connor promised me had been added to my account even with the 10,000.

I'm rich, but this is just the start.

"If that's all I'll be heading back to my room." I tossed my hair back before ordering the maids to prepare my bath.

"You're taking too long," I told the maids who were congregating among themselves instead of doing their jobs.

"Well, usually, Princ- I mean Lady Serena wouldn't mind-"

"Do I look like her?" I gripped the maid's chin.

"Don't worry, since it bothers you so much to draw me a bath you can pack your things up and leave tomorrow, you're fired." I pushed back my hair in agitation.

"What-"

"Did you not hear me, you're fired, don't make too much noise, go on." I shooed her away.

She just dropped to her knees and started begging me, but I made the other maids drag her out now all of a sudden they wanted to switch up and act proper.

"Now, with that out of the way, someone draw my bath." I rolled my eyes.

I do not condone maid abuse, but what's the point of working here if you don't do your job? So firing is the only option.

3RD POV

"That girl- I swear I don't know where she got that attitude from, did you see the way she talked to me?!" Palmola scoffed.

Duke could only think about how [name] seemed different actually the whole family could be thinking about that.

Damian kept stroking Titus' fur while thinking about how [name] didn't just keep her head down and take his insults. Wait- now that he phrases it like that, it sounds really bad.

Tim just thought about his friend Connor, he had been the one that Connor ranted to about how annoying his sister was but he didn't think [name] would take the cancelation of the engagement that easily, he thought [name] would least throw a tantrum at best. And since earlier he noticed how [name] looked at them at the stairway after. [name] looked at them like they were lower than her.

Dick was processing the whole thing, did [name] always talk like she didn't care for their approval? I mean [name] spoke like this could've been a letter delivered to her door instead of an important conversation. This conversation was important, [name] hurt Serena and canceled a political connection of a lifetime, he could feel a headache approaching.

Jason could only blink at the audacity, sometimes when this happened [name] at least looked like she gave a darn but not only was she okay with that Connor boy leaving her, but also being cut off [name] would at least beg for some forgiveness. But nothing...?

Stephanie would've had a jaw-dropping expression right now, but had her fan covering her mouth, holy lord did that really just happen? I mean [name] did not even try to bother her at the ball but she also gave up the man she bothered until her final breath and 500,000 gold?! That's an insane amount one and two when did [name] learn to negotiate?

Cassandra felt confused about what had just gone down, did she hear that right? That whole thing, just what occurred? [name] changed in two seconds, like she blinked, Serena tumbled down the stairs and then she just acted strange.

(What you're sticking up for yourself? That's criminally insane right there.)

Barbara had already dealt with how [name] did a 180 at the ball but she just thought that was because she thought she had a wedgy at the moment, though in general [name] had never done this so what happened this time?

Bruce well who knows what he's thinking he just looks constipated like isn't supposed to be saving Gotham in another life?/j

Bruce sat there, he didn't raise [name] like that, wait-. He didn't raise [name] at all... Is this his fault that [name] was acting out right now? No, he's been busy and with all the duty of the empire on his hands he couldn't pause it for [name], like yes, he does that for Serena sometimes- all the time but that's different she had a hard childhood growing up.

Serena, well, she gritted her teeth and clenched her fist. For the first time, something didn't go her way. And what was that attitude, who did [name] think she was? She shouldn't even act like that, at this point, everyone knows she's supposed to be in her position. I mean look at her.

So it's time to be the center of attention. Wouldn't you think?

Serena let out a few sniffles catching the attention.

"It's all my fault that she's in a bad mood, I'm sorry."

The family quickly came to comfort her. Never mind what they were thinking before, how could [name] be such a child in this situation?

After taking a nice bath and sneezing I was now changed into my nightgown. These things are nice.

I took [name]'s diary, so was not thinking, writing down her devious plans here, one of the reasons she was caught and executed, and she couldn't rebut it as they had proof.

So I'll do us both a favor and burn it.

Tossed into the flame I could only stare at the burning journal.

Another burning pile.

I should sleep I have a lot of plans tomorrow, and only a few months till school starts.

With a flick of my wrist, the candles blew out and the doors shut.

One perk about this world is the powers.

(H2O just add water)

So instead of actually writing the next part for any other series of mine I decided to make a new writing idea 🌝, I'm also making others in my brain as we speak but we're going to keep them there until I finish at least one of my series.

Anyway did you like it?

I'm going back to work now (writing), *le sigh*.

Happy early Lunar New Year though, I'm manifesting a lot of red envelopes to myself and many others!

If there's anything too cringy, plot holey, or grammatically wrong, do inform me!

[auggieblogs]

The brow incident | Spencer Reid

Spencer Reid x fem! reader

Author’s note: Hiii, loves!!! Hope you all are doing good. My first Spencer fic and definitely not my last because I cannot for the love of god, get that man out of mind. I AM OBSESSED so please expect criminal minds fics in the future. Anywaysss, happy reading💗

Warning: sexual innuendos

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

“Spence,” you said sweetly, leaning against the back of the chair he had just sat in. “You know how much I love you, right?”

Spencer glanced up at you suspiciously, his eyes narrowing. “Yes… and I feel like you’re about to weaponize that love against me.”

You grinned. “Not against you. For you. Your eyebrows, to be specific.”

He groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “We’ve talked about this, Y/N. They’re fine. They don’t need fixing.”

(For weeks, you’d been trying to convince him to let you fix his eyebrows. Not that they were bad, per se, but there was just a little untamed chaos there that you knew you could tame.)

“They’re not fine. You’ve got stray hairs everywhere, and it’s driving me insane. I just want to clean them up a little!”

“I’d like to remind you that I’m a grown man and perfectly capable of managing my own eyebrows,” he protested, even though you both knew he never did.

You sighed dramatically. “You’ve left me no choice.”

Before he could protest further, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him and effectively trapping him in the chair.

“Y/N! What are you doing?” he exclaimed, his hands instinctively moving to steady you at your waist.

“Taking matters into my own hands,” you said with a smirk, pulling a pair of tweezers out of your pocket.

Spencer groaned again, his cheeks flushing pink. “This is unfair. You’re using my inability to physically overpower you against me.”

“Correct,” you chirped. “Now, hold still.”

He muttered something about how this was a violation of his personal space, but he didn’t move. You leaned in, examining his brows with laser focus.

“Okay, this won’t hurt too much,” you promised, carefully plucking the first stray hair.

“OW!” he yelped, flinching.

“Oh, stop being a baby,” you teased, gripping his chin to steady him. “One down, a hundred to go.”

Spencer huffed, his hands instinctively resting on your waist to keep you balanced. “I don’t even know why this is necessary. No one’s looking at my eyebrows that closely.”

“I am,” you replied, plucking another hair.

“Lucky me,” he grumbled, but you caught the ghost of a smile on his lips.

The next few minutes were filled with his exaggerated whining and your mock scolding, the both of you laughing more than anything else. But then, as you leaned in to focus on a particularly stubborn hair, you shifted slightly on his lap.

That’s when you felt it.

Your movements stilled, and you glanced down, realizing exactly what had happened. A slow grin spread across your face as you looked up at Spencer, whose cheeks were already turning a deep shade of red.

“Oh,” you said, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

“Don’t,” he warned, his tone a mix of mortification and desperation.

You burst out laughing, unable to help yourself. The sight of his flushed face and his clear discomfort was just too funny. “Oh my God, Spencer! This is hilarious.”

“It’s not hilarious,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he hid his face in his hands. “It’s biology. It’s involuntary.”

“Involuntary, huh?” you teased, leaning forward just enough to make him groan in protest. “So you’re saying this has nothing to do with me?”

“Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice a low warning. “This is serious.”

“It’s seriously funny,” you said, still laughing as you climbed off his lap, much to his relief—and apparent dismay.

But before you could move far, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist. “You can’t just leave me like this,” he said, his voice soft but laced with need.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Leave you like what, Spence?”

“You know what,” he said, his pout returning full force. “You started this. You should finish it.”

His words sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, but you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little longer. “Finish your eyebrows first?”

Spencer let out a groan, leaning back in the chair with a defeated look. “You’re impossible.”

You laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. “And yet, you love me.”

He sighed, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “I do. Even when you’re torturing me.”

You grinned, stepping closer and letting your fingers trail along his jaw. “Tell you what, Dr. Reid. If you’re a good boy and let me finish your eyebrows, I’ll see what I can do about… your problem.”

His eyes darkened slightly at your tone, and he swallowed hard. “Deal.”

“Good,” you said with a wink, grabbing the tweezers again. “Now hold still.”

[bombuni]

say yes

summary: The two times Jongho tries to confess, and the one time he does. genre/pairing: jongho x fem!reader, bff!yeosang x reader (platonic), fluff, college au, pining warnings: jealous!jongho, mentions of drinking, implied nsfw at the end bom note: my bday is today so im celebrating w this thank u me this is cute asf🫰 also enjoy a playlist i made for this fic! ps i feel like i didn’t rlly do this trope justice especially w jjong but i just really wanted something cute and fluffy. either way, enjoy!<3 RIBO NATION FOREVER

You don’t really remember how or why it started.

You just remember that one day, you entered Yeosang’s new apartment and were greeted by a strange, albeit handsome, face. You remember stumbling over your greeting as he looked you over, all too casual in the way his eyes roamed your being. You remember the first time your eyes were met with his angelic gummy smile as he spoke his first words to you (you remember them exactly; “I’m Jongho. Didn’t know Yeosang was gonna bring over pretty girls often.” it stuck with you for days like gum on your shoe.) and how your heart skipped many beats.

Alright, maybe you do remember exactly how and why you fell for Choi Jongho.

You feel a poke on your cheek that wakes you out of your daydreams, “Having another Choi Dream?”

Yeosang stretches as your professor drones on, his laptop screen completely blank. He spends most of his time in this class showing you cat videos and bothering you as you attempt to take notes.

“A what? What is that?”

He mindlessly scribbles on your paper, “It’s what I’m calling your fantasies about Jongho. You do it a lot.”

Unfortunately, having Yeosang as your best friend means he knows exactly what you’re thinking about all the time. He’s quietly observant of you, and he seems to have noticed all the discreet glances you direct towards Jongho.

Well, it’s hard not to realize your feelings when you yap Yeosang’s ear off about how ‘sexy’ (your words-not his) Jongho looks every night.

You don’t have the option to deny his factual statement, “You better not say that in front of him.”

He puts his hands up in mock surrender as your professor finally declares the lesson over. You’ll regret not paying attention later. For now, it’s a Friday and your last class has ended. You follow Yeosang out the building doors and into the breeze of the outside world. He throws an arm around your shoulders when he sees you shiver. The autumn leaves crunch under your feet as you walk towards wherever he takes you.

Yeosang hums in thought before finally speaking, “Ya know…I really think Jongho feels the same way about you. I can feel it in my gut,”

His tummy rumbles as you pat it, eliciting a chuckle from you, “Think you’re just hungry, guy.”

“Hmm…you’re right. Where should we go…?“

You wait for Yeosang to finish his thought, hand resting comfortably on his hoodie as you peer over the campus. It’s an oddly perfect day. The temperature isn’t too hot or too cold. The wind blows through your hair just enough to give you a movie star look. There’s people living their lives all around on old benches and picnic tables.

You’re broken out of your thoughts when Jongho’s voice pulls at your insides and drags you to the real world.

Jongho’s used to your closeness with Yeosang. He’d be institutionalized by now if he wasn’t. He tries to greet you both casually, but he can’t find it in himself. You’ve been friends with Yeosang for years, he knows that, this is normal for you.

But your hand rests so comfortably, so assuredly on Yeosang’s tummy. Such an intimate spot that raises a tinge of heat inside Jongho. He’s found you do that a lot to him ever since you met. You infuriate him and placate him all the same.

What a cliche, he thinks to himself, falling for my roommate’s best friend.

“What? Baby got a tummy ache?” He points to where your hand rests. The teasing smile on his face isn’t the same as the usual expression he wears when he makes fun of you. Like he’s holding something back.

You’re almost too quick in your removal of your hand, Yeosang’s wide eyes meeting yours as you push his arm off you, “Baby’s hungry. We’re gonna grab something to eat. Wanna join?”

You know the look Yeosang is giving you. It’s the disbelieving, doe-eyed, ‘Jesus, how bad do you want this guy?’ look he gives you every time Jongho comes around.

Jongho’s too focused on you to notice the way Yeosang’s eyes burrow into your head, “Sure. Long as you stop referring to Yeosang as ‘baby.’ It’s gross.”

Yeosang harrumphs as the three of you begin to walk, “I’m not gross.”

Jongho’s gut lights up again when you coo, “Aww. You are just a little, though.”

Your bickering is cute, sure. In fact, he finds it adorable how pouty you get every time he teases you. It’s just not as cute when you direct that attention to Yeosang.

Whatever.

He’ll figure it out later. Right now, he intends to share a good meal with a cute girl. And his roommate. He’ll focus on the first part.

-

The second time you notice he’s holding something back, you wake up in Yeosang’s bed.

Yeosang is stiff as a board beside you, bundled up and snoring away after your late night study session. He’d turned in early, leaving you and Jongho alone for a couple hours. It was nice to pretend he was all yours. You remember the way his heart-shaped lips sipped his Americano. The way his glasses slipped down his button nose every time he’d look down at your work. So cutely attuned to your success. He’d been so close you could smell his cologne all night and you’re pretty sure it fogged your memory. You definitely didn’t retain any of the information he tried to teach you.

You move over Yeosang’s resting body to get up as you hear the coffee maker in the kitchen. You don’t think as you drag whatever article of clothing nearest to you over your body. Just as long as it warms you up.

Jongho’s back faces you as you enter their tiny kitchen. It’s the first time you’ve seen him in such an…intimate setting. From what you can see he still has his bed head, drowsy yawns falling from his lips as he moves around. What really gets you is the thin undershirt he wears, fully exposing the warm skin of his arms that he’s always hiding. Just the sight of his broad shoulders has you dizzy. It’s almost jarring, like you’ve just plunged yourself into an ice bath first thing in the morning. You have to pretend to be normal as he notices you.

“Morning. Did I wake you?”

“Ah, no-“ you stumble over your words and your face burns as he raises a mug to his lips. It’s dwarfed by his hand. He leans on the countertop, casually taking in your flustering, babbling self.

You try to collect yourself, “I usually wake up early anyways.”

The smile he gives you sends another wave of butterflies-no, those must be wasps-flowing through your tummy.

“Good. Didn’t wanna ruin your beauty sleep or anything.”

The amount of emotions you’re going through this early pisses you off. You blush harder as you attempt to fight the bashful giggles that make their way through you, “Don’t worry, I don’t need sleep to look this beautiful.”

He chuckles and mutters a ‘sure’ before turning to prepare you a cup of coffee. It gives you another great view of his back muscles, which flex with every move he makes. Watching him is hypnotizing. Especially as he stretches his arms into the air, letting your eyes roam over every inch of him. The expanse of his body is…intimidating. You wonder if you could really take him.

Too early for those kind of thoughts, you think.

You shake your head and decide to do something rather than gawk at Jongho. You rummage through the cabinets, looking for Yeosang’s cakes you know he hides from you. With your back to Jongho, he tries to hand you your cup of coffee before pausing. He spots something. Usually he takes any chance he gets to watch you bent over, but the large letters on your back stops him from enjoying the sight. You’re too absorbed in your search to notice his confounded silence.

He manages to mutter out a pained sound, disguising it as curiosity, “Kang…?”

You turn towards him, confused. You realize, with Jongho’s accusing finger, raised eyebrow, and adorably frustrated face, that you’re wearing Yeosang’s team hoodie. The one that brands you as his with his last name sprawled out in big, black letters.

“Oh! I didn’t really see what I was putting on-“

There’s a pout on his face. He shoves the mug into your hands, still careful not to burn you. Before you can say anything, he’s forcing your body backwards into the counter as he stretches to retrieve something from the cabinet above you. He’s so close as he rummages, giving you a clear view of the adorable mole on his neck you always think about kissing. He smells like fresh laundry.

It’s not even like he’s doing it on purpose. He’s just so big that it unintentionally shoves you into him. Trapped between the counter and his chest is exactly where you want to be. You hope he never finds the snacks you’re looking for as your mouth salivates at the sight of his vast collarbone.

He finally snaps you of out of your wet dreams, “Sorry. He usually hides them in the way back.”

He pretends like the blush on your face doesn’t have him giddy to high heaven. The pout from before is gone now, replaced with a cocky smirk he’s trying hard to hold back. He might enjoy watching you break a little too much, making no attempt to move as he memorizes the way your wide eyes look below him.

You breath in sync, and you’re sure he’s leaning in closer and closer…

“You know…” he sips on his coffee, “Next time you’re cold, just ask me. I’ll give you my hoodie.”

Then he retreats to his bedroom. Like it never happened.

-

The third and final time, you’re at Wooyoung’s birthday get-together he’d decided to host for you.

Watching Jongho gulp down drink after drink, so casual in his enforcement of self-control and power, has you really regretting the intimate setting. He looks breathtaking in the oversized jacket, and it’s affecting you even more now that you know what he’s hiding under those layers. You love how quietly alluring he is for you, drawing you in by just existing.

You’re not a light-weight, but you fear the effect of the drinks you did have are sped up by Jongho’s charm. Wooyoung and Yunho seem to notice your star struck manner and refuse to let up on the teasing, making up new ways every minute to make you blush harder.

Jongho’s busy talking to Mingi and Hongjoong across the room, but he’s not entirely focused on the conversation. He keeps hearing giggles from the three of you and he can’t help but turn his head every few minutes to throw a suspicious glance towards you. Hongjoong thinks he’s like a watchdog.

He sips his drink idly as Jongho turns back towards the conversation, “You act like they’re gonna chew her to bits.”

Jongho pretends to look confused, raising a questioning eyebrow and scoffing. Mingi doesn’t let him get away with it.

“Yeosang told me you’re the one who wanted to do this party in the first place.”

“I merely suggested the idea-“

Mingi continues, “You have an entire list of gift ideas.”

Jongho grumbles and gives up in his act of nonchalance. Instead of admitting anything, he only rolls his eyes and attempts to walk away as the two men shout at him to grow a pair. He pretends not to know them as the crowd around them turn to stare.

It’s overwhelming inside and you don’t even know half of the people coming up to you to wish you a happy birthday. Yeosang’s nowhere to be found and without your other half to fuel you, you decide to get a breath of fresh air. You hear Wooyoung’s cackle from somewhere inside the house.

It’s a cool night. The moon isn’t shining as much as it can, but it illuminates enough to let your senses come down and decompress. The porch is littered with trash from drunken party-goers, cigarette ashes covering the railing. The wind is a nice companion as it passes through, although, and it makes you forget about the mess inside of the house and inside of you.

For a moment. Before one of the major causes of your anxiety seems to find its way towards you again.

Jongho’s voice is teasing, “Wooyoung’s gonna be mad if he finds you out here.”

He leans onto the railing a few feet from you. Like he’s afraid to be near you, as if he wasn’t stealing your breath and pressing himself right against you the other day.

You chuckle at the thought, “He’s definitely too drunk to even know what’s going on right now.”

You feel his stare burn through the side of your face. It’s a strange pressure you feel in your heart, familiar but threatening. A steady beat with suspicious undertones.

Jongho’s breath catches for a moment, hesitant before voicing his question, “Is it…I mean, are you having fun?”

There’s a quiet, hidden vulnerability in his words. He wants to ask something deeper, something that actually allows you to reveal yourself to him but ‘fun’ is all he can manage. There’s already a blush creeping up the back of his neck and he hopes to God you don’t notice when you turn to look at him.

You look at him with stars in your eyes and the air is almost knocked out of him, “‘Course I am. Especially out here with you.”

He’s so careful in his attempt to hide his shyness, but you see right through him. You see the need for connection and honesty, as hidden as it is. You’re just not sure whether it’s on the same level of connection that you want. Jongho only smiles shyly at your words, biting back his full gummy smile.

He moves closer, standing upright and facing you fully. He hesitates for a moment, fumbling with his hands before he holds a gift bag to you like a kid asking for Halloween candy.

“Here.” He gestures hurriedly, embarrassment growing every moment that passes by with your eyes locked onto the brown paper bag.

“This is…for me?”

Jongho pouts and shakes the bag in annoyance, “What does it look like?”

“Alright, if you’re gonna be sassy-“

He rolls his eyes and pulls the gift out himself, shoving it towards you once again in an attempt to hide his shaking hand.

It’s the necklace you’d been eyeing. The one you hadn’t told anybody about, but kept looking back to on the online storefront. You’d just been waiting for the right moment to buy it, but Jongho beat you to it.

Your hands touch his as you take it and Jongho has to manually breath, “How did you-“

“You kept looking at it in between our study sessions. I don’t know if it’s the right color.”

You stop his bashfulness, “Jongho. It’s perfect.”

That seems to soothe him, “Okay, good.”

There’s a moment of silence between you as you inspect the pretty necklace in your hands. He’s too focused on the look on your face. The dorky smile you don’t even know is there, the same one you get every time you guess a homework answer correct. This feeling has been filling his chest uncomfortably for the past few months, and now he’s gotten to the point of bursting watching the giddy giggles pour out of you.

That past shyness is gone now, “You know I like you, right?”

“…What?”

He pouts, “I thought I made it pretty obvious.”

The necklace is forgotten now, “Uh…no?”

He rolls his eyes again (prick) before pulling you into a kiss. It’s the kind of once in a lifetime kiss that makes your knees buckle and the tingles in your spine grow into fireworks. His hand on your cheeks moves down to your waist, pulling you in to have you as close as possible. Jongho thinks that as long as he touches you, he’s grounded. Won’t float off into outer space like he wants to as your glossed lips move against his.

The wind blows again and you can’t help but giggle as you both sway. Jongho can’t help but swoon when he hears that harp-like sound again, repeating it over and over in his brain until he hears another angelic sound from you to keep him afloat.

One kiss and he’s already addicted.

Your hands land on his broad chest as he holds you against him, “Ok, that was pretty obvious.”

“Shut it.”

You kiss him again. Again and again and again until he’s satisfied.

bonus:

Wooyoung had insisted on opening your presents once the party had ended, left only with your close knit group of friends.

There’s red solo cups littered on the floor and San trips over nothing as he attempts to give you an emotionally charged congratulatory hug. You choose to ignore the snot stains he leaves on your shirt as Jongho pulls him off you. Hongjoong giggles beside him.

“Ok, this one-“ Seonghwa hiccups, “is from me and Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung claps beside you as Seonghwa hands you the crinkled Dollar Tree baby shower themed bag.

“Aww! You guys, you really didn’t have to-“

There’s a collective pause before the room bursts into laughter. Only Seonghwa remains stone-faced and serious.

Jongho grimaces at the pink, fuzzy handcuffs you hold in your hand. Yunho wolf-whistles beside him, as if the younger won’t do anything to hurt him once he’s sober and able to feel it.

Seonghwa attempts to shush the crowd, “I want you-“ he points towards Jongho, “to use these wisely and responsibly, okay?”

Wooyoung attempts to hug Jongho from behind, “Our little bear, all grown up…”

The night ends with Wooyoung handcuffed to his own stair railing.

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.1

Chapter One: Hide Your Heart From Sight

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Celebrities, Starstruck,

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Welcome to this disaster of a fic that I have constantly daydreamed about. Logistically, yes, it is so improbable and unrealistic— but there’s a 0.001% chance that it could happen… to you. It’s nice to wonder and dream. I like wondering. Granted, I’ve never worked in production ever… I am studying advertising and arts soooo that’s as much knowledge I have tehe. 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: It Could Happen To You by Laufey

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

The hum of the plane’s engines filled the air as you settled into your seat, trying not to fidget. You glanced at your boarding pass again, as if to double-check you weren’t hallucinating. Seat 3B—business class. Marvel had spared no expense for the production team’s travel, but you still couldn’t quite believe you’d be flying so comfortably.

What shocked you even more, though, was the man lowering himself into the seat next to yours: Pedro Pascal. Yes, that Pedro Pascal. The man whose movies you’d watched obsessively before joining this production, the actor who somehow seemed both unattainably larger-than-life and heartbreakingly down-to-earth.

“Hi,” he said with a warm smile, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Looks like we’re seatmates.”

You froze for a moment, then managed a weak, “Hi.” Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you mentally scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete idiot.

“You’re with the crew, right?” Pedro asked, adjusting the scarf around his neck. “What do you do?”

“Oh, um,” you stammered, “I’m just a production assistant. It’s my first big project.”

“No kidding? That’s awesome,” he said, genuinely sounding impressed. “First time working on a Marvel movie? How’s it going so far?”

“It’s… surreal,” you admitted, relaxing slightly under his easygoing demeanor. “I mean, it’s been amazing, but also kind of overwhelming. There’s so much to do, and everyone’s so talented. I…” You trailed off, realizing you were rambling.

“I get it,” Pedro said, nodding. “First big gig can be a lot. But hey, you’re here. That means someone saw something in you, right?”

The sincerity in his voice made your cheeks flush. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. Pedro asked you about your favorite movies, your hobbies, and how you’d gotten into production work. You told him about your love for art direction and set design, your dream of one day being a production designer, and your side passion for writing and music. When you mentioned you played guitar and sang, he raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll have to play something for us on set sometime,” he said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You laughed nervously. “I don’t know about that. I’d probably die of embarrassment.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he replied, his tone light but mischievous.

By the time the plane landed, you were buzzing—partly from the conversation and partly from the fact that you’d just spent hours talking to Pedro Pascal as if he were an old friend.

The buzz quickly faded when you arrived at the hotel. You stood in the lobby with the rest of the crew, listening as the location manager, Duncan, argued with the front desk staff. Apparently, there’d been a mix-up with the bookings. The hotel was overbooked due to a telecommunications conference, and somehow, you’d been assigned to share a suite… with Pedro Pascal.

“This has to be a mistake,” you muttered to yourself, your anxiety spiking as Duncan tried to sort things out. But no matter how much back-and-forth there was, the conclusion remained the same: there were no other rooms available.

“Look,” Pedro said finally, stepping in with his usual calm demeanor. “It’s fine. I don’t mind sharing if she’s okay with it.”

You blinked up at him, your mind racing. “I…”

“Hey,” he said gently, noticing your hesitation. He leaned in slightly, his voice soft but steady. “Look at me. I’m okay with it if you’re okay with it. No pressure.”

You swallowed hard, glancing over at Duncan, who looked as stressed as you felt. Finally, you nodded. “I’m fine with it if everyone else is.”

“Great,” Pedro said, flashing you a reassuring smile. “It’s settled, then.”

Duncan pulled you aside before you headed to the elevators. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, his tone fatherly.

“Yes,” you said, forcing a smile. “Is there any kind of form I need to sign, or…?”

“No, it all falls under the NDA from your employment,” he assured you. “But seriously, if you need anything, just text me.”

You thanked him and joined Pedro in the elevator. The ride up to the suite was silent, save for the soft dinging of the floors passing by. When you finally stepped into the room, you couldn’t help but gape. It was a spacious suite with two bedrooms on opposite sides, a small kitchenette, and a cozy living area.

“This isn’t so bad,” Pedro said, dropping his bag by the door. He turned to you, his expression kind. “Do you have a preference for which room?”

You fidgeted with the strap of your bag. “Um, no, you can pick.”

“Ladies’ choice,” he insisted, his tone playful.

“Okay,” you said, gesturing to the room on the right. “I’ll take that one.”

“Perfect,” he said with a grin. “Let me know if you need anything, alright?”

As you unpacked in your room, the reality of the situation began to sink in. You were sharing a suite with Pedro Pascal. For at least a week. And somehow, you had to act like a normal, functioning human being the entire time.

You took a deep breath and flopped over on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Letting out a huff of air in disbelief, you muttered to yourself, “This has to be some sort of dream… or prank, right?”

Placing both hands over your face, you rubbed it in exasperation. “Get your shit together, girl. No screwing things up, no more internal freakouts. He’s a person, like you. Mhm, sure. Yup. Totally fine.”

You sighed deeply, trying to convince yourself of your own words. The suite was spacious and nicely furnished, with plenty of room to keep your distance—but that didn’t stop your overactive imagination from running wild. Every interaction felt loaded with the possibility of embarrassing yourself, but you swore you’d keep it together.

To say people around the production crew had heard about your new roomie was an understatement.

The day before shooting began, you attended a pre-production meeting that covered everything: call sheet details, blocking and camera movement, technical requirements, and a bunch of safety protocols. It was standard procedure but felt ten times more overwhelming knowing your friends would tease you mercilessly.

You sat with your friends from the art department, trying to focus, but they weren’t making it easy. Archie, one of the lead set designers, leaned over with a smirk. “So, how’s life as Pedro Pascal’s roomie?”

You felt your face heat up instantly. “I—it’s not… it’s just temporary,” you stammered, fiddling with the edge of your notebook.

Stephanie, a costume designer with an endless supply of sass, raised an eyebrow. “Temporary or not, it’s the stuff of rom-coms, babe. Don’t tell me you haven’t imagined a meet-cute scenario in that suite.”

“I have not!” you protested, though your flaming cheeks betrayed you. 

Will, an art director with a love for stirring the pot, chuckled. “Come on, you’ve gotta admit it’s a little… serendipitous? You, a huge fan, sharing a suite with the guy? Sounds like fate to me.”

“It’s not fate,” you insisted, trying to deflect. “It’s a logistical mistake, that’s all.”

Max, the trainee set dresser, chimed in with a grin. “Yeah, but a logistical mistake that’s got everyone talking. Even Steve heard about it, and he’s usually the last to know anything.”

Steve, the lighting technician, shrugged. “What can I say? Word travels fast. I’m just here to see how long it takes for Pedro to find out about your… fandom.”

“Oh my god, can we not?” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “He’s going to think I’m a weirdo.”

Rebecca, a fellow production assistant and one of your closest friends, patted your shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry, he seems like the kind of guy who’d find it endearing. Besides, you’ve been professional so far, right?”

You nodded hesitantly. “I think so. I mean, I haven’t said anything stupid yet.”

“Yet being the keyword,” Sophie teased, earning a laugh from the group.

Patricia, always the voice of reason, smiled warmly. “Just be yourself. You’re great at your job, and Pedro’s just another actor. A very charming actor, sure, but still just a person.”

“Thanks, Patricia,” you said, feeling slightly more grounded. But the anxiety still lingered, especially with everyone’s teasing reminders of your not-so-secret crush.

As the meeting wrapped up and you headed back to your tasks, you couldn’t shake the nervous excitement bubbling inside you. Sharing a suite with Pedro Pascal might’ve been a logistical mistake, but it was quickly turning into one of the most unreal experiences of your life.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL, LONDON — NIGHT

Dinner with the cast and crew had been lively, filled with laughter, and far too many knowing glances sent your way by your friends. The teasing hadn’t stopped, even over plates of pasta and glasses of wine.

Archie had leaned over at one point, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when Pedro walks out of the bathroom shirtless? Swoon or faint?”

You nearly choked on your drink. “Archie!”

“I’m just saying,” he said with a laugh. “It’s a valid question.”

Stephanie smirked. “She’s probably rehearsing her ‘I’m totally cool and unaffected’ face right now.”

You groaned. “I hate all of you.”

Rebecca grinned. “No, you don’t. But seriously, just enjoy the moment. How many people can say they’ve shared a hotel room with Pedro Pascal?”

By the time the group had wandered back to the shuttle, your cheeks were sore from laughing, and your nerves were only slightly calmed. But as the cold London air nipped at your skin, you found yourself longing for the warmth of the hotel.

Your teeth chattered as you stepped off the shuttle, clutching your coat tighter around you. You didn’t like the cold very much, and London was very, very cold.

The moment you entered the hotel lobby, the warmth began to seep into your body, and you let out a sigh of relief. The elevator ride to your floor was quiet, your mind finally shutting down after a long evening of socializing. By the time you reached your room, you were operating on autopilot.

Tapping your keycard to the door, you quietly pushed it open, careful not to disturb Pedro if he was already asleep. It was just past 9:30 p.m., and you knew the early call time tomorrow would have him resting early.

You shut the door softly behind you, locking the deadbolt before shuffling into the room. You removed your coat, scarf, and shoes, swapping them for the fuzzy slippers you’d packed. The room was dimly lit, and you moved quietly, hoping not to make too much noise.

“Oh, you’re back.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, clutching your chest as your heart tried to escape it. Whipping around, you found Pedro lounging on the sofa, a book in his hands and a soft, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He was wearing a plain white tee and gray sweatpants, his square-framed glasses perched on his nose, and he looked entirely too comfortable—like he belonged there. Like this was normal.

“Oh my god, I didn’t know you were still awake,” you said, voice breathless as you tried to recover from the scare.

He chuckled, his laugh low and warm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. You were so quiet coming in, I thought maybe you were sneaking around.”

You set your things on the small table by the door, giving him an exasperated look. “I wasn’t sneaking around. I was trying not to wake you.”

“Well, mission accomplished.” He tilted his head, watching you with that relaxed air that somehow made you feel completely exposed. “How was dinner?”

“It was good,” you said, shrugging as you moved toward the kitchenette to grab a bottle of water. “Everyone was in high spirits, and the food was great. We took a little walk around the city before heading back.”

Pedro closed his book, setting it on the coffee table. “Sounds nice. London at night can be magical.”

“Yeah, it was.” You paused, feeling the weight of his gaze. “Though, I think I underestimated just how cold it gets here. My teeth were chattering the whole way back.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile softening. “Didn’t bring a warm enough coat?”

“I thought I did, but apparently not. I’m not built for this kind of weather,” you admitted with a laugh, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to stave off the lingering chill.

Pedro stood, crossing the room with an easy grace that made your breath hitch. “Well, we can’t have you freezing, can we?” He grabbed the throw blanket draped over the back of the sofa and held it out to you. “Here.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the simple gesture. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I just get cold really easily. Besides, I’ll warm up eventually.”

“Take it,” he insisted, his tone gentle but firm. “It’s not a big deal.”

Reluctantly, you took the blanket, your fingers brushing his for the briefest moment. It sent a jolt of warmth through you that had nothing to do with the fabric now wrapped around your shoulders. “Thanks,” you murmured, pulling it tighter around you.

“Better?” he asked, stepping back to give you space but still watching you with that disarmingly kind expression.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding. “Much. Thanks, Pedro.”

He smiled again, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged, like something unspoken was hanging there. But then he broke the silence, his voice light. “So, did they give you a hard time at dinner?”

Your face heated instantly. “What do you mean?”

He smirked, leaning casually against the back of the sofa. “I heard some of the cast talking earlier. Apparently, your friends in the art department have been… teasing you about the room situation.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh no. What exactly did you hear?”

“Nothing incriminating,” he said with a laugh. “Just that they’re convinced this is some kind of meet-cute scenario straight out of a rom-com.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, mortified. “I’m so sorry. They’re ridiculous.”

“I don’t mind,” he said, his tone easy, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “It’s kind of flattering, actually.”

Your hands dropped to your sides, your eyes wide. “Flattering?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s nice to know someone thinks sharing a room with me is worth all that excitement.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to process the fact that Pedro Pascal—Pedro Pascal—was standing in front of you, teasing you in the most charming way possible.

“Well, I’ll let you get some rest,” he said after a beat, his voice softer now. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Big day.”

He gave you one last smile before retreating to his side of the suite, leaving you standing there with a racing heart and a head full of thoughts you were too scared to unpack.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — DAY  

You woke to the soft chime of your alarm, the faint glow of early morning light creeping through the curtains. Shuffling into the bathroom with a yawn, you turned on the shower, letting the warm water coax you into wakefulness. You placed your phone on the counter, tapping on a playlist to fill the small space with soft, melodic tunes—comforting background noise that kept your mind from spiraling too early in the day.  

After your shower, you toweled off and began your morning routine. Skincare applied with practiced ease, makeup brushed on with care, you avoided the mirror for too long, focusing instead on the growing anticipation of the day ahead. Pinning your ID to your lanyard, you glanced at your phone again.  

The group chat with your team was buzzing:  

Archie: "We’re fifteen minutes out. Don’t keep us waiting, queen 👑."  

Rebecca: "Text when you’re coming down!"  

Max: "Coffee run? Pls? 🙏"  

A small smile tugged at your lips as you tapped out a quick reply, your fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment before you switched apps.  

Your heart did a little stutter as you opened your browser—a Joel Miller fanfic you’d been obsessing over still lingering on your screen. You skimmed the most recent chapter, your thumb pausing to scroll as you half-laughed at the absurdity of sneaking in a few paragraphs before a full day on set. You switched to the chat thread with your online friends, who were deep in a heated discussion about whether Joel would be the type to cook breakfast for his partner. You couldn’t help but chuckle, throwing in a quick, “He’d definitely make pancakes and act like it’s no big deal,” before locking your phone and setting it on the counter.  

Moving on autopilot, you padded into the small kitchenette, barefoot and still humming softly to the tune stuck in your head. You set the coffee machine to brew, pulling out a couple of mugs, a jar of Nutella, and some bread. Your hands moved with muscle memory, spreading the hazelnut spread on toast and slicing up a handful of fruit without a second thought. It wasn’t until the scent of coffee filled the air that you realized you’d made two plates of toast—one for you and one for Pedro.  

The realization struck at the same moment you heard the faint shuffle of footsteps behind you.  

“Morning.”  

His voice was low and warm, still carrying the huskiness of sleep. You froze, phone in one hand, butter knife in the other, as you turned to see Pedro leaning against the doorframe. His hair was adorably tousled, and he was dressed in a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants that somehow made him look effortlessly put together. His eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled at you, and you nearly dropped your phone in a panic.  

“Good morning,” you managed, your voice a little too high-pitched as you fumbled to lock your screen. The thought of him catching even a glimpse of what you’d been reading was enough to make your cheeks burn.  

Pedro glanced at the counter, taking in the toast, coffee, and neatly sliced fruit. “You made breakfast?”  

“Oh, uh—yeah.” You set your phone down and gestured awkwardly toward the spread. “I made you some coffee and toast with Nutella. I wasn’t sure if you’d want that, and there’s fruit, too. I was just about to cut some more, but obviously, you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to, and—”  

“Hey.” Pedro’s soft chuckle cut through your rambling, and when you met his gaze, he was looking at you with a mix of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”  

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned by the sincerity in his voice. “Oh. Yeah. No problem. It’s nothing, really.”  

He moved past you to grab a mug of coffee, the proximity sending your pulse into overdrive. As he poured himself a cup, you noticed his shoulders relaxed and his movements unhurried. He took a sip and let out a small, contented sigh.  

“Perfect,” he said, glancing over at you with a grin. “You’re spoiling me, you know that?”  

Your laugh came out nervous and breathy. “I’m pretty sure this doesn’t count as spoiling. It’s just toast.”  

“Yeah, but it’s good toast,” he teased, holding up a slice as if to emphasize his point.  

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the tension in your chest easing slightly. The moment felt impossibly domestic—like a scene out of one of those fanfics you’d been reading. Only this time, it wasn’t Joel Miller standing in the kitchen with you. It was Pedro.  

And that was somehow even more surreal.  

Pedro leaned against the counter, his mug cradled in both hands. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. “So,” he started, his voice warm and casual, “what were you so engrossed in on your phone earlier? You looked ready to throw it out the window when I walked in.”  

Your stomach flipped, and you tried to play it cool, even though you were fairly certain your face was now several shades of red. “Oh, nothing,” you lied, brushing a crumb off the counter. “Just the group chat. You know how chaotic they are.”  

Pedro tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Mm-hmm. Sure it wasn’t something more... intriguing?”  

You swallowed hard, gripping your coffee cup a little tighter. “Intriguing?”  

He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes twinkling with mischief over the rim of his mug. “You tell me.”  

“It’s nothing!” you blurted out, a little too defensively. “Just—just boring stuff. Work stuff.”  

“Work stuff,” he repeated slowly, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Because people laugh at boring work stuff while making toast.”  

You groaned, setting your mug down as you ran a hand over your face. “Can we not? Please? I’m already mortified enough.”  

Pedro chuckled, the sound low and teasing but not unkind. “Alright, alright. I’ll let it go... for now.” He set his mug on the counter and raised his hands in mock surrender. “But you owe me a story later. Deal?”  

You hesitated, narrowing your eyes at him. “Depends on how much coffee you’ve had by then. I might need you slightly less smug for that conversation.”  

His grin widened, and he leaned closer, just enough to make your heart stutter. “Smug? I prefer charming. But I’ll take it under advisement.”  

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. The playful banter made the room feel lighter, warmer.  

By the time you both finished your coffee, the atmosphere had shifted into something comfortable and easy. You quickly rinsed the dishes, your hands moving on autopilot as Pedro lingered nearby, chatting about everything and nothing.  

As you dried your hands, your phone buzzed on the counter, and you glanced at the screen.  

Rebecca: “Bus is almost there. Better get your cute butt down here!”  

You shot back a quick reply: “On my way.” Turning to Pedro, you grabbed your bag and gestured toward the door. “I’ve got to head down. My shuttle’s waiting.”  

Pedro grabbed his own bag and trailed after you. “I’ll walk down with you. I’ve got my own ride coming, but they’re always late.”  

The two of you stepped into the elevator, the hum of its descent filling the silence. The confined space suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier with unspoken tension.  

Pedro stood close—too close. You could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint hint of his cologne. Your heart thudded in your chest, and you pressed the strap of your bag tighter against your shoulder, hoping it would anchor you somehow.  

“So,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost intimate in the stillness of the elevator. “What’s the plan for today?”  

You glanced at him, his brown eyes watching you closely, the curve of his smile softer now. “Same as usual, I guess,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Make sure everything runs smoothly while you and everyone else look good on camera.”  

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “You make it sound so simple, but I know you’re the one holding it all together.”  

His words caught you off guard, and you looked away, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “I just do my job.”  

“And you do it damn well,” he said, his tone sincere now, no teasing edge in sight.  

The elevator dinged as it reached the lobby, breaking the moment. Pedro gestured for you to step out first, and you did, your pulse still racing.  

“Thanks,” you murmured, not entirely sure if you were thanking him for his compliment or just for letting you escape the charged space of the elevator.  

As you spotted your shuttle waiting outside, you turned to him, suddenly aware of how reluctant you were to leave. “I’ll see you on set?”  

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for just a beat longer than necessary. “Yeah. See you soon.”  

You stepped outside, the crisp morning air hitting your face as you walked toward the shuttle. But even as you climbed aboard and found a seat, your mind was still back in that elevator, replaying every glance, every word, every spark.

End Notes:

Oh hi! I missed doing these silly bits; I thought to bring ‘em back. But, don’t worry, I’ll try to yap less haha

Yes, it’s super cliche, cheesy, unrealistic, and practically a hallmark movie in the making. But that’s the fun part in fanfiction and writing, it’s all made up and no one here is allowed to “yuck” each other’s “yum” if you know what I mean. ;)

Also, I have no idea how production for film works so I’m researching stuff and making stuff up along the way pls no one come after me T^T

Weirdly enough, I saw a reddit post from someone who works at the front of the hotel desk and they say the one-bed trope/one-room trope; it actually happens pretty frequently lol so who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca

[theactualsunshinechild]

If Castorice is cursed to kill whoever she touches and Mydei is cursed to be immortal, do you think Mydei ever goes to Castorice on a really bad day and is like, hey can you put me down for a bit please? I'm having these phantom pains from fatal wounds and injuries that don't exist anymore and they're keeping me up, I want a nap.

And obviously at first Castorice is like "L-lord Mydei, please rethink this, death is not something to be trifled with! Even with your condition, I cannot guarantee your safe return..." and Mydei takes the time to reassure her that, no, he's sure about this, and yes he is willing to bear the risks, no he doesn't care if it will hurt, please euthanize him. It takes a bit of convincing but eventually she agrees to risk it, and, fear in her heart, gently places a hand on his shoulder.

Mydei wobbles and collapses dead on the spot. Castorice lets go and starts fretting internally, stepping back and circling around, frantically searching for any sign of life. How long does it usually take for Mydei to come back? Will he come back at all? Her own curse is clearly effective on him after all... To her relief, it only takes a few seconds for Mydei's eyes to flutter open again to find himself supine, with limbs bent at various awkward angles from the way he ragdolled.

It was a very peaceful few seconds, no pain, no blood, just an pleasant floating sensation as the familiar dark waves of the Styx rocked him side to side gently, before a bright guiding light forcibly pulled him right back. If not for the uncomfortable position he came to in, he'd even say the experience did some old aches a lot of good. The slight relieved smile that comes across her face as he explains this belies how many years of uncertainty and grief she's experienced over the many deaths she had enacted prior. She must have had no way of knowing for sure, until now, whether or not the deaths she delivered were as gentle as she hoped, Mydei realized.

It takes slightly less convincing to have Castorice try again. This time, they arrange more comfortably, Mydei sitting down against a wall, Castorice taking his offered hand in hers. As his hand goes limp in hers, his skin slowly cooling, she draws comforting circles on it with her thumb, more for herself than for his unfeeling body. After several minutes this time, each feeling longer than the last, she lets go and backs away once more, waiting with bated breath for the moment he shudders back to life, taking air back into empty lungs, eyes bright again, fierce, lively and visibly well-rested.

They agree to never exceed 15 minutes, Castorice explaining he would likely not enjoy coming back to the discomfort of gravity having caused all of his stilled blood to pool and settle inside of his body, let alone his body having cooled. Mydei agrees easily and assures her that he will keep his requests for deathly repose infrequent.

Castorice often passes the time Mydei spends dead trying to occupy her hands, the nerves never quite leaving her alone. Knowing logically that Mydei will come back and fearing that maybe he won't come back this time are two separate things after all. She tries many things, from bringing a scroll to read, to embroidery, shoulder pressed to his, trying to ignore how much bolder the red tattoos look against the pallor of a dead man. When Mydei wakes to Castorice's fingers pricked and bleeding for the third time, he frowns and offers for her to braid his hair next time if she wishes.

The next time, a month later, they arrange slightly differently, Castorice sitting on a bench, Mydei lowering his head into her lap, his hair an offering she wills herself to accept. Having assisted with many a funeral rite, Castorice is able to lose herself in the process of carefully weaving the messy soft locks into shape. The texture is strangely soothing, despite how unnaturally still Mydei remains, and Castorice imagines that this must be similar to what it feels like to pet a lion's fluffy mane. When the sand stops flowing, Castorice moves Mydei's head out of her lap to walk five places away once more. He comes to, gasping for breath as usual, and reaches up to feel at the new braids he sensed in his hair. A ghost of a smile graces his face when he finds them to be satisfactory, and he wears them for the rest of the day as a sign of appreciation. Castorice fiddling with his hair while he is dead quickly becomes the standard for their little meetings. Sometimes he wakes up with no new braids, but he doesn't question it so long as Castorice doesn't appear to be in any distress.

The first time Phainon spotted Mydei with his head in Castorice's lap, Castorice gently running her fingers through his hair as if he were a very large cat, Phainon almost passed them by with how peaceful they looked...

Then did a double take and panicked.

Anyway, that's my headcanon at least for how Castorice can say that the death she brings with her touch is peaceful. I think discovering that killing Mydei with her touch grants him what is essentially a banger nap from his perspective, probably helped her find an amount of peace in those early years. Truly putting the rest in "putting to rest"with this one.

Obviously she'd still prefer to be able to touch people and creatures without having them die, but at least she has learned that it isn't painful when she kills this way.

Additionally I like to imagine that while being killed by Castorice feels soothing, getting killed normal ways feels like shit, painful the whole way through, and then you get dunked violently into the Styx. And for Mydei specifically, it's more like he gets dunked into the Styx only to get yoinked right out, soul still sopping wet and cold, and forced back into a body that is fully repaired but it's happened so fast to him that his nerves have him feeling the aftershocks of the injuries that are already gone.

[virtualflowerbatathlete]

Weird opinion nobody asked me for:

Several things can be true at once when talking about Leo’s arc in HOO regarding romance.

NO, Leo did not need to resolve his self esteem issues and insecurities before he started dating. You don’t have to be fully mentally healthy to date someone or be in love (Look at Percabeth! Both of them were a mess when they started dating, but they grow together.) The implication that you need to be fully recovered from any mental illness or trauma before being “allowed” to date is a dangerous one.

BUT it was incredibly disheartening to watch these insecurities lead Leo to being in a relationship where he is not as happy as he hoped he would be, and even in some cases, being abused by a girlfriend who seems almost ashamed to be associated with Leo at all. Calypso’s irritation and snipes at Leo don’t feel at all like when couples like Percabeth or Solangelo tease each other. When Percabeth and Solangelo tease each other, there’s an undercurrent of genuine affection, and also a sense that the two are on even footing in the relationship; Nico can call Will his “significant annoyance,” and Will can call Nico his “little ball of darkness.” Annabeth calls Percy “Seaweed Brain,” and he can call her “Wise Girl.” But there is no even footing with Caleo. Leo is so desperate to make things work with her that he won’t fire back when Calypso insults his interests or personality. The relationship is volatile and imbalanced, and honestly, that feels like a far more tragic ending for Leo than him being single at the end of HOO.

ALSO it was fully possible for Leo to have an arch where he realizes that he doesn’t need romance to be happy, and later getting into a romantic relationship. (Hell, it could even happen in the same book) I deeply resent the takes where people somehow see both these things as mutually exclusive. As an example of this, over time, I learned that grades don’t define who I am, and that I can build my self worth outside of them. That doesn’t mean that I have to give up on getting good grades entirely. What that does mean is that I focus more on learning the material for my own benefit than trying to get the highest score, and strangely enough, my grades started going up. In the case of Leo, a character arc where he learned to love himself and not need a romantic relationship doesn’t mean that he would stop looking for one. Instead, he would seek meaningful connections with the people around him, one of which could bloom into a romantic relationship.

ALSO it would be fully possible for Leo to have this arc while in a romantic relationship with someone. While a partner can’t “fix” you, the people we love can open doors for us to learn and grow. Hell, in the books, we see this demonstrated with Leo and Jason. Leo confides an insecurity, and Jason challenges this insecurity. This causes Leo to think, and thus to grow. Yes, they were not canonically romantic, but my point still stands that this isn’t necessarily a journey Leo would need to do alone. He could have had a romantic partner who helped in his journey of learning to love himself.

ALSO the desire Rick, and by some extension we (the fandom) had in HOO to pair every single character off with their “perfect match” is one that should be questioned. I think that Rick and the fandom have come a long way, and I think TOA really played around with this concept in a very interesting way. But the strange implication I sometimes see is that Leo having no romantic partner must mean that it’s an unsatisfying arc. As an aroace person, the implication that life and stories are only satisfying if the person involved ends up with a romantic partner is disheartening.(I say this as a Valgrace shipper) If your first instinct when hearing a character is single or learning to love being single is to go, “OH GOD, THEY’RE ALL ALONE AND WILL NEVER BE HAPPY! THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN FOR THEM!” Maybe, it’s time to examine the implications behind those thoughts.

ALSO shipping is fun and not that serious. If you like a ship, go for it. This is not me telling you not to ship Leo with anyone, as I said, I’m a huge Valgrace fan.

Anywho, if you want more extensive thoughts on Calypso, lemme know. Also feel free to add, I’m sure there’s even more nuance to talk about