#hes scheduling meetings and shit

[frau-kali]

[wildflowercryptid]

i think it'd be funny as hell if florian was 8 years into dating kieran and he doesn't find out they're lucy's kid until then bc she uses a professional alias and their whole family only ever refers to her as azami. he nearly faints when he learns this while they're traveling through hoenn.

[saph-yells-into-the-void]

still thinking abt the bllk s2 trailer bc makes me so upset. not bc its horrible, but bc of all the ways it COULDVE looked good.

s1 had sliding frames like those that were shown in the trailer, but you could tell that effort was put in to create the illusion of movement: the swaying of the hair, the limbs moving slightly, the subtle movement of other characters--there wasn't not much animation but at least they tried to compensate for it. and that was with all the production issues they had.

the s2 trailer didnt even have that. the characters slided across the screen with zero animation, several shots had only one character moving while the rest stayed frozen in a pose that was clearly in motion.

Theres this one scene where it showed a close-up of isagi's feet running (3d but well-done imo) and then isagi passing the ball to rin. And this looked good! the movement felt natural and it flowed well! and then they fucking ruined it by cutting to rin sliding behind another player.

there was a shot of hiori passing the ball, except instead of showing at the very least subtle movement of his leg, they cut to a still frame. that shot of chigiri receiving the ball? no hair swaying, no movement of his limbs-just a png photo moving across the screen.

it makes the characters feel so lifeless and stiff, and takes away the high intensity of the scenes. and they thought these were the best scenes to include in the TRAILER?

i cant tell if this lack of attempt to at least create the illusion of movement is due to the complicated designs or just pure laziness on 8bit's part, but ever since that leak abt s2, the latter is starting to appear more plausible. it just makes me so angry that a trailer that had many good things going for it was ruined by the poor decisions for the actual animation itself.

[dykemithrun]

trying to figure out the logistics of what mithruns life wld be like post canon and i dont even know man i feel like the throwaway line about how hes actually able to handle day to day life on his own makes somehow it more confusing to me. i guess we never see that in the manga so to what degree feels ambiguous

[kath-artic]

helped my boy rip all of the staples out of his floor today and got in some good driving practice too 💪

[exopelagic]

turns out my supervisor is?? impressed??? with my work so far??? how do I keep getting away with this??

[ubike-official]

FUCK MY STUPID BAKA LIFEEEEE TELL ME WHY TRESPASSING DUDE JUST ASKED ME IF WE ARE FRIENDS... SIR I WANT YOU UNDER MY SKIN WDYM

[icterid-rubus]

😕

[phagodyke]

worked an hour extra bc they have no respect for my half day but I knew they were gonna do that so whatever..... at least I'm omw home now

[seiwas]

IRIS I AM LITERALLYABSJXNID XOMF 😭😭😭😭 i love him . thank u . i love him . i loooooooooove him . i ran out of tags iris but him asking for ur socials if numbery is uncomfy? the cherry on top he is literally the dream . the respectful boy to ever . and i need him . want him . NEOOOOOOOOOOOWWW

in a world of boys, he's a gentleman

summary: a creep walks up to the shake stand window. your favorite customer scares him off. (college au!iwaizumi x you)

wc: 1.9k

cw/tags: college!au iwaizumi, creepy dude but he gets scared off don't worry, buff iwa gets nervous around you

note: so there's a protein shake stand like right outside my school's gym and that's where the inspiration for this little brain fart came from. also this is wholeheartedly dedicated to @shotorus my favorite iwa simp. i really hope you like this, it's my first time writing for your man but it most definitely will not be the last :D

likes, replies, and reblogs are appreciated <3

You didn’t anticipate finding a gym crush outside of the student rec center. Yet, there he was, every day at 5:00 passing the stand and every day at 6:30 ordering his usual, strawberries and bananas with chocolate protein powder. It’s a wonder how strictly he stuck to his schedule and you made it a point to have his order queued up in the system by the time he got to the window. To your detriment, it seemed that your infatuation had become obvious enough to your usually-oblivious coworkers. 

“At this point, I think you took this job just to ogle him,” one of your friends points out as she runs a colander of fruit under the faucet. You give her a lighthearted glare and she flicks a few water droplets at you. “I’d guess you like seeing him more than the tips that other guys put in the jar. You really do so much for this company,” she says patronizingly and you roll your eyes. She had a point; you tended not to notice the phone numbers written on dirty napkins or social media handles hastily drawn on dollar bills. None of them interested you. None of them, except for the dude with a body like a Greek hero that made you want to get kidnapped by some mythological being. 

“I just think he has a nice physique; is that such a bad thing?” She shoots you a skeptical look and you turn away sheepishly to check the clock. Thirty seconds to 6:30. “He should be here in a little bit,” you say quietly to yourself, hoping she doesn’t hear. It’s a nice sentiment, but ultimately futile. 

“You’re counting down the seconds? Man, you’re worse than I thought.” She pats your shoulder sympathetically as she passes behind you and you lean your hands on the register counter. 

“As if you’ve never had a gym crush before,” you fire back. 

“You’re supposed to actually be inside the gym to have a gym crush,” she reminds you and you groan. “Why don’t you just switch your shift so you can see him while you workout?”

“I tutor before this, remember? Plus, I need to be able to charm the evening regulars so I can keep paying rent,” you admit. She nods in understanding and a glance at the clock shows ten seconds until 6:30. Your other usuals had come and gone for the day: the guy in the blue tank top that only seemed to work his forearms and biceps, the girl with the silly socks that had the most muscular calves you’d ever seen, the two frat bros with their backwards caps and arrogant voices. It hits 6:30, however, and your favorite regular isn’t behind the glass. He isn’t anywhere around, you realize. You can’t help the frown that draws the corner of your mouth down and, when you look to your coworker for support, she merely shrugs before grabbing a tub of powder from the top shelf. “It’s odd that he isn’t here yet.”

“Only you would think that,” she teases and you refocus on pulling up his usual order on the payment screen. “Maybe he got sick. There’s that frat flu going around right now.”

“Why would he be in a frat, though? And also, he’s definitely the type to wipe the hell out of every machine he uses.”

“If he uses machines; personally, he strikes me as a free weights-only kind of guy.” Before you can reply, a knock on the glass startles you back into customer-service mode. The man in front of you looked relatively normal, but the way his eyes looked you up and down several times made your stomach queasy. It wasn’t the first time creeps had checked you out through the window, but maybe you were feeling a little extra vulnerable waiting around for a regular who didn’t even know your name. Avoiding the man’s intrusive gaze, you shakily pull up his order, swipe his card for payment, and let him know that his shake would be ready soon. 

“I have a question,” he says slowly before you can run and hide in the back. “What time are you out of here?”

“I’m not done for a while,” you state vaguely, praying that he wouldn’t ask about the remaining two and a half hours of your shift. “I work until closing.”

“I can come back and get you when you close.” His voice makes your skin crawl and his eyes feel like knives on your body.

“Excuse me?”

“Let me take you out to dinner. A nice looking person like you shouldn’t be alone at night.” Your heart drops into your stomach and your feet remain rooted to the floor, terrified in place. Was he gonna try to do something after you were off?

“Look, I’m not interested in any–”

“Hey, man. Are you done ordering yet? You’re holding up the line,” intrudes a voice that feels like a warm blanket wrapping around your shoulders. Somewhere between his usual order time and the creep asking you out, your favorite little crush came to stand in line to pay. His shoulders seemed extra broad today and the muscle of his biceps flexed under his compression shirt as he crossed his arms over his chest, staring daggers down at the guy who was freaking you out. He’d never looked so handsome, all sharp jawline and flexed muscles and piercing eyes. The creep recoils and scurries away, allowing you to take a deep breath that helps relieve some of the tension in your forehead. By pure muscle memory and running on adrenaline, your fingers swipe over the tablet and pull up his usual order before he can even say hello. 

“Strawberry and banana with chocolate protein powder, right?”

“Yeah, that…that’s mine,” he says, slightly taken aback by the lingering expression of panic on your face. While he eyes you warily, you swipe his card and hand him his receipt, suddenly desperate to just disappear into the back for the rest of your shift. “Hey, are you okay?”

“What? No, yeah. I’m fine, totally fine,” you lie and give him a weak smile. His eyebrows furrow slightly and you can feel him try to analyze you, but not in the dehumanizing way as your previous customer. His eyes searched your expression worriedly and you caught him biting skin from his lip in concern. “It’s just that the guy before you was being a little weird.” Calling him “weird” was an understatement, but you didn’t want to inconvenience him more than you already have. “I’m fine, really.” He watches you for a moment more and then nods, murmuring a thank you under his breath and finding a spot to wait for his shake. 

“This fell on the floor by the trash can,” he says plainly when he walks up to the pickup window after you call out his drink. The creepy guy hadn’t left the area yet, so your fight or flight instincts were still going haywire. Your gym crush, however, momentarily takes your attention by subtly sliding a dirty piece of paper across the counter to you as he picks up his cup with the other hand. “Thanks; I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before you can blink, he’s gone, leaving you with a cryptic folded message that makes your head spin. You sputter out an awkward farewell and hastily unfold the piece of paper. 

I’ll be studying in the computer lab until the stand closes. If he’s still bothering you, come find me and I’ll walk you to your car or your dorm or wherever. -Iwaizumi Hajime 

A sturdy rectangle of plastic falls from the paper and you stare at it in disbelief. It was an ID card for the university’s after-hours patrol division with his picture, full name, and student number printed on it. Iwaizumi, you echo mentally, you’re too good to be true. And, true to his promise, he’s a respectful distance away and stands with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants at 9:00 when you lock up the shake stand. You’d lost sight of the creep an hour after Iwaizumi picked up his drink, but the paranoia didn’t leave your body and you’re only able to relax when he approaches you. 

“This is yours,” you say, handing him his ID card with a small smile. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

“Of course. I’m sorry you had to deal with him,” he replies regretfully, uncomfortably adjusting his water bottle tucked into the crook of his elbow. “None of the guys at the gym like him. He’s always hitting on girls and giving them weird looks.” 

“Looks like he was forced to look outside the gym, then,” you laugh lightly, feeling the tension release from your shoulders as you walk next to Iwaizumi in the direction of the parking lot. “Did your drink still taste okay? Or did my nervousness make it taste funny?” When he chuckles, it sounds like sunshine. 

“It was just as tasty as it always is, thank you. You’ve really figured out how to make me the perfect drink every time.”

“Anything for my favorite customer,” you say without hesitation and your face feels like it’s been lit on fire. To your surprise, however, it seemed that Iwaizumi was just as flustered by your words. His eyes widen and his pretty mouth gapes a little bit, blinking rapidly to fix the short circuit in his brain. “I just hope he doesn’t come around here again. He makes my stomach churn.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he forces out and he’s silent for a while until your car is in sight. “Hey, sorry if this is super off-base, but do you wanna workout with me sometime? I can change the time I go but, if it means you don’t feel scared by that guy anymore, I’ll gladly rearrange my schedule.” 

“You want me to workout with you?”

“I’d like to meet you for lunch sometime, too, but I figured I’d start with baby steps,” he admits, running a hand nervously through his hair while you fish your keys from your bag. “If you don’t want to, that’s totally fine–”

“No, no, I’d love to,” you reassure him and he looks visibly relieved. “I’ll change up my shift so you can still go around the same time you usually do, and I can just meet you outside. I’ve been needing a new spotter since mine picked up extra shifts in the library.” 

“Great, yeah, awesome,” he says, a little dumbfounded by how eagerly you would give him a chance. If he was being honest, he’d wanted to ask you your name for months since you memorized his order, but he didn’t want to come off as pushy and ruin his chance with you. “Do you, uh, mind if I give you my number? Or I can give you a social media handle too if you’re not comfortable sharing your number.” God, he’s so good. He is so, so good. “Can you let me know you get home safe?”

“I will,” you promise. “Thank you for everything, Iwaizumi.”

“You can call me Hajime, if you want,” he offers softly and the fondness in his voice makes your heart flip. “Iwaizumi is fine too. Anything is fine.” 

“Right,” you smile. “Well, goodnight, Hajime. Get home safe.”

“You too. Talk soon, okay?”

“I can’t wait.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[leyavo]

Ghost getting badly injured during a mission that they have to call his next of kin.

Next of kin?? What do you mean next of kin.

Mrs Riley?! He doesn’t wear a wedding band to protect you. Not even at home, worried there’ll be a mark to show he sometimes wears one.

It’s then that the TF 141 find out he’s married to you. They’re all wondering what you’re like, convinced you must be in the same line of work.

You’ve been married for six years, only to be called if it’s serious like now.

Soap’s jaw is on the floor as you walk into the infirmary, you don’t even glance their way as you rush to Simon’s bedside. Your hand on his chest as you lean down to kiss his forehead and brush back his hair.

You’re well put together, a lightweight robe layered over jeans and a simple vest. Pops of colour on your olive thick framed glasses and golden wedged heels. Hair pinned back with a pencil, leather bag overpacked with a book, filofax, purse and little cosmetic bag.

Price introduces himself, shaking your hand. A dainty diamond ring sparkling on your finger. Your silver bangles jingle as you greet each man, repeating their names and they know Ghost has not told you anything about them.

All he told you is that he likes working alone, but sometimes works with others.

You stay at the base for a while till he’s well enough to travel home. Eating with him and the guys in the canteen, they’re still staring at Simon like he’s grown another head. Watching you two squabble about little things.

“Do not put that shit on my plate,” Simon grumbled.

“It’s broccoli not a bomb.” You can’t help but roll your eyes, shoulder bumping into his arm as you try to move him along in the line.

The art director job you have takes you all around the world, sometimes you get to meet up with your husband. Simon treating it like a mission in itself, you playing along as you talk to him over the phone as you walk the cobbled streets to see him. “Target engaged, moving in,” you whisper as you spot him standing outside a coffee shop.

FaceTiming him whilst he’s at base so you can show him the little trinket you found in an antique store. He’s laying down in his bed, headphones on so no one hears.

“Nearly the same age as you luv.” Anything to see that little poutie face and brows furrowed. He loves teasing you that you are older than him, but it backfires whenever he complains at his body aching. “You’re supposed to be young and spry.”

Being a couple years older than Simon, you’ve got your shit together. Which drew Simon to you. Both no nonsense, say what you feel and work it out. No games, no silent treatment.

“Watch your tone Si, you’re not in the army here. You’re home so don’t give me that shit.”

“Watch my tone, luv. You just flooded the bathroom!”

“You distracted me!”

“Why don’t I get some towels and we both sort it out.”

Once Simon’s fully recovered, you invite his team to stay at your shared home together for the weekend.

A cottage in the countryside, there’s an eclectic mix of vintage furniture and textiles. That one rug Simon shipped back from Morocco in the living room. Paintings, pottery and sculptures scattered around the rooms. Rocky, a German Shepard trailing after you as you give them a tour of the place.

You make friends with Price’s wife who’s around the same age as you. Even try to set Gaz up with a client you think he’d get on with. Bond with Soap telling him you lived in Scotland as a late teen where you had your first art assistant job there.

Price’s wife scheduling a double date in five months time. Simon side eying John. She’s also invited you to come stay for a girls weekend at the Price house.

[wife/gf masterlist]

[aeyumicore]

i would like to propose an idea: pervert xavier and pervert zayne🫡

pervert!zayne & pervert!xavier (seperate)

━ .ᐟ✧ A/N: u stop that right now.....well anyways thx for inspiring me. took a break from sylus beyond cloudfall smut to write this. ENJOY (also i did nothing at work bc i was writing this if i get fired its ur fault sksksksk). also this is not proofread at all

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, male masturbation, perv!zayne, using panties without consent, using photos for masturbation without consent, stealing panties, masturbating in a public setting, pervy zayne

Zayne slumps into his office chair, massaging his temples, exhausted after a 15 hour surgery. He smiles when he pulls out his cellphone, seeing several text messages from you.

[7:15 PM] Y/N: Miss you Zayne! Good luck in surgery!

[10:28 PM] Y/N: I'm getting sleepy, I hope you aren't. That would be horribly negligent ( •̀ - •́ )

[12:32 AM] Y/N: Going to sleep now, good night. I love you Zayne!

[12:32 AM] Y/N: (1 image attachment)

Zayne sighs when he opens the image you'd sent. It's an adorable photo of you under the covers, your sleepy smile illuminating the screen. You're wearing the matching PJ set he'd bought you recently, your eyes squinting from the camera flash as you make a ridiculous duckface. A kiss goodnight.

It's nothing but beautiful, pure, and innocent.

But then why was his cock so fucking painfully hard against the elastic drawstring of his scrubs?

"Sh-shit."

The raven haired surgeon glances at the time. 3:15 AM. There's no way you'd be awake.

His jaw tenses as he battles with what he knows is right and what he knows is wrong. It would be wrong to pleasure himself to the panties he'd stolen from your hamper, that he kept hidden away in the locked drawer of his office desk, that you had no idea he'd taken, right?

Surely, it would be okay. You were his girlfriend, after all. And he spent every waking minute of his life cherishing and protecting you. He'd never hurt you.

Screw it.

He lightly kicks off the ground, his office chair rolling over to the locked drawer of his office desk. With one hand, he's desperately undoing the ties of his scrub bottoms, the other hand fervently unlocking the locked drawer.

As soon as he frees his aching cock, already leaking and ready, he pulls the bottom of his scrub top up, placing the hem between his teeth. His patience wears thin, fingers already beginning to stroke himself before he even has your panties in his other hand.

With one hand, he holds his cellphone out so he can stare at the selfie you'd sent him, your beautiful and innocent face staring back at him.

Fuck, just the sight of your face was enough to get him off.

Zayne's other hand fumbles desperately until they finally meet the delicate lace material of the panties he'd kept hidden away in his office for several weeks now, but never had the audacity to use. He pulls them out with a shaky arm, draping them over his leaking cock.

The sight of the beautiful black lace against his pale aching skin sets him off, his fingers tightening around his shaft and jerking up and down.

"Y/N," he moans unabashedly, nearly forgetting he's still at the hospital. Your beautiful face fills his mind. Your eyes, your blush, your lips.

How beautiful would your lips look wrapped around his cock right now? How good would it feel if it was your lips enveloping around him right now and not his fingers?

"Y-Y/N," Zayne rasps, "I love you." He fists himself viciously, the wet sounds of his fist meeting his shaved pelvis ringing around his tidy and empty office. He wraps your panties around himself, letting the silky material heighten his pleasure, remembering how those panties looked when he pulled them off of you with his teeth.

He moans at the perverted thoughts, muffled from his teeth still gripping onto his scrubs to give him better access to pleasure himself.

It'd been a while since he'd been able to see you, your hectic schedules having conflicted for the past few days. Zayne missed you so terribly. Of course, he longed for the physical intimacy. The way you knew just how to touch him, to kiss him, to shake him to his core without even knowing it.

But more than anything, he missed how you you would look at him, smile at him and remind him why he was breathing.

"Fuck," he curses through his gritted teeth, "I love you so fucking much." Unable to hold himself back, his hips begin to buck up into his fist, and at this point he's basically fucking his palm that's clad with your used panties.

He tosses his phone onto his desk, needing to grip onto the arm of the chair to keep it in place with how vigorously his pelvis is rolling into his fist.

"J-Just like that, my love," he moans, fully losing his mind, imagining you on his lap, riding him in this very office.

At his breaking point, he throws all remaining sensibility to the wind, letting all lust take over. He grabs your panties and brings them to his nose, taking a lung full of your scent. Zayne's eyes roll back as your pheromones evade his senses, and he comes undone explosively all over his desk.

His motions slow to a halt as his brain finally clears. He slowly releases his aching cock, his scarred hands absolutely dripping in his cum and he lets out a broken sigh.

Guiltily, he sets your panties back down and cleans up his mess. It's not until moments later, as he's carefully placing it back into the locked drawer, that he realizes his orgasm was so powerful that some of it had shot onto the delicate black lace.

Zayne grimaces as he wipes his cum off of your panties, thoroughly upset with himself having ruined something so precious to him.

Surely, you wouldn't miss another pair. Right?

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, male masturabation, perv!xavier, using pillow/bed without consent, pillow humping, phone sex without consent?, implied pre-relationship xavier, pervy xavier

I shouldn't.

That's what Xavier told himself.

But she said I could.

That was all the convincing it took for Xavier to push the door of your room open, excitement taking over as he took in the surroundings of your empty bedroom.

It'd only been one week since you'd been sent away on a Hunter's expedition and he was going insane. As your partner, he'd normally be sent with you, but the Association had asked him to stay behind as they needed to split up the manpower this time around.

And of course, you'd asked him to come over and house sit. Water your plants, bring in the mail, open up some windows.

He sat on the edge of your bed, letting his fingers glide off the smooth fabric of your comforter.

God, he missed you.

He can't stop himself from flopping over, letting his hair hit your pillow. You had said it'd be okay for him to stay over if he ever needed to. But that was months ago. And you probably didn't mean in your bed.

He can't find it in himself to sit back up as your scent fills his nostrils, with his face so close to your pillow. Xavier looks up at the ceiling.

So this is where you sleep. This was what you saw when you fell asleep every night. When you dreamt. Did you dream of him? Did you think of him like he thought of you?

God it smells just like you.

No, he shouldn't.

Xavier shifts to his side, fully intending on getting up. But your pheromones are so overpowering that he finds his face fully buried in your pillow.

"Y/N..." he groans, "I miss you." Xavier moans as he feels the familiar ache growing in his crotch. The situation he's put himself in doesn't help at all, your smell only making him more sensitive, the precariousness of his position in your bed making him more excitable.

Xavier shifts, the angle of his erection becoming painful as it continues to harden into the plush of your mattress. But that only makes things worse, the friction of his subtle movements making his eyes roll.

"Fuck, baby," he whimpers into your pillow, his cheeks burning with shame. He grabs two fistfuls of your comforter to try and steady his irregular breathing and calm himself down.

But he's much too far gone.

Xavier rolls his hips into your bed, chasing more friction, more pleasure.

"Hah—hah," he pants, practically drooling into your pillow, "Y/N..." But it's not enough. With one hand, he reaches down, undoing his pants and reaching in to free his cock. It springs free, pressing nakedly into the soft fabric of your bed.

He humps into your bed, his precum smearing messily into your comforter, but he can't find it in himself to care.

But it's still not enough. He wanted you.

With one hand, he grabs your pillow, throwing it under his hips and between his thighs. The perverted thought of your beautiful face resting on that same pillow that he’s so desperately fucking into, without a single clue, drives him utterly insane. 

Xavier’s hips rock erratically into your pillow, his cock jerking against the soft fabric of your pillow case. With every stroke, he continues to leak messily, as if purposely marking his territory, wanting to leave pieces of himself behind. 

“Feels–ngh–so good angel,” he moans into your blanket, his hips bucking wildly now, pretending they were thrusting into you, pounding into your perfect ass. 

“All mine,” he slurs, delirious, nearly about to cum into your pillow, “You’re mine, Y/N.”

But then his phone rings, the vibrations violently interrupting his impending orgasm. 

Xavier freezes, seeing your face light up his screen. He fumbles with his phone, struggling to press the red button. 

Decline. Decline.

“Xavier?”

Shit.

“H-Hey Y/N.”

Xavier groans inwardly, cursing himself, his heart pounding. But the sound of your voice only makes him harder, needier.

“How’s it going? I’m coming home tomorrow! You miss me?”

“It’s going good,” he says breathlessly, his hips continue to move, no matter how much he knows he should stop. Somehow, being on the phone with you only excites him more, the pleasure growing immeasurably unbearable. 

“You okay?” 

Your voice sounds concerned, and Xavier’s heart hammers at the idea that you can tell something is up. Is his voice too shaky?

“No, I’m good. Why?” Xavier bites his lip to hold back a moan, your voice driving him to the point of madness. With your voice in his ear, it’s impossible not to imagine your face in his mind. Your face, taking his cock repeatedly. Your face, cumming on his cock. Your face, taking him down your throat. Your face, calling out his name.

“Xavier.”

Xavier’s eyes widen as you call out his name, biting the inside of cheek until he can taste the metallic rust of blood in his mouth. 

“I miss you!”

His hips falter as he comes undone, exploding all over your bed. His hips continue to roll, his body naturally riding out his orgasm, his fingers gripping his phone so tightly that his knuckles turn white. 

“I-I miss you–too,” Xavier rasps, doing his damn best to keep his voice steady, praying to the stars that you don’t suspect anything. His body continues to fuck into your bed instinctually, his mind still filled with images of you under him, begging for mercy as you leak his cum. 

“Okay, I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

The call disconnects with a beep and Xaveir finally releases the breath he’d been holding, his entire body shaking with violent gasps. He props himself on his elbows, his entire body quivering, to glance down at the mess he’d created.

Xavier can’t even find it in himself to feel guilty, as he thinks about the fact that he can finally see you tomorrow. 

© aeyumicore 2025.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or other sites

.ᐟ✦ please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[ivyues]

Laptop Delivery ⋅ Bang Chan

Practice got a little more eventful thanks to an forgotten laptop.

It was a peaceful morning. Fresh from your shower, you padded into your kitchen, planning to grab a quick breakfast before heading to uni. But something on the counter stopped you in your tracks – Chris' laptop.  

Your heart sank. He’d stayed over last night but had to leave early for dance practice. The sight of his laptop sitting on the counter screamed trouble. Normally, he wouldn’t bring it over – it was too precious, filled with tracks, demos, and other vital material for the group. You knew his schedule was packed, and forgetting something this important could only mean bad news.

You snapped a picture of it and sent it to him with the caption:

"Forgot something?"

Still, you couldn’t shake the thought that it might be much more important. Without hesitation, you called him, even though you knew he was at practice.  

After a few rings, he picked up, slightly breathless. "Hey, baby. I’m… kinda at practice right now – what’s up?"  

"Did you leave your laptop here on purpose?" you asked, though you already knew the answer.  

"What?" His voice was sharp with confusion. "No, I thought I— wait, let me check the picture you send me."  

A muffled curse followed as realization hit. "Oh shit, no. I’ve got a meeting with some producers right after practice. I can’t believe I left it there." His tone was laced with stress.  

Chris hesitated. "I—" he started, then stopped himself. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head. He was probably considering rushing back to your place after practice, which would make him late for the meeting. Worse, you wouldn’t even be there to open the door since you'd already be at uni by then.

"I… could… bring it to you," you offered cautiously, knowing what value the device had to the group.  

"Really? Would that be possible?" His voice softened, a mixture of relief and guilt.  

"Yeah, but I’d have to leave now. I still have uni today," you said, already moving to grab your things.  

"Ah, that's amazing. You're an angel," he said warmly. "I’ll text you the room number."  

Skipping breakfast, you grabbed his laptop and headed out. On the way, you planned to stop by a bakery for something quick after the delivery, before heading straight to class.  

-----

At the JYP building, you knocked lightly on the practice room door, despite Chris’ text saying you could walk right in. The door opened to reveal Felix, his face lighting up with a grin.  

"Hey!" he greeted, pulling you into a quick hug.  

"Hi, Lix," you replied with a small smile. From across the room, Chris’ head shot up, his eyes locking on you. Relief and affection softened his expression as he quickly made his way towards you.  

"Hey," he murmured, stopping just in front of you.  

"Hi," you replied, reaching into your bag to pull out his laptop. As soon as the sleek silver device emerged, the room fell silent.  

The members froze, eyes wide. It wasn’t just a laptop to them; they knew what was inside – tracks, demos, lyrics, everything. The fact that you were holding it was proof of something bigger: the trust Chris had in you.

But before anyone could speak, Chris gently pulled you into the room, his fingers brushing your cheeks as he softly pulled your mask down.  

And then, he kissed you.  

It was natural, familia – something the two of you had done countless times before. But here, in the quiet practice room, with – unbeknownst to you – all eyes on you, it felt different. His lips were warm and soft, a silent expression of gratitude and love.  

The members didn’t move, still processing what they were seeing. None of them had expected this. Sure, they knew how much Chris cared about you, but seeing it displayed so openly caught them off guard.  

When he finally pulled back, his ears burned red, and he muttered a sheepish "I’ll call you later, okay? Thanks again", as he took the laptop from your hands.  

You, cheeks blazing, barely managed a nod as you stepped back. The silence lingered for a beat longer before you mumbled, "Y-yeah. Bye, everyone."

You turned and left, closing the door behind you.  

The moment the door clicked shut, chaos erupted.  

"YAH, HYUNG!"  

"I can't believe you just did that!"

"PDA MUCH?!”

"Channie hyung, what was that?!"

"Wow, so smooth. Too bad your ears give you away."  

Outside, you heard the screaming teasing very clearly and couldn’t help but smile, your cheeks still burning as you walked down the hallway. Chris could handle the teasing – he brought it upon himself after all.  

masterlist

[apocalympdicks]

im venting in the tags

ignore me lmao

[strangedesired]

Supportive parent Bruce Wayne

Damian showing him all his artwork because he knows that he will get the brightest smile and a “That looks beautiful sweetheart” every time

Dick being so excited to bring his dad to his gymnastics show because he knows that Bruce will start crying every time he lands a trick, without fail, and that means the women that come to watch will have someone else to fuss over

Someone at WE mentioning they don’t trust Tim because of his age and Bruce immediately scheduling a company wide meeting so he can express just how exceptional his son is. Tim’s face is the most red it has ever been the entire time

Cass doesn’t even have to do anything, he is just always looking at her with a fond little smile and on the verge of tears but sometimes, when she wants a little more then normal, she will take one of Jason’s books and read as much as she can aloud. That man absolutely loses it and hugs her as tight as he can while sobbing about how far his baby has come

Jason acts like he couldn’t care less about Bruce’s support, but the first time he overhears Bruce talking about him at a gala, telling some rich idiot who was questioning business decisions that Jason is the most competent man he has ever known and would trust him with not only the WE weapons department but his life, Jason pointedly does not look at Dick, who has a shit eating grin on his face, and walks as fast as he can to the bathroom

The best part is that Bruce doesnt even have to try he is just genuinely that proud of them

[allsteddie]

Actor!Steve and Singer!Eddie AU where they have some sort of rivalry going on. But, here’s the thing, the whole thing is made up by the press.

It starts when a reporter, during an interview, asks Steve what kind of music he listens to in his free time. Steve names a few artists, mostly pop with a few classic rock bands in between, which leads the reporter to ask if he’s a Corroded Coffin fan. They’re not classic rock, but they sure as hell are popular, but Steve just looks at the reporter and says, “never heard of them in my life.”

And he honestly hasn’t! But the press gets this out of context and of course Corroded Coffin fans are pretty pissed off, offended that someone as famous as actor Steve Harrington, king of period drama shows and romcom movies, is belittling their beloved band like that.

Another reporter, then, after a concert, asks Eddie what he thinks about Steve Harrington’s last interview, where he basically says Corroded Coffin’s music is shit, and Eddie just says, “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

And he also hasn’t! Because they have been on tour for months, then they were working on new songs, and it’s been at least five fucking years since Eddie had enough spare time to watch a show. He’s also no fan of romcoms or period dramas, so even if he had had the time, there was no way he’d have watched anything Steve was in.

That’s enough for the press to go wild with stories about disagreements that never really happened and thousands, maybe millions, of people on the internet discussing Steve and Eddie’s rivalry and distaste for each other.

Neither Steve nor Eddie tries to explain the whole misunderstanding because, really, they both think it’s so funny how so many people are buying all this crap. Tabloids talk so often about their ‘rivalry’ that Steve does end up listening to Corroded Coffin and enjoys them a lot; he adds lots of their songs to his playlists. And Eddie finally caves and starts watching one of Steve’s period drama shows; he gets pretty addicted to them, and Steve is hot as hell, so that’s kind of a bonus.

One day, a couple of months after this started, Steve is scrolling his feed and sees a post on a gossip page about someone who said they heard someone telling some other person that they heard Eddie Munson threatening to beat Steve Harrington up if the actor didn’t stop saying shit about his music. The post is so obviously lying that Steve spends a good five minutes laughing. Then, on a whim, he DMs it to Eddie’s official page, with a message attached saying “Just please don’t beat up my face, I need it for work”.

Ten minutes later Eddie replies by sending a second post, this one also from a gossip page that claims their sources might have overheard Steve Harrington saying to his friends that Eddie Munson’s hair is the worst thing he’s ever laid eyes on, followed by a message saying “Sorry, but nobody says shit about my hair. It's hard work making these curls look so good.”

That’s how Eddie and Steve start talking, first just sending each other posts and articles they find funny about their made up rivalry. Somehow, this evolves into an actual conversation about other stuff, like their works, their lives, themselves.

They never really stop messaging each other, their weird work hours and busy schedules preventing them from actually meeting, even though they are dying to.

Then, four months into their unexpected friendship, Steve is in New York shooting a new romcom and Corroded Coffin is expected to play on a charity event there as well. And that’s how Steve and Eddie finally meet; at 1 a.m., on a Thursday, just after Steve wraps up shooting his new movie and Eddie finishes rehearsing for the concert he’s playing the next day. They go out for pizza, even though is freezing outside and they’re both tired as fuck.

The press and their fans are in shock when, a couple of months later, their official accounts announce, on a joint post, that Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are happily dating and planning on going on an extended vacation together as soon as Corroded Coffin wraps up their tour. The couple also asks for people to respect their privacy and states that they don’t intend to give any interviews to discuss their relationship.

They spend the whole vacation laughing over the hundreds of posts and reaction videos their friends send them daily.