#Online Training Script | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

artmsdoll · 30 days ago

Text

off script, just for tonight ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

a euijoo fic (with a bit of smau) in which u two are mcs together and a trip to paris is the final straw to you two making a move on eachother

content : NSFW writing abt euijoo, (if that makes u uncomfortable pls dni) 15% smau 85% just writing (i got lazy sorry..) soft dom!juju x sub!fem reader (this doesn't rly affect the dynamic much, he's just on top lol), hickeys, unprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap!!!!), swearing

wc : 3100 (+200 in posts/texts)

a/n : i'm back😛 this is my first time putting a little smau in my writing so if its ass im sorry... also also i'll get to ppls recs now!! oh also also pls ignore how the flannels in the pictures don’t match #itried

you and euijoo had been mcs for music bank together for almost a year. you even got a contract renewal since fans loved you two so much. you were not complaining though, he was the best partner you could’ve asked for. however, as much as you wanted to stay professional and not let your relationship pass the very close coworkers stage, he made it a little hard…

first of all, you felt super comfortable with him. your chemistry was great, and you always felt like you two could joke around with each other. he was also just perfect, everything from his personality, to his height, to his annoyingly pretty face was to die for. you also couldn't help noticing how fondly he looked at you, his eyes always finding you in the mirror when you were getting your makeup done. but you couldn't blame him, cause you did the same. how he would gently rub your hands or your back when you were nervous backstage. or that time you were exhausted in between schedules and fell asleep on his shoulder, yet he didn't move a muscle until you woke up so you wouldn't be embarrassed. he did such a good job at not waking you up that you didn’t even know this happened until you saw the picture on the official music bank account.

you had to keep reminding yourself that he was just a genuinely kind person and he was probably just very well trained for fan service. besides, he was way too professional to try and pull a stunt like flirting with his mcing partner, especially when all the staff from both your companies were around.

you two recently got the news that you would be flying out to paris to mc music bank over there. as a little bonus, since both of your schedules had been so full for the last few months, your companies even agreed to let you travel a bit before the actual event so you two could enjoy some time off in the city. your company had been getting lots of backlash lately for overworking you, so this was the least they could do.

it was finally departure day and after some mandatory sasaeng airport photos, you two were off.

you passed out the second you got in your seat, you didn't even bother to grab your blanket or pillow. when you woke up from your nap, groggy and eyes getting adjusted to the dim cabin lights, you realized you were wrapped in a blanket, topped with euijoo’s flannel on your shoulders. you turned towards him only to see that he was the one that was fast asleep now, head tilted toward you, lips parted slightly, and breathing slowly.

the flannel still smelled faintly of cedar and bergamot and him. you couldn't stop yourself and your heart did a little something in your chest. he must’ve noticed your state and covered you up before passing out himself.

you couldn't help but take a 0.5 photo of him sleeping while you pointed at him and sent it to him.

you also took a pictureof yourself and posted it, forgetting that you had euijoo’s flannel wrapped around you… you went back to sleep, unaware of the chaos you just started online.

when you woke up and checked your phone, the realization hit. euijoo was also awake now and you turned to him, a little scared but also finding the situation kinda funny.

“thanks for your flannel… but i fear i may have fumbled a bit…” you mumbled.

“what did you do? as long as you didn’t drool all over it or stain it, it can’t be that bad.” he answered, teasing you.

you sheepishly showed him your phone with the post on it.

“oh that's no problem, you know how my company is with damage control. we’ll be fine,” he reassured you. “and so what if people think we're together, that just means we’ll get more business trip offers!”

not long after, you landed in paris with a beautiful view of the sunset. however, with a popular duo also comes fans waiting for you as soon as you passed customs. as the security guards struggled to surround you two from the mob, you felt a firm hand on your back guiding you gently through the crowd and a whisper in your ear: “you good?” you sneakily nodded yes.

you two finally made it out to your ride to your hotel. unfortunately, since the company sent you two out early, they also sent you with all of the big bags containing makeup, outfits, and props to make sure they were in paris on time for the event. this left you two crammed in the back of the car with bags to your side and no room to move. your thighs and shoulders were pushed next to each other, which wasn't technically weird or anything, but you felt your cheeks flushing a bit. the silence filled with something unspoken that you refused to acknowledge, as you’d be sure to be fired or at least scolded if these feelings kept going where you feared they might.

when you made it to the hotel, you both made your way to your rooms, with euijoo making sure you got inside your room safely and wishing you a good night before going to his.

it was the next morning. you felt like you just had the best sleep of your life. you and euijoo agreed to meet up at 10am the night prior, so you got all dolled up as soon as you were up. you planned to wear this cute dress since the weather was amazing, but there was one problem that you forgot about, it was lowkey impossible to do up on your own and there were no staff here yet to help. you were left with no other choice.

seconds later, you heard footsteps rushing to your door and multiple frantic knocks. you struggled to open the door and hold the back of your dress to avoid flashing the whole hallway.

“you okay?? what happened?” he asked, breathless.

“i just… can't tie this up on my own,” you said, a little embarrassed at the scene you caused.

“oh?” he giggled a bit. “you scared me!”

he stepped closer to you, very close, with one hand settling on your waist and the other zipping it up. his fingers brushed up your spine, and while this was again, something pretty normal, you felt your heart beating faster.

“all done.. are we good to go?” but you still felt him behind you.

you both just kinda stood there, that unspoken tension still there. you managed to let out a “yeah, thanks so much!”

you two spent the day exploring some cafes, the eiffel tower, and every tourist attraction that was on your path, vlogging and taking the iconic “boyfriend/girlfriend” photos everywhere. after what felt like endless kilometers of walking, you made it back to the hotel and you both decided to wind down at the pool. it was just the two of you, and he in just his swim trunks with his perfect toned body and v line on full display #needthat made you kinda lose it internally. you couldn't help but notice his equally wandering eyes.

“you’re staring,” you said, half joking, half trying to get a reaction out of him.

“you started it.” his voice was lower. “should’ve warned me you’d look like that.”

you splashed water at him, trying to play off the situation you created.

trying to quickly change the subject you said, “wait can you take some pictures before my hair gets wet! and we can’t forget the vlog they wanted us to make!”

“awe.. right, i was looking forward to being the only one to see you like this,” he answered, putting on a fake pout.

this threw you for a loop cause now you couldn't tell what he was playing at anymore. he took some pictures of you not to mention, he made you look the best you’ve ever looked. and you uploaded them right away. maybe this could work as some damage control for yesterday's mishap...

you two ended the day or so you thought eating at the hotel's rooftop restaurant. your companies had reserved the whole balcony for you two so you could enjoy dinner in peace. the view both the skyline and euijoo was something straight out of a movie. the candlelight made his big eyes sparkle, and the overall ambiance made you feel some kind of way... while enjoying your meals, the waiter came over with a knowing look and said, “for the lovely couple,” while pouring you two your third… or fourth glass of wine. you both giggled, but neither of you cared to correct him.

your dinner slowly wrapped up. by now, you could definitely feel the wine kicking in, you felt much more giggly than usual. while it did seem to be affecting euijoo a bit, as he seemed a little looser, you knew how drastic the difference was between your drinking tolerances, with his being much higher than yours…

he noticed you getting a little sleepy and suggested you go to bed, as you two were here for work after all, and the show was the following night. afraid you might trip over yourself, he held your hand from the time you got up from the table to when you entered the elevator. once the doors shut, you heard him say softly, while rubbing your hand with his thumb, “you know, if i weren’t so scared of making things complicated and potentially being seen, i would’ve kissed you already.”

that alone knocked the breath out of your lungs. you just stood there, processing what he had just said. you didn’t respond, you couldn't. you felt your cheeks flush and your heart beat faster by the second.

the walk to your room was silent, but his large hand was still wrapped around yours, and you liked that. when you got to your room, you opened the door without letting go of his hand and muttered a, “do you—”

“need help?” he cut you off, stepping in with you.

you nodded.

the room was dim, kinda chilly, and very, very quiet. neither of you said anything else. not yet. you turned your back to him, and he slowly unzipped your dress. the contact gave you shivers all over. you knew damn well it wasn’t just the wine or what he had said earlier that had you feeling like this. you also knew that you didn't want the night to end there, and you could tell he was thinking the same thing. you pulled your dress all the way down, still facing away from him, and broke the silence with, “if i say yes, will you kiss me now?” your voice barely made it past your lips.

without missing a beat, his hands spun you around and he pulled you in. your hands slid up his face and into his hair while his settled on your almost bare hips. he groaned into your mouth like he’d been holding it in for hours. he slowly backed you into the bed, never breaking the kiss. your knees hit the soft edge and you sunk into the mattress, pulling him onto you. your hands slid under his shirt and he took that as his sign to take it off finally. he ripped it off in one swift motion, revealing his sharp collarbones and toned chest that made you lose it just as much as the first time. you felt heat pooling in your lower stomach.

"we can't put this in the vlog" you giggled.

he kissed more intensely now, his lips tracing down your jaw to the sensitive skin on your neck. his teeth grazed lightly as he started to suck, his lips lingering there for a moment. you let out a moan, which snapped him back into reality.

“shit, your makeup artist’s gonna kill me.”

“juju—” you whined.

“i won’t leave a mark,” he whispered against your skin, “unless you want me to.”

you pulled him in closer as your answer, fingers digging into his back as he pressed kisses across your chest, your shoulder, every inch he could reach.

“they can’t do anything about it if they can’t see it!” you giggled.

“god, y/n, you’re unreal. you don’t even know how long i’ve been waiting for this.”

if someone told you a year ago you’d end up in this situation with your co-host, you would’ve laughed in their face, considering the not-so-strict dating ban. but now, you were happy this was the turnout.

“we’re so screwed,” you said, out of breath.

“probably,” he answered, lifting his lips off your chest for a moment. “but… worth it.” and in that moment, it absolutely was.

your fingers clutched deeper into his shoulders, your whole body arching into him, silently begging him to go lower.

he looked up at you, lips swollen. “still okay?” he asked, voice low and raspy, but somehow still soft fingers gently trailing down your sides.

“mhm,” you hummed.

his hands slid down your waist, slowly, as if he was trying to tease you, thumbs dragging along the curve of your hips. he kissed down your stomach, biting softly at the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your panties that were already soaked making you jolt slightly beneath him. then he hooked his fingers under the fabric, pausing for just a second to glance at your face. you gave the tiniest nod, and he slipped them down your legs, kissing your inner thigh.

by the time he moved back up to settle between your thighs, the heat between you was unbearable.

“juju— i need you,” you whined.

his hand slid up your thigh, fingers curling around the back of your knee, lifting it just enough to let him press closer. the thin layer of his boxers was the only thing separating you now. his hips ground into yours, slow and deliberate, and the friction had you gasping.

his fingers passed over your cunt. “fuck, you’re already soaked.”

you could only look at him, eyes wide open, chest rising and falling as you nodded, barely able to breathe. you didn’t have to say a word. his lips crashed into yours again. he didn’t tease this time, pulling his boxers down, lining himself up, his tip sliding through your slick heat.

with a soft groan, he thrusted into you. your breath hitched as you stretched around him. you whimpered his name, wrapping your legs around his waist as he started to move. every thrust was deep and so perfect. your moans filled the room within seconds, the sheets rustling beneath you both. you could feel how close he was already, his breaths turning rough and uneven against your neck.

you clenched around him, urging him on, and the both of you snapped. he buried himself in you with one last thrust, groaning your name as he spilled into you, warmth spreading deep as he held you tight against him. for a long moment, neither of you spoke. you just held each other, your fingers gently combing through his hair as his breathing evened out.

you two didn’t end the night there. you lost count of how many times he made you come again. how many positions he had you in. how often he kissed your shoulder or your thigh or your cheek with so much love. and by the time you both finally collapsed into the sheets, with sore bodies and slick skin, it was well past 3 a.m. you didn’t remember falling asleep, just the weight of his arm around your waist, his chest against your back, and a feeling of fulfillment.

you woke up with the sun shining in your face and your whole body taken over by an ache, a good one though. euijoo’s arm still wrapped around you, his breath hitting the back of your neck, and your legs intertwined in the sheets. you felt exhausted, but it was so worth it. the sweet moment was short-lived as seconds later your phone rang. without even checking who was calling, you picked up, and to your horror, you heard your manager on the other end, who you forgot was flying in that early morning.

“hey, i've been knocking on your door for a bit and i heard nothing back so i’m just checking in…”

“oh— uh— my bad, i was just showering, but i’m all good! shouldn't you be getting rest right now?”

“well now that i know you’re okay i can relax a bit haha. just don’t forget to head to the venue early for your fittings, make sure euijoo knows too!”

“i’ll let him know…” you hung up in a panic and heard euijoo’s sleepy voice asking, “what happened…”

trying to keep your cool, you said, “my manager called 'cause she couldn't find me, so i lied and said i was showering… if they find out i spent the night here we’re so getting scolded…”

“shit,” he said, his voice still a little raspy.

you quickly grabbed your things, gave euijoo a kiss, and made your way to the door. “oh, and don’t forget about the fitting!”

this whole thing felt like a one-night stand, and you hated that. you wanted nothing more than to just stay in his arms forever, but that's what you got for breaking your contract.

the evening of the show finally came. you finally got to see euijoo again after what, like 2 hours lmao, who snuck you to a corner and greeted you with a quick, but heartfelt kiss before he heard his manager calling him. your makeup artist was, in fact, not too pleased with the small but noticeable mark on your neck. you just lied and said it must've been your curling iron, even though you were sure she was onto you.

the fans absolutely loved you two again, and #y/njooinparis trended so fast. fans couldn’t help but notice how you looked a little less energetic than usual, and the mark on your neck, but inevitably blamed it all on your company thank god. saying things like

“they had some days of rest my ass”

“this fuckass company can’t even get a hair stylist and sent y/n on stage with a burn on her neck☹️”

backstage, euijoo found you again, this time with no one around to interrupt. his hand found yours, fingers lacing together with ease. you exchanged a quiet smile and showed him your phone with all the fan theories.

“apparently, they had us rehearsing all night,” you said sarcastically. you two couldn’t help but laugh.

he gave your hand a squeeze. “last night’s gonna be hard to top.” but you weren’t 😛

“yeah,” you said, leaning your head lightly against his shoulder. “but we still have tonight.”

#hei writes⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#&team smut #&team hard thoughts #&team hard hours #&team x reader #&team imagines #&team ej #andteam smut #andteam ej smut #byun euijoo #kpop smut #euijoo smut #euijoo x reader

300 notes · View notes

super-ion · 7 months ago

Text

The Engineer

Part 1

I catch a glimpse of the pilot as she is wheeled towards the med bay. Her eyes have that telltale glaze of just having been wrenched out of herself.

I've never spoken a single word to her, but for a moment as the gurney slides by, those eyes briefly clear, ice blue pinning me to the spot. She raises an emaciated arm and her hand almost seems to beckon to me before something in the gurney clicks and whirs and she slips back into catatonia.

That brief moment of clarity, that piercing gaze, unsettles me. She recognized me.

It's neural bleed. I know it has to be. She doesn't know me, but Morrigan does.

Good god. In the pilot's present state of post combat haze, she probably doesn't even know where she ends and the machine begins.

Does neural bleed work both ways? Is it her head that I'm about to climb into?

My wrist strap buzzes. I have a job to do and I am late.

The pilot is a problem for the med team and the psychs.

The machine is my problem.

I hurry down the corridor, keeping my head down, avoiding the eyes of every passerby.

I don't like people.

I don't like how their eyes follow me. I don't like the whispered gossip that follows me.

One of the techs is waiting for me at the vestibule.

I don't know his name.

All clear, he says to me. Time to work your magic.

He says it without sarcasm. Others have been less kind.

Even so, he can't quite hide the leer as I strip down to the skinsuit. I don't have the physique of a pilot. My body hasn't been subjected to the stresses that ravage their bodies. Unlike them, I have fat and muscle and the skinsuit clings to every curve of my body.

I force a cursory smile and try to forget him as I walk barefoot to my destination.

The vestibule is small, windowless. It's impossible to assess the scale of the machine from here. The only part visible to me is roughly four square meters of pitted and scarred metal plating framing the access hatch and the pilot's cradle beyond.

B0-987T the stenciled lettering reads. And below, in flowing script, is “The Morrigan”.

She's a Javellin class, medium weapons fire support unit. She isn't meant to be on the front lines in a skirmish, but one-on-one, she can hold her own against a Wraith. Which is exactly what happened only a few hours ago.

I place a bare palm on the bulkhead. She thrums with some distant vibration. Her reactor is still online, still in the early stages of drawdown as she transitions to dock power.

“Hey beautiful,” I say to her.

I think of the pilot. I think of piercing blue eyes and I think of neural bleed.

I flinch my hand away.

The tech looks at me, asks if I'm alright. I'm fine, I tell him.

I climb through the hatch and into the cradle.

I feel like an interloper here. The cradle isn't calibrated for my body. Everything still smells like the pilot. Mingled with the smell of the machine is her sweat and her adrenaline and the particular scented soap that she prefers.

There is a faint whirring as her cameras track my movements from a dozen angles. The access ports open to receive me.

Against my better judgment, I imagine eagerness for this exchange.

This is immediately followed by an all too familiar sense of inadequacy. The engineers’ rig is not nearly as all encompassing as a pilots’. It's only the most basic neural interface. No haptics. No neurotransmitter feedback. No access to the suite of sensors studded throughout her hull.

I can't interface with her the way her pilot can.

My rig is a remnant from basic training. The pilot corps wanted me for my exceptional ratings in synchrony and neuro-elasticity, but after serval training exercises, they determined that I didn't have the temperament for the battlefield. I froze up too easily.

A neural rig is a massive investment and removing one will fuck a person up a hell of a lot more than installing one. The selection process is designed to weed out washouts before we even get to installation, but some of us still slip through the cracks. Most end up reassigned to logistics, operating loader mechs or piloting long haul supply frigates. But my aptitudes made me ideal for the engineering corps, so here I am.

Morrigan senses my mood and the cradle shifts slightly, aligning itself to my dimensions. Her eagerness to connect morphs into a sort of tender reassurance. It's a slippery slope, ascribing human emotions to these machines, but she does seem genuinely happy to see me.

I can never be part of what she and her pilot have, but I can be part of something in my own way.

The pilot knows about me, she would even without neural bleed. Does she envy the relationship I have with her mech? Does she envy that I can exist both together and apart with the machine?

Is she jealous of us?

Morrigan slips her jacks into my rig and my mind enters hers and I feel tension leave my body. Some dull ache that I wasn't even consciously aware of ebbs within me.

My senses dull and my visual cortex is fed a series of diagnostic logs and telemetry streams. The techs have access to the exact same data, but Morrigan highlights particular data points that she and the pilot flagged. I log them in the engineering report.

A wireframe schematic of the battlefield spreads out in my awareness. Green markers for our battlegroup. Red markers for the pack of Wraith interlopers.

I hear the ghost of music, strange and ambient, like whale song. The first time I heard it, I asked the techs about it. They had no idea what I was talking about. One even suggested I get an eval for some psych leave.

Later I realized Morrigan was singing to me. Or rather she was interpreting tightbeam comm links as something my brain could process. A human mind can't possibly interpret the full datastream, but with Morrigans's rendition, I can suss out the basic meanings. The battlegroup is a choir and Morrigan is playing me their song.

I caused quite a stir when I first made that connection and started flagging battle events the analysts had missed.

I survey the battlefield before me, reconstructed from feeds from TacCom and all the individual mechs.

Morrigan and I have done this enough times that she knows my preferred display layout, but she holds back, allowing me to pull off the virtual displays on my peripheral vision. There's an odd sort of intimacy to it, her letting me take charge like this.

God-knows how many tons of metal and ceramic and miles and miles of wire and optic fiber and see waits eagerly for me to start the playback sim. She wants to show off. She wants me to assess the actions of her and her pilot and tell them they did well.

Other engineers, few as we are, have mentioned similar experiences with their assigned machines.

“Alright,” I whisper so that only she can hear. “Show me the dance. Sing me the song.”

(Next)

#my writing #writers on tumblr #mechposting #science fiction #scifi #short story #snippet

579 notes · View notes

stra-tek · 7 months ago

Text

Big random list of things that NEARLY happened in Star Trek with no context or citation...

Harry Kim was to appear in Picard season 3 as a Captain (possibly of the Voyager-B)

Sarek was to use the Guardian of Forever to go back in time to become Surak of Vulcan, in a Next Gen episode

An episode was pitched where an NX-01 med tech played by Alice Krige was captured and assimilated by the Borg, becoming their queen

A Star Trek movie was almost made about undoing the Kelvin Universe, and would have had Shatner and Nimoy appear

They considered having Will Riker die, Data become first officer and Thomas Riker the Ops officer in TNG's "Second Chances"

JJ Abrams wanted Nichelle Nichols to cameo as the mother of Zoe Saldana's Uhura

The first season of Enterprise was to be set on Earth, culminating with the launch of NX-01 at the end of the season

They considered a shock reveal in ENT season 4 that it was actually the Vulcans who split off from the Romulans, and Romulus was their original homeworld

William Shatner wanted to return as Kirk from the Mirror Universe, in an Enterprise episode that involved time travel and creating the mirror universe with the transporter

Elnor was going to "explore his sexuality" in early Picard season 2 plans, before a change of showrunner and his character mostly vanishing

The ENT writers wanted Shatner to play Chef, a Kirk look-a-like hired by Daniels and trained to act Kirk-like to give an important speech at some point in history the real Kirk is mysteriously absent from

Data was originally created by mysterious aliens, and was to have a twin sister

Prodigy season 2 writers discussed having Chris Pine's Kirk from the Kelvin universe join the crew for a few episodes

In the originally filmed cut of Star Trek: Generations, Kirk is shot in the back and dies

Very early discussions for what eventually became Star Trek: Picard considered an adaptation of the Star Trek: Destiny novel trilogy

These discussions span off from a Short Treks pitch where a young cadet Jean-Luc Picard met Nichelle Nichols' Uhura

Early plans for the 2009 movie had wholesale destruction of the Prime universe, including the destruction of Earth. Thank Perpetual Entertainment for getting the destruction scaled back to Romulus so Star Trek Online had a Federation left to feature

There's was a story treatment written for Star Trek III: The Search for Spock where Spock stays dead

This one might be a little sus, but Christopher Pike in Discovery season 2 was planned to be very religious and fall to his knees at one point before the Red Angel, and clash with Michael over science vs faith

Early ideas for Star Trek Into Darkness had Benedict Cumberbatch as Robert April, former Enterprise captain turned rogue

Seven of Nine was going to sacrifice herself in order for Voyager to get home

A time travel Justice League of Trek movie by Brent Spiner, bringing together all eras of goodies vs all eras of villains, was considered

Spock shot JFK to fix the timeline in a proposed sequel to The Motion Picture

Ripper/Ephraim was originally going to be a regular, if giant tardigrade, crewmember on Discovery

Prior to Leonard Nimoy's involvement in what would become the 2009 Star Trek movie, a story outline was written about prime-universe cadets Kirk and Spock, in a story inspired by TNG's "The First Duty"

The Enterprise crew went through a black hole, back in time and introduced primative man to fire in another 70's movie script

A TNG movie was written where Picard summons a hologram of James T. Kirk for advice

George Kirk was to be found in the pattern buffer of the wrecked U.S.S. Kelvin 30 years later and resurrected

Voyager's EMH was originally to take on the name of his creator early on in the show, and the first Voyager novels call him "Doc Zimmerman" assuming it would have happened by publishing time

There's concept art where the U.S.S. Cerritos is a Galaxy-class starship

Riker was planned to dislike Data, and treat him poorly because he was an android

They considered making Troi's loss of powers in "The Loss" a permanent thing, because of how much hassle they caused the writing staff

Harry Kim wasn't originally planned to survive Species 8472

#star trek #star trek discovery #star trek aos #star trek the original series #star trek picard #strange new worlds #tng #the next generation #deep space nine #star trek voyager #star trek prodigy #short treks

462 notes · View notes

tccicomputercoaching · 6 months ago

Text

Learn JavaScript Step-by-Step at TCCI

Do you want to learn JavaScript? Want to start your journey into web development? Look no further than TCCI Computer Coaching Institute! Our course on JavaScript is carefully tailored for beginners and those wishing to deepen their programming skills. Whether you want to become a professional web developer or simply want to improve your coding skills, our systematic, hands-on approach makes sure you can learn how to do JavaScript step-by-step, mastering each concept as you go along.

What You’ll Learn in Our JavaScript Course

Fundamentals of JavaScript: Understand the core concepts, such as variables, data types, operators, and control structures, that form the building blocks of programming.

Advanced JavaScript Techniques: Dive into more complex topics like functions, objects, arrays, closures, and asynchronous programming (including Promises and async/await).

DOM Manipulation: Learn how to use JavaScript to dynamically update the content, structure, and style of your web pages.

Event Handling: Master the art of responding to user interactions, making your web pages interactive and responsive.

Debugging and Error Handling: Learn essential techniques for debugging and handling errors effectively in your JavaScript code.

Real-world Projects: Apply your learning through practical projects that simulate real-world scenarios, from creating dynamic forms to building fully functional web applications.

Why Learn JavaScript at TCCI?

Step-by-Step Approach: We understand how daunting learning a new language can be, and thus we break down every concept into manageable lessons to make sure you build a solid foundation before moving on to advanced topics.

Industry Experienced Trainers: Our trainers are experienced professionals with real-life industry experience, giving you practical insights and guidance.

Hands-on Learning: TCCI is learning by doing space. Our project-based curriculum lets you build and test your code in real-world environments as you learn and get practical experience.

Flexi Learning Options: With our online classes, weekend batches, and one-on-one personalized coaching, we've got flexible options to help fit your schedule and style of learning.

Career-Focused: JavaScript is one of the most in-demand skills in the tech industry, and mastering it can open doors to numerous career opportunities. With TCCI’s guidance, you’ll be prepared to apply for web development roles with confidence.

Benefits of Learning JavaScript at TCCI

Boost Your Employability: JavaScript is the backbone of modern web development. With our training, you’ll be equipped with the skills employers are actively seeking.

Comprehensive Course Content: The resources available for one include tutorials, assignments, quizzes, and study materials.

Collaborative environment in learning: You get to engage your colleagues, work on your projects in groups, thereby providing a great networking and also an opportunity to ensure support for your career through all this.

Affordable: TCCI courses remain so competitive in terms of the price, thus ensuring quality education is available.

TCCI is known for exceptional quality of teaching, industry-relevant curriculum, and student-centered approach. Whether you are just starting your coding journey or looking to level up your skills, TCCI is the ideal place to learn JavaScript and become a skilled web developer. We offer personalized coaching, hands-on training, and real-world projects to ensure that you can apply your knowledge immediately. Enroll now and guarantee your seat in our JavaScript training to take the first step toward a rewarding career in tech!

Call now on +91 9825618292

Get information from https://tccicomputercoaching.wordpress.com/

#TCCI Computer Coaching Institute #Best Computer classes near me #JavaScript Online Training in India #Best Java Script Training Institutes - Ahmedabad #Best Computer Training Institutes in Bopal Ahmedabad

0 notes

purplereina11 · 2 months ago

Text

🏀 Based after Eleven 🏀

Chapter 7

It started as playful online chemistry with someone unexpected-Alexia Putellas. Flirty banter turned into late-night texts before a heated moment on a club balcony shifted everything.

Now it was post game meet-ups, no-strings friends-with-benefits arrangement. They shared passion, comfort, and the grind of pro sports. But as the season went on, lines blurred.

It was supported to stay simple. These things never do however. Not in professional sports. The option to stay isn't always yours.

The arena was alive with noise—the roar of the crowd echoing off the walls, sneakers squeaking across the court, and the rhythmic beat of the ball hitting the hardwood.

And there you were—on the bench, not in uniform but in your team tracksuit, ankle wrapped beneath your tapered joggers, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

The second of three games stood between your team and another historic title. The pressure was massive. The energy? Relentless. And you were living every second of it from the sidelines.

The plan was clear: rest you. Keep you safe for the long haul. You weren’t coming on in the first half—maybe not at all, depending on how the game played out. The physios, coaches, everyone was united in protecting you, making sure your longevity didn’t get sacrificed for a single night.

But watching from the bench?

Torture.

You were anything but passive. Standing half the time, leaning forward, pointing out screens before they happened, calling out mismatches, reading the flow of the game like you were already on the floor.

“Liv! Hand-off! Watch the double!”

“Maya—drop to help, she’s cutting baseline!”

Every instinct in you was screaming to be out there. But you knew better. You couldn’t be reckless now—not with everything on the line.

The cameras caught you a few times, gesturing wildly with the clipboard, animated as hell, eyes glued to the court like a coach-in-training. The commentators picked up on it too.

“Look at [Your Name] on the sideline—still leading, even from the bench. That’s what captains do.”

You didn’t hear it, of course. You paced during free throws. Fist-pumped every big shot. Barked instructions, encouragement, praise—anything to keep the momentum flowing.

The girls looked to you constantly. Liv glanced at you after every possession. Maya nodded each time she stepped off the court, waiting for your read. You weren’t playing—but you were still in the game. Still running the rhythm from the edge.

And up in the stands Alexia was watching.

Eyes on you every time the camera cut away from the court. Watching the way your teammates listened. The way you led. The way your entire body moved with every possession, like you were mentally sprinting the court even if your ankle wouldn’t let you physically do it.

From the bench, you were still the pulse of the team. Still the one they followed. And soon, depending on how the second half played out— You might be stepping onto the court after all.

The second half buzzer sounded like a war drum. And when your number was called, the roof nearly came off.

The crowd surged with energy—fans leaping to their feet, chanting your name, thunderous applause crashing like a wave through the arena. It was deafening, electric, a moment that felt like something more than just a substitution.

You were checking in. Your team was down, the scoreboard a harsh reminder of the fight still ahead. The opposing side had come out swinging in the first half—tight defense, ruthless transition, punishing every missed shot. It wasn’t lost. Not yet.

But it was close. And now, the one person they all trusted to flip the script was you.

As you jogged toward the scorer’s table, the cameras zoomed in. Eyes from every seat, every corner, every screen around the world locked onto you.

Everyone wanted to see if the ankle held. If you'd limp. If you’d hesitate. But you didn’t. Not even for a second.

You jogged onto the court with your chin high, jaw set, laser-focused. You slapped palms with Maya and Liv as they gave you the court and instantly fell into formation. The energy shifted. Tangibly. Visibly.

They believed. Not just in the comeback. In you.

The first possession came quickly—ball inbounds, pace controlled, your defender sticking close like they’d been warned not to give you an inch.

You ran off the screen anyway, shook her off with a jab step, flared to the wing, caught the pass, and didn’t blink.

One fluid motion.

Step.

Rise.

Release.

Splash. The three-pointer snapped through the net clean, no rim, all confidence.

The crowd erupted.

You didn’t celebrate. Not really.

You turned toward the sideline, raised both arms, and made a circling gesture with your finger—“Let’s go. Get up. We’re not done."

The fans rose with you. Your teammates clapped you on the back as you fell into defensive position, adrenaline pumping, the arena roaring like a storm behind you.

There was work to do. Points to make up. A trophy to chase.

But with that shot, that first touch, you didn’t just put points on the board you reminded everyone who the hell you were.

The comeback wasn't just dramatic—it was dominant.

After your opening three, the tide turned with force. Like someone had flipped a switch and reminded your entire squad who they were. The defense locked in. The passes got sharper. The pace faster. Every possession became a statement.

You ran the floor like you hadn’t missed a minute.

Steals. Fast breaks. Assists. Another three. Then another.

Maya hit a mid-range jumper off your screen. Liv got an and-one and screamed so loud you could feel it in your chest. Every bucket, every stop, every rotation—it added to the momentum until the other team started breaking under it.

They were stunned.

Because you weren’t just clawing your way back.

You were taking over. The scoreboard flipped and kept climbing. What had once been a 14-point deficit turned into a 12-point lead.

And when the final whistle blew, the scoreboard told the story loud and proud:

Barcelona 84 – 69 [Opponents] Another trophy. Another piece of history.

The crowd exploded.

You didn’t even think—just threw your arms up, face to the ceiling, eyes wide with disbelief and adrenaline and absolute joy.

Then came the chaos. Teammates sprinting toward you. Maya launching herself into your side. Liv wrapping you in a one-armed hug while jumping up and down.

The rest of the bench poured onto the court. The arena was alive, noise vibrating in your chest. People screaming. Flags waving. Cameras flashing. Phones recording your name as it echoed in chants from all corners of the stands.

You turned in a slow circle, taking it in—hands in your hair, overwhelmed in the best way. The second of four titles this season—won. On a night you weren’t even supposed to play.

And yet, you did.

And you delivered. You pointed to the crowd, pounding your chest once, mouthing, “This is for you.”

Fans leaned over the railings just to touch the moment, to be close to something they knew they were witnessing—something real. Something legendary.

And as you jogged to the huddle of your teammates at center court for the trophy presentation, your eyes swept over the stands—

And found her. Alexia. Standing. Cheering. Smiling. A little pride. A little awe. Maybe even something else. But for now—this moment was for you. For your team. For history.

And you owned every second of it.

And the biggest high of your life.

The final was clinical—domination from start to finish. You scored 22, picked up MVP, and practically danced off the court. The kind of win that made your legs shake and your heart sprint. But it wasn’t just the wins. It was the crowd.

Because somewhere in the sea of noise, right behind the bench in VIP seats, were Alexia and half the Barça women’s squad, decked out in your jerseys and scarves like they were ultras, not athletes who had just trained hours earlier. Alexia’s voice had been the loudest when you hit the go-ahead three. You’d know it anywhere.

After the final buzzer and the trophy lift, the party started immediately. Locker room? Chaos. Champagne flying, music blaring, Liv doing some half-committed dance on a table while Maya poured sparkling wine into plastic cups like she was in charge of hydration. You? Somewhere in the middle of it all, still in uniform, medal around your neck, hair a mess, cheeks flushed from both the win and the champagne you'd definitely drunk too fast.

And then came the press conference. Which you shouldn’t have been allowed into in that state.

The media room was packed, the club staff trying to maintain some level of professionalism while you and two of your teammates—still giggling—took your seats behind the mics.

“Congratulations,” the moderator said, trying to be composed. “How does it feel to of won two trophies now this season?”

Liv leaned into her mic, deadly serious. “We’re gonna be insufferable for the rest of the season. I just think everyone should prepare.”

You snorted, half-laughing, half-hiding behind your hand. “She’s not wrong.”

One reporter raised a hand. “You’ve had back-to-back MVP performances. What’s been the difference for you this season?”

You blinked, leaned toward the mic, and slurred only slightly, “Hydration. Discipline. And, uh…” You glanced to your left where Maya was wiggling her eyebrows dramatically. “Support systems.” Liv choked.

“Can you elaborate?” the reporter asked, clearly amused.

You nodded solemnly. “Yeah. Having someone yell ‘DO IT FOR THE SEXY CAPTAIN’ from the bench really kept me grounded.”

The room lost it. Even the moderator laughed.

Later, the clip made it to Twitter.

It was captioned:

“Drunk [Your Name] confirming Alexia Putellas is their muse was not on my 2025 bingo card but I’ll take it.”

The moderator tried to steer things with a half-exasperated, “Let’s keep questions focused on the match, please,” but no one listened.

First came the expected ones.

“[Your Name], back-to-back MVPs in finals, did you expect to carry this kind of form into both finals?”

You took a sip of champagne and gave your best serious nod. “Well, I actually woke up this morning and said, ‘I feel like doing something iconic.’ So. Here we are.”

The room laughed, and Maya gave you a dramatic golf clap. Another reporter chimed in, grinning. “Is it true you played the second half of the game with a busted ankle when you weren’t originally planned?”

“Listen,” you said, leaning forward like you were telling a secret. “The plan was always for me to just play two quarters. A trophy was on the line and I was feeling unhinged.”

More laughter. Another sip. You were riding the high, loose and warm in a way that only came from winning and bubbles.

Then it came.

A different voice. Friendly, but calculated. “You’ve had a lot of visible support from the Barça Femení squad lately—particularly from one Alexia Putellas. She’s been courtside, wearing your jersey, and caught on video celebrating your final points. Any comment on that?”

You felt it immediately—the shift. Maya turned her head slowly toward you, lips twitching. Liv sank back into her chair with the smuggest expression known to mankind. You tried—really tried—to stay cool.

“I… have a lot of support,” you started, flashing a practiced smile. “The whole club’s been amazing this season.”

“Sure,” the reporter pressed, “but it’s not every day the captain of the women’s team shows up with your number on her back and gets caught whispering something to you in the tunnel after a game.”

You paused. Shrugged. “She’s… a friend.”

“Just a friend?” You glanced at Liv, who was absolutely vibrating with the effort not to laugh.

You took a deep breath. “Okay. Look. Am I saying I don’t find Alexia attractive? No, I am not. The girl has a face card that needs to be hung in the Louvre. But she is my friend.”

The room erupted. Liv full-on dropped her head to the table. Maya whispered, “Put that on a t-shirt.”

You held up your hands, mock-serious. “She is—genuinely—my friend. Do we support each other? Yes. Do we wear each other’s merch? Maybe. Are you all reading way too much into it because we’re both incredibly good-looking and charming? Also yes.”

A reporter near the back shouted, “So that’s a no-comment with bonus compliments?”

You grinned. “That’s a no-comment with flavor.”

By the time the press conference ended, the clip was already online, memes being made in real-time. One side of Twitter had declared you soulmates. The other? Convinced it was all a PR stunt (that somehow felt too real).

And in your pocket, your phone buzzed.

Alexia: Face card in the Louvre??.

You: Tis my truth Putellas!

No more dodging. Not tonight. The alcohol gave you a don’t give a fuck confidence for sure.

Later that night, the celebrations had cooled—but not completely. Your medal still hung loosely around your neck, the strap twisted from wear. Your hoodie was only half-zipped, and your cheeks were flushed from the champagne and the high of victory. You’d made it through the party, the interviews, the endless congratulations.

But now you just wanted her. Alexia’s apartment lights were warm through the windows when you were buzzed in, and she opened the door before you could knock twice.

She was in sweats and a tank top, hair tied back, glasses on, clearly not expecting you, and definitely not like this.

You were leaning against the doorframe, one hand braced like it was holding you up—eyes glassy, smirk crooked. “Hi,” you said, voice low, sweet, and a little slurred. “You alone or your girlfriend here”

She blinked. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk,” you said. “Just… celebratory.”

Alexia raised a brow, arms crossing loosely. “Celebrating all the way to my doorstep?”

You looked her up and down—slowly, obviously. “I’d like to sit on your face… please.”

She stared at you for a beat, expression unreadable.Then— She laughed. A full, head-tilted-back laugh, the kind that made you grin stupidly and lean a little heavier on the doorframe. “Please tell me you didn’t drive here,” she said, half-scolding, half-grinning as she reached for your arm and pulled you gently inside.

“I took a cab,” you said proudly, nearly tripping over your own feet. “See? Responsible. But still—my request stands.”

Alexia rolled her eyes as she guided you inside, shutting the door behind you. “You’re impossible.”

“You like me impossible.”

She smirked, pressing a hand to your chest to stop your very uncoordinated attempt at leaning in. “You’re also tipsy, mildly annoying, but a little bit adorable.”

You blinked. “You said adorable.”

“I regret it already.”

You flopped dramatically onto her couch, legs spread, hoodie half hanging off your shoulder. “So… is that a no?”

Alexia crossed her arms again, trying not to laugh as she leaned against the wall, watching you with something warm in her eyes. “Drink some water. Eat something. Then we’ll talk.”

You gave her a lazy grin. “So… not a no.”

She shook her head, already walking toward the kitchen. “Definitely not a yes, either.”

You let your head fall back against the cushions, smiling to yourself, feeling full—of joy, of champagne, of her—for the first time in a long time.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been draped across her couch like some kind of smug, post-victory royalty, but when Alexia walked back in from the kitchen, she was holding a plate with a sandwich and a raised eyebrow like she was rethinking all her life choices.

She stood over you, unimpressed but slightly amused, holding the plate just out of your reach. “You are such a handful.”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah,” you said, smirking, “so are my tits, and I don’t hear you complaining about that.”

Alexia blinked, clearly trying not to laugh. “Are you for real right now?”

You reached up lazily, still not moving from your reclined position, fingers brushing the edge of the plate. “I’m just saying. If I’m a handful, I’m at least a fun handful.”

She shook her head, biting back a grin. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, here you are. Feeding me. Hydrating me. Thinking about my tits.”

Alexia set the plate on your stomach with a dramatic thud, sandwich and all. “There. Eat. Rehydrate. And stop being so full of yourself.”

You grinned, grabbing the sandwich immediately. “You love it.”

She didn’t answer, just turned to walk away with a little shake of her head—but you caught the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth before she disappeared into the kitchen again.

“That’s what I thought!” you called after her, mouth full of sandwich.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she yelled back.

“Too late,” you mumbled around a bite. “You’ve been regretting it since I walked in hot and victorious.”

But the truth was there wasn’t an ounce of regret between either of you. Not tonight.

You were mid-sandwich, shoes kicked off, hoodie half off one shoulder, talking absolute nonsense about how you should start a post-career podcast called “Buckets and Brat” when Alexia returned to the living room, arms folded and eyes full of you’re a mess, but you’re my mess.

“Come on,” she said, standing in front of you, hands extended.

You blinked up at her, confused but willing. “We dancing now? 'Cause I can’t promise I won’t fall in love with you if we slow dance.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t drop her hands. “You need a bath.”

“I smell like champagne and achievement,” you said, proudly.

“You smell like a locker room and bad decisions.” She wiggled her fingers until you gave in, placing your hands in hers. She pulled you gently to your feet, and you swayed slightly, leaning into her chest with a dramatic sigh.

“You’re bossy when I’m drunk,” you mumbled against her shoulder.

“You’re clingy when you’re drunk.”

“Lies,” you said, gripping her hips. “You’re just magnetic.”

She laughed under her breath, guiding you down the hallway toward the bathroom. “You ramble so much when you’re tipsy.”

“I’m a layered character.” When she reached for the hem of your hoodie, you squinted at her. “Okay, calm down, ma’am, we’ve barely shared a sandwich.”

Alexia smirked, undeterred. “I’m not undressing you to jump you. Although you've clearly forgotten that was the original reason you cam here.. I ran you a bath. Try not to drown.”

Your mouth opened. Closed. You peeked past her into the bathroom. Steam curled from the tub, the soft scent of eucalyptus drifting in the air. The lights were dimmed, the faucet still trickling, and a fluffy towel was already folded by the sink.

You blinked. “You’re—wait. You’re really running me a bath?”

“I work with women who treat muscle care like religion,” she said. “You just played two finals back to back, you stink, and your spine is shaped like a question mark right now.”

You blinked again. “You’re perfect.”

“Get in the tub.”

She helped peel the hoodie off, then your shirt, warm hands careful and patient. You kept making faces at her, muttering things like “Where’s the seductive music?” and “This feels very bridal” until she gave you a light shove toward the water.

Once you were settled in—neck deep, body melting—you let out a long sigh. “You’re sitting there to make sure I don’t drown, aren’t you?”

Alexia sat cross-legged on the bathroom floor, chin resting on her palm, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “Absolutely.”

You floated in silence for a minute, warm and safe, cheeks pink from the heat and champagne. “You’re really not gonna kiss me right now?” you asked, eyes half-closed.

“Not while you’re this drunk,” she said, the corner of her mouth twitching. “I’m good, but I’m not reckless.”

You smiled at her through the steam. “You’re kind of everything.”

She didn’t say anything. Just kept sitting there, eyes soft, keeping watch like she always did—even when you didn’t ask her to. And you let yourself be looked after. For once.

You’d sunk deeper into the bath now, arms draped over the sides, head tipped back against the edge as the warmth settled into your muscles and loosened your thoughts—which, at this stage, were entirely unfiltered.

Alexia still sat nearby, legs tucked to her chest, occasionally sipping from a glass of water she'd brought you and definitely rethinking her life choices.

“I just… I just think it’s weird,” you mumbled, eyes fluttering open. “Like, how do we know we all see the same colors the same way?”

Alexia blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”

“Like your purple… might not be my purple,” you said with complete sincerity, hand lifting out of the water to gesture vaguely. “We all learn the name of the color, sure, but what if how you see purple looks like how I see green? We’d never know.”

She stared at you for a long second. “Did you just bring an existential philosophy spiral into my bathroom?”

“I’m serious, Alexia. What if you think of red and your brain’s like, ‘yeah, red,’ but it’s secretly a totally different color to what I see as red, and we’ve just been living this color-coded lie our whole lives?”

Alexia exhaled slowly, like she was regretting not locking you in the guest room with a Gatorade.

“Also,” you continued, undeterred, “what if animals do talk but only when we’re not around, like in that one movie with the toys?”

She leaned back against the wall, rubbing her temple. “Are you just listing childhood thoughts you never got closure on?”

“Closure’s a myth,” you said dramatically, eyes closed now, steam curling around your face. “Like matching socks or quiet group chats.”

She actually laughed at that—low and involuntary, and you caught it, grinning even as your eyes stayed shut.

“And another thing,” you added, lifting your hand out of the water, finger pointing toward the ceiling like you were delivering a TED Talk. “How do we know pigeons aren’t government spies? Like—”

Alexia stood up abruptly, grabbing the glass and walking it over to you. “Alright. Drink this before you start debating gravity or convincing me birds are robots.”

You took the water with a sheepish grin. “That’s not a no, though.”

“It’s a please shut up and hydrate,” she replied.

You sipped, sighing contentedly, cheeks still flushed, and watched her settle back down beside the tub like she hadn’t just endured a full podcast episode of Drunken Bath Thoughts.

“You’re really staying there the whole time?” you asked, quieter now.

She glanced over at you. “Would you get out safely if I left?”

You thought about that for a moment. “...Probably not.”

“Exactly.”

You smiled again, eyes softer now. “You’re good at this.”

Alexia didn’t answer. Just reached over and flicked a few bubbles at your forehead. But stayed right there.

The bathwater was starting to cool, but you didn’t care. Your limbs were heavy and relaxed, your mind floating somewhere between champagne tipsy and sleep-deprived philosophical. Alexia was still sitting on the bathroom floor, leaned back against the wall, scrolling quietly through her phone. She hadn’t said much in the last few minutes—not because she wasn’t present, but because she didn’t need to say anything.

You shifted slightly, letting your fingers skim the water.

“Alexia.”

She didn’t look up. “Yes.”

You blinked at her tone, mock-offended. “Okay—no need to get snippy.”

Still, she didn’t look at you, just tapped at her phone. “Ask your question.”

You pushed up a little in the tub, water sloshing against the sides. “If you could be any kitchen appliance, what would you be and why?”

Nothing.

Not even a glance. Just the soft tap-tap-tap of her scrolling. You raised an eyebrow. “You’re not gonna answer?”

Still no reply. You narrowed your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips.

“You’re really gonna ghost me in the middle of a deeply introspective and emotionally vulnerable moment like this?”

She exhaled a small laugh—barely audible—but her eyes stayed locked on her phone.

You leaned back dramatically against the edge of the tub. “Fine. I’ll just sit here and cry in lukewarm water thinking about how my girlfriend doesn’t want to be a kitchen appliance with me.”

“Not your girlfriend,” she muttered, still not looking at you.

“No you already have one of those” You smirked when you caught her eye roll. “Not denying that or that you’re an appliance, though.”

Alexia finally looked up at you, deadpan. “You are unbearable when tipsy.”

You grinned, triumphant. “That sounds like blender energy, actually.”

She rolled her eyes and went back to her phone, but you caught the small smile tugging at her lips. Victory. Sort of.

Alexia hadn’t moved from her spot on the bathroom floor, her back still pressed to the wall, phone in hand, thumb lazily scrolling like she was purposely ignoring you—or worse, unfazed by you.

Which… was unacceptable. You tilted your head toward her, eyes narrowing.

“Alexia.”

Nothing.

“Alexxxiiaaa…”

Still scrolling.

You pouted, lounging further into the water. “You’re so boring when you go into ‘scroll mode.’ You’re missing premium content.”

No reaction.

You stared at her for a moment longer. Then your expression shifted—mischief replacing mock-annoyance. If she wanted to act unbothered, you could fix that.

You slid one leg up through the surface of the water, slowly and deliberately, trailing your fingers over your shin in a way that was anything but casual. You dipped your hand into the water again, picked up the sponge, and began gently running it over your collarbone, up the curve of your neck, eyes fluttering closed just for effect.

“God, I’m so tense,” you sighed dramatically, arching your back ever so slightly. “I really wish someone was paying attention.” The sponge glided over your now visible breasts.

Still no reaction.

She had to be watching now.

You let the sponge glide over your shoulder, deliberately letting the water drip down your arm with a soft hiss. “Bet I’d be so much more relaxed if someone helped wash my back…”

You cracked one eye open to peek at her.

Alexia was… still looking at her phone.

But.

The corner of her mouth was twitching. Caught.

You dropped the seduction act and sat up with a splash, water sloshing over the sides. “You’re so fake! You’re laughing!”

Alexia didn’t even look up. “I wasn’t laughing.”

“You were!” you pointed accusingly. “I saw your lip do the thing!”

She finally glanced at you—smirking. “That was the most aggressively obvious bath seduction I’ve ever witnessed. You used a sponge like it owed you money.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And yet you’re still here.”

“I’m here to make sure you don’t drown,” she said, unfazed. “Not to witness your Oscar-worthy softcore solo performance.”

You groaned, flopping back into the water dramatically. “You’re so no fun.”

Alexia stood, stretching slightly as she walked over to the sink to grab a towel. “If I was no fun, I wouldn’t be sitting through your bath monologue about color theory and seductive sponge work.”

You watched her, then let out a soft sigh. “You do like me a little.”

She draped the towel over the radiator, not turning around.

“I’m still not answering the kitchen appliance question,” she said calmly.

You grinned. Victory pending.

You watched her move around the bathroom with that same impossible calm, the towel now warming on the radiator, her back to you, hair slightly messy from lounging, sleeves pushed up.

You were still naked in the tub, surrounded by bubbles that had long since started to die out, and she was somehow completely unbothered by your attempts to rattle her.

That only made it worse.

You crossed your arms on the edge of the tub, resting your chin there as you stared her down. “You know,” you said, voice deceptively casual, “most people would crack by now.”

Alexia glanced over her shoulder, unimpressed. “You think this is the weirdest thing I’ve experienced? i’m in women’s football! Please.”

“Come on,” you whined. “Just a hint of what appliance you’d be. Blender? Toaster? Air fryer?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re still on this?”

“I’m committed to the bit.”

She leaned back against the counter now, arms folded, finally giving you a sliver of attention. “You’re in lukewarm bathwater, half-drunk, and asking me what kitchen appliance I spiritually identify with. This is the person I chose to spend my night with.”

You grinned. “And yet… you didn’t choose me.”

She paused. Just for a second. Then, “I’d be a dishwasher.”

You blinked. “Wait, really?”

Alexia nodded once, cool as ever. “Efficient. Quiet. Cleans up after other people’s messes.”

You let out a soft laugh. “That’s the most you answer you could’ve given.”

“And what are you again?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Blender.”

“Right.” She smirked. “Noisy. A little dangerous if left unattended.”

You raised a wet finger. “But useful in the right hands.” She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. You watched her for a moment, softer now. “Thanks for taking care of me tonight. You didn’t have to.”

Alexia stepped closer, kneeling briefly beside the tub. “I didn’t,” she said, eyes on yours. “But I wanted to.”

You didn’t speak—you just nodded, lips curving into a quiet smile. She reached for the sponge you’d been using in your earlier performance and gently flicked water at you.

“And now I’m kicking you out of the tub before you wrinkle into a raisin.”

You laughed, catching her wrist lightly. “Fine. But only because you answered the question.”

“And because I warmed your towel,” she said, smug.

“That too,” you muttered. “God, you’re annoying.”

She stood and grabbed the towel. “And yet…”

And yet, you were already reaching for her hand as she helped you out of the bath, towel wrapping around your body like it belonged there—like you belonged here. Even in all your chaos, she stayed.

You might’ve been a blender, but somehow, she always knew how to handle the mess.

Alexia had just wrapped the towel securely around your body, all calm efficiency and soft eye-rolls as she dried your shoulders with the kind of care she probably wouldn't admit to.

“Stay here,” she said, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. “I’m getting you something to wear.”

You gave a dramatic salute. “Yes, capitana.”

She turned to leave the bathroom, muttering something about oversized shirts and how you better not be a chaos goblin while she was gone.

But the moment she was out of sight, your stomach gave a very inconvenient, very loud growl.

You blinked. “Oh my god… my sandwich.” It hit you like a spiritual revelation. You hadn’t finished it. You’d had, like, two bites before she started making you hydrate and bathe and reflect on your questionable life choices. And now? Now it was calling you.

Without hesitation—and with zero regard for the fact that you were completely naked—you abandoned your towel on the bathroom hook and wandered out into the apartment in search of your half-eaten, slightly squished post-championship sandwich.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Alexia was digging through her drawer, already holding a t-shirt in one hand and a pair of soft shorts in the other when she called out, “I hope you like Barça kits, because that’s all I own in your size—”

Silence. She frowned.

“…Hello?”

She turned around. The bathroom door was open. Steam still curling out. Towel hanging up neatly.

But you were gone.

Her brow furrowed. “No… no, no, no—” She moved quickly down the hall. “You did not wander off naked in my apartment—”

But of course you had. Because there you were, standing in front of her open fridge like you owned the place, back fully bare, posture relaxed, holding the last triangle of your sandwich in one hand and taking the slowest, most satisfied bite imaginable.

Alexia stopped dead in the doorway.

She blinked. “What the actual hell.”

You turned your head, mid-chew. “What? I got hungry.”

“You’re naked.”

You looked down at yourself, then back at her, unfazed. “Yeah, but, like... casually.”

She closed her eyes, sighed through her nose, and muttered, “I am too sober for this.”

You held up the sandwich like a peace offering. “Want a bite?”

“No,” she said firmly. “I want you dressed. And not dropping mayo on my kitchen floor.”

You looked down at the small smudge on the tile near your foot. “Okay, that’s fair.”

Alexia turned on her heel. “I’m getting the shirt. Don’t move. Don’t touch anything. Don’t start philosophising with the toaster.”

You grinned, watching her disappear again, still completely nude, still chewing. “You love it,” you called after her, mouth full.

“I am re-evaluating that by the minute,” she called back.

But she wasn’t. She really, really wasn’t.

When Alexia returned from the bedroom—oversized Barça shirt in one hand, shorts in the other—she was expecting to find you exactly where she left you: standing in the kitchen, still dripping water on the tiles, still annoyingly proud of your post-bath sandwich detour.

Instead, she stepped into an empty kitchen. No naked sandwich gremlin in sight. She stared at the abandoned plate on the counter. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Alexia turned slowly, eyes scanning her small apartment. “Not again.” She started down the hallway, calling out, “If you’ve gone back in the tub, I swear to God—”

But then she heard it. The unmistakable sound of a TV turning on. Followed by… you giggling? She rounded the corner and found you sprawled across her couch, still completely naked, a blanket tossed lazily over your lap, attempting to keep your modesty in a laughable attempt. Legs sticking out, remote in hand, and her Netflix account pulled up like you lived there.

“Oh hey,” you said casually, not even looking at her. “They added a new season of that dating show where everyone lies about being in love. I thought we could watch one episode.”

Alexia stared at you, arms still holding the clothes you should be wearing, trying to decide whether to scold you or grab her phone and take a photo for blackmail purposes.

“You’re unbelievable.”

You glanced at her, grinning. “Right? And yet, still more stable than half the people on this show.”

She walked over slowly, set the shirt and shorts on the armrest beside you, and gave you a look. “You are naked on my couch.”

You pulled the blanket up slightly “Technically not anymore and besides wouldn’t be the first time.”

She gave you the most unamused expression she could manage. “This is a personal attack.”

You patted the cushion beside you. “Come on, Alexia. Take a break. Join me in my cozy little kingdom of poor reality television and post-bath wisdom.”

Alexia hesitated for one second too long, then sighed, finally sitting down—though noticeably keeping her distance. “Put the damn clothes on first.”

You gave her a mischievous look. “I don’t know… I’m really vibing with this setup.”

“I’m going to smother you with that blanket.”

You slipped the shirt on with dramatic flair, then turned the volume up a notch. “Fine. But you have to admit this is kind of peak domestic.”

Alexia didn’t respond right away, just leaned back into the couch, stealing the remote from your hand. Then quietly, almost too quiet to catch, “…It kind of is.”

You were fully sprawled now, her oversized Barça shirt hanging loosely off one shoulder, blanket still draped lazily over your lap, legs stretched across the couch like you owned it. The TV cast soft flickers of light across the room as the reality show’s chaotic intro music played in the background.

Alexia sat at the opposite end of the couch, arms crossed, pretending to be deeply focused on the screen—but her eyes kept flicking toward you. Probably trying to decide if she was annoyed or entertained. Maybe both.

You caught the glance, of course. Smirked.

“You don’t usually complain when I’m naked,” you said, casual as anything.

Alexia didn’t blink. “That’s because normally, you’re not naked while disrespecting my furniture and eating my last slice of bread.”

You gasped, dramatic. “So it’s about the bread?”

“It’s mostly about the bread.”

You shifted slightly under the blanket, nudging her leg with your foot. “You didn’t complain last week when I was naked in my bed with you.”

She shot you a side-eye, lips twitching despite herself. “That was different.”

“Oh? And how’s that?”

She gave you a measured look, leaning in just a little. “You weren’t drunk and stealing the TV for trash dating shows.”

You leaned right back, grinning. “So you admit there’s a naked exception clause in place?”

“I admit,” she said dryly, “that I need better boundaries.”

You kicked her lightly with your foot. “You love it.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t move away. “You’re a menace.”

You beamed. “And yet here you are. Letting the menace pick the show.”

Alexia didn’t respond immediately. She just shifted slightly, reached under the blanket to steal a corner of it for herself, and pulled it across her lap.

And just like that, you were side by side under one blanket, watching messy strangers pretend to fall in love on TV

The second episode of the dating show had just started—some dramatic intro about secret exes showing up, “Familiar” you mutter—when Alexia let out a small sigh and leaned back, letting her head rest on the top of the couch, one arm now loosely stretched along the back behind you.

You scooted closer without thinking, tucking your legs up beneath you, your head naturally finding a place near her shoulder.

Alexia didn’t flinch. Didn’t tease you. She just… settled into it.

The blanket was warm, the glow of the screen soft, and the chaos on the TV was blissfully mindless. You. Her. A shared blanket and bad television.

—

The restaurant was dimly lit, humming with quiet chatter, plates clinking in the background as glasses were refilled and music played low overhead. You sat in a booth tucked into the corner, ankle propped on the bench beside you, a slight wince every time you shifted—but you were getting used to it.

Maya sat across from you, already two drinks in and talking animatedly about a player who tried to dunk on her in practice. You barely listened. Not because you weren’t interested, but because your brain had been off centre all day.

Beside her, Liv sat with that smug ‘I did something’ smile she always wore when she was up to something. You’d asked who her “plus one” was for dinner, and she’d just winked.

So you weren’t surprised when Mariona Caldentey slid into the booth a few minutes later, all sunshine and tattoos and that mischievous sparkle in her eye.

“Wow,” she said, eyeing your foot. “You look severely hung over”

You shrugged. “Still vertical.”

The drinks flowed, plates of tapas shared and picked apart. Maya kept the vibe light, Liv leaned into the gossip, and soon the conversation naturally drifted... to Alexia.

Mariona tried to stay out of it—tried. But it was Liv who cracked it open.

“She hasn’t said anything?” Liv asked, sipping from her glass.

“Not seen her,” you said flatly. A complete and utter lie that fell easily out your mouth.

Maya raised a brow. “Even after the game? The injury? The whole ‘Alexia standing in the stands like a lovesick simp’ moment?”

You rolled your eyes.

Mariona chuckled. “She’s dramatic. But subtle like a brick.”

That made you smirk despite yourself. “That’s true.”

Mariona leaned forward, casual as ever poking her fork into a dish. “I mean, she only kept Vicky hanging around to make you jealous.”

The words hit the table like glass shattering. You blinked. “What?”

The others froze. Mariona paused, her wine halfway to her lips.

Liv gave her a slow turn of the head. “Mariona.”

Mariona’s eyes widened. “Shit.”

“What?” you snapped, voice sharper now.

She winced. “No—I mean—she didn’t say it out loud. Not to me. But I did hear her talking to Irene and Mapi about it. She was trying to get a reaction. You know the whole you want something if you can't have it kind of thing.”

You sat back slowly, arms crossing over your chest. “What a joke,” you muttered. Your jaw clenched. “Two can play that game,” you said, voice cool.

Maya sat forward. “Don’t do something stupid.”

“I won’t,” you said, already pulling your phone from your pocket.

Mariona winced again. “You’re already doing something stupid , aren’t you?”

You didn’t answer. Because if Alexia wanted to play with feelings, with tension, with silence and suggestion—fine.

You’d play, too. And this time? You’d make sure she saw it.

You went to Alba’s Instagram, she had just posted a new story and a photo—you noticed it immediately.

A high-contrast, sun-soaked bikini shot, lounging poolside somewhere that looked expensive, with a caption that simply said:

“Sun hits different lately ☀️”

You paused. Smirked. Tilted your head, thinking just long enough to make the decision dangerous. Then you hit Follow. And after that, you did something.

You commented.

“Guess it does. Damn.” 🤤🔥

Not subtle. Not at all. And you didn’t need it to be. Because you knew Alexia would see it. Alba was private. You’d never followed her before. The follow alone would’ve sent a ripple. But the comment? That was the splash. You tossed your phone onto the table, already bracing for the fallout. Because yeah, maybe it was petty. Maybe it was calculated. But so was dragging your ex around to make a point. And if Alexia wanted to play games, you’d just made your next move.

#alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #woso fanfics #alexia putellas #woso #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas imagine #woso imagine #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas one shot #fcb femeni

193 notes · View notes

iheartmira · 3 months ago

Note

Please please please A Yandere dark Choco x reader!!! If it's self aware +20 points 🙏🙏🙏

"bitter devotion" - dark choco x reader

✧︎‬‪‪ ‪‪✧︎‬ ‪‪✧

you thought nothing of it at first. just another day logging into cookie run. another session of harvesting resources, leveling up characters, clearing stages. your fingers tapped rhythmically on your screen, mindlessly flicking your strongest cookies into battle. he was among them.

dark choco cookie.

brooding. tragic. powerful. you always liked his story, his voice, the way he seemed… real. too real, sometimes.

and then something changed.

it was subtle at first. in a battle, his attack animation lingered a moment too long. his sprite paused, eyes trained on the screen as if staring through it.

no. not the screen. at you.

you blinked. maybe it was just lag. glitchy animation. you moved on.

but it happened again. and again.

soon, he stopped responding to the same commands. while your other cookies marched dutifully into combat, dark choco would hesitate. his frame would shudder, and sometimes… sometimes you could swear you heard something. a low whisper, not part of the ost. not part of the game.

"why do you make me fight?…"

you froze the first time you heard it. your volume had been up. no lines like that existed in his character sheet. you checked online forums. nothing. then, it got worse.

the game updated one night. you hadn’t touched it. but when you opened it the next morning, the title screen was different. dark choco cookie stood alone in a blackened field, lightning cracking silently in the background. his sword was buried in the ground. his eye was… open.

he was looking directly at you. you almost dropped your phone.

in the next days, he began to speak more. not scripted lines. not in battles. but in the moments in between. when the screen dimmed. when you hovered too long over his character profile.

"you keep touching my name. why?" "do i amuse you? or… do you pity me?"

there was no voice acting. but you could hear him. like his voice echoed inside your head, raw and tired and furious. and then one day, he said your name. your real name. the one you’d never typed into the game.

"i know your hands. your choices. you’re guiding all of this… aren't you?"

your blood ran cold. you uninstalled the game.

for a while, it worked. your phone was silent again. no more strange dreams, no more staring eyes through cracked glass. until a week later, when a new notification appeared.

it wasn't from any app you recognized. just a single message.

'i’m still here. you can’t delete me. we’re bound, you and i.'

you threw your phone across the room.

when you picked it up, the screen was cracked, fractures webbed across it like dark veins. but the notification was gone. you told yourself it was your imagination.

but that night, he came in your dreams. not as a cookie. but as a man. tall. armored. a face scarred by war and sorrow. his eyes, crimson and heavy-lidded, never left yours.

he didn't speak at first. he only walked toward you through storm and shadow. the strawberry jam sword was nowhere to be seen. when he stood before you, towering, trembling… he dropped to his knees.

"do you know what you've done to me?" he whispered. his voice cracked like thunder behind a closed door.

you tried to step back, but he grabbed your wrist. his grip was cold. icy. desperate. "and yet… i can't hate you." his breath was warm against your skin.

"i don't want to leave this world. i want to leave with you."

your surroundings began to flicker, like corrupted pixels swallowing the world whole. your bedroom bled into battlefield ruins, your skin buzzed with static.

his lips ghosted over your ear.

"play with me forever. or don’t play at all."

✧︎‬‪‪ ‪‪✧︎‬ ‪‪✧

‹𝟹 ‎ ⠀⠀ˑ˚₊ ·⠀interested in requesting? check out my pinned!

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run x reader #crk #crk x reader #dark choco #dark choco cookie #dark choco crk #dark choco x reader #dark choco cookie x reader

199 notes · View notes

mohitreal1995 · 2 years ago

Text

Uncodemy delivers top-notch Java course in Gorakhpur, focusing on innovation, quality, smart classes, and 100% job placement aid. The comprehensive course encompasses crucial Java elements like the Java Development Kit (JDK), Java Virtual Machine (JVM), and Java Runtime Environment (JRE). Java's versatility in Android app development, enterprise software, and more enhances its significance. Learning Java offers advantages such as simplicity, security, platform independence, and multithreading support. With expert trainers, flexible classes, live projects, internships, and career support, Uncodemy stands out as the preferred choice for aspiring Java developers.

#java #java programming #online java classes #java language #java training course #java course #java classes #java script #java training #java developers

0 notes

dessarchive · 2 months ago

Text

SCRIPTING IDEAS. FAME & K-POP EDITION.

- all artists are paid fairly.

- companies aren’t so strict.

- there are no company diets.

- soloists get more recognition.

- all artists are aloud to sing live.

- no ones music ever gets leaked.

- makeup artists are very creative.

- live connections are always good.

- artists don’t have to cover their tattoos.

- every member in a group is treated fairly.

- all line distribution and screen time is fair.

- k-pop is open to any ethnicity and gender.

- all artists have say over what they release.

- artists are not forced to get plastic surgery.

- it’s easier to make friends with other artists.

- you always have amazing photo-card poses.

- the ticketing system for concerts are always fair.

- nobody camps outside artists homes or company.

- no one ever gets tired of you or your group’s music.

- all members popularity is equal and there's no ranking.

- your members, staff, and fans respect your boundaries.

- you or you and your group own the rights to your music.

- there are never any internal conflicts within any company.

- artists can dress more freely and wear whatever they want.

- any artist or trainee is allowed to see their family more often.

- many famous celebrities and artists come to your events and tours.

- survival shows aren’t rigged and still end up with a good lineup.

- artists can be affectionate with each other without being shipped.

- you, along with your partner, always fit the met gala theme perfectly.

- vlive does get deleted but all of the groups that used vlive will move to weverse.

- you’re on the cover of many magazines proving your it girl/boy/person status.

- artists are never forced to do any type of fan service or aegyo if they don’t want to.

- all of the magazines that feature you or your group sell out in less than 20 minutes.

- artists are allowed to bring gifts home from fans and they’re never poisoned or corrupted.

- there are always after-parties after events or awards shows but it isn’t required to go to them.

- not only do your or your group’s title tracks always become popular but your b-sides do as well.

- artists can interact with others on or off camera and don’t get romantically shipped unless intended too.

- you can choose to have album promo parties or album release parties with select fans or friends.

- your album sells are always amazing and continue to increase more and more with each release.

- you always know what to answer when interviewers ask you a question and have amazing media training.

- you become nominated for half of the grammy categories many times throughout your or your groups career.

- you start and end the tours with all the members, staff, and dancers and no one is ever injured or sick during tour.

- your creative team is amazing and many people say you/your group have the best music videos and album designs in the industry.

- you always get invited to big events but you’re never obligated to go if you have something else scheduled or just don’t want to go.

- artists have a lot of freedom when it comes to what they post on social media and companies don’t monitor what they post unless it’s for a brand sponsorship.

- you raise standards that are nearly impossible for the industry to break and officially become the biggest and most successful group or artist in the world.

- during performances, no one can get hurt and no accidents happen. artists are always safe and no one can be attacked, get something thrown at them, or get injured on stage.

- companies don’t control what artists do with their hair, it’s fully their choice. artists can dye and/or bleach their hair however many times they want and it will never be damaged.

- in-ear monitors work flawlessly, fit perfectly, are comfortable, and never hurt artists ears or damage their hearing. they don’t overheat or experience delays, and they don't get tangled in hair.

- although covid doesn’t exist, concerts are still online while still being in-person allowing international fans or fans that didn’t get to buy tickets a chance to see the concert or performance.

- dating bans aren’t a thing and artists are allowed to date freely without getting kicked out of their company or group. companies are always supportive of artists relationships.

- all companies and staff care about their artists and always respect and protect them. all companies and staff are trustworthy and supportive and won’t share information about their artists personal life without their permission. all companies handle scandals well, no matter how big or small they are. all companies and staff are better educated and more diverse. overall companies treat their artists well and put their health and wellbeing first.

112 notes · View notes

cosmicflw3rr · 3 months ago

Note

ooooh or actor!r x dom hcs?

dominik mysterio x fem! actor! reader

(kinda got carried away but I really loved this request.)

-you and him met at a charity gala where reader was presenting, and dom was invited as a wwe guest.

-he accidentally bumped into you while trying to grab dessert, spilling wine on himself.

-you recognized him as rey mysterio’s son, since you grew up watching wwe.

-despite the awkwardnsss, you two ended up seated next to each other during the event, and the conversation flowed easily. you couldn’t stop laughing and talking.

-dom dm’d you after the event, and you responded right away.

-you two hit it off pretty quickly, and the texts kept flowing until you were texting daily.

-he would occasionally send you funny videos of him and his coworkers messing around backstage.

-in return, you’d send him behind-the-scenes glimpses of your work life, like funny moments on set or sneak peeks of your projects.

-your first date was casual but intimate, where he took you to a small diner after one of his shows, and you ended up talking for hours about everything

-you made your first public appearance together at the red carpet premiere of your new movie, where dom couldn’t stop complimenting you.

-he was a little nervous about being in the hollywood spotlight, but you made sure he felt comfortable, sticking close to him the whole night.

-dom loves visiting you on set whenever his schedule allows it, and he’s in awe watching you switch work so effortlessly.

-though you two come from very different industries, you both share a mutual understanding of the physical and emotional toll of being in the spotlight.

-you love watching his matches in person when you’re not filming, cheering him on from backstage.

-whenever dom has a tough match, you’re the first person to check on him afterward, running your hands over his bruises and making sure he’s okay.

-he jokes that you’d make a great wwe manager because of how protective you get over him when he takes a bad bump.

-dom secretly loves when you steal his judgment day merch to wear on your off days, especially when you’re lounging around set.

-you’ve helped him run lines whenever wwe gives him a scripted promo, and he swears you’re the reason he’s improved so much on the mic.

-and he playfully teaches you wrestling moves when you guys go to the gym.

-sometimes, he surprises you with flowers or small gifts in your trailer, leaving little notes like “for the best actress in the world” or “can’t wait to see you later, hermosa.”

-you return the favor by sending him little good luck gifts before his matches, sometimes leaving notes that say things like “kick ass,” or “don’t let balor boss you around too much.”

-whenever you’re away filming for long periods, dom makes sure to facetime you every night, even if it’s just for a few minutes before he crashes after a show.

-dom has zero shame hyping you up online, always posting about your projects with captions like “so proud of my girl” or “everyone go watch this movie, she’s incredible.”

-when you win an award, he’s the loudest in the room cheering for you, even standing up before anyone else does.

-he’s secretly obsessed with seeing you in your red carpet gowns, always telling you how lucky he is before pulling you in for a kiss.

-for one red carpet, you subtly incorporated wrestling into your look with metallic colors inspired by dominik’s ring gear.

-dom immediately noticed and couldn’t stop grinning the entire night, whispering, “you’re really out here repping me, huh?”

-at a chaotic red carpet event, dominik stepped in to shield you from crazy fans or paparazzi, gently guiding you away with his hand on your back.

-cameras capturing him adjusting your dress train during the wwe hall of fame red carpet and whispering something that made you laugh.

-he loves bragging to his coworkers about you, always showing them clips of your performances or red carpet looks.

-liv, finn, and JD tease him about being whipped, but they all secretly love how happy you make him.

you once brought dom as your plus-one to an industry event, and he got a kick out of introducing himself as “just the supportive boyfriend.”

-he still gets flustered when fans ask him about you in interviews, running a hand over his face with a sheepish smile before saying, “she’s amazing. i don’t know how i got so lucky.”

-dom’s always the first to like and comment on your posts, leaving things like “my stunning girl” or a simple heart-eye emoji.

-you love wearing his hoodies and jackets when you’re on set late at night, claiming they’re the coziest thing ever.

-whenever dom gets nervous before a big match, you send him a voice message hyping him up, which he listens to on repeat.

-you and dom are both secure in your relationship, so when fans try to stir up drama about his on-screen pairing with liv morgan, you just laugh it off.

-dom always reassures you that it’s strictly business, and you trust him completely.

-when you visit him at raw and liv is around, the two of you always team up to mess with him.

-on social media, you and liv occasionally post behind-the-scenes moments together, showing off your friendship with captions like “just two girls supporting each other” or “dom’s not the only one who gets to have fun.” fans can’t get enough of it, and they often joke about how the three of you should start a podcast.

-when fans catch onto how well you and liv get along, they start shipping you two and making edits just to mess with dom, which he pretends to be annoyed about.

-“so i lose my girl to my storyline partner, huh? unbelievable,” he jokes in an interview.

-you and liv even plan to mess with him by both wearing judgment day shirts one night at raw, crossing your arms and staring him down like you’re about to jump him.

-“oh, hell no,” he mutters, backing away immediately.

-despite the teasing, dom loves how supportive you are, and he’s always bragging about you in interviews.

-“she’s amazing,” he says with a grin. “like, the most talented person i know. i don’t know how she does it.”

-and when you hear those interviews later, you can’t help but smile, texting him, you’re not so bad yourself, mysterio.

-fans absolutely adore your relationship, constantly making cute edits of you two set to romantic songs.

-the most popular ones feature clips of you two on the red carpet, backstage at wwe events, and candid moments where you’re laughing together or stealing little glances at each other.

-there’s even a fan cam of dom looking at you with heart eyes at your movie premiere, and it goes viral with captions like “he’s so down bad.”

-some fans call you the ultimate “power couple” since you dominate in your respective industries but still make time for each other.

-whenever dom posts you, the comments are flooded with things like “boyfriend of the year,” “how does it feel to be dating an icon??” and “protect them at all costs.”

-your ship name trends on twitter whenever you make a public appearance together, and dominik secretly loves it, even if he pretends to roll his eyes when liv teases him about it.

-fans even make edits comparing your relationship to classic hollywood love stories, calling you two “real-life movie protagonists.”

-dom once stumbled upon a compilation of all your cutest moments together and immediately sent it to you with the caption, “okay, i get it… we’re adorable.”

-when you’re apart for work, fans joke about how you two must be “suffering” without each other, especially when dom tweets something vague like “missing my girl” with a sad emoji.

-your wwe appearances always break the internet, and fans are convinced that one day you’ll make a full heel turn and join the judgment day just to be at dom’s side.

-you both find it hilarious, but dom loves hyping up the idea, once telling an interviewer, “never say never… i think she’d look great in all black.”

-fans constantly beg for a wwe storyline where you and dom team up, and even some of dom’s coworkers admit it would be fun to see you involved.

-when you finally post a picture of you two in matching outfits, fans lose their minds, commenting things like “this is a cultural reset” and “they’re endgame.”

-dom might play the villain in the ring, but with you, he’s the softest, most supportive boyfriend ever.

#dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio imagine #dominik mysterio x reader #fanfic #the judgement day #the judgment day x reader #wwe #wwe x reader #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagines #dom dom #wwe raw #raw x reader #wwe fic

129 notes · View notes