#someone cast him asap

[reyalvr]

SHE’S MINE | 00

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

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

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

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

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

word count ┊ 798

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[generalsmemories]

Unwanted reunion

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts: “catching the other one crying shortly after an argument and immediately feeling an overwhelming wave of guilt crash onto you.” + "it's okay, we can fix this..." + “playing with their hair until they fall asleep”|| 1k event

✧ contents: hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, implied character death

✧ a/n: if u wonder how in the world i came up with the scenario below. i genuinely don't know either it's a mystery to even me. CREATIVE LIBERTY WINS AGAIN THE PROMPTS WERE LITERALLY INSPO AND NOT WRITTEN DIRECTLY INTO THE SCENARIO. also implied that this took place after the battle with phantylia so keep that in mind.

NOT BETA-READ AS USUAL FELLAS I WANTED TO HAND THIS OVER TO YA'LL ASAP AS AN APOLOGY FOR STARVING YOU ALL FOR SO LONG!! it's mild angst though, so sorry.

Jing Yuan's can feel a familiar heaviness weigh on his body as well as the feeling of someone wrapping a roll of gauze on his arm. However opening his eyes proved to be a challenge in itself and it's only with great struggle that he can manage to force them slightly open to the bright light.

The first thing he notices is the familiar ceiling of your shared home. A bit weird since whenever he did get injured he would immediately be rushed towards a private room by the Seat of Divine Foresight - which was the safest place for him to stay. Perhaps you had gotten your will again to take care of him - seeing as you're a high ranking healer yourself and quite a stubborn soul.

But his eyes still widen a tiny bit when he sees you sitting by the edge of the bed, one hand gripping his gauzed wound while your other hand is busy trying to find something to keep your hard work in place. You're humming a soft tune again, he never knows what sort of melody you're humming, only that it had become a habit for you after the amount of years you had spent by his side bandaging his battle wounds. Something about helping your mood and staying positive.

"Your recklessness knows no bounds, Jing Yuan." the sternness of your voice snaps him out of the daze he's in, immediately rising up from the bed only to groan in pain when the wounds that you had just wrapped up react to his body folding, "... And still don't know when to rest - even when I'm in the middle of treating you."

"...How much time has passed?" he asks, voice hoarse after having slept for who knows how long. You only hum, setting the bandages aside - the gesture causing Jing Yuan to follow your hand movements which makes him notice the bloodied bandages inside the trash by your legs.

"A couple of days, I was just finishing changing your bandages when you finally woke up. Here, some water." you inform, raising a glass towards his lips, patiently waiting for him to move closer.

You only start to speak again after he's taken several gulps, placing the cup of water back on the nightstand beside his bed. "Why are you so willing to throw your life away?" you ask after a moment of silence, helping Jing Yuan rest against the headboard, eyes never leaving his own that don't dare to even look into your own.

"It's my duty-"

"Your duty is to make sure as many of the Cloud Knights survive a battle. Not gamble your life on a piece that you weren't sure had the capabilities to help."

Jing Yuan bites his tongue at your immediate rebuttal, you were right after all. "The Master Diviner was right there by you. A troop was enough to guard the entrance, you didn't need to leave the master diviner with them to go on this-"

"... Can't you be happy for once whenever we meet like this?" he asks quietly, effectively stopped you from saying anything more. His gaze is cast downwards whenever he mutters the same question to you whilst shrinking a bit after asking. There's no sign of the proud general in your presence - in front of you is just Jing Yuan asking a supposedly harmless question.

Perhaps that's the reason why you can never shove him away immediately.

"... You know what my answer is."

Jing Yuan was no crier. In fact, you think he stopped crying or showing any visible sign of discomfort or uneasiness the day he got the title as General. You're pretty sure you can count the amount of times you've seen Jing Yuan cry on one hand.

Perhaps his ability to hide his own needs and wants so often day by day for the past centuries makes your dismissal of his simple wishes that more gut-wrenching for you. You try to ignore the overwhelming guilt that washes over you every time you have to say the same thing to him.

"... You have a lot of things that you want to get done on the Luofu, Jing Yuan." you murmur softly, extending a hand to run your fingers through his locks, breaking apart any knots that may have formed in his sleep.

"You know we can meet again, but now is not the time - especially now," you gently remind with a sombre smile, your hand moving from his hair to rest against his chin to make him face you.

"It's gonna be alright, okay?" he scoffs at your reassurance, finally coming to terms with your conditions once again like always, wrapping his arms around your waist to fall down back on the bed with you on top.

"Remember the last time you said those words to me?" he says, almost sounding offended at your choice of words to which you only smile against his skin in guilt.

"It was the first time I saw you cry so hard," you try to joke, pressing your hands against the mattress to push yourself off of Jing Yuan, choosing to hover above him instead.

"... I'm sorry," you decide to say in the end after a moment of silence, once again threading your fingers through his hair - an act you knew used to calm him before. At this moment though, you're not so sure.

"Why? Shouldn't I be sorry?" he asks in return, a small yawn leaving his lips as his eyes struggle to stay open. You smile bitterly as you shake your head, still threading your fingers through his hair.

"No, none of it was your fault - what happened back then was out of your control. But this time it isn't. I can wait for a long time, Jing Yuan. I know you're aware of that so don't try to rush anything to meet me again." you tell him, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead.

"So it's time to wake up, dear. Luofu is waiting for you."

[eudaimaniacs]

lunch with a side of a babydoll dress (hugh jackman x female reader)

word count: 700 words

warning/s: smut with one mention of feet

notes: i included a word count after four posts (well, it happens). also there's one request on my inbox and i'll try answering that asap. i'm not good at fulfilling these requests (i have one dead and deactivated tumble blog to prove it). enough yapping, enjoy reader!

It was a long day of shooting Hugh's new movie from 5:30 A.M. to 10:30 P.M. of shooting in multiple costumes. He was stressed, to say the least. He didn't have time to rest, rewind, or even fuck his wife.

You hang around on set to provide support for Hugh. You know how stressful filming gets, especially with the time allotted for makeup, costuming, and shooting. You mostly prepare his meals since he prefers your cooking to ordering take-out when he's tired from filming.

One day couldn't get any worse. It was a hot day, meaning Hugh would be tired from the filming and the heat. He wanted to lie down in bed and sleep away his stress. Hugh kept his composure and still treated the staff and cast nicely.

It was lunchtime, and Hugh couldn't wait to eat what you made for him. He went to his trailer and saw your heavenly figure preparing his meal. You were wearing a flowy, white baby doll dress. The sun shone through the ethereal fabric, dancing when you slightly moved. Hugh could trace your curves in the sheer fabric. The softness of your breasts, the soft bend of your waist, and your ass barely peeking out of the short dress.

"Oh, there you are, Hugh! Let's eat right now." You beamed and gave him a peck. He stared for a few seconds before exploring your body with his hands. Hugh felt heaven when he touched every part. He made sure to not miss a spot and treated your body like a goddess.

Hugh growled and remarked, "The lunch can wait, sweetheart. You look so fucking good in that dress." Before you can reply, he caught you by surprise by passionately kissing you.

You hummed and returned the same desperation to Hugh. You tugged his hair as the two of you continued to kiss deeper. Hugh lifted your dress and caressed your breasts. He massaged your nipples, turning them rock solid. Hugh's hands turned their attention to your ass, squeezing and lightly slapping it.

You giggle and break the kiss. "Glad you liked the dress, Hugh. I picked the perfect day to wear it."

Hugh dipped and then kissed your neck. "Have been too stressed today and the days before, honey. I need to relieve myself."

You raised your eyebrows at his suggestion. You were feeling the mood, but someone could walk inside the trailer to tell Hugh to return to set.

"Are you crazy, Hugh? One of your co-stars or makeup artist could come knocking, and they would hear us fucking," you whisper-screamed to Hugh, who was already touching your pussy. You moaned at the sensation of his rough hands rubbing your clit. You tried to protest, but Hugh's actions suppressed it.

"I don't care about them hearing, [Y/N]. I want them to know how good my wife fucking feels."

Hugh raised your dress and took out his cock from the restraint of his tight pants. He pumped it for a few times and then rubbed it at the lips of your pussy. You moaned and rubbed your breasts to further pleasure yourself. Hugh slowly entered, and you let out a loud, shaky whine.

He gradually fastened his pace, knowing he had little time to eat lunch and returning on set. Hugh growled and grabbed your waist as he reached his high. You felt the imprint of his dick on your stomach and hoped that he could see it through your dress.

You moaned and called out his name as you climaxed. You tried grabbing onto something as the sensation of Hugh's stress fucking you left you shaking.

"That was good, baby girl. Come on, let me help you get up," Hugh whispered, grabbing your waist to help you sit down. Your hair was a mess, as was your face. However, your white babydoll dress remained beautiful, sculpting your perfect body and highlighting your best features.

Hugh sat opposite and began eating the lunch you prepared earlier.

"Thank you for the two meals, [Y/N]. I can't wait for dinner tonight."

You winked and rubbed his crotch with your feet. Happily thinking what meal you'll prepare and dress he'll fuck you in with.

eudaimaniacs - 2024

[spacedace]

Here have some snippets of the AU that’s taken over my brain (featuring Elle unintentionally dunking on both of Bruce’s identities, Clark realizing he passed his taste in partners on to his son, a bit of pre/unaware that they are dating Super Serious Chaos, and some blink-and-you-miss-it background Enemies to Lovers Dick/Dan)

---

“Sorry, who’s Bruce Wayne?”

The room when quiet. All heads turned to look at Elle at the end of the table. Bruce didn’t visibly react, but Clark could make out the subtle indication of disbelief that his old friend was feeling - that they all were feeling at the interpreter’s question. Elle, suddenly aware she had the full room’s attention, had the look of someone who realized they’d said something wrong, but didn’t know what.

“You’re kidding.” John said, “You know Bruce Wayne. Everyone knows Bruce Wayne.”

Elle blinked. “I don’t.” She glanced from face to face, “Is he like a big deal? Does he work here or something? I haven’t been around that long so I might have missed him.”

It took every bit of self control Clark had not to laugh. His voice still came out a bit strangled from the effort as he offered, “No he doesn’t work here.” If Bruce was the type to do so in uniform, he’d be kicking Clark under the table.

“You live in Gotham. You have to know Bruce Wayne.” Barry said, voice going a bit high with growing bewilderment. “Mega ba-jillionair. CEO of Wayne Tech? Richest man in Gotham - in the world? Has like a hundred kids?”

Their interpreter’s nose scrunched. “So he’s like…in one of those fundamentalist cults obsessed with having a bunch of kids or something?”

Bruce actually twitched at that. The sound of utter disgust in Elle’s voice at the concept, the complete and total lack of any kind of recognition she had for the single most famous non-crime or crime-fighting related person in the city that she lived in, she truly had no idea who they were talking about. Clark had to get a recording of the room’s security feed, Lois would love this. Oh, wait no, Bruce’s kids. Maybe if he was fast enough he could text Dick to get there ASAP so he could see it all in person before it was over.

“No! Nothing like that! He adopted them - well most of them.” Barry tried to explain, looking utterly lost as he turned from Elle to the rest of them and back again. “You’re messing with us right? This is like a joke?”

Elle shook her head, looking just as lost as Barry did. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“Do you know Dick Grayson?”

“I know of an officer Grayson who is a dick. Total tool. He’s been making my brother’s Dan’s life miserable for like a year now. Pretty sure not who you’re talking about though.”

“Jason Todd.”

“The library goon?”

“Tim Drake.”

“Sounds like a Dark Wing Duck character.”

“Cassandra Cain.”

“Isn’t that the author that started out writing incest Harry Potter fanfic?”

“Duke Thomas?”

“What’s he a Duke of?”

Barry snapped his fingers, pointing emphatically at Elle with a look of victory on his masked face as he shouted, “Damian Wayne!”

Damian, who had at that moment just walked into the meeting room with Jon at his heels paused in his place just behind Elle. He did pretty well at hiding his surprise at Barry seemingly shouting his civilian name and pointing at him upon walking in. Though the tense line of his shoulders suggested that if Barry was actually revealing his secret identity without warning or permission, there would be blood.

Stella Nightingale, unaware of the almost-kinda identity reveal going on around her, tilted her head in confusion at the speedster. “I’m assuming he’s related to that Bruce Wayne guy?”

“They’re all related to Bruce Wayne.” John said with open amusement now. The Green Lantern had given up on the research entirely, watching the entire debacle with a growing smirk he kept casting towards Bruce. “That man’s face is plastered absolutely everywhere in the news. How do you not know who he is?”

“If Lois Lane hasn’t written about him he can’t be that important.” Elle said with a casual certainty of one speaking a core tenant of their beliefs. Clark’s opinion of the young woman - already quite high considering her ferocious loyalty and fondness to Jon - rose sharply.

“You’re read the Daily Planet?” Clark asked, warmth curling in his chest at the mention of his wife and her work.

“I read articles by Lois Lane.” Elle said promptly, “I tried reading some articles that Kent guy she partners with sometimes wrote on his own but I couldn’t get past his writing style. Dude sounds like he’s from outer space with his word choice sometimes.”

Bruce, looking far too pleased, gave a quiet and not terribly convincing cough as Clark tried to will his soul back into his body.

It was going to be a long day.

—

“You are at least aware of who Gotham’s vigilantes are, yes?” Damian asked with a raised brow behind his mask.

Elle shrugged, giving him a sly smile. “The relevant ones.”

Clark tried to hide his short laugh with a feigned cough. Elle at least was distracted enough with Jon and Damian’s attention to notice but Bruce was giving him a look over the tablet he was trying - and undoubtedly failing - to review files on.

Jon grinned eagerly from his spot beside Elle as he asked, “Aren’t they all relevant to you? You live in Gotham.”

“I live in Crime Alley.” Elle corrected, bumping his shoulder with hers. “We have different standards of relevancy there.”

“So what are the relevant ones then?” Clark asked, pointedly ignoring Bruce’s burning stare. They’d get back to the research. Eventually. Finding out if the Gothamite who had been spending all her free time with Phoenix and Flamebird for the past year and a half was as oblivious to her city’s heroes as she was its celebrities was too entertaining a notion to pass up.

“Phoenix, obviously.” She grinned cheekily at Damian across the table, ticking names off her fingers as she continued. “Red Hood. Spoiler. Uh…Orphan?” She trailed off, forehead scrunching in concentrated thought.

“That’s can’t be all the ones you know.” Jon gaped, eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced over to were Bruce was seated, not five feet away before turning back to watch Elle try to rack her brain for any more Gotham vigilantes. Clark could see the moment that the words are taken as a challenge as Elle sat up and looked more determined.

“No, shut up, I know more. Uh…there’s the one, um Red Sparrow? It’s another bird one with red name, I’m pretty sure. And the one with the blue - fuck I should know his name. Nightjar? Wasn’t Nightingale I would have remembered that…shit, dude threw up on our couch once I should remember his name -“

“Nightwing threw up on your couch?”

“Nightwing! That’s the bitch! He got poisoned or something and Dan drug him to our place to patch him up since Doc Thompkins’ clinic was closed.”

Clark shared a look with Bruce and Damian. Dick had failed to mention that little event. Clark could see Bruce reaching for his wrist computer, undoubtedly typing out a message his eldest about what he’d just heard - possibly another to Alfred if he was feeling like pulling out the big guns.

At the other end of the table Elle ticked Nightwing off with a nod, even as Jon squawked that it shouldn’t count since he’d given her the name, “Then there’s…uh…oh! Harley Quinn!”

“Harley Quinn does not count.”

“She beat up a guy trying to mug me last week and got me a hot chocolate afterwards, she totally counts!”

“Someone tried to mug you?”

“Crime Alley, Nix, if someone doesn’t try to mug me while I’m out I get worried that I missed Hood calling in a Street Clear for something big.”

“We’re going to circle back on that later.” Jon said, sharing a pointed glance with Damian. It looked like young Miss Nightingale was going to be getting escorted to and from the Watchtower from now on.

Ah, Clark mused, falling head over heels for someone with no understanding of the concept of self-preservation and a stubborn determination to run straight into the heart of danger without a second thought. It brought back such fond memories. Of both Lois and Bruce. And Diana. And - Hmm. Kara might have been right. Clark might have a type.

Watching the three at the other end of the table and taking them in, Clark realized he might have passed his taste in partners on to his son. Well, at least he’ll be able to give Jon some advise on how to handle the heart attacks Damian and Elle will inevitably give him.

“Harley Quinn doesn’t count. You got any more?”

Elle rolled her eyes, muttering about Harley totally counts, before leaning back in her chair. “I think I’m out. I know there’s more but,” She gave a shrug, “I’m tapped out. Those are all the ones I can think of.”

It was, surprisingly, Bruce that spoke up at that declaration, a slant of amusement to his lips as he asked, “No one else comes to mind?”

Elle waved him off, attention turning to the mountain of alien script they needed her to translate for them. It was the reason she was even there rather than in her office trying to translate whatever incredibly dangerous magic tomb JL Dark had dropped off without accidentally summoning a demon or ending hte world in the process. J’onn was right, they really should give her a raise.“That’s all I got.” She said with a sigh, “Like I said, I know the relevant ones.”

“Hn.”

Twenty minutes of shared looks of amusement and suppressed laughter later Elle’s head shot up, a look of wide eyed embarrassment on her face. “Oh my god.”

“There it is.”

“About time Nightingale, I was starting to be concerned about your mental faculties.”

“Shut up, this so embarrassing!”

“Don’t sweat it kid, we all have our moments.”

“I can’t believe I forgot Signal.”

“What.”

---

Context of this snippet if anyone is interested:

This is actually the same AU as the Steph & Jason sibling bonding Anger Management snippet from a bit ago (I’m calling it my Ghosts in Gotham AU in scrivener so I guess that’s what I’ll call it here lol). This time focused on Elle and her misadventures as a Totally Normal Civilian (TM) working for the Justice League with her two besties Jon & Damian (none of them realize yet that they’ve been dating for months).

No idea when this is supposed to take place in terms of timeline with the other snippet, but kinda vibing the idea that while Steph & Jason are having a heart to heart on a rooftop over their shared background and Jason’s future as a dad, Elle is up in the Watchtower telling Bruce Wayne to his face that she has no idea who he is and forgetting Batman is a Gotham vigilante while he’s sitting at the same table as her.

Anyway, this AU has taken over my life. Expect more nonsense to come lol

[formulaforza]

hbd my lil' lemonade connoisseur!

I'm saying blurb for Charles; him coming to surprise you at University or something?

—the nearness of you

summ. title from this. i'm only twenty-two days late on this req. that's got to be a new record for me. 800+ words.

It was like any other day as of late. Full of brutal seven-am alarms and even more brutal eight o’clock classes across campus. Half a dozen assignments due before the end of the week, a baker’s dozen by the following. 

Campus was surprisingly dead and the weather was wonderfully crisp and you had no idea the turn your evening was about to take when you’d decided to take a walk at sunset, to clear your mind with the cool autumn air. 

It greets you with a shudder and the sound of browned leaves crunching under your feet. It was like a scene from a movie—something utterly fall-ish and romantic. When Harry met Sally, maybe. All cable knit sweaters and falling leaves and careful scenery. 

Unbeknownst to you, he—Charles, your Charles—is walking around the same campus, enjoying his walk a hell of a lot less than you are. He doesn’t notice the smell of burnt orange or the falling leaves on the green grass. He’s too occupied trying to find his way to your friend’s hall—to your friend’s dorm—to you. His mind is full of mumbled directions and the pursed lips they leave. Of how perfect yours are, of how badly he wants to kiss them. 

He’d been planning the surprise for weeks. For months, almost, since before you’d even left home for the year. He’s prouder of his ability to keep it secret from you than he is of his directional skills. Carefully, he’d coordinated the whole thing with your friends to ensure the perfect surprise, and it was finally here. It was finally here, as long as he could find his fucking way around. 

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket, a text from your best friend. She was asking you to swing by her dorm ASAP, swore she had a shirt of yours that you could swear you’d folded and put away two nights earlier. You complied, though, and gave her your ETA before making a U-Turn on the path you were walking down. 

When you finally make it there, you’re surprised to find her always-open door is shut. You’re even more surprised when you move to turn the door handle only to find it locked. You look around the hall like a trick is being played on you because her door is always open. Always. And you don’t think she even knew there was a lock. 

You knock, thrice, and call her name on the other side of the door, reminding her that this isn’t as funny as she surely thinks it is. Nothing, however, could prepare you for who answered your knock. 

Charles. Charles with a bouquet of flowers. Charles with a bouquet of flowers and a big goofy smile on his face. Your stomach drops three separate times in a single second—from annoyed your friend isn’t answering, to horrified by someone else answering her door, to recognizing that it’s him. That he’s in front of you. 

You squish the flowers horribly, completely disregard their presence in your joy of slamming yourself into him with the force of every hour apart. “Putain, c'est quoi!” What the fuck! you say, and your voice comes out far more cracked than you’d intended on it being. 

With Charles, you’ve found that you don’t realize just how much you miss him until you’re with him again, ambushed by the reality of it all, of everything that is to love about him. There’s so much, so much more than you realize each and every time you’re apart. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but you’re always fond of him. The fondest. 

The evening unfolds into a flurry of laughter and stories and love. So much love. It’s like his presence had cast a spell over campus, made it all magical and energized like it was your first time there. The buildings fall into the background, nothing more than the scenic backdrop for your love story, for your catching up and calming down. 

Your dorm becomes a cozy haven for endless conversation. Spontaneous chest games and first-hand accounts of last week’s race keep you smiling, and his never ending genuine interest in your life here makes you fall head over heels over and over again, every word that leaves his mouth making you feel particularly cherished, like the luckiest person around. 

Dusk turns to dark and the two of you sit together at the dorm window, watching the same stars you’re always looking at. The same moon that serves as a reminder the world is never too big, the distance is never too much. It doesn’t matter where the two of you are, it’s always the same moon and stars in the sky. It’s a silent kind of love, careful like an early morning, beloved like a matching cup of coffee. 

It’s a short visit. Too short, always too short, but it ends with promises of more, of this weekend and that. 

You should be sad when he leaves, maybe, but you aren’t. You aren’t. You’re just full of love, and so, so happy to spend even a few hours with him. 

[danihow]

Fake

Jake x GN!Reader ENHYPEN

Summary: When walking home from the library someone is following you, you call the first person that comes to mind, your fake boyfriend.

Word Count: 2.0k

Warnings: Someone's following reader, fake dating, stress, simping, rain, mentions of fear, and idk what else.

A/N: Am i writing this over this tiktok, yes. Do I also not like this, yes.

Your life felt like a movie, like a romcom with a surprisingly not that cheap budget.

Sure, it has been a bit too boring for the past few years as you were focused on your grades more than your social life, besides going out of your friends you never did anything far too exciting.

It was almost embarassing that one of the most exciting things you've done in your last three years of college was that one time in your sophomore year where you ran from the guards because you were in the library after closing hours and had to snuck out.

No. It was really embarassing.

At least, you could say your life has not been boring ever since your senior year started, ever since you met him.

Sim Jake.

One of the most outstanding members of the schools' soccer team, almost everyone that knew him were fully rooting for him to be casted in some first division team soon. And, almost every student in your major were too, as he himself was studying your major.

You two have never really exchanged more than a good morning or good luck when seeing each other in the hallways of your faculty, you could've sworn he probably didn't even can recall your name clarily. But you also could've had sworn you would graduate without interacting with him.

You were at least 95% sure about it.

That is, until you were asked by him to tutor him in accountability and finances, a subject he need to nail in order to be graduate with a good score and go to the team he has been receiving calls from, and, for better or for worse, a subject you were amazing at.

Somehow, and you didn't knew exactly when or where, you ended up in a fake dating deal with him.

He needed a tutor.

You needed some excitement.

He was single and in need of forgeting about his ex.

You were bored and didn't mind a 'boyfriend'.

It was perfect!

You thought it was the most bizarre and stupid idea you could think of, and it has been nothing but fun for the last couple of months the deal has been on, you 'felt like you've found a great friend in jake.

But as everything even barely good you had, you ruined it, and you realized it when the smiles he gave you everytime you met to hang out started to give life to something in your belly. When the glances you shot him became subtler, as if not meant to be done. When your eyes started lingering for longer seconds each time he drove you places, admiring the sharp silhouette of his nose and his jawline, the way his eyelashes brushed ever so slightly his cheeks each time he blinked.

You heart got warmer and warmer each time you even dared to look at him, until the heat on your cheeks was no longer ignorable.

You fell for you fake boyfriend.

You fell hard for Jake.

And you were so scared about it.

Your now friendship that blossomed between the two of you and the rest of his teammates, was far too precious for you to ruin it with what you felt, ignoring all the flirty glances and gestures from him. You couldn't even bear the thought of losing your friendship with Heeseung and Niki, with whom you gossiped during training, nor Sunghoon, Jay and Sunghoon who received you with food when you visited his shared apartment; you couldn't bear to lose him.

You had to unfall, ASAP.

Today, almost seven months after staring this messy deal between the two of you, you were decided of getting over this little crush of yours.

The night was really cold, one of jake's forgotten hoodies drapped over your shoulders as you walked to your apartment from the school library, having just finished a project due to monday, your work pal going home for the weekend, forcing you to finale it today. You even had to tell Jake you couldn't hang out with him at his apartment with his roomates to work on it.

The wind was brushing against your face, hair flying everywhere as you adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

Out of instinct you looked behind you, hoping to find nothing as usual and keep on walking home, but rather got unpleasently surprised to find a man alone all dark clothed walking at most 10 meters behind you.

Maybe he lives nearby. You thought, walking a tiny bit quicker.

But much to your desmay, two turns to the right and one to the left he was now at least 8 meters from you, each time you walked faster he did so too.

You were fucking frightened by now.

Pulling your phone out, you quickly called the first person that came into mind, fingers moving on their own as they typed, in a mere second the ringing was already by your ear.

"Hey." Jake said at the other side of the line, the faint sound of the TV at the background accompained by Heeseung's screams would usually give you a homey feeling, but not today.

"Jake, someone's following me, i'm scared" you muttered rather silently, keeping on with your fast walk, at least 10 minutes more until you got to your place.

"What? Where are you?" He asked, shuffling sounding around, sudden silence in the room. "Send me your live location, I'm going to get you."

"Okay, I- I will." You didn't dare not to do as he said, the amount of time you've heard him this serious could be counted with your fingers, but it someway reassured you.

In less than 5 minutes the sound of a so familiar motor was heard from the end of the block, parking with a scfreching sound right beside you as Jake hopped out of Jay's car, a bee like line traced in his mind all the way to you.

As soon as you were within arm reach he engulfed you in a hug, his arms around your shoulders as he breathed you in, reassuring himself. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do we have to beat someone?" He said as soon as he pulled away, hands now craddling your face with so much care it would've made you melt if it wasnt for the adrenaline running in your veins.

"I'm okay." you whispered, now ashamed as you realized Heeseung, Jay and Sunghoon were in the car too.

"You sure sweetheart?" His question definetly was not doubting you, he was doubting himself, wanting to be completely sure of was he had heard. After your nod, he stared over your shoulder to find noone there as he toon you by the hand. "Let's get you home."

Its was almost ridiculous how quick the silent drive to your apartment complex was, your hand subconciously drawing figures on Jake's trying to calm yourself down from the scare.

The fact that Jake walked you to the door didn't help stop the slowly rising stampede running through you. "I know its too much but... can't you stay?" You asked, not daring to look up to him as you did so, his hands still in yours. "Yunjin isn't home until tomorrow... But you don't have to if you dont want to."

"If you want me to I will." He deadpans, voice so determined that made you look up, his eyes already on you and oh so warm, you doubted seriously what thoughts crossed his mind to make him look like that. "Only if you want me to stay."

"I do." You nod, looking at him as he went to say somthing to the guys, his hands waving goodbye to you as Jay yelled goodnight and drove away. The fumbling of your hand searching your keys being the only thing interrupting the silence between you.

As you walked throught the hallway all the way up to your apartment a comfortable air fell within you, his hand aching to hold yours again, your mind instead focusing on not make a fool out of you at the time of placing your key in the keyhole in the darkness of the hall.

And thanks to someone above, you didn't, easily opening and closing the door behind you two, words falling in a ramble as soon as you licked the lights on. "I know this isn't what we agreed to but..."

"What are you talking about?" He asks, confusion written all over his furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips.

"I'm sorry for making you come, I panicked and should've called the cops, I'm also sorry for overstepping the li..."

"Y/N, what are you apologizing for?"

"I overstepped the lines of our agreement, this is fake after all, I shouldn't-"

"Is this still fake to you?" The hurt his voice held made something drop in your stomach, sinking it so far down you could swear is now below the floor.

"W-what?" Your voice was thin, eyes wide as he walked closer to you, one of his hands snaking around your waist without ever moving his gaze from you.

"Is this fake?" He reiterates, his other hand holding yours to place it above where his heart is. "Does the fear I felt at the mere thought of someone hurting you, feels fake?" He starts, eyes so sincere you felt like they were drowning you. "Does the way my heart races as I look at you so close in front of me, feels fake?" He keeps on going, heart beting almost worryingly against your ribcage. " If the roles were reversed, and i was the one hurt, how would you feel?"

"I'd be petrified..." You mutter, unabke to look away from him.

"And its real. See? This..." he says, fingers signaling between him and you. "Us. We are not fake anymore, at least not to me."

"Jake."

"Is this real to you too?"

"Jake..."

"If its not, i can walk out that door and pretend this talk never happened, but if it is, know I'm never leaving now."

"It is."

"Then let me kiss you, for real this time." His voice every second became softer, sweeter, barely above a mutter at the end of the sentence, lips gently falling over yours as he kissed you with so much emotion you felt like melting against him.

"Let me date you, as a real couple this time." He whispers as you broke apart, forehead resting gently on yours, his eyes still closed as his breath calmed itself, mind still running over the fact this was all indeed not a dream. "Let me be yours."

"I was so scared of falling for you..." You whisper against his lips, hands traveling up to rest in his chest. "I was scared of losing you, I-"

"You would never lose me, not when you make me feel like the luckiest guy ever to have you around." He smiles, brown eyes looking so intensely into yours.

"I'd have to say I'm luckier, having the Sim Jake falling for me huh." You had to tease, playing with the wrinkles of his shirt.

"Nah, I'm definitely luckier." He smiles stupidly, a zoo storming throught the both of you.

"Whatever floats your boat." You shrugged, pulling away from him.

"Let's go to sleep love." He chuckled at your teasy smile, pulling you by the hand over to your room. "My sweet, lovely partner." He muttered, hugging you as he fell backwards into the mattress, pulling you with him.

"Why does it sound so different now?" You ask between giggles, resting you head over his shoulder just as you did when you fake cuddled in his apartment.

"Because it real to us now." He mumbles against your hair,, a soft kiss on the top of your head following shortly after. "And I've never been happier to be awake."

[m3ntally-unstable]

can you write a drew starkey x fem!reader imagine where drew has a crush on the reader and he has for a while, but he doesn't think the reader likes him back until one day he like drunk confesses or just impulsively tells her? <3

A/N : Yes I will try (I’ve never written before) I’m sorry I’m so late on this I’m just so nervous to write stuff 😭😭

I love you..

Drew starky x fem!Reader

Warnings:- drinking,use of y/n , drew being drunk most of the time, some insta posts (tell me if I’m missing anything.)

__________________________________________

having a well-known acting career and appearing in TV series such as Vampire Diaries, Stranger Things, and Ginny and Georgia, I've had my fair share of romantic relationships and crushes on coworkers.

I have had both positive and negative emotions from every person I have dated. Nonetheless I still have a lot of my partners as friends, though.

When I got casted on outerbanks, I was already working on a project which required all of my time in another state in a whole ,leading to me having to decline the role.

After finishing said project , and sulking over not excepting the offer i got a call from my agent telling me that I was getting handed a role,a really good one .No audition needed. As the love interest of a rich playboy (wonder who that is).

———//———//———//———//———//———//—

“What exactly is the show again?…” I asked annoyed that I was being disturbed from my beauty sleep.

“Firstly I never told you aaand secondly it’s for.. outerbanks!”

What.

The show I declined? The show that made me regret doing my previous project instead of it? The show where my college crush- AHEM. right where was I

“Hellooo? You there y/n?..”

“Uhhh yeah sorry. You can call back and say yes”

“I already did. I was just telling you”

“Wow oka-“

——————————————————————-

Originally I believed that when I joined the cast of the outerbanks drew starkey would forget about me, but judging off of the happy smile on his face when he saw me or how his eyes softened when I talked about something I was interested in told me otherwise. I was finally gonna tell him. Tell him I l-

Actually I just shouldn’t go! Yeah. Why face the embarrassment of drew not feeling same! Yeah that’s smar-

Ting!

Madisyn bby

Girl, we need to go shopping for

Dresses ASAP . It’s already 3

And the party IS AT 9

You

Woah woah ok I’ll

Meet you out in 5😭

Madisyn bby

That’s what I thought

You

Yeah yeah 😒

Madisyn bby

GET READY!!

Read 12:45

__________________________________________

“Ok , red or black?” I asked with hesitation on the choices i had just tried on. “Definitely black girl, you look so hot” madisyn replied “maybe match it with some green?” Elaine said “that would look so good” Maddie added with a wink towards Elaine.

“Hey hey what’s up with the winking” I asked panicked “oh you know just Drew’s favourite colour..” madisyn mumbled out. I felt my eye twitching at the three of them I felt the heat rise up to my cheeks

“god you guys” I blushed and ran into the changing room soon hearing the laughter of the 3 girls.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed girlie pop” Elaine teased “easy for you to say your already dating someone ” I whined

———————————————————————Elameeeee

°

°

Liked by y/nuser and 21,992 others

elameeeee had too much fun shopping with my girls for season wrap party

Y/nuser I will find you.

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———————————————————————————————————

As soon as I walked into the venue of the party the only that came to mind was my insecurities. Would Drew ever like someone like me? Someone who isn’t as pretty as his ex’s?

Instead of overthinking maybe I should just drink it away .yeah that sounds goo-

“Y/N!”

God what is with people and interrupting me today?! I turned around and looked around not seeing anyone who seemed to be calling my name

“Over here!” I turned a bit to the right and saw

Drew.

Oh my. No no no. I’m not ready yet I was still in the middle of overthinking.

He came running up to me with the cutest grin on his face “hey.” He said out of breath “hi Drew” I responded while looking down because I could feel the blood rushing up.

“You- uh you look beautiful ” he stuttered out after actually taking a good look at my dress. If I wasn’t blushing earlier I sure am now.

“You don’t look half-bad yourself starkey” I giggled out trying to regain my confidence.

I couldn’t help but notice the small blush spread across his face after hearing my comment. God that’s so embarrassing, why did I even say that.

“DREW MY MAN!” I hear non other than Rudy come up. Rudy was nice , I saw him as my best friend, like a brother, Rudy and I were two pods in a pea, me and him grew up together in Atlanta and only moved apart because of high school, we still often texted and chatted but it never felt the same as being with him in person

“RUDY!” I squealed

“Y/n!” He rushed into my arms and pulled me into his into his tight embrace “oh my god , I missed you so much”

He chuckled “I missed you too n/n” he pulled back “look at you, miss hell on wheels”

“You guys know eachother?” Drew asked “yeah, me and Rudy grew up together” I responded Rudy agreeing with me “oh okay..”

“So um let’s head inside?”

———————————————————————

It was currently 1:25 am and observing how everyone was almost knocked out , except for jd and me obviously, who else was going to take care of them?

“I’ll order a Uber for Rudy and Elaine , you should stay with drew,the girls and me , it’s not a problem” JD offered

“Yeah That’d be great , thank you jd” he nodded

Now , the biggest challenge of all, getting them back to the apartment. Sigh, why am I even here.

“Drew come on , let’s go”

“Ughnnn, no I don’t wanna” he wrapped his arms around my waist and stared into my eyes

“Drew-” he put his head into the crook of my neck. God I can feel his breath. It’s okay , just get him back to the apartment and done

“Y/n Come on let’s go!” JD honked from the car

“Come on drew” I practically dragged him out, but what surprised me that he didn’t let go. “Drew let go”

“Nghhhh” he somehow just cuddled in deeper to me

This is going to be a long night.

———————————————————————

Having to drag this 80kg man down a hallway into a bed is like doing bodybuilding.

“Come on Drew go to bed”

“Don’t leaveeeee” he whined

I sighed out of frustration, “okay cmon big boy let’s go to bed” I stepped into bed and stayed on my side of the bed, not wanting it to be awkward.

He tried wrapping his arms around me “heyyy, come closer”

“Drew what has gotten into you” I mumbled, as he wrapped his arms around my waist and stuffed his head into the crook of my neck like earlier today

“You know drew im so gonna make fun o-”

“Do you and Rudy have something going on” he spoke clearly for the first time that night.

WHAT?!

“What are you on about drew.” He still waited for a response “no!” He sighed like he was holding his breath and leaned back into my shoulder.

“I love you” his voice came muffled but , I knew what he said, if it wasn’t so dark , he would’ve seen how red I’d become just from that one comment

“Drew come on your drunk-”

He lifted his head “I mean it.”

Oh my god. Is the world spinning? I can’t breathe!. Okay , no calm, he’s drunk he doesn’t mean it. Your okay yea-

Suddenly I felt lips on mine, it took me a moment to realise what was happening and I kissed back. no this is wrong, I pulled away

“Drew we can’t do this.. not again”

“Y/n , I know you feel it, please.”

I paused thinking of what to say , hearing him plead with his puppy eyes under the moonlight was intoxicating

“Drew your drunk, I won’t do anything, until I know you mean it”

Drew didn’t respond, he slowly made a Noice of confirmation and understood where I was coming from and put his head back down to its original position.

I knew he wasn’t sleeping but it was peaceful knowing we were just lying there. I felt my eyes get heavy but before I let slumber take me I said

“Hey drew..”

“Hmm”

“Tell me that again tomorrow”

I felt him smile against my neck and muzzle into me more

“Ofcourse”

———————————————————————-

The next morning , i woke up with Drew still having his arms wrapped around me and a particular instagram post that made me actually realised what was happening

Rudeth

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Rudeth saves this wiles you can people , before y/n wakes up and kills me #y/drew

@y/nuser and @drewstarkey

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———————————————————————

Not proofread

[hayleythesugarbowl]

YOO REQUESTS OPEN? can I get a Angela x reader celebrating Fourth of July??

Red, White, and You || Angela Giarratana x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when you and the rest of the smosh cast go to angela’s place to celebrate the fourth of july, angela makes sure you two get your own celebration

word count: 1.2k

warnings: none

a/n: i’m sorry i couldn’t resist making the title cheesy 🤭anyways, hey girl hey! i tried to get this to you asap + closer to fourth of july but life got in the way so here you go, better late than never ig? i also have no idea what angela’s place looks like so for the purpose of this fic she’s got a house with a pool bc i say so 💋

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “It’s a blender!”

     “It’s a unicycle!”

     “No, It’s clearly a cabbage patch doll.”

     You stared up at the darkening sky as you listened to the chatter of your friends and coworkers around you, watching them play ‘guess the cloud shape’.

     “They’re all wrong,” Angela leaned towards you. “It’s a bunny on a toilet.”

     You giggled, turning towards her as her eyes sparkled. 

     You and the rest of the Smosh cast had decided to celebrate the Fourth of July together and Angela had offered her place for the gathering.

     You looked around you at her backyard, admiring the layout—the table now filled with snacks and drinks, the small flames still visible in the fire pit, the calm surface of the empty pool, the red white and blue lights that had been strung over the perimeter. 

     Naturally, you’d been to her house many times, but you’d never actually been outside. Especially when it was so festively decorated. 

     You and Angela had started dating a few weeks ago, but you’d known her much longer, being her coworker and acquaintance long before you’d admitted your feelings for each other.

      Now, you turned to her as the rest of the party, spread out and laying back on the grass, was still focused on the clouds. 

     “It’s always a bunny on a toilet with you,” you teased.

     “Caught me.” She rolled her eyes at you as she twisted from her leaned-back position to kiss you.

     “Get a room!” Chanse called from his spot a few feet over, throwing popcorn at you and Angela.

     Angela picked up a piece and ate it, shrugging.

     “Hey!” She shouted back. “At least I have a date.”

     You would have chided Angela for being rude if you weren’t busy thinking what it would be like to get a room with Angela. 

     It wasn’t that you weren’t—and hadn’t been—enjoying the party and hanging out with everyone. But, as your eyes flicked to your girlfriend in her American flag print bikini top and baggy shorts you couldn’t help wishing it was just the two of you. You would start, you thought, by pointing to her adorable outfit and telling her to—

     “Take it off!” 

     Yeah, pretty much that. 

     You turned to Chanse who had spoken. His gaze was directed at Angela, who had his empty popcorn bucket on her head. 

     “It’s fashionable!” Angela defended, modeling her new hat. You rolled your eyes at her, smiling despite yourself.

     “Did someone say fashionable?” Ian turned around, joining the conversation as he gestured to his shirt.

     “That thing and fashionable don’t go in the same sentence, my guy,” Courtney patted his arm without turning around.

     “Anthony, back me up,” Ian said, tapping his best friend on the shoulder.

     “Peak fashion.” Anthony shot him a thumbs up, continuing his conversation with Arasha. 

     “Yeah, my grandpa has the same one,” Angela joked. “Creepy eagle and all.”

     Ian clutched his chest in mock offense as Amanda turned around from her spot in front of you and Angela. 

     “Angela, when did you say the fireworks were starting? I don’t want to stay out all night,” she said.

     “Dude, it’s 9:15,” Spencer said.

     “And I need my beauty sleep,” Amanda defended, flipping her hair.

     “Should be any minute now,” Angela told her. 

     “How did you get someone to do a firework show?” You asked Angela. 

     Angela turned back to you, laying a hand on your leg. “A magician never reveals her secrets.”

     You trailed your fingers along her hand and then up her arm, tracing patterns on her bicep. 

     She smiled, her voice coming out breathy as she said, “Alright fine, I guess a magician can make exceptions.”

     You enjoyed having this effect on Angela—especially because you knew damn well she had the same effect on you—and you couldn’t help grinning to yourself as she continued.

     “Real talk, I didn’t set them up. Just have a pyro neighbor who lights like a million fireworks every year.”

     You chuckled. “Well, your secret’s safe with me.”

     Suddenly, laughter erupted from your friends in front of you. 

     “What?” Angela shouted. “What did I miss?”

     As you watched everyone cracking up and talking over each other—and Angela still trying to figure out the joke she hadn’t heard —you leaned back and took in a breath. It was mostly dark now, the stars visible and the clouds long gone.

     The fireworks started then. First only a few popping sound, and then the sky was alight with bursts of color.

     A cheer erupted before everyone became silent as you all began watching the show.

     Angela leaned back, closer to you, and you placed a kiss on her temple.

     She closed her eyes for a moment before snapping them open, a gleam of mischief in her eyes.

     “I almost forgot,” she whispered, “I have a surprise for you.”

     You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

     She smiled, standing up quietly and holding a finger to her lips, motioning for you to be quiet.

     You looked at her expectantly as you stood, grabbing her hand. 

     Angela? Quiet?

     Your position with Angela behind the rest of your friends came in handy as she led you away from the group, no one noticing or even turning their head. 

    She led you through her house, both of you giggling in your efforts to stay silent—though for what only she knew—and up to the balcony that overlooked her backyard below.

    Opening the door, she stepped to the side and waited for you.

     You put your hand to your mouth in surprise. Her patio was transformed into what could only be described as a cozy hangout. Fairy lights wound around the wooden boards, bean bags and blankets covered the floor surface, and there was a mini fridge to one side, complete with drinks and an array of pies. 

     “Wow,” you took in the setup that Angela had prepared. “You did all this?”

     Angela smiled sheepishly at you. “Yeah, I wanted us to be able to have our own little celebration—if you want.”

     You beamed at her, nodding. Angela grabbed your hand and you let her lead you to the blankets in front of you. You sat down and Angela joined you, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

     From here you could see everyone down below. You felt like you were in a separate world, observing everything from a distance.

     You leaned your head on Angela’s shoulder and watched the firework show, still bright and spectacular as ever. 

     This was perfect, you thought. The evening alone with Angela that you had been wanting.

     You brought your lips to hers. “Thank you, this is amazing.”

     “Anything for my little bunny on a toilet. Besides, I’ve been waiting to be alone with you all night.”

     You felt yourself blushing as she echoed your thoughts. “Yeah?”

     “Yeah.” She brought her lips to your neck. Your ear. Your jawline. And finally your lips.

     She pulled away and grinned at you, her voice rough. “You’re really sexy when you’re flustered.”

     “How do you know I’m flustered?” You shot back, but your voice betrayed you. 

     “Because I’m flustered,” she started. “So I can only imagine what you’re feeling.”

     You scoffed but you nestled closer to her and she wrapped her arm even tighter around you. 

     “Happy fourth,” you whispered.

     “Happy fourth,” Angela said back.

     And then you were silenced by a particularly loud firework, the explosion lighting up the sky and illuminating Angela’s face next to you. 

      You could have asked for a better celebration, you thought, as you leaned in to kiss her once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed this darlings!! always love writing for angela 🎀

[mosaickiwi]

Ahh i totally forgot to send it :’)

(Tumblr hates me so sorry if you get this ask twice)

Hii momo <3

My headcanon is:

“What if Angel gets isekai’d in the game. But instead of getting to live the life of the MC, they switch roles with a certain hacker, unexpectedly getting trapped in the game mechanics. Will they be able to make it out? Or will they be forced to live the days over and over on a loop”

hiii ashe!!! no i will not write teo fic <333 (froggy hats are NOT enough payment sorry!!)

Flip the Script(s) - Isekai AU?? 

Flip the script like the saying goes but also a script like coding… is this funny to anyone but me… anyways have some messy thoughts hehe

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

🖤 Flipped [REDACTED]

📜 No glitch powers or awareness anymore. Keeps most of his backstory intact, but gets og!Angel's main plot relevant traits which are: 

Secretly obsessed with AoG and therefore Haruko (this is extremely funny to me).

Someone proposed to him as a kid and he doesn't remember. 

Moved back to Corland, lives in a crappy apartment, works as a librarian.

📜 For the sake of the plot being able to move forward, he can't be as clever or observant but otherwise their personality is pretty much the same. Just without the Angel obsession.

📜 (Lack of) friendship with other characters?? Probably treats them the same as River at best: he doesn't really mind most of them. This is more like a debuff so there's at least a guarantee that Ren won't wind up on another character’s route unless Angel majorly fucks up. Also I can't imagine him putting up with any of the main cast besides Conan for more than 5 minutes.

📜 I think it's funny for River and Leon to swap places too!! So River also proposed to Ren lmfao (and Leon still gets to be Angel’s best friend, only now he’s cautiously supportive of all the wild shit they have to do to make the game progress).

💜 Flipped Angel

📜 I have a specific Angel in mind but obviously bits and pieces here are not universal to all Angels fdjsalkfjldska

📜 Their goal is to leave, but they aren’t even sure how to. Has to play the manipulative yandere role in some ways, otherwise the game falls apart.

📜 Angel’s only inherited traits are the ones [REDACTED] loses, so glitch powers + awareness. They at least have isekai semi-omniscience: 

Knows they're in a yandere romance game 

Knows a few of the characters from browsing social media 

Can see the UI and therefore the choices Ren makes 

Hit by the truck once they press the start button so they don’t know much of the plot outside of meeting Ren at the library

💙 Game Rules - that Angel is not aware of without doing some trial and error

📚 The plot/narration/dialogue etc. doesn't have to (and logically can't) be one-for-one, but pivotal choices remain the same.

📚 The day restarts by itself if Angel’s meter is too low to make any progress (as in [REDACTED] doesn't show enough interest, or shows hostility towards them). Angel can also restart the day themselves once they figure out how the glitch powers work.

📚 Choices that would normally lead to dead ends force Angel to end and restart them the same way [REDACTED] does—by breaking in to his apartment at night.

📚 They can't escape until they reach the true ending to reset the game back to normal, and reach another ending as og!Angel. Except now [REDACTED] remembers everything that happened.

💙 Goofy things to chew on

😋 [REDACTED] would still be a clean freak, so finding the mattress with a hole on day 1 would absolutely piss him off. Bro (rightfully) harasses their landlord 24/7.

😋 [REDACTED] also still terrible with finances… poor Angel has to figure out asap how to hack to give him more money before he has to move in with River (River route canon!!!).

😋 [REDACTED] either has to ignore Teo’s entire existence, or every single interaction is a minefield since Teo would live for pissing him off. River (poorly) plays mediator.

😋 Angel could outright suck at murder. Sledgehammer? Too heavy. Knives? Too messy. Screaming on the inside when [REDACTED] still doesn’t go home with them on day 2 after they’ve tried so hard. Olivia getting murdered simply does not happen anymore, they give up and force another reset.

😋 Elanor having the worst time at work because [REDACTED] gets customer complaints every single day but Conan won't fire him (the plot compels him). And then mutters insults about her being clumsy when she tries to correct his manners.

😋How are Moth and [REDACTED] even friends... enemies on the forums until some third party comes in with the most wild take on AoG?? Enemy of my enemy is my friend. But most of the time they're insulting each other.

😋 Leon watching Angel lose their shit seemingly out of nowhere (because of all the restarts) during a hangout. Consoling them awkwardly while they cry about the emo boy they’ve been stalking and how they don’t know how to ride a motorcycle.

😋 The trio being River, Jae, and Teo instead has disaster possibilities. Leon was the one keeping them from getting TOO destructive, and I feel like River is absolutely on board with every terrible idea. So Corland might as well be going up in flames in the background while Angel attempts romance.

💜 And a short fic!!! Angel's "first" day

Day 1, Attempt #0

You know right away that you’re in some type of isekai situation. An oddly luxurious but empty apartment that you woke up in. A hallway that’s just as empty, and when you knock on all the neighboring doors, nobody’s home. Weird, but not enough to set off any alarms. Getting back home should be simple. 

You head to the library and finally find someone, at least. That blonde girl Ellen? Elaine? Whatever her name is, she smiles as you walk in… and then greets you like a patron? Weren’t you meant to be co-workers? You’re completely confused until the person that you spot in a far aisle isn’t a pink-haired stranger, but instead someone decked head to toe in black fabric and silver chains.

Ohh it’s THIS one. The one you’ve seen in fan art sometimes. He’s supposed to be the real Ren, but you thought he’d be dressed up as “Haruko" at first. Something is wrong.

You slowly walk up and tap his shoulder, but they recoil at your presence. There’s a name tag stuck to his shirt—did he work here? The name is scribbled out completely.

“Um… I was wondering if you could help me?” you timidly ask.

His eyes roll as if you’re bothering him, instead of asking him to do his job. “Y’lookin’ for somethin’?” [REDACTED] mutters.

“Yes! Sort of. It's a long story. Maybe we could go to your place and talk?” Normally, you aren't this forward. But from what little you've read, they're the type to go along with anything his ‘Angel’ says, so this should be easy.

Something pops up in front of you. A small pair of black boxes with words in them. “Invite them over” in one, and “Don't invite them over” in the other. Finally, something like a system. You were wondering if you'd have to play through the game without any clear help. 

You reach your hand out, but the second choice seems to get chosen all on its own, and the menu disappears once more. You worriedly look back up only to be met with pure disgust in the man's gaze.

“...How ‘bout y’do us both a favor n’ fuck off, yeah?” the venom in his tone startles you, forcing you to take a few steps back. “I'd rather not lose my job f’beating the shit out of a patron.”

“What—”

“Leave.”

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

Day 2, Attempt #14

It took you longer than you wanted to admit to realize that the pink hair dye in the bathroom was meant for you. 

On the 9th time you approached [REDACTED] for your ‘meet cute,’ you’d finally noticed the little character pin keeping his scribbled out name tag in place. An acrylic, chibi face that looked strikingly similar to the bloodied image on the title screen you saw before winding up in the game.

The thought didn’t occur to you until then. Talking to him was like pulling teeth when he didn’t even care to try, but… If you were taking his place, and they were taking yours… wouldn’t he be more open to talking with someone that was maybe into the same weird anime he was?

So you reluctantly bleached and dyed your hair in pastel pink, put on the sweater despite the horrid summer weather, and went off to the library once again. Unfortunately, it worked. 

While he wasn’t outright hostile like the first couple of times, he wasn’t completely interested, either. But the conversation was friendly enough. As friendly as they seemed capable of being, anyway.

Thanks to frying your hair, you made it all the way through the day after a few more tries. You even managed to get invited over somehow. Instead of waking up in that all too familiar empty apartment for the millionth time, you woke up on a terribly put together couch. Just as you sat up to stretch and work the kinks out of your back, you spotted a rat skittering behind a table across the room.

You were grateful that he hadn’t chosen to make you sleep on the floor.

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Horrible Un-Haunting of Elliot House

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Ghost!AU / Romance / Comedy (?)

Pairing: Seokjin / Reader (she/her)

Synopsis: Some houses are harder to sell than others but you, Y/N, are determined to find the (supposedly) haunted Elliot House a new owner. That is, until it's very real and very hot exceedingly well-dressed ghost decides to make himself known. If only you didn't find yourself enjoying the knowing.

Rating: PG-13 (kissing but nothing beyond that)

Word Count: 6,214

Author's Note: hope you enjoy this random Halloween "drabble"! This got oddly angsty? I suppose that happens with ghost love LOL

[ Cross-Posted to Wattpad ]

“Through here,” you say, leading the Gundersons through an arched door. “You’ll find the most adorable sunroom.”

The Gundersons both gasp, appropriately awed by the tall walls of windows. Each panel is topped with stained glass, casting colorful patterns across the checkered floor. Technically, the sunroom isn’t part of the original house – it was added in 1975 during a brief period the address was owned by a cult – but you rarely disclose this fact during tours. Most people don’t care which parts of the house are original, so long as they can say they bought a 19th century Tudor.

Not that you blame them. Most people (or at least, sane people) appreciate the romanticism of an old structure without actually wanting to live in one. Modern amenities are the top benefit of progress, after all. The government couldn’t pay you to live without modern heating, plumbing, or refrigeration.

“Margaret, did you see?” Arthur Gunderson, a slightly rotund lawyer, and husband of said Margaret, gestures emphatically. “I’ll be damned if this stained glass isn’t Tiffany! See there, see that stamp in the corner?”

“Good eye, sir!” you chirp, barely glancing up from your clipboard.

Truthfully, you aren’t sure whether the glass is authentic. The cult that installed could hardly be called profitable (they sold the house at a loss after less than ten years, although this likely had more to do with crimes committed on said property than their income, but you digress), so you’d be hard-pressed to believe they could afford real Tiffany.

If this is what convinces the Gundersons to buy though, you’re hardly a realtor to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Ticking a box in the upper right corner – sunroom – you look up. “Right, well. That’s most of the lower level.” Pivoting on your heel, you head towards the corridor. “If you two will follow me upstairs, we can –”

“What’s that?”

Steps slowing, you stare at the plaster wall. A moment passes, then two before you convince yourself to turn around. When you see where Arthur Gunderson points, a relieved breath leaves your lips.

“Oh, that?” Floorboards squeak as you cross the room, sounding almost like laughter. “That’s the cellar. I’d offer you a look but unfortunately, the staircase isn’t quite up to code. You’ll need someone to look at that ASAP if you buy.”

Hovering at the wooden door, you grasp its bronze knob and pull. Tugging the cord for the light, you briefly scan the stairs but spot nothing unusual. Mostly convinced, you dutifully step aside.

“Feel free to look,” you say brightly.

The Gundersons crowd the landing you vacated.

“Careful, honey,” Arthur warns, holding Margaret’s elbow. “These stairs are steep.”

Standing on tiptoe, Margaret peers beyond him into the basement gloom. It could be your imagination, but she almost seems disappointed. A few cobwebs and shadows line the staircase, but nothing more sinister.

Hiding a smile, you check the next box. Cellar. Sometimes, people request to see this house not because they’re interested in buying it, but for the thrill. Entering the haunted Elliot house and surviving will make a great tale to tell their friends over cocktails.

Lowering your clipboard, you glance upward. So far, everything has gone to plan, which is partly the problem. You must’ve shown this house thirty times and always, something has gone wrong by now. Before being assigned its realtor, you believed in the paranormal, but only in a theoretical way. Not because you’d witnessed anything spectral.

Your opinions since then have changed.

Turning sharply, you plaster a smile on your face. “Shall we?”

Stepping back, Margaret pulls wiry frames from her jacket pocket. “I must admit,” she says with an embarrassed laugh. “Based on what our last realtor said, I was expecting far worse from this property.”

Although your smile tightens, you nod. The other realtor had a point – Elliot house could be temperamental, at best. Downright petulant, at worst. You glare again at the ceiling.

“We get that a lot,” you say, ushering them down the hall. Best not to linger. “Whenever a house sits too long on the market, you know – people talk. Lots of rumors!”

“Oh, sure,” Arthur says, passing you with a chuckle. “We’re not superstitious, don’t worry.”

“Oh?” you say lightly, remaining behind. “That’s good to know. Now, if you head down the hall, you’ll reach the foyer. All the crown molding you pass is original. The house’s first owner and builder, Daniel Baker, was something of a craftsman. He –”

Abruptly, you cease talking and stare at the stairwell. Halfway down the steps, where before there was nothing, sits a perfectly ripe orange. Eyes narrowed, you stare at this a long beat before yanking the light cord down and shutting the door.

Glancing upward, you hiss, “Not today, I swear to – well, whatever hellish being you worship.”

The wind sounds almost like laughter, but you don’t stick around long enough to find out if that’s true. Shaking your head, you traipse down the front hall in search of the Gundersons. Luckily, they’re too busy taking pictures of the aforementioned crown molding to have noticed your absence.

“Shall we?” you say, gesturing at the front stairs.

Pocketing their phones, they begin their ascent. You wait at the bottom, giving them space to discuss the house. From personal experience, buyers tend to appreciate when you don’t hover.

Besides, the grand staircase is your favorite feature – equal parts artwork and functionality. From your place at its bottom, you admire the craftsmanship. Starting the climb, your fingertips skim whorls in the wood and for a second, you feel a phantom hand rest over yours.

Scowling darkly, you yank your palm away. Reaching the landing, you clutch at your clipboard tighter and walk forward.

“This way!” you say, practically shoving the Gundersons into the first bedroom.

While they ooh and ah about the bay windows, you tick another box on your spreadsheet. Master bedroom.

The second you’re done, the pen slips from your grasp and hovers in mid-air. It then turns, point-down, to scrawl something in the margin.

‘Master’ bedroom? Kiiind of racist, don’t you think?

Teeth gritted, you snatch your pen back. “I wasn’t the one who created the spreadsheet, okay?” you whisper. “And while, yes, I agree, and other realtors are moving away from that language, I don’t–”

“Pardon?” Arthur Gunderson peers, confused, over his shoulder.

Somewhat manic, you smile. “Oh, nothing,” you say, the words sounding high-pitched, even to you. “I was just reminding myself to show you the main bathroom. Beautiful claw-foot tub.”

“Oh. Sure,” says Arthur, returning to his wife.

Head whipping sideways, you glare at the most likely place Seokjin would be. A chuckle drifts past your ear on the other side, and your scowl deepens.

Once an appropriate amount of time goes by, you usher the Gundersons into the next bedroom. Hovering outside, you calculate how quickly you can convince them to leave. The longer they stay, the worse the so-called haunting will be.

You should have known better than to show them this house, but they were insistent. Or at least, Arthur was. Margaret seems reasonably paranoid, which you deem a positive quality. Everyone within a hundred-mile radius has heard of the haunted Elliot house.

Even the name is confusing, since it doesn’t bear the name of its builder, Daniel Baker, nor its longest resident, Mr. Josiah Whitley. Instead, it’s named for Nathaniel Elliot, the cult leader who murdered a man on its premises in 1978. Obviously, this fact wasn’t known to the public until after the cult sold the house and moved far away.

Eventually, Mr. Elliot was tried and found guilty of murder, but this was much later. Wincing a little, you glance at the ceiling. Seokjin has said many times that ghosts can’t read minds, but you wouldn’t put it past him to lie for a punchline. Even if he can’t read your mind, the faint scent of cedar lets you know he’s nearby.

Quickening your stride, you show the Gundersons the next bedroom. “This is one of my favorites,” you say, pulling hard on its warped door. “The view from that window is stunning. You can see all the way to the brook!”

Taking the bait, Margaret crosses the room. “Oh, look, Arthur!” she exclaims, leaning forward. “There’s a gazebo!”

He follows at a more leisurely pace, frowning when he spots a lone cobweb in the corner. Sighing, you swipe at this as you pass, almost certain the web wasn’t there this morning.

While the two converse, you pull out your clipboard and run down the list again.

Most days at your job are like today – running down lists and waiting for other people to make their own life decisions. Becoming a realtor wasn’t so much a choice as it was thrust upon you. When your mom got sick your senior year of grad school, you returned to take care of her and finished your coursework remotely.

There were only so many jobs with flexible hours, and you ended up getting your realtor’s license to support her on the side. When your mom passed, you stuck around to sort out her paperwork and affairs. Two years later, everything is in order and still, you remain. Stuck in a holding pattern, showing houses and too afraid to try your hand at anything different.

BANG.

The sudden noise from above plunges the room into silence. Both Arthur and Margaret swivel, wide eyes landing on you.

Margaret’s glasses chain trembles. “What was tha–”

“My assistant,” you blurt, backing towards the door. “He mentioned he would stop by to drop off some keys. That must be him – I’ll go and check!”

“But…” Arthur stares. “The noise came from above.”

“Be right back!” you call, stepping into the hall.

As fast as possible without raising suspicion, you rush down the hall. “Seokjin,” you hiss, hand skimming the banister as you descend. “Stop that right now!”

No one responds – not that you thought he would. Crossing the foyer, you reach the cellar door and yank it open. Flicking the overhead light, you see the orange has disappeared. Rolling your eyes, you shut the door.

“This isn’t funny,” you huff out loud to no one.

Far above you, a low groan shakes the house. Honestly, it sounds more sexual than scary, but you suppose that only makes it more sinister. Reaching the foyer, you slow your pace and set down your clipboard. Suppressing a sigh, you glance at the clock. This has happened enough times that you can predict things to the minute.

Crossing your arms, you tap your foot and count down in your head.

One – increased groaning. Sometimes from the cellar, often the attic and, during one memorable visit, from behind a locked bathroom door.

Two – shuffling feet while the Gundersons (insert buyer’s name here) debate whether to run or wait it out. They hastily whisper, wondering if it’s their minds playing tricks.

Third – laughter. Seokjin will say it sounds lilting but to you, his laughter is more akin to a car’s windshield wipers. Today, said laughter drifts from the main bedroom, immediately followed by the Gundersons’ screaming.

Directly above you, Margaret’s heels pound wooden floors. Wincing, you make a mental reminder to buff the scuffs from the wood.

“ARTHUR!” she calls, her voice pitching upward.

“Right behind you!” he bellows.

When the lights in the foyer flicker, you lean against the grand railing. In your experience, there’s nothing you can do now to save the showing. As soon as Seokjin reveals himself, it’s only a matter of time.

“Whoooo dareeessss to disturrrrrb meeeee!” he wails, and you try not to laugh. “This is MYYYY homeeee and you are nooooot welcomeeeee! OoOOOOooooOOo!”

Arthur is first down the stairs. Reluctantly, you step forward – as their realtor, you’ll try to calm them down and get them out. All part of the plan. What’s not part of the plan is Arthur’s blind panic, elbowing you – hard – in the stomach as he runs past.

Concaving, you stumble, your foot catching on a loose floorboard as you fall backwards. Suddenly, a pink cushion slides between you and the floor. You land in the middle of it, shocked but unharmed.

Arthur yanks open the front door. “You!” he blurts, whipping around to point. Blinking, you fight the urge to glance over your shoulder. “Yes, you,” he scoffs, spittle flying as Margaret runs past. “I don’t know if this is your idea of a sick joke or what, but your manager will be hearing from me!”

Before you can formulate a response, Arthur is out the front door. You hear the sound of their car starting, exhaust billowing behind them as they speed down the street.

Propping yourself on one elbow, you release a sigh. The house has fallen silent, almost sheepish in its total lack of sound. Head lolling back, you glare at the ceiling.

“You are so annoying,” you groan, well-aware you sound crazy. “I honestly don’t know what you’re looking for, Seokjin. The Gundersons were fine.”

The front door slams.

An outline of a person materializes between you and the living room, seeming composed of dust motes and sunshine. Turning your glare in their direction, you tap your fingers against the oak floor.

Seokjin solidifies fully, rakishly leaning against the paneled wall. He’s dressed in the same navy three-piece suit he wore when he died, albeit with his hair styled in this century’s fashion. Seokjin once said ghosts are able to change their appearance, but most choose not to. There’s little point to it, and it wastes precious energy.

Sadly, he shakes his head. “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Seokjin says, his deep timbre resonating through floorboards beneath you.

“Show off,” you mutter.

Lips twitching, he crooks a finger. The foyer light ceases to flicker, and Seokjin straightens. Dusting invisible dust from his shoulders, he walks forward.

“The Gundersons were tiresome,” he says. “I would’ve been bored of them in months, started haunting again, and this house would’ve gone right back on the market. Really, I saved you trouble in the long run. You can thank me later.”

“Oh, no,” you deadpan. “Two commissions on the same property. What a horrible fate.”

“Exactly. You’re welcome.”

Fighting an eye roll, you push yourself upward with cushion in hand. At least Seokjin was kind enough to break your fall, even if he caused the circumstances which led to it in the first place.

Brushing the dirt from the cushion, you shake your head. “You do know that eventually, someone will buy this house and you’ll have to make peace with that fact. Right?”

When Seokjin doesn’t immediately respond, you look up. His dark gaze lingers a second longer than necessary, briskly looking away when he catches you watching.

“I know,” Seokjin says, turning around. “Might I point out though, that I don’t have to make peace with anything. Ghost,” he adds, pointing at himself. “Not making peace with things is our bread and butter.”

“People have owned this house before, though.”

“Boring people,” Seokjin mutters.

“That didn’t seem to bother you back then!”

Seokjin enters the living room. “Ugh,” he groans, dropping onto a chaise. Dust motes spiral around him, as though he were solid. “If I must be trapped on the material plane, Y/N, the least the material plane could do is provide some entertainment. And the lovemaking of two seventy-year-olds doesn’t count,” he adds, fixing you with a glare.

Stifling laughter, you follow him into the parlor. Fluffing the cushion, you replace it on its chair and survey the room. Seokjin lounges dramatically and it could be your imagination, but he almost looks solid. More so than the first time you met, anyways.

He nearly scared the shit out of you, back then. Everyone at the firm warned you this house was haunted but were purposefully vague on the supernatural. The warnings they gave you were borderline mundane.

Oh, yeah, that house has been on the market forever. People say that it’s haunted, but I’d honestly be more worried about rats. Or asbestos – popcorn ceilings didn’t age well for a reason. And I don’t know if it’s true, but I heard a convict once lived in the basement for three months before the cops caught him. Watch out for that!

You entered this house with more than your usual trepidation, pepper spray in one hand and a flashlight in the other. Apparently, the wiring wasn’t all up to code – something you’ve since rectified with the city.

The sound of the door creak could’ve been written by the Brothers Grimm themselves, textbook gothic. Your flashlight swept over dusty floors, faint footprints remaining to remind you of its past. Spine steeled, you forced yourself to continue.

Finding a light switch, you flicked upward, and the chandelier came to life. The lighting was dim, barely enough to see by on a rainy day. Keeping your flashlight, you wandered into the parlor and came to a sudden stop. Forest green wallpaper lined the walls, remarkably intact for its age. Stunned, you turned in a slow circle.

Moody maximalism was one of your favorite design styles, and this room was made for it. With a slightly better attitude, you resumed your walk-through, discovering a hidden cupboard in the kitchen and a dumbwaiter to nowhere. The second-floor entry point had been boarded up, but that could be rectified.

Some of the woodwork of the house was scuffed, and a few corners held fallen leaves, but overall, it was in great condition. None of the realtors had prepared you for that – you arrived expecting a war zone and were pleasantly surprised.

On the second floor, you found a library – or what had once been the library, given the shelving was empty – that made you audibly gasp. Blue-black custom shelves extended along three of the walls. Closer to the door, a bright square of color remained from where a painting had hung.

Curious, your fingers traced the edges. “This place is unreal,” you murmured to yourself.

“I know, right?” said a voice directly in your ear.

Like any sane person, you screamed and jumped skyward. Your flashlight fell, its beam rolling over and over until it hit a baseboard. You didn’t stick around to find out, turning fast on your heel and bolting into the hall.

Thundering down the front stairs – wincing as the wood groaned – you nearly reached the foyer when Seokjin appeared.

“Boo,” he said calmly, between you and the door.

Coming to a shuddering halt, your hand gripped the railing. The ghost was impeccably dressed, if slightly invisible, and raised a dark brow in response to your flight.

Gaze darting sideways, you sought a second exit but all you could recall was the cellar and that wasn’t an option. Years of training from watching scary movies kicked in at that point, and you slowly straightened. Running away would do nothing – a ghost could follow you anywhere – so, maybe reasoning with him would be the best option.

“What do you want?” you asked, masking your fear to plant both hands on your hips. “Who are you?”

Surprise flared in his – admittedly attractive – gaze. Some of the shock had worn off by then, and you could admit to yourself (if to no one else) that the ghost before you was hot. Even thinking this felt ridiculous, and you wondered if your already-fragile grasp on reality was slipping.

Taking a single step forward, the ghost cocked his head. When you stumbled back, his lip quirked, and he appeared by your side.

“Who am I?” he mused, walking in a slow circle. “Awfully strange to ask me that, when I’m the person that died here, and you’ve never stepped foot in this house until now. I would know.”

Started, you turned your head.

This was a mistake since it allowed you to see every ridge of his features. The rounded tip of his nose, his enviably full lips, and a curve to his jawline which could likely cut glass.

Forcing your gaze upward, you found him focused on you. “You… died here?” you asked before you could think better.

His lips thinned. “You know, it’s very rude to ask a ghost how they died. It’s personal.”

“Oh,” you said. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t ask,” the ghost replied with a sigh.

Your eyes narrowed, hearing barely hidden laughter in his tone. This ghost was making fun of you. The audacity!

Incensed by this, you lifted your chin. “Wouldn’t asking you whether it’s polite to ask about death be asking you about death, though?”

“Fair enough.” He shrugged, slipping both hands in his pockets. “There really isn’t a good way for you to bring up that conversation.”

A laugh escaped, despite yourself.

His gaze flickered, as though oddly pleased. Quickly, the ghost scanned you from your shoes to your face, where he lingered.

“I’m curious,” he mused, resuming his walk in a circle.

Despite your discomfort, you forced yourself to stay still. Even though you could feel each place his gaze lingered – your shoulders, your collarbone, tacing the slope of your cheekbones.

“What are you curious about?” you asked, pushing the words past your lips.

He stopped between you and the door again. Slipping both hands from his pockets, he crossed his arms over his chest. The way his biceps strained against his suit was intriguing, implying there was something to strain against. Dimly, you wondered what a ghost’s gym routine looked like.

Your lips twitched at the thought, and the ghost scowled.

“Stop that,” he commanded. “You should be terrified. I was curious about why you haven’t run yet. Anyone else would’ve by now.”

“Would they?”

“Based on my experience, yes.” He tilted his head. “This is the first time I’ve introduced myself to someone and they stayed. Well,” he amended through teeth. “Stayed without crucifixes, holy water, and a priest.”

“Does that really work?” you wondered, genuinely curious.

“Does what work – exorcism?”

You nodded.

“Clearly not.” He waved a hand down his body. “At least, not in my case. When I first died, I wanted to move on. I was even excited when the first priest arrived, but he did nothing, and neither did the next one… eventually, I stopped hoping. Started haunting, instead.”

“Well, sure,” you said, dazed.

His lips twitched. “My name is Seokjin, by the way. Not that you asked.”

“That was literally one of the first things I asked!”

Ignoring this, Seokjin stuck out his hand. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” you said, ignoring the impossibility of what you were about to attempt while extending your palm. “Nice to meet you.”

Your hands met in the middle and, instead of passing through, you felt your palms brush. For a moment, you touched calluses and warm skin, smelling the faint scent of cloves.

Seokjin went utterly still.

Chin jerking down, he stared at your joined hands. “That’s… never happened before.”

Retracting swiftly, you said the first thought that came to mind. “What? Never touched a woman?”

Scowling, he retracted his hand as well. “I was thirty when I died, Y/N. Not thirteen.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered, then paused. “You… haven’t been able to touch anyone since you died?”

“Things, yes. People, no.” A thoughtful look crossed his face. “A psychic visited me once. The owners at that time brought her, wanting to see if she could get rid of me.” Seokjin snorted. “She got them to pay her, then said, ‘No.’ Hilarious. And interesting,” he added. “She told me she’d met other ghosts, ones that could interact. Never seemed to work for me, though.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond. For it being your first encounter with the supernatural, nothing about this had gone as imagined. You weren’t sure how to converse with a ghost who, for all intents and purposes, seemed fairly normal.

Except for the whole ‘being dead’ part.

“Well.” You shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything, I guess.”

His expression remained inscrutable, but for the faintest of seconds, you thought Seokjin looked intrigued. After a moment, he moved closer and leaned in. You caught the faintest whiff of orange, cloves, and cedar on what could have been his breath.

“I suppose there is,” he murmured, and then disappeared.

Since then, Seokjin has appeared each time you returned. The second time, you were halfway convinced your first visit was a hallucination. A theory Seokjin seemed content to feed into, refusing to show himself until you were about to leave. Then, he jumped through the hall closet to yell, “MUTINY!” and cement his presence in your mind.

Seokjin doesn’t dress the same every time. A few weeks into your friendship (if one can call it that), he informed you he could change his appearance but hadn’t done it much. It took energy to appear on the mortal pane, more so if his appearance was altered.

Still, you’ve learned Seokjin will do pretty much anything to commit to a bit. His brand of haunting tends to border on comical. Putting his arms on backwards, headless juggling, vomiting wine – really anything is fair game if not truly grotesque. By now, you’ve seen his whole gambit, which is how you can say today’s performance was lackluster.

Sprawled on the chaise, one foot dangling, Seokjin looks every bit of the tragic lothario. Again, you can’t help but wonder whether he’s gained permanence since the last time you saw him. You could almost swear the chaise sinks under the weight of his frame.

“What is it?” he demands, lazily pushing himself upward.

Something in your chest flutters, although you ignore it. Arms crossed, you fix him with a look of disdain. It’s sinful for Seokjin to look as good as he does – and the worst part is, you know it’s not an illusion.

After you met the third time, you Googled his name along with the house and found multiple hits. Seokjin Kim was killed on October 31st, 1978, by Nathanial Elliot, the leader of the Sunny Days cult. Both Seokjin’s parents joined two years prior, and he’d tried unsuccessfully to convince them to leave by mail and phone.

Eventually, he visited in person and convinced them to go – unfortunately, Nathanial caught wind of the situation and killed Seokjin before this could happen. You saw photos of Seokjin from then and can confirm he was always devastatingly handsome. Often, you’ve wondered if he left someone behind – a wife or a girlfriend – but can’t bring yourself to ask. You aren’t sure which answer would hurt more.

Regardless, you know Seokjin was missed. His parents were the ones who took down the Sunny Days cult, putting their leader behind bars for killing their son. Seokjin admitted once that they tried to tear this house down. They didn’t know he was tied to the grounds, and he didn’t want to tell them. It would’ve been harder for them to move on, he explained, and your heart broke a little.

Not long after that, you accidentally let it slip that Seokjin had a scent. It made him howl with laughter, nearly falling down the front stairs – not that this would’ve hurt him. From then on, Seokjin showed off his growing ability to move solid objects by leaving oranges for you in the house whenever you came. Only another of his practical jokes but lately, it’s made your skin hot to think of.

You realized you felt more than you should for him last month when he saved you from falling. Determined to clear out the cellar, your entire foot went through the first step and Seokjin pulled you to safety.

“Careful,” he murmured, one arm wrapped around your waist. Gently, he eased you backwards and onto the landing. “The top step is rotted through. You’ll need to call in someone to fix that.”

Unable to speak, you nodded and quickly disentangled. Each place he had touched, your skin tingled, and not at all unpleasantly. Since that day, your feelings have only worsened. Sometimes, you wonder if he knows.

Sometimes you wonder whether he feels the same, no matter how hopeless it is.

Heaving a great sigh, Seokjin stands from the couch. Lifting both arms, he stretches this way and that like an overgrown cat. The end of his shirt comes untucked, displaying a flat strip of skin you refuse to acknowledge.

Forcing your gaze to his face, you lift a single brow. Weeks after meeting, you considered Seokjin your friend, or at least an acquaintance. Now, you can’t call this friendship, but not because things between you have worsened. It’s because the more time you spend together, the more you find yourself wishing for something impossible. Something more.

“You know what,” you tell him. “There’s no need to scare off every potential buyer.”

Seokjin pauses, then lowers his arms. “There’s a need when they’re terrible. I’m the one forced to live with them for eternity, not you.”

“It’s not an eternity, though,” you tried to joke. “Eventually, they’ll die – or, so one would presume.”

Seokjin’s face hardens. Before you can take another breath, he’s standing before you. “Much better,” he says, his voice like steel. “I love being reminded that, while the world continues to age around me, I never will. I’ll simply stay on this godforsaken plot of land until the earth is destroyed by its own inhabitants. How long do you think that’ll take, Y/N? One decade? Two?”

Eyes wide, you stare at him in shock.

Seokjin has never spoken to you like this before. Usually, he’s far more cavalier about his reality, easily accepting the fact that he’s a ghost. Never once has he ranted about the world passing by. In fact, Seokjin frequently throws in your face that you’ll soon have more wrinkles than him.

For the first time, you wonder if all that is a front. If perhaps, deep down, all his lackadaisicalness is merely a cover for a deeper kind of fear.

Slowly, you move closer. “I didn’t mean to be dismissive,” you murmur. “Of course, I don’t want you to be forced to live with people you hate. I just meant…”

You trail off, uncertain and Seokjin’s face softens. He moves even closer, his scent comforting you in a way you can’t explain. In a way it shouldn’t be.

“I’ll never get used to this,” you sigh.

You aren’t sure why you’re speaking so softly. Possibly due to his proximity and possibly due to the look in his eyes, studying you as though you’re the impossibility, and not him. Dust motes trail through the air when Seokjin lifts a hand.

With bated breath, you watch as he reaches towards you. At the last second, he shifts and lightly brushes your jaw.

Sharply, you inhale because you feel it. You feel him.

“Seokjin,” you whisper. “What are you…”

Gently shushing, he leans in, and you feel his breath, feather-light, across your skin. Utterly shocked, you go still. It’s his breath that you feel. Breath that shouldn’t exist, according to logic.

Slowly, his gaze drops and stays on your lips. If Seokjin can’t read minds, he must hear your heart racing. The sound of it is all-consuming, drowning out rational thought.

“You want to know what I’m waiting for?” he murmurs, his gaze lifting. “I’m waiting for someone to look at this… house the way you do.”

“A lot of people have liked the house, Seokjin. People who –”

“I don’t want you to sell this house."

Startled, you stop. “Why not?”

His expression twists, revealing his vulnerability. “I think you know.”

Roughly, you exhale.

Yes. You do know. It’s the same reason you’ve half-assed the last six showings at this address. It’s why you keep people from looking, and when they insist, barely attempt to stifle Seokjin’s shenanigans. You could have come earlier today and requested Seokjin to be on good behavior. He would have done it. For you, he would have.

Which is exactly why you didn’t ask.

“I… want to hear you say it,” you say, so low, you’re surprised that he hears.

Achingly slow, Seokjin’s hand slips from your jaw to your neck. When he pulls you closer, you can feel the weight of his hand, the solid pressure that comes from his fingers on your skin.

Your eyes flutter shut.

“I don’t want you to go,” Seokjin murmurs, his lips close to your ear. “If someone else buys this house, you’d stop showing it. You wouldn’t come here again, and I can’t leave these grounds. If someone else buys this place” – his breath hitches – “I won’t see you again. I can stomach eternity, Y/N, but not without you.”

“Seokjin.” His name leaves your lips as a whisper, or prayer.

“Yes?”

“Do you ever…” Eyes opening, you look up. “I don’t want to say it out loud.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” Your voice breaks. “That might make it real. What I want can’t be real, so if I say it out loud, it might vanish and right now, it exists in this tentative space. We exist in this space.”

Lightly, his thumb strokes your throat, and you feel your knees buckle. Every callous, every touch feels so horribly real, it’s making it difficult to remember why this can’t be.

“I’ve stopped wondering what’s real and what’s not,” Seokjin murmurs, his gaze tracing your mouth. “Most people say I shouldn’t exist and yet, here I am. They say I shouldn’t be here, able to touch you like this and yet, I am. They say I shouldn’t–”

Rising on tiptoe, you cut him off with your kiss. Seokjin shudders, his lips parted and warm in the shock of the moment.

 “Fuck,” he groans, breaking away to stare at you in wonder.

Before you can respond, he returns, his kiss wild and fierce. Your own desire surges, touching him hesitantly at first, and then with full abandon. Hands sliding up his chest, over his shoulders, your fingers curl in his hair to anchor him to you.

Cupping your face, Seokjin pulls your body to his. His touch is reverent, deifying while his hands travel lower to land on your waist. His body curves above yours, catching your gasps with the tip of his tongue. Seokjin feels solid beneath you – solid, and warm, and painfully real.

His mouth moves to your jaw, trailing heat down your throat and across your bared collar. Shivers of pleasure shoot through you as he walks you backwards, pressing your spine to the wall. Briefly – wondrously – you laugh, the sound caught again by his kiss.

Within minutes, you’re panting, heart beating wildly as you grip his hair tighter. Seokjin’s leg presses forward, pushing your thighs apart and you nearly dissolve. He moves harder, faster, as though scared that you’ll vanish. This is the opposite of disappearing, though.

This is together, beneath, and on top as –

“Shit,” Seokjin growls, the sound torn from his throat.

Dazed, you look sideways and realize his hand has gone through the wall.

Seokjin stares at his wrist, his chest rising and falling. Everything you can feel is solid, but his hand sinks through the wall about an inch deep. It’s hard to concentrate with him above you, looking like that. Seokjin’s hair remains mussed by your hands, proving you touched him – however briefly.

Lips thinning, Seokjin pulls his hand out. Purposefully, he lays his palm flat on the wall but it’s clear to you both that he’s concentrating. Some of his pressure dissipates.

“I – fuck,” he exhales, dropping his chin.

Gently, you soothe a strand of hair behind his ear. This is the first time you’ve seen Seokjin anything less than immaculate and goddamn, if it doesn’t look good on him. That’s making it difficult to focus on the matter at hand.

The matter at hand. Ha.

Thinking this, a snort escapes your lips before you can stop it. Stunned, Seokjin glances up with wide eyes.

“Did you just… snort?” he asks, incredulous.

You shake your head, and then nod, sheepish. “Um, yes. I did. It’s just…” Now that you’ve started, you can’t help but continue. “I can’t believe the hottest make-out session of my life ended with your fucking hand through a wall.”

Seokjin stares for a long moment before – impossibly – his chest starts to shake. Before long, you’re both laughing out loud at the ridiculousness of the situation. Once your laughter has faded though, comfortable silence remains.

Pulling you into his chest, Seokjin’s hand strokes your neck. “I don’t know what this means,” he admits with a sigh.

“Me, either.”

“I do know I want to do that again.”

“Same,” you say, pulling back.

“But…” Seokjin hesitates. “Y/N. You know I’m not… real, right?”

Your heart sinks to your shoes. “You’re real to me.”

“I know.” He speaks softly. “But I –”

Lifting a hand, you press a finger to his lips. “Don’t,” you warn. “Please. I don’t want to think about the future right now. I know I don’t have eternity, but I don’t want what I have without you.”

Something in his gaze breaks but Seokjin merely nods, letting silence fall again. You fear that he’ll vanish, leaving you alone but he merely exhales. The breath brushes your skin.

“Alright,” Seokjin murmurs, winding his hand with yours. “What do you want to talk about, then?”

The ghost of a smile crosses your lips. “What if… we talk about me buying this house?”

© kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission. Author’s Note: thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and Happy Halloween!

[anikasheep]

OM Brothers in Replaced MC AU

Afab mc, chubby mc, ooc brothers and don't argue with me. No beta read and English is not my first language

Leviathan: It's all Mammon's fault.

Mammon: What the...? How could this is my fault?! I'm not the one read the story of some stranger post on Internet. So it's totally your fault, Levi!

Asmo: Could you two stop fighting pleeease?

Satan: I agree, it's no time to blame, my power is weakening, so does my wrath.

Belphie: Yeah, I don't feel drowsy as usual, I wonder why. How are you feeling, Beel?

Beel: I'm hungry, but the hunger is less than before.

Mammon: Just what story we're stucked, huh? Yo, Levi, spill all the beans.

Levi: It's a fanfiction that someone wrote about the seven lords abandoned Henry for another human. Yet it's also a demon au so the writer use ours name as the seven lords' casual name. In the fanfic, we met another human exchange student and we were fond of them. And then we forget Henry, we started to dislike him and we even abuse him with verbally or physically. Henry was so sad and heartbroken that he decided to leave the Devildom forever. The seven lords finally realized their mistakes but Henry was dead when they rush to human world.

Mammon:... Okay, totally don't know what the fuck are you talking about.

Lucifer: So what's our roles? The seven lords?

Satan: I don't think so, cause there's no reason our powers weakening if we are the seven lords.

Levi: But I don't remember there's any other characters. So I guess we're kind of break the rules in this world? Like we're the OP or the bug in this world? Just like the anime......

Belphie: Shut up, Levi.

Satan: I read this fanfic before, too. And I agree with Levi. Still, I am curious about this place where we are. The starter always hide something important to know the world and the whole event after all.

Levi:Umm...I believe this place is where Henry lives shortly after the brothers cast him out. But I can't remember its name.

Asmo: This house have a name? Just like the House of Lamentation?

Levi: Exactly!...And I think the short name of this house also is HOL! Ugh, just why can't I remember its name!!

Lucifer: Levi, if what you and Satan said is true, then I think it's natural that you can't recall this house's name. Cross his arms.

Levi: Eh?

Satan: Nods Well, It's normally if the name of this house is one of the important clue in this story, so you could only remember that when the story near end right?

Levi: Sob Th- thank you, you two...

Belphie: I don't get much you three said, but if we the the characters that didn't exist in the original story, then what's the purpose of we were stucked in here?

Mammon:...Oi! Is that...MC?

All the brothers turn to the place where Mammon points at. There you are, sitting outside the house, alone and stareing down at your phone, you're trembling.

Asmo: Eh? Why are they sitting alone in the street? It's dangerous for a human!

Asmo is ready to walk toward you but Lucifer grabs his collar.

Asmo: Lucifer!!

Lucifer: We could keep an eye on them from here, but how could you explain to them who we are if you just ran into them?

Asmo: *pout*

Satan: Then, we could use some fake name as the casual name we use in this world.

Lucifer: You mean like in the human world, SULLY?

Satan: *grit his teeth* I swear to Diavolo, if you call me that stupid name again...

Lucifer: *smirk*

Levi: Meh, here we go again.

Mammon: They are just like cat and dog, aren't they? Still, we should think some names so we could meet MC ASAP, stop being foolish.

Lucifer/Satan: *TSK*

[confirmeddead]

Been thinking a lot of what season 3 might look like so here are my thoughts.

These are just ideas. I am not a writer, I’m just having fun engaging with fellow IWTV fans! I’m excited for whatever they do 🩷

Instead of Lestat telling his story to someone, Louis is the one to find his book in a shop window and read it. Our Louis loves his books so of course he’d pick up Lestat’s! Or be gifted a copy by him 😊

Throughout the series we see Louis reading Lestat’s book and the show pans to Lestat’s narration of his own story. I’d love Louis playing the Daniel in S3 (in a way) and audibly reacting to what he’s reading.

We’d get Rockstar Lestat updates aplenty. TV, Ads, social media, radio, etc. He’s just constantly in the background and the news is hyping up his SF concert. And Louis definitely wants to seek Lestat out and attend this concert.

I think the other storyline should be Daniel and Armand. I can see something like the chase happening that leads to their eventual companionship/Daniel’s turning. Daniel is gaining a lot of attention from the book from mortals and vampires alike. Armand takes it upon himself to tail Daniel and keep him safe. Since Sam and Fareed are listed in the cast, they might be part of Armand’s staff.

We’d be getting 18th century Lestat/Armand then that juxtaposition of Rockstar Lestat and Devil’s Minion Armand, which will be a bit of a breather from the heaviness that is Lestat’s origin.

I’m thinking this season would be a departure from what we’re used to. Seasons 1 and 2 were telling one story from (mostly) Louis’ POV. I realize TVL is Lestat’s story, but TVL is also a direct lead into Queen of the Damned. They have other stories to tell, most notably Armand and Daniel’s. All of this while keeping Louis in the plot, they have a lot to do and accomplish.

Fingers crossed for a 10-12 episode season!

Yes I want a Louis and Lestat reunion asap but I’d rather see a build up to it in the last episodes before the concert

[onthehellevator]

this hair is giving everything

someone cast him in a drama asap please

[cafecitoeddie]

Eddie goes to therapy 2x a week

Eddie takes yoga classes with Hen

slasa classes with Karen 

Wine and draw with Maddie

helps Bobby with TLC/reno on the new house he and Athena buy

has his big gay breakthrough

Strengthens his relationship with Chris and repairs it via nightly chats

Buck realizes things are fun with Lou but not serious and he doesn’t want to stay in another relationship just for sex again

Is planning to break up with him when Eddie announces he’s gay and Bucks mind is blown

then immediately that week TZP (fan cast) shows up to the station to thank Eddie helping him out of a wreck a few days ago and asks him out

Eddie blushes prettily and just nonstop 

Buck has his OH moment, breaks up with his guy, and then PINES

until they have a trapped dads moment when Chris is on a flight back and there are confessions made

happily ever after the end thanks for coming to my Ted talk ❤️

Sis this is my vision for season 8 Eddie and I will not be swayed! Need someone to write it ASAP

this is the best ask i’ve ever gotten. thank you nonny. ❤️

TZP fan cast is fucking sending me. i’m dead and gone. please can we please get eddito a hot young boyfriend? please i am begging on my hands and knees.

EDDIE BLUSHES PRETTILY AND JUST NONSTOP. (that already happens around buck no?)

[youremyheaven]

I read recently that you mentioned that Jupiter guys are not the right love choice for introverted girls lol 👀 I think it may be true but I want to make an observation on my experience dating one. My boyfriend has moon in Vishaka and asc in Purva Bhadrapada, and although he is the definition of cutie patootie 🥺 and has a lot of charisma when interacting with others he only has a couple of friends that he hangs out with. His inner circle is me, his family and his best friend. I also have a brother with sun in Vishaka and I must say that he is a total hermit, he only talks to one or two classmates and now that we are on vacation he literally spends his time locked in his room without going out anywhere or seeing anyone else than my parents and me. If we were Japanese I bet he'd probably be one of those hikikomori 😭😳 I came to the conclusion that in this particular case it has a lot of influence that Vishaka is an outcasted nakshatra. I'm a outcasted nakshatra's moon too so I know very well the process of being naturally rejected by others regardless of what you do 😕 Although my boyfriend is the sweetest in the world, it is sad to see him being left aside by friends and colleagues for not "connecting" or "fitting in" with them, and these experiences naturally lead you to be more introverted or shy with the time... In fact, this characteristic of both of us being "freaks" was one of the things that united us when we met and I don't remember if it was in this blog or in another that I read that usually the marginalized nakshatras usually tend to get together with each other 👽🤝🏻

Omg 🥺🥺🥺

Yes you did read that on my blog 🫣🫣 about outcaste / marginalized naks (Shudra caste and outcaste naks) getting together 😩

That's what I meant when I said "stereotypically outgoing Jupiter men" because again, not every Jupiter man or woman is going to be a social butterfly. I have noticed many Vishaka individuals being very lowkey even if they're popular. Jennie, Vishaka Moon is the most private out of all Blackpink members, Beyonce, Vishaka Moon, notoriously never gives interviews lol, but regardless of the nakshatras, our other placements, especially our houses, also plays a huge role in how social we are. For example, if someone has many 11h/10h/1h placements, they're naturally going to be more outgoing and sociable as opposed to someone with 6h/8h/12h placements. The most socially awkward type of people have malefics influencing their 3h and 5h.

Obviously someone can also be introverted without being particularly "socially awkward" and those people tend to have 7h and 4h influence. I don't think I talk about houses enough on this blog (I will try to in the future)

Although plantery influences can broadly help us understand someone's nature, their overall chart plays a bigger role in shaping their personality.

For example, Will Smith, Vishaka Moon, Asap Rocky, Punarvasu Moon both love to party but are otherwise more lowkey (atleast on social media)

[manicplank]

How would the cast react if they are about to get stabbed or shot by someone only for someone else that they're close push them out of the way and get hit instead. What would they do then? Also fyi, no the person did not die, just need to rest at the hospital for a few weeks.

They took a bullet for them

Peppino: He's shocked. He was horrified that his life was going to end, but when he opened his eyes, he saw someone took the hit. He's relieved but also worried. He visits them in the hospital almost every day until they recover.

Gustavo: While he's still in shock, he also feels honored and loved. He was worried and didn't sleep until he found out that they would be okay. He buys them flowers, chocolates, and a "get well soon" balloon to express his gratitude.

Mr. Stick: Dramatic white guy; drops to his knees and screams, "NOOOOO!" And then he sees that they're okay. He was the one who took them to the hospital. He waited in the lobby since he couldn't go back with them. He finally gets to visit them and thanks them.

Pepperman: He picks them up in his arms and hugs them close. He cries a little, thinking they're dead. Once they hug him back, he pulls away, still holding them bridal style. He carries them into the distance despite the fact that they should go to the hospital.

The Vigilante: Almost as dramatic as Stick. He takes his hat off and holds it to his chest, mourning them. Then he sees they're alive. He's enthralled. He gets them to a hospital ASAP where he visits them daily.

The Noise: He's confused, he doesn't know how to feel about it. He accepted death, but someone saved him from it. When they're in the hospital, he's still very conflicted. He doesn't call or write. But he does show up one day to ask why they did it.

Noisette: She's honored but super worried. She's overdramatic and cries. She's convinced that they're dead. When they're in the hospital recovering, she sends all the gifts she can; flowers, balloons, chocolates, etc.

Fake Peppino: He screams and wails. He thinks they're completely dead. They got hurt in front of him, it was so scary. He doesn't seem to understand that they'll be okay, even with them telling him. He just mourns them until they're out of the hospital, then he squishes them with hugs.

Pizzahead: Hear me out on this one. He thinks it's funny. He knew he would be okay if he got attacked, so they didn't need to save him. He thinks their attempt at saving him was silly. Of course, he's flattered. He knows they'll be fine and isn't very concerned.

Pillar John: He's completely baffled. Why would they do that?! He's made of rock, getting shot or stabbed literally wouldn't faze him! There was no need for anyone to get hurt. He's very worried and takes them to the hospital where he tries to explain that he would've been fine.

Gerome: He's confused. Like John, he'd be fine had anyone tried to stab or shoot him. However, he does feel honored that someone was willing to risk their life to save his. He visits them in the hospital a few times. Not much is said, but he liked keeping them company.