Ever since you accidentally spilled your lunch on Im Youngmin, the popular chaebol senior with money and fame, he’s seemed to hate you. However, when some odd photos of the two of you arguing appear in a tabloid, he has a solution as to how you can make up for it– pretend to be his girlfriend.
high school au + fake dating au
same universe/basic timeline as let me love you
multichaptered for all you youngmin stans!
reader is a second-year in high school; youngmin is a third-year
“What does this have to do with me?” You asked, tossing the
magazine back onto the table. “I’m not the one who’s famous, nor am I the one
who took the picture.” Youngmin glared at you for a moment more before rubbing
his hand on his face, sighing deeply. When his eyes met yours again, his frown
had been replaced by a much softer, more despairing expression.
“I need your help,” he muttered, “I know what I’m about to
ask is a lot, but believe me, if the truth comes out, not only am I screwed,
but you are as well.”
You stared at him.
“Look, consider it payback for you fucking up my uniform,”
he said, leaning against the table. “Here’s the favor: I need you to pretend to
be my girlfriend.”
“Bye.” You spun on your heel, reaching for the door to the
“(Y/N), please.” Something about the desperation in Youngmin’s
voice made you freeze, turning around to face him. “I… I’m desperate. Nobody
can know that I was at that competition, or that I dance. You being my
girlfriend is the perfect solution—you have an excuse as to why you were
talking to me, I have an excuse as to why I was at the competition, and the
press can stop saying that I’m crazy and not fit to inherit.”
His name is Ed Jerse, but it could have been anything. She wishes that it had been something more memorable - wasn’t there a Gabriel once? - and then wonders at the perversity of her mind, wishing for a different murderer instead of trying to escape death. She wonders if maybe her death has become an inevitability, a fixed point that fire will burn cleaner than cancer or whatever is gnawing, headache hard, behind her eyes. Gabriel was the Saturday after that cosmic joke of a case in New Hampshire; Detective White and her cat scratched out on the back of a stranger.
They were all strangers.
Tall, dark strangers with an intense gaze who dared talk to her at whatever bar she was hiding in. She hadn’t meant to form a habit, but after too many Fridays with too few distractions, Mulder and her mother intruding on those last few inches that were hers, Dana Scully had run out of her tidy life and into a dirty little secret.
This way there was no inevitable breakup, no awkward personal life boundaries conversation with Mulder and no hopeful looks from her mom. She could solve and file the mundane mystery of each man in a single night. There was satisfaction in that, and in her body, and in knowing that on Monday, when she walked the Hoover Building corridors in a pristine suit, not one of her colleagues would guess that she’d been bent over a strangers kitchen table, stuttering curse words on the edges of each breath 48 hours before.
I asked you guys the question earlier today, now it’s my turn to explain. I’ve been thinking about this for a week now as I’ve had to come to terms with some events from the past year. Life has changed a lot and most of it I’m happy about. I’ve had some reminders of things I don’t like, but that’s part of life. I’m going to throw a keep reading link as this is going to more than likely be a very long read. Just stick with me.
theyre in that!! i use a brush called “oil pastel large” and the only change i made to the brush is that i turned off color dynamics to give it a more chalky look. i use it entirely for blending/painting/blocking/lines/erasing/sketching because it’s just really dynamic and satisfying!! even if ya dont like that brush that’s still a really rad brush set to play with!! i use abunch of textures in this brush set as well for lazy backround jobs
i used this brush 90% of this drawing for example
and my commissions and almost all my drawings unless i drew them in pchat first or iscribble
Cas and Dean have been best friends for ten years, the fact that Cas is a bit in love with the other man a secret he’s kept to himself. However, after having a few too many drinks at the bar, they end up at Cas’s apartment alone. Alone with far too many things between them left unsaid.
Rated M for sexual content.
Cas had known Dean for ten years.
And he’d been in love with him for that long too.
“Happy Birthday,” a voice muttered in Cas’s ear, causing him to turn in his seat. He hadn’t heard Dean come in, but that wasn’t really so surprising. Cas tended to keep his door open all the time, so it was easy for people to sneak up on him. Especially when he was going over a manuscript.
Dean set a cupcake down atop the page he’d been reading, Cas managing to crack a small smile.
“Wow, look at that,” he admired the workmanship of the cake – all flowery and pink with a bee in the center. “Did you do this?”
“Of course,” Dean went back around the desk, sitting down across from Cas before undoing the front button on his suit. “You know me, I’m excellent with frosting and… sprinkles and shit.” Cas cocked a skeptical brow. “I got it down at the bakery. You know I did.”
“Yes, I do,” Cas agreed. “You must have requested the bee though. I didn’t see that through the window.”
“I can be thoughtful,” Dean defended. “I am a poet after all.”
“You haven’t published anything in years.”
“I’ve published plenty of other people’s stuff,” he sniffed. “And just because I haven’t published anything recently doesn’t mean I haven’t been writing. You don’t know me. You don’t know my life.”
“Yeah, okay,” Cas wiped his finger along the top of the pink frosting before sucking it between his lips. “That’s why we lived together for three years. And why I was one of the groomsmen at your wedding. Because I don’t know you.” A painful memory, the wedding, but he wasn’t about to tell Dean that.
“Not a groomsman. You were my second best man, get it right.”
“There isn’t a difference.”
“Sure there is.” They’d had this debate before. “Sam’s my brother, so he had to be my best man. But you’re my best friend, and I didn’t want to choose.”
“So you made up a new position for me.”
“You should be flattered.”
“Oh, I am,” Cas rolled his eyes.
“Nothing I ever do is good enough for you,” Dean shook his head, feigning offense. “Here I am, bringing you a damn cupcake on your birthday, making you my second best man, and I don’t even get a ‘thank you.’ We’ve known each other ten years, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so underappreciated.”
“Oh, my apologies,” Cas said flatly. “Please, let me make it up to you. Would you like that blow job in my office or yours?”
“Aw, you know me so well,” Dean grinned, winking. “That’s okay though, I’ve got assistants for that kind of dirty work. Besides, it is your birthday. If anyone should be getting blow jobs, it’s you.”
Captain Sigrun Eide from the Known World’s
space armada. Sigrun is supposed to be taking an official picture in full
uniform just after getting her new rank as captain, but she keeps getting
distracted by people off camera congratulating her.
So yeah, im designing uniforms for the sssspaceAU. I like the overall look of this one, but I’m not quite sure about the colors yet, so I’m keeping it white for now.
It had been a week since the debate club incident and things weren’t any easier on you. When Alexander Hamilton wanted something, he went after it with everything he had; so did Thomas Jefferson. When they both wanted you, it was like a small war in itself.
You couldn’t complain, though. Two handsome, intelligent guys battling for you was a good problem to have. The stress came in attempting to choose between them.
You came back from a Thursday morning walk and spotted a small box at your door. Upon opening it, you saw chocolates and a letter. As you popped a chocolate into your mouth, you unrolled the letter.
“Who’s it from this time…?” You wondered out loud.
It was from Alexander, which meant there would almost certainly be a bigger box of chocolates from Thomas tomorrow. Every time you received a gift, it was competitively larger than the last one.
You were about to shut your door, settle down, and devour the sweets when a foot placed itself in the doorway.
You swiveled around. “John, what are you doing here?”
“Need to talk to you…oh, I see you got the chocolates.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Is this about Alexander?”
“Unimportant. What is important is you staying on campus this Friday night.”
“You’ll find out.” He smirked, walking away.
“John, tell me right now!”
He began to run down the hallway, laughing, and you ran after him. You chased him all the way to the center of campus where you crashed painfully into an incoming body.
“Fuck!” You watched John finally escape you as you got up. “Are you okay?” You extended a hand to the other person.
“I’m fine.” He took it.
“James? I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there!”
“(Y/N), I was looking for you!” He smiled. “Just wanted to know if you’d be on campus Friday night.”
“That seems to be a popular question,” you groaned.
“Never mind. Yes, I will be on campus.”
“Great!” James beamed.
“I guess so.” You nodded.
It was a bit painful waiting until Friday night. You were distracted in all of your classes; either you were thinking about what would happen or examining Alexander and Thomas for some sort of sign.
8:00 PM. You were laying on your bed; nothing had happened yet. Impatiently, you walked out of the dorm…and smelled food. Your favorite food.
You followed the scent, and couldn’t believe your eyes.
A table was spread out with more food you’ve ever seen in your life, and every other plate was separated by a candle. Sitting at one side of it was Thomas Jefferson, looking more elegant than you’ve ever seen him. You had to admit, the sight of him made your heart flutter.
“(Y/N)…” His voice was smoother than butter.
You approached. “Is this all for me?”
“You deserve all of it.” He got up and kissed your hand. “You’re wonderful.”
A blush crept on your face.
“Let’s eat, shall we?”
You both sat down. It was…a surprisingly pleasant dinner. You laughed as he eagerly dug into a plate of mac and cheese, you talked about classes and laughed about your worst professors, and he complimented you constantly.
“Let me feed you,” Thomas suggested, holding up a spoon.
You ate from it, but you almost couldn’t swallow the food. You locked eyes with Thomas and your heart stopped.
“You’re perfect…” He began to lean in. You were so close, just about to-
“What the hell is this?!”
You shot away from him, facing Alexander. Lafayette, Hercules, and John were behind him, carrying various instruments.
“Exactly what it looks like.” Thomas smirked, wrapping an arm around you.
“Alexander, what are you doing?” You asked.
“I wanted you out here so I could serenade you.” He frowned.
“Oh…can I still hear it?” You asked sheepishly.
He beamed. “Of course!”
“But (Y/N)-” Thomas whined.
“The lady wants it, the lady gets it,” Alexander teased.
His rival pouted and grumbled under his breath. He glared at Alexander for the duration of the song, but he couldn’t notice when his eyes were on you.
Your full attention was on him, too. The music was slightly out of tune; it was obvious that they had learned how to play just for this occasion. But the effort was there, and Alexander’s affection made your heart melt. He saw you tapping your foot to the beat and almost lost his place, stuttering. The song finished and you clapped enthusiastically.
“Drum solo!” Hercules hollered and began banging on the drums.
You laughed, but Thomas’ voice stopped everything cold. “Can we get back to our dinner?”
“Not yet,” Alexander walked up to you, grabbing your hand. “I wanted to know if…if maybe you wanted to go on a date.”
“That’s what I came here to ask her.” Thomas grabbed your other hand protectively. You were quite literally caught in the middle.
“Fight, fight, fight, fight…” John chanted softly until Lafayette elbowed him in the ribs.
“I’m sure she’d rather go on a date with me.”
“She’s already on a date with me. Jefferson, one. Hamilton, zero.”
“Yeah, one she didn’t know about! If you had told her, she would’ve said no.”
“Is that true, (Y/N)?” Thomas looked at you.
“I…” You looked down. “Look, I like both of you. I don’t know who I want to choose yet.”
“Take your time.” They spoke in unison, then glared at each other.
“I think I’d like to go back to my room.”
“I’ll walk you,” Thomas offered.
“I’ll walk her,” Alexander spat.
“No, I will.”
“Tais-toi! (Shut up!)” Lafayette groaned. “You can both walk her! Ce n’est pas si dur! (It’s not that hard!)”
So there you were, walking between Alexander and Thomas, their hands still intertwined with yours. You could have sworn that, every other minute, you’d be pulled closer to one of them.
Finally, you reached your door. You looked at both of them. However they appeared to each other, they weren’t like that to you. They were both amazing, and sweet, and smart, and cute….This would be harder than you thought.
You hugged Alexander, then Thomas, then retreated into your dorm room.
While you began to prepare for bed, you could hear them as they walked in the hallway.
“She hugged me first.”
“She hugged me longer.”
You slipped on a pair of noise-canceling headphones. What were you going to do?
teacakes of the southwestern world; august 9, 2013
When Rebecca told me she was having a luncheon at the house tomorrow, she asked if I could make something that wasn’t cupcakes. She thought that because it was early, cupcakes might have been a little heavy for afternoon tea. Thankfully, I had just the thing. Getting the recipe, however, was going to take a little help. That’s why—after I took a seat by the window on the bus—I pulled out my phone to dial Ace. It was still early in Franklin, so there was a chance he wouldn’t answer.
“Gracie?” When he did answer, after four rings, he sounded like I woke him up. I wasn’t surprised. It had to be just after 4:00 in the morning. I felt guilty, but he was still on summer break.