#the button

[teffiebell]

[splodencible]

jackpot

wally west x flirty!reader word count: 1734 maddie's scribbles: i wrote this spontaneously in an hour lol. very heavily inspired by The Button show by CUT on YouTube. again, happy valentine's day ♡

The crisp, cold air pinches the skin around your eyes, making you feel more alive. Not like you really need it, your heart is working overtime as you near the studio where the recording takes place.

You don’t remember how and when exactly you signed up for a quick dating show, but here you are nonetheless. Must have been one of those lonely nights you felt like you’ll never meet a good enough man.

Your expectations weren’t crazy, you just wanted a guy who could make you laugh and would be pathetically head over heels for you. And wouldn’t hurt if he was also a redhead.

When you get in, the studio is full of people, the majority of the contestants, and some of the crew. A tired, but still kind woman with a big cup of coffee in her hand leads you to the make-up station, explaining the rules of the show as you walk with a group of the “first-rounders” as the assistant called you.

“You get 5 minutes with your conversation partner, during which the button will ask you mostly compromising questions based on your questionnaire.”

Shit.

You have absolutely no idea what you’ve put in there, you were either drunk or pulled an all-nighter third time in a row.

“When the button lights up,” the woman continues, walking so fast you almost have to run up. “You can press it if you want to change your partner.”

She shoots a look from above her shoulder at the group of terrified loners who were desperate enough to sign up at all.

“But you gotta be first, if the other person wants to change as well.”

Before you reach the vanity lined section, you gather a quick look at people accompanying you, but no-one really catches your eye.

And no redheads, unfortunately.

“If none of you press it, then you get another 5 minutes, and then again and so forth until a total of 20 minutes pass.”

“And then what happens?” A tall, big-eyed brunette asks.

“Then, if you both want to continue, you get an all-expenses paid date.”

You take a good look at her and realize she might steal your man before you even get a chance to sit at the damn table.

Maybe it would be better this way, you wouldn’t make a fool out of yourself in front of cameras and a couple dozens of people watching.

The make-up room is full of people, scents of setting sprays mixing in the air, slowly making their way into your nostrils. You get seated at the station with a buzzcut short woman with the biggest glasses you’ve ever seen.

When she’s almost done quickly patching up your attempts at doing camera-ready make-up, some guy literally sprints inside the space, shouting like a maniac, tumbling over his words.

“Hi! Hello, sorry for—I’m here for the show, and they told me to—”

“C’mere,” your make-up artist waves at him, completely unamused. “I’m almost done with her and then I can powder you a little.”

Intrigued, you turn to peek at the late joiner.

Your mouth gapes a little when you see him; tall, pale, face peppered with freckles, green eyes and… fiery orange brows and wild hair above them.

“You must have broken quite a sweat running this fast here,” your make-up artist continues, not glancing at him. She is on her last touches, adding some highlighter to the highest point of your cheekbones.

“Uh, no—I mean, yeah. Totally.” He rubs the back of his neck, completely sheepish.

Then, his big eyes stop at you, and something lights up in them.

“Well, hello there,” the redhead walks up, satisfied grin on his handsome face. “Name’s—”

“Flirting’s only allowed by the dating table,” the MUA cuts in, her tone sharp.

“Yes ma’am,” he salutes and blushes like a little child caught red-handed at eating cookies right before lunch.

You can’t help the giggle that escapes past your mouth, and thankfully, he catches it. The pretty boy winks at you and thank heavens that you’re sitting, otherwise you’d be fainting like a lady with her corset tied too tight.

• ♥︎ • ♥︎ • ♥︎ • ♥︎ •

It’s been over an hour that you’re sitting in the waiting room with other contestants who didn’t get a chance to go yet. Most of it due to the tall brunette you saw earlier, switching every man at the very end of their ‘date’. 

As another guy walks away from the table with her, the insanely cute redhead from earlier walks up to her by the table.

Oh hell no.

There goes your chance with him; they’re both very smitten with each other the moment they shake hands and introduce each other.

You barely make yourself listen to their conversation, the live view played on the wall-mounted TV. When the button lights up for the third time, you’re sure none of them would press it.

Good thing you didn’t bet anything on that, because the green-eyed man presses it with the speed of light it looks like, and your jaw is on the floor. Other people with you in the room start cheering, finally getting rid of the big-eyed beauty who ate every man alive for breakfast.

You’re even more shocked when your name is being called out by the 1st AD, and your body goes to the stage on autopilot.

He’s on his feet the moment he sees you, grin wide on his pale face. You swear he moves incredibly fast; maybe he has ADHD? That would fit your type, not that he would need to do anything at all to have you crazy about him.

As your palm slides into his, it’s like a parade of warm sparkles travel up your skin. You introduce yourself with your full name, but then add your preferred nickname, and he repeats it, as if he wanted to feel it roll off his tongue.

“And I’m Wallace, but literally no one calls me that. Maybe besides my teachers in junior high when I was in trouble.”

“So what should I call you?” You sit and ask, still in full shock that you’re here, and he is your first match.

“Wally’s fine, but you?” The grinning boy leans on the chair, casually, before almost lying down on the table, half-desperate to get closer to you. “You could call me anything you want.”

“Alright, anything.” You grin and mimic his position, your elbows wide on the table, hands only inches from his.

“Ooohh, I’m feeling some heavy buzzing over here,” the Button says in its robotic voice.

You feel a flush creeping up your neck, but it’s not like you care. Wally is clearly into you, the way he drills those bright green eyes into your face pales in comparison to what he had going with that tall woman from earlier.

He’s exactly what you wished for, what you came here for. You can't believe your luck, never before any of your wishes came true like this. After this ends, you have to play the lottery or go to a casino.

“How come such a beautiful woman like yourself is on a show like that?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you smirk and stretch your legs under the table in hopes of finding his shin. Wally’s nostrils flare up when you caress his calf with your foot, followed by his eyelids drooping heavily, his gaze darkening.

You can hear your own heart beating in your ears, pumping adrenaline, oxytocin and every other hormone that makes your belly fill with butterflies, skin itching to touch, breaths to mingle.

“So, Wally here has done a bunch of speed dating shows in the past, but he said they always dragged on for far too long. Is that true today?”

“Absolutely not.” He quips, eyes fixed on you, before darting them down to the table. “Also, if you may, I’m in the middle of something here, Button.”

You hear your name in the chirpy robotic voice coming from the white box between you and your date, “since you two are obviously into each other, I have only one question. Well, two, to be exact.”

“Shoot,” you dare, riding up your foot higher along the line of Wally’s leg. His fingers are twitching, getting closer to yours with every second that passes.

“Do you want to go on a date with Wally after the show?”

You laugh, the sound vibrant and bright and nod your head furiously. “Yes, of course I do.”

Wally's grin gets wider if it was even possible, and immediately after your words his little finger grazes your wrist. Letting out a quiet exhale, you get lightheaded, just like after a drink on an empty stomach.

You are completely drunk with him, and you don’t even know a single thing about him yet.

“And the other question?” Wally hurries the Button, now his foot playing with the hem of your wide leg jeans.

“Would you let Wally kiss you tonight?”

You gasp, the room suddenly feeling smaller, tighter.

You glance between Wally and the Button, the former not taking his eyes off you, waiting, his gaze intense and so intoxicating.

“That and much mo—”

In a blink of an eye you’re cut off, your lips suddenly busy with his, claiming your mouth like your air and he’s been holding his breath.

Wally kisses greedily, like he was starving and you were the first meal he had in ages. His palm is on the back of your neck, tilting your face to the side with his thumb over your cheek. You hum into the kiss, tasting him, feeling like you’re flying.

He parts from you before you could get lost, before you two would get past the point of no return. You're both breathing heavily, your chests moving up and down in sync.

“Let’s get out of here,” Wally beams, walking around the table, reaching out his hand towards you.

You take it and get up, ignoring whatever the Button is blabbing in the background, your sole focus the handsome redhead who may have come late to the recording, but who showed up just in time in your life. He’s leading you to the exit, some on the crew clapping and cheering, some standing shocked and frozen like statues.

When you’re at the door, you grin and wink at him, “and let’s buy a lottery ticket while we’re at it.”

⬅️ back to the main masterlist

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[malestransforming]

I would definitely hit the button and become a huge Scandinavian strongman over 6’5 350 pound of Viking strength 

You sit alone in your shitty apartment, drinking shitty beer that you bought with money from your shitty job. You sigh. You have no drive. There’s nothing to push you forward. Your life is a mess and you know it.

The button sits before you. What would be the harm in pushing it? Maybe the new you would have something to live for. You look around your empty room, at the mediocre possessions you have. You squeeze the extra ring of fat around your stomach, lamenting that if only you lived closer to a gym then you could go more frequently. 

Should you push the button? Your thoughts drift to your parents, but you tell yourself they’ll get over it. 

In a swift movement, you push the button. There’s no time to feel regret or even to second guess your choice because a thought has wormed into your head. One word: grind. 

In an instant every difficult task becomes doable. You have drive now. The urge to improve, to get better, to grind and work harder.

You stand, your body a ball of jitters and energy. You instinctively prepare yourself to head to the gym before going to work. But you don’t have a shitty job. You started a tech company a decade ago, now you’re head of Denmark’s biggest tech company. Because of course you are. You live for the grind. 

Your apartment suddenly looks different around you. Larger. Cleaner. Scandinavian furniture replaces the cheap clutter piece by piece. Minimalist lighting glows softly against concrete walls. Through massive windows you see the skyline of Copenhagen stretching out beneath a cold grey morning sky.

Your body begins to change. Your pulse quickens and heat floods your body.

Your posture straightens violently with a series of pops running up your spine. Your chest expands outward as dense muscle thickens beneath your skin. The softness around your stomach tightens immediately, fat burning away as hard mass forms underneath.

Your shoulders broaden and widen. The fabric of your shirt tightens across swelling pecs and growing deltoids. Muscle surges down your arms in thick waves, veins beginning to rise beneath the skin. Your forearms grow heavy and powerful, hands widening against the expensive fabric of your sweatpants.

Grind. The word echoes again. It’s becoming a mantra.

Your thighs tense painfully. Muscle packs onto your legs with frightening density, stretching the fabric around your quads. Your calves thicken. Your stance widens naturally to support the increasing weight of your body.

You are getting bigger. And not lean either. Massive.

Your jaw tightens as rough blond stubble spreads across your face. Your neck thickens enormously, forcing your collar outward. Pale hair creeps across your powerful forearms and heavier chest. Your entire frame continues expanding upward and outward until you feel huge.

You stand well over six feet tall, broad enough to fill the room through presence alone. The floor creaks softly beneath your increasing weight. Your body feels dense now. Heavy. Built through years of deadlifts, carries, presses, and brutal discipline. Every movement radiates controlled power.

You raise a massive hand to your face, fingers brushing against the thick blond beard spreading across your jaw. The coarse hairs scratch against your calloused palm. Heavy muscles strain beneath fitted athletic clothing while pale hair creeps across your thick forearms and powerful chest. Cold blue eyes stare back at you, sharpened by years of ambition, discipline, and relentless grind.

Your breathing deepens.

Something hot spreads through your chest as your posture straightens unconsciously, your larger body settling naturally into itself. The transformation no longer feels foreign. It feels correct.

Thoughts continue to reorganize themselves. Weaknesses are identified and discarded. Excuses dissolve instantly beneath the crushing certainty that effort solves everything.

Memories flood into your mind of strongman competitions, freezing early morning training sessions, brutal deadlift sessions, years spent grinding your body into something powerful. The grind was part of your life from a young age. You’ve never stopped working for what you have. You remember hustling sleepless nights coding in cramped apartments. Years spent grinding through failures and investor meetings. Early mornings. Cold calls. Product launches. Expansion. Acquisitions. Discipline layered upon discipline until success became inevitable.

Purpose hums through your bloodstream stronger than caffeine ever could. Your massive hands flex at your sides as energy floods your body, demanding movement, demanding progress. The heavy weight of your body settles comfortably onto your joints, familiar and earned.

Grind is your daily mantra.

The old you wanted motivation. But Kasper Lund understands motivation was never real.

Discipline is real. The grind is real.

[frostnova321]

Please, Don’t Press The Button

i am so very normal about that short oh my g o d. joll why do you do this to me

cant believe this is his first fully animated video its so well done the allegories are incredible

go watch it if you haven’t already, just be aware it does touch upon dark topics!

[batchofpigeon]

HERMIT A DAY MAY: Day Nine -- Favourite Event.

!!!! DOCM77 SLEEPIN ON HIS THRONNEEE :D

God he's so silly goofy. Took a lot more time sketching this one (pretty much all day actually) so it's actually no longer day Nine in the UK. I loved the button so much, it was in the season i first started watching HC! :D

[seochangbingifs]

FAVORITE CHANGBIN DANCE MOMENTS 11/∞: Super Lady Challenge with Jeon Soyeon

[keanurye]

Thank you all so much for the 100 followers 🥳