#let me be a script editor i need to get my hands on that fucking thing

[pronouncingitwang]

SORRY but the nightingale line was so fucking annoying maybe i have an incredibly low tolerance for self-referentialness but why would that line mean anything to the two of them

[bstick-2015]

The Overworked First

Part 2

And a mess it was indeed, because that first scene reading was the beginning of Angel’s way to disassociate even more without having to drink or take drugs. And away from Valentino, which was exactly what Cyn and Angel was doing at the moment. Cyn made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with the sexual side of the script, but that didn’t mean that Angel couldn’t use certain actions in the scripts to get just slightly close to the secretary. And Cyn had drawn a line to not let him get emotionally close enough to her. It was a transaction of sorts that didn’t lead to sexually explicit behavior from the bat demon who looked out of place really in hell. Not that Angel ever cared about looks when it came to his scene partners. Speaking of which…that was what the two had been doing, running it a few times and Angel had wanted just one more run before he had to act out the whole scene. She wasn’t bad at remembering lines and she seemed to be good at acting. Maybe she had a little bit of experience with disassociating from her own reality, especially since she was a secretary of Valentino’s and Vox’s. She had some nerves of steel to handle them both, really.

“Run it one more time before you get in the studio?” She asked, as she looked at the script, checking it to make sure that she wasn’t making repetitive mistakes that could harm Angel because of her own performance.

“Sure…how much time we got left?” He said as he laid on his bed in annoyance over the script. “Not that it matters…Travis fucking sucks with writing…” he growls in anger at the script in his hand.

“Why do you think I look through it before approving it and sending it to Val, dumbass.” Cyn smirked as she winked at him. “But I didn’t tell you that, I just have to stroke his ego and praise his scrawny little ass. Then the script is golden…” she snickers. “Because his scripts are fucking shitty. But I’m not perfect at it either, so sometimes it’s still shitty. I keep telling Val that we need an actual writer and editor, but what do I know? I’m just the help.” She quoted her last two words and rolled her eyes.

“Well, acting it out makes it a little less shitty, toots.” Angel said as he pat the side of his bed for her. “I can stand while you do the words. No kissing like usual, yeah?” He asked as he sat up and stretched, cracking his back slightly. “I need lighter and more smaller coworkers…doing it for hours on end is killing my back…” he grumbled.

“Good luck with that…” Cyn snickered at his annoyance as she looked at the script. “From the top like always?” Angel glanced up from the script and flipped her off, making her chuckle. “Alright…alright…” she said as she counted down from three, snapping her fingers. She sits up on the bed to do the lines, crossing her legs as she looked up at Angel, her eyes glowing softly in the dimly lit dressing room.

Angered Demon: I worked my ass off this whole week and I get home, wanting to see you pretty and cuddle you. But I come home to you fucking the neighbor, babe?! Don’t I pleasure you enough or am I just not good enough for you anymore?!

Angel Dust: I was just trying to have some fun, baby. You know I love you. *he approaches the demon and kneeling down to get between the legs, spreading the demon’s legs as he stares up at them*

Angered Demon: You…love me?! Ha! You really think that I’ll crumble for your cutesy little act when you still have him leaking from you still? How long has this been going on for, huh? You doing the neighborhood too?! *the demon gesturing to the door, still furious at Angel’s actions*

Angel Dust: I-I'm sorry, I swear it was just a mistake. It won't happen again, I promise. *he raises his torso to get their bodies close together*

Angered Demon: You’re fucking right it won’t happen again, sweetheart~ *the demon grabs his chin as they stare at him with a lustful expression*

“Cut…okay…sorry, I’m not good at the expression and that was so embarrassing, I’m sorry, Angel.” She let go of his face as she covered her own face as she blushed. “No idea how you can do this without messing up…” She speaks with defeat in her voice.

“Eh…been around the block one time too many, I guess. That’s probably time for me to get in the studio, but thanks like always. It’s nice reading a scene and not being filled up and filmed at the same time.” Angel led her out of the dressing room and Cyn returned to her desk, getting to work while Angel got to work on the scene of the next video.

This easy “transaction” as Cyn agreed with Angel to call it that, started out well and good for Angel, less hits and more smooth videos. But it didn’t take long to have Val start picking up on the pieces of their little scene reading.

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

Masooooo! I have a headcannon idea between these two fineass men 🥵😍

The reader is an actress who is Damian's girlfriend and is casted as Yennefer of Vengerberg in The Witcher on Netflix, He's excited to watch her in the show but gets insanely jealous of Henry aka Geralt of Rivia; her love interest

OMG OMG OMG, okay, this is EVERYTHING! Because I’ve been both obsessed with The Witcher on Netflix (also discovered a very unhealthy crush on Henry Cavill 🤣) and I love Damian so 👀 This will be fun 😂

@ziasaph , @alyhull , @theworldofotps , @wrestlersownmyheart , @new-zealand-chic , @cuzimacomedian , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @aerynscrichton , @thealliasylum , @crowleysqueenofhell , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @ava-valerie , @sultryfandoms

You did it!

The most important script of your whole career was in your hands

And you couldn’t contain your excitement

So the first thing you did was call Damian

“What’s up, mami?” His breathing was heavy and you could hear Rhea and some other guys in the back screaming and laughing

“Did I interrupt your set?” You asked as soon as you heard him putting the weights back down on the rack

“No, it’s so okay, baby. I needed a break anyway” He chuckled “You sound excited, do you have any good news?”

“Guess who you’re talking to?”

“Ummm....My girlfriend?” He cackled

“Incorrect, my dear sir” Your voice now had a slight English accent and it didn’t pass by unnoticed to Damian’s ears

“Shut up! Y/N, you better not be playing with me”

“I’m not” You squealed in excitement

“You did it? You did it! See? I told you you would get the role! I’m so proud of you!” His scream was so loud that you needed to take the phone away from your ear for a few seconds

In the back, you could hear Rhea and the other guys doing a “yay, she got it” chant

Damian promised you that you would celebrate when he was back home and so he did

Once you were back from the celebration date (where you spent most of the time talking about Henry and how amazing he was)

You were ready to show Damian the first scene of Yennefer and Geralt together

Simon, one of the editors, who became a big friend of yours had edited the first scene of you and Henry together and so he let you borrow the scene on a dvd so you could show Damian

Since you didn’t know what scene it was, you were also excited as you pressed play

The scene was one of your recent ones. The djinn scene.

You were topless while your character, Yennefer, and Geralt had an argument

The next scene was followed by a pretty heavy make out/sex scene

Anyone could see the chemistry between you and Henry

The Director, as well as the other cast members, almost always pointed it out how natural you two were as a couple and how convincing you are together

“And out of all scenes” You muttered under your breath and watched as Damian gulped

He was having an internal debate and wasn’t sure how to feel about it

The rational part of him was incredibly proud of you. He knew how much you wanted this role and how much it would help you career-wise

But the emotional part of him was furious and jealous. You were so good at acting that it almost looked like he was watching you cheat on him right in front of his eyes

He knew that it wasn’t the case, but fuck, it was so convincing! The way you and Henry acted towards each other, as two lovers would, was driving him insane!

Sensing his uncomfortableness, you turned off the tv

“I’m sorry. If I knew that was the scene, I wouldn’t even have brought the dvd home”

Damian unclenched his jaw and took a deep sigh “You don’t have to apologize, mami. I’m the one who has to apologize to you” He kissed the back of your hand softly “You’re a great actress and it shows” He huffed at the last part “It’s just weird seeing you with another person in such a natural way that....”

“It looks like I’m cheating on you?”

“Sort of...it’s the natural response of my instincts, I guess. And well, they could’ve chose someone more attractive than Henry Cavill” He mocked

You slightly giggled at his sour joke and completed for him “And the fact that he’s pretty makes you even more insecure”

“I’ll work it out” He mumbled

“Hey, I don’t want you to feel guilty about it, okay? You’re having a natural response and I understand. I would feel the same if they ever put you in a romantic storyline with one of the girls”

Straddling his hips, you held his face with your hands as you spoke

“Even though Henry has the English charm, you know my weakness lies on the Puerto Rican swag, right?” You teased him

“Really?” He smirked “So there’s no space in your heart, or panties, for the posh Prince Charming?”

“Oh please, a posh Prince Charming is overrated! You know my heart, and panties, belong to a certain Hispanic rocker” You smiled before kissing his lips

[arvinsescape]

Meet mum.

A/N: I do not think Nikki would be like this. Written for entertainment purposes only. As always hope you enjoy! I only changed the setting of the request.

Based on this request:  Hey I was wondering if You could do a Tom imagine where he brings the reader home to meet his parents and brothers but his mum don’t like her and judges her but Tom gets angry and sticks up for her ect.

Warnings: Language.

W/C: 2.5K. Wow how’d this get so long?

To say you were nervous too meet Tom’s family was an understatement. The only member of his family that you had officially met was his brother Harry, who you got on with really well. You were going to a restaurant in town, completely Tom’s idea, he was adamant that it was time you met the rest of his family and you were excited but also nervous.

You finished up getting ready and made your way downstairs were Tom and Harry were waiting.

“Sorry, I just needed to finish my hair off. It wasn’t cooperating.” You said as Tom grabbed his keys, wallet and jacket. He moved towards, placing a swift kiss to your cheek.

“That’s alright darling, we’ve got loads of time. You look beautiful by the way.”

“You look so nervous Y/N! Lighten up, my family are amazing, I’d say you’ve met the worst of us when you met Tom.” Harry laughed as he took in your tense posture.

“Oi! Don’t start already, you only get worse when Sam is with you.” Tom laughed as he gave Harry a light slap to the back of the head. “He’s right though love, they’re lovely, they’ll love you.” Tom reassured you with a smile as he grabbed your hand and you all made your way to the car.

**

The drive to the restaurant was quite relaxed, making your nerves die down slightly and you mostly had Harry to thank for that. He was consistently making jokes in order to settle your nerves. As you pulled up you realised that you were the first ones to arrive, having not spotted anyone else’s car. You made your way in, taking your seats at the large table, looking at all the empty seats, reminded you just how big Tom’s family was, and the nerves came back quicker than they’d settled.

“Sorry I’m late! Didn’t finish work on time!” A voice pulled you from your thoughts. You looked at the male as he approached the table, this was Harry’s twin Sam, that much was obvious. “You must be Y/N! I’ve heard a ridiculous amount about you.” Sam teased as he pulled you into a hug. “Sam, the better twin and superior brother.” He joked as he punched Tom’s arm before hugging him too. Okay maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“This is going to be a long dinner then?” Tom groaned as he watched the twins greet each other. You engaged in small conversation as you waited for his parents and final brother to arrive. It wasn’t too long after that they did. Paddy making his way over first.

“Hey guys!” Paddy said as he approached the table, taking a seat next to Sam.

“You won’t get a hug from him Y/N. He’s a typical teenage boy, I’m sure stuff like this has inconvenienced his night somehow.” Harry laughed as he watched Paddy pull his phone from his pocket.

“Shut up Harry! You were a teenager once you know. Hi Y/N, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Paddy said as he offered you a small smile.

“Where’s mum and dad?” Tom asked as he furrowed his brows.

“Dad was parking the car and mum went straight to the loo, they won’t be long.” Paddy answered, more interested in his phone than the conversation. You laughed at his typical teenage response to social events, reminding you of how you were at that age. Just after he’d said it you watched another man arrive at the table, presumably Tom’s dad.

“Y/N, this is my dad Dom. Dad this is Y/N” Tom said as he got up to hug his dad. You stood up as well extending your hand for him to shake unsure of what he would have expected as a first response, a hug would be too much maybe?

“It’s nice too meet you.” You said shyly. Dom laughed as he pulled you into a hug, startling you at first.

“We’re huggers if you hadn’t already gathered. Well, everyone except Paddy, he needs a couple years.” Dom laughed as he let go of you and took his seat next to Paddy. Tom grabbed your hand under the table, giving it a small squeeze to reassure you that this was going well.

“Paddy how many times do I have to tell you, it’s rude to be on your phone at the table.” A woman’s voice suddenly interrupted the light conversation. You looked up at Tom’s mum, she was beautiful. Paddy groaned before shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Hi Tom.” His mum said as she hugged him, she eyed you up and down, before mumbling a quick ‘hi’ and sitting down in the final seat. Your nerves were back, had you done something to offend her?

Tom cleared his throat awkwardly before engaging in conversation with Sam. Harry leant over towards you. “Ignore her, she can be like that sometimes, she’ll snap out of it.” Harry whispered as he gave you a reassuring smile.

You all ordered after five minutes and light chatter, started out amongst the table. As the starters were served, Dom switched the attention to you, which in hindsight, you really wish he hadn’t.

“So, Y/N? What do you do for work? Tom’s told us a lot about you but at the same time not all that much.” He laughed.

“Yeah it’s cause he’s always talking about how pretty she is.” Paddy mumbled as he stuffed his fork into his mouth, Tom’s cheeks burned red as he mumbled a ‘fuck off’ in his brothers’ direction. Paddy laughed at him before adding. “Not that he’s wrong! I didn’t mean that in a bad way, it’s just all he usually talks about when you come up in conversation.” Paddy stumbled over his words as he thought he may have caused offence, you laughed, again being reminded of when you were an awkward teenager and thinking anything you said would be taken as offence.

“I’m a book editor. I’m hoping to move into script editing because I think that’d be more fun but for now, I’m with the books.” You answered confidently as you smiled at Dom. Your smile faltered as you heard a scoff come from Nikki’s direction. Tom eyed her carefully before he cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Yeah, it’s great. She gets to travel with me a lot because she doesn’t have to go into a workplace to do her job.” Tom said as he finished his starter. Shortly after they were cleared. Tom took your hand again under the table, interlocking your fingers.

“That’s great! How long have you been doing that?” Dom asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“About three years, I graduated at 21 and got straight into it.”

“Ah, so you’re the same age as Tom then?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, he’s a couple months older than me.”

“So how did you meet? Like I say Tom has told us a lot about you but at the same time nothing at all.”

“We met in a pub actually.” You laughed as you recalled the memory. “I wasn’t sure Tom would remember talking to me let alone remember he’d taken my number. He was really drunk.” You teased as Tom went red again. Everyone laughed except for Nikki, who eyed you in a way that made you feel quite small all of a sudden.

“So, did you know who he was then? When you gave him your number?” She asked in an accusatory tone.

“I mean yeah, I’ve seen all the marvel films, so I did know who he was, but that didn’t really matter to me. I liked Tom for Tom.” You answered carefully.

“I’m sure you did.” She said as she gave you a sarcastic smile before sipping her drink.

“Mum.” Tom groaned before squeezing your hand that was still in his.

“What? I’m just making small talk.” She answered as Sam and Harry rolled their eyes. Paddy shifted awkwardly in his seat as he watched the conversation unfold. Luckily the main course arrived to settle the tension.

“So are you hoping to get into script editing through Tom’s career.” Nikki asked. Dom choked on his drink out of shock as you dropped your fork back onto your plate. The question completely taking you off guard. Tom’s hand found your thigh as you saw him tense next to you.

“You don’t have to answer that Y/N.” Sam said as he smiled at you.

“No, it’s okay. That’s not how I’m hoping to get into script editing. I’ve been applying for different companies for a while now, before I met Tom actually, I just haven’t had any luck.” You answered as your eyes met hers.

“But surely you would have hoped Tom’s career would help if you haven’t had luck.” She sneered.

“Nikki.” Dom hissed.

“No that’s not it at all.” You answered, slightly offended. You knew what she was implying but it wasn’t true. You could make your own way in the world.

“We’ll see.” Nikki said as she continued to eat. The atmosphere around the table had shifted dramatically it was incredibly awkward now.

After you had finished your mains, things hadn’t got much better. Everyone was engaging in small talk, but no one dared shift the attention back towards you. Well, for a while anyway.

“That’s a nice necklace.” Nikki suddenly said out of nowhere. You clutched the necklace that was around your neck, it suddenly felt very heavy around your neck.

“It’s from-“

“Tom? Yeah I’d have guessed. Is it real gold?”

“Yeah but-“

“Of course it is.” She sneered as she rolled her eyes at you. You suddenly felt like this wasn’t going anywhere and you felt the tears brewing in your eyes. You excused yourself from the table, finding your way into the bathroom.

**

“What the fuck was that?” Tom asked his mum as his nostrils flared.

“Don’t swear Tom.” Nikki replied. Paddy was eyeing the exit at this point. He knew it wasn’t going to end well.

“Okay, sorry for my language. My question still wants an answer. What. Was. That?” He asked through gritted teeth. He’d never in his entire life felt so angry with his mum. He looked at his dad who just offered him a small smile.

“I don’t know what you mean. I was just making conversation.”

“No, you weren’t. You were being rude. Why?”

“I’m just making sure she’s good enough for you.” Nikki answered her son, honestly.

“By making her look like a money grabbing, opportunity seeking bitch?” Tom fired back. Trying to keep his anger under control. He didn’t want to cause a scene in the middle of a restaurant. Nikki just shrugged and he felt some of his anger spill over.

“That’s not fair mum! I pursued her! She hasn’t once asked me to help her further her career, in fact she’s very careful to try and keep herself distant from what I do and what she wants to do. That necklace you felt the need to point out, came from her grandma, it was left to her after her grandma passed away. Something her granddad bought for her grandma. But of course, you’d have known that had you let her speak. I am so beyond angry with you right now, mum. You had no right to speak to her like that, you don’t know her, I do. I’m also a little offended that you take me for someone who can fooled. I get it you want to protect your kids, but you can’t treat people like that. You need to give her another chance, because I love her, and your little show tonight won’t change that.” Tom felt some of his anger dissipating. His brothers and dad looked at him, almost as if they were proud?

Nikki’s expression dropped at her son’s words. She suddenly felt immensely guilty. Tom was right, she’d taken it too far and judged the poor girl without giving her a chance.

“I’m sorry Tom.” Nikki said sincerely trying to meet her son’s eyes.

“Not me you should be apologising to.” Tom crossed his arms as he refused to meet his mum’s gaze.

“Your right.” Nikki swallowed as she got up from her seat.

“I swear if you’re on your way to upset her again, I’m going home.” Tom called after his mum as she made her way into the bathroom. He sighed as he looked at his dad.

“I know your angry son and I know she had no right. But forgive her yeah? She had your best interests at heart even if she went about that the wrong way.” Dom said as he offered his son a reassuring smile.

“I know. It just upset me that she treated her like that.”

**

You’d managed to stop the tears and you were splashing your face with cold water trying to get rid of the redness in your face. Would Tom believe you if you said you weren’t feeling well and let you go home? No, then you’d be taking him away from his family. You were pulled from your thoughts as another person joined you in the bathroom. You didn’t look at them, didn’t want to draw attention to your tear stained face.

“Y/N? I’m sorry.” You heard you were shocked as you turned around to see Nikki. You didn’t say anything, not wanting to upset her further.

“I mean it. I’m sorry. I just get so protective of him you know. He has had girlfriends like that in the past and I’m just scared someone will take advantage of him again. I know I shouldn’t treat him like he’s naive, but I can’t help it sometimes. I’m truly sorry for the way I have treated you tonight. It was unfair of me to judge you when I don’t know you.” She said as she smiled at you. You sighed as you took in her words.

“Look, I get it. I get that you want to protect him but I’m not like that I swear. I really do love Tom for Tom. I’d love him whatever he did for a living.” You said sincerely. Nikki smiled as she pulled you into a hug. You hugged back.

“Okay, let’s get you cleaned up. Let’s start again?” She asked you hopefully.

“I’d like that.” You mumbled as she helped you fix your appearance. You made your way back to the table Tom, instantly standing and pulling you into a hug.

“Are you okay? Did she upset you again?” Tom whispered protectively into your ear. “Tell me if she has, we’ll go if that’s what you want.”

“It’s okay Tom. She apologised. We’re going to start again. I get were she was coming from in a way.” You whispered back as he squeezed you tighter.

“Doesn’t make it right.” He mumbled and you hummed in agreement before whispering “let it go, okay,” kissing his cheek before you both sat back down. He didn’t let go of your hand all night. The rest of night went by without any more awkwardness, in fact when you left, you’d argue that you and Nikki had gotten quite close. Tom let his anger towards his mum disappear over the course of the night and when you all left to go home you made plans to do the same again next week and everyone left far happier and content than when they’d arrived.

[tea-twords]

OKAY IM FINALLY GONNA TELL YOU ABOUT THE AU I SHIFTED TO

IM WARNING YOU THIS IS GOING TO BE VERY LONG, AND FULL OF ME RANTING ABOUT MY OWN WEIRD IDEAS, SO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Like I said, it was the Danganronpa Actor Au I thought up, and I've written some of it down (I'm not gonna share though). There's a bunch of rarepair couples in it because I like rarepairs, but there's also some of the normal ones.

So they all attend Hope's Peak, With the SDR2 cast being the oldest ones, the DR1 cast being a year after them, the DRV3 cast being a year after *them*, and then Komaru, Yuta, Natsumi, and Kanon.

Komaru shares the title of SHSL Little Sister with Natsumi, Yuta is the SHSL Track Racer, and Kanon is the SHSL steamstress/tailor. I know Kanon's talent dosen't make much sense for her character, but we had to have a tailor in there somewhere.

Another thing about Kanon, she is Leon's sister instead of cousin, and her full name is Kanon Kuwata instead of Kanon Nakajima. And she is most definitely *not* madly in love with Leon.

Rantaro does have 12 younger sisters in this, and one of them is part of it, her name being Tetsu Amami, and feel free to ask any questions about her, as she does have an interesting backstory! If you want to picture what she looks like, she's almost the spitting image of Kanna Kizuchi. Also, she gets really close to Miu and Kokichi.

Speaking of Miu and Kokichi, they are literally best friends behind the scenes. Them and Tetsu. Inseparable.

Komaru is very protective over Makoto and Toko. Even before hope's peak, Makoto's family practically adopted Toko, due to her rough past. Natsumi is protective over Fuyuhiko and Peko, too, but they don't need as much protection.

Tenko does not hate men. She is nice to all.

Hifumi and Teruteru are not perverts, in any way behind the scenes. After filming, you can see Hifumi profusely apologizing to Sayaka and Sayaka being like "IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT". Same with Teruteru and Peko.

Izuru and Hajime are twins! Izuru has a personality, a great one in fact. Izuru is also exactly 14 minutes older than Hajime, and he will never let him live it down. Their Talents are SHSL Editor (Izuru) and SHSL Hairdresser (Hajime). I know they don't make any sense but hear me out: Izuru keeps his hair really long so Hajime could practice with it. And an editor is needed for the filming and everything, probably.

Izuru and Mahiru are the main camera men! Mahiru does the more difficult shots to film, and she taught Izuru how to film the easier things. They do eventually become a couple❤️

Celeste is quite nicer behind the scenes, actually. And the drills are not fake. That was Hajime's work. The accent is, though. Speaking of Celeste, Sonia is her blood related older sister from Noveselic! Her full name is Celestia Nevermind.

Chihiro's a bit different, too! He was originally a bit embarrassed about having to wear a skirt, but once he actually put it on, he felt like the king he is. He's also less timid and meek. He still is, of course, but if you offered him $50 if he said "Fuck", he would do it without hesitation, much to the surprise of literally everyone. Then he'd hold out his hand like "There, I said it. I want my money now."

Byakuya is not an asshole. He was at first, but he dropped it once he got close to everyone. It was Komaru that nudged him to drop it, so they are pretty close and Komaru also gives him her protection.

Tsumugi is the one who wrote all of the scripts, and pretty much came up with everything herself. We respect her for that in this Au.

Nagito and Mikan met a little while before Hope's Peak. They were friends when they arrived and joined their class.

Junko voiced all of the Monokuma's. All of them. Monokubs as well. She has really good voice talent, though being the SHSL Model. She did the "So long, bear well!" Thing with all five voices at once. It's literally scary, Chihiro once cried out of fear.

Hiyoko is not mean! At all! She's just as innocent as she looks, and didn't swear at all before they began to film. Fuyuhiko had to teach her how to swear without stuttering. Mahiru was horrified.

Although everyone is friends with pretty much everyone, there are a few little groups in them. The one of focus mostly is Tsumugi, Kaede, Shuichi, and Rantaro. Tsumugi killing off Rantaro and Kaede first, and it being her doing all along was just her being a friend:). Also love suites. Love suites were to just to torture poor Shuichi. They had to act them out. Not the actual...like...that..., Just the dialogues and the motions. Which are still pretty fucking embarrassing to act. Shuichi cried during the filming of a total of 6 love suites.

Himiko👏can👏do👏magic👏! Magic is real here. Himiko has been blessed with the magic. She can float things, and saw people in half, and escape water tanks and things like that. But there is truly no trick, only maaaagiiic.

Now for the part you all like: Tickles. Tickles happen very often. Very very often. Himiko actually had learned that she could tickle people with her Magic. Kokichi runs in the room with his class, screaming, telling them to run for their lives, for Himiko is unstoppable now. Nearly the whole class fucking books it out of the room, Maki, Kirumi, Kork, and Ryoma sitting there like "Aha I'm in danger", while Tsumugi and Angie laugh in not being ticklish.

Hrjsjjehejeheuahe thank you for reading this far and listening to my rant about my Alternative Universe Fantasies, everyone is 100% free to ask any questions!

[reachexceedinggrasp]

Would love to hear about your beefs with Lucas because I have beefs with Lucas

(Sorry it took me three thousand years to answer this, anon.)

They mainly fall under a few headings, with the third being the most serious and the thing that I am genuinely irl furious about at least biannually (and feeling unable to adequately sum up The Problem with it after yelling about it so often is a huge part of why this post has been in my drafts for such a long time):

1. His self-mythologising and the subsequent uncritical repetition of his bullshit in the fandom. Obvious lies like that he had some master plan for 10 films when it’s clear he did not have anything like a plot outline at any point. We all know the thing was written at the seat of various people’s pants, it’s blatantly self-evident that’s the case. There’s also plenty of public record about how the OT was written. Even dumber, more obvious lies, like that Anakin was ‘always the protagonist’ and the entire 6 films were his story from the beginning. This is preposterous and every time someone brings it up (usually with palpable smugness) as fanboys ‘not understanding star wars’ because they don't get that ‘the OT is not Luke's story’... Yeah, I just... I cannot.

Vader wasn’t Anakin Skywalker until ESB, it’s a retcon. It’s a brilliant retcon and it works perfectly, it elevated SW into something timeless and special it otherwise would not have been, but you can tell it wasn’t the original plan and there’s proof it wasn’t the original plan. Let’s not pretend. And Luke is the protagonist. No amount of waffling about such esoteric flights of theory as ‘ring structure’ is going to get away from the rigidly orthodox narrative and the indisputable fact that it is Luke’s hero’s journey. Vader’s redemption isn’t about his character development (he has almost none) and has no basis in any kind of convincing psychological reality for his character, but it doesn’t need to be because it’s part of Luke’s arc, because Vader is entirely a foil in Luke’s story. It’s a coming-of-age myth about confronting and growing beyond the father.

All attempts to de-centre Luke in RotJ just break the OT’s narrative logic. It’s a character-driven story and the character driving is Luke. Trying to read it as Anakin’s victory, the moral culmination of his choices rather than Luke’s and putting all the agency into Anakin’s hands just destroys the trilogy’s coherence and ignores most of its content in favour of appropriating a handful of scenes into an arc existing only in the prequels. The dilemma of RotJ is how Luke will define ethical adulthood after learning and growing through two previous films worth of challenge, education, failure, and triumph; it’s his choice to love his father and throw down his sword which answers the question the entire story has been asking. Vader’s redemption and the restoration of the galaxy are the consequences of that choice which tell us what kind of world we’re in, but the major dramatic conflict was resolved by Luke’s decision not the response to it.

And, just all over, the idea of Lucas as an infallible auteur is inaccurate and annoying to me. Obviously he’s a tremendous creative force and we wouldn’t have sw without him, but he didn’t create it alone or out of whole cloth. The OT was a very collaborative effort and that’s why it’s what it is and the prequels are what they are. Speaking of which.

2. The hubris of the prequels in general and all the damage their many terrible, protected-from-editors choices do to the symbolic fabric of the sw universe. Midicholrians, Yoda fighting with a lightsabre, Obi-wan as Anakin's surrogate father instead of his peer, incoherent and unmotivated character arcs, the laundry list of serious and meaningful continuity errors, the bad storytelling, the bad direction, the bad characterisation, the shallowness of the parallels which undermine the OT’s imagery, the very clumsy and contradictory way the A/P romance was handled, the weird attitude to romance in general, it goeth on. I don’t want to re-litigate the entire PT here and I’m not going to, but they are both bad as films and bad as prequels. The main idea of them, to add Anakin’s pov and create an actual arc for him as well as to flesh out the themes of compassion and redemption, was totally appropriate. The concept works as a narrative unit, there are lots of powerful thematic elements they introduce, they have a lot of cool building blocks, it’s only in execution and detail that they do a bunch of irreparable harm.

But the constant refrain that only ageing fanboys don’t like them and they only don’t like them because of their themes or because they humanise Anakin... can we not. The shoddy film making in the prequels is an objective fact. If you want to overlook the bad parts for the good or prioritise ideas over technique, that’s fine, but don’t sit here and tell me they’re masterworks of cinema there can be no valid reason to criticise. I was the exact right age for them when I saw them, I am fully on board with the fairy tale nature of sw, I am fully on board with humanising Anakin- the prequels just have a lot of very big problems with a) their scripts and b) their direction, especially of dialogue scenes. If Lucas had acknowledged his limitations like he did back in the day instead of believing his own press, he could have again had the help he obviously needed instead of embarrassing himself.

3. Killing and suppressing the original original trilogy. I consider the fact that the actual original films are not currently available in any form, have never been available in an archival format, and have not been presented in acceptable quality since the VHS release a very troubling case study in the problems of corporate-owned art. LF seizing prints of the films whenever they are shown, destroying the in-camera negatives to make the special editions with no plans to restore them, and doing all in the company’s considerable power to suppress the original versions is something I consider an act of cultural vandalism. The OT defined a whole generation of Hollywood. It had a global impact on popular entertainment. ANH is considered so historically significant it was one of the first films added to the US Library of Congress (Lucas refused to provide even them with a print of the theatrical release, so they made their own viewable scan from the 70s copyright submission).

The fact that the films which made that impact cannot be legally accessed by the public is offensive to me. The fact that Lucas has seen fit to dub over or composite out entire performances (deleting certain actors from the films), to dramatically alter the composition of shots chosen by the original directors, to radically change the entire stylistic tone by completely reinventing the films’ colour timing in attempt to make them match the plasticy palate of the prequels, to shoot new scenes for movies he DID NOT DIRECT, add entire sequences or re-edit existing sequences to the point of being unrecognisable etc. etc. is NOT OKAY WITH ME when he insists that his versions be the ONLY ones available.

I’m okay with the Special Editions existing, though I think they’re mostly... not good... but I’m not okay with them replacing the original films. And all people can say is ‘well, they’re his movies’.

Lucas may have clear legal ownership in the capitalistic sense, but in no way does he have clear artistic ownership. Forget the fans, I’m not one of those people who argue the fans are owed something: A film is always a collaborative exercise and almost never can it be said that the end product is the ultimate responsibility and possession of one person. Even the auteur directors aren't the sole creative vision, even a triple threat like Orson Welles still had cinematographers and production designers, etc. Hundreds of artists work on films. Neither a writer nor a director (nor one person who is both) is The Artist behind a film the way a novelist is The Artist behind a novel. And Lucas did NOT write the screenplays for or direct ESB or RotJ. So in what sense does he have a moral right to alter those films from what the people primarily involved in making them deemed the final product? In what sense would he have the right to make a years-later revision the ONLY version even if he WERE the director?

Then you get into the issue of the immeasurable cultural impact those films had in their original form and the imperative to preserve something that is defining to the history of film and the state of the zeitgeist. I don't think there is any ‘fan entitlement’ involved in saying the originals belonged to the world after being part of its consciousness for decades and it is doing violence to the artistic record to try to erase the films which actually occupied that space. It's exactly like trying to replace every copy of It's a Wonderful Life with a colourised version (well, it's worse but still), and that was something Lucas himself railed against. It’s like if Michaelangelo were miraculously resuscitated and he decided to repaint the Sistine Ceiling to add a gunfight and change his style to something contemporary.

I get genuinely very upset at the cold reality that generations of people are watching sw for the first time and it’s the fucking SE-except-worse they’re seeing. And as fewer people keep physical media and the US corporate oligarchy continues to perform censorship and rewrite history on its streaming services unchecked by any kind of public welfare concerns, you’ll see more and more ‘real Mandela effect’ type shit where the cultural record has suddenly ‘always’ been in line with whatever they want it to be just now. And US media continues to infect us all with its insidious ubiquity. I think misrepresenting and censoring the past is an objectively bad thing and we can’t learn from things we pretend never happened, but apparently not many people are worried about handing the keys to our collective experience to Disney and Amazon.

4. The ‘Jedi don’t marry’ thing and how he wanted this to continue with Luke post-RotJ, so it’s obviously not meant to be part of what was wrong with the order in the prequels. I find this... incoherent on a storytelling level. The moral of the anidala story then indeed becomes just plain ‘romantic love is bad and will make you crazy’, rather than the charitable reading of the prequels which I ascribe to, which is that the problem isn’t Anakin’s love for Padmé, it’s that he ceased to love her and began to covet her. And I can’t help but feel this attitude is maybe an expression of GL’s issues with women following his divorce. I don’t remember if there’s evidence to contradict that take, since it’s been some time since I read about this but yeah. ANH absolutely does sow seeds for possible Luke/Leia development and GL was still married while working on that film. Subsequently he was dead set against Luke ever having a relationship and decided Jedi could not marry. Coincidence?

There’s a lot of blinking red ‘issues with women’ warning signs all over Lucas’s work, but the prequels are really... egregious.

[desiraypark]

Let Me Be Here

Characters: Adam Sackler x Victoria “Tori” Garland (Sackler) (OC) x Doc Content: Angst (Eventual Intimacy) Alcoholism TW Cursing CW Death Mention CW Depression CW Murder Mention TW Suicidal Thoughts TW Length: Short

Special Notes: Adam & Tori’s apartment (2BR 1 BA - $3950-4300) Adam has found great success as a stage and screen actor. Tori is a publishing editor. 

Once upon a time, Victoria Garland wouldn’t drink anything more than white wine. Perhaps a mojito or a margarita once in a while. Alcohol just wasn’t her thing. Then, her sister was murdered. A year after that, Grammy died. Suddenly, nightly glasses of white (or red) wine didn’t seem so bad. Or a rock glass filled with a homemade gin cocktail...or a highball glass filled with a fruity rum concoction...or a...

“Hey, Babe,” Tori mumbled.

“Hey, Smalls,” Adam responded apprehensively. 

His eyes darted between the pages of his new script and Tori. Doc had left the space (two feet away from his bed) to pitter-patter to Tori’s feet. Tori’s braids draped to the side and hid her face as she pulled off her pumps and left them by the door. She bent down again.

“What’s up, Buddy?” she asked the feline. Her head reappeared and Adam watched her walk to the cupboard.

“Thai’s on the way,” he said.

“Awesome.” 

Tori pulled a rock glass from the cupboard, then shifted over to another cupboard. Her right hand was frozen in the air as her eyes scanned a seemingly empty space. The hand dropped to her side.

“How was work?” Adam asked.

“It was work...” she answered. “Where’s my gin?”

She stood on her tiptoes and scanned the cupboard. “And my rum...my...”

Tori let her feet fall flat against the floor and looked back at Adam, the thick script still in front of his face.

“It’s gone,” he finally answered.

“Gone where?”

Adam stood up and dropped the script on the chair behind him. He scratched his head, thinking of a soft answer. But he couldn’t find one. 

“I poured it all out, Tori.”

“Why?” Tori asked, closing the cupboard. Shame riddled her body like bullets. She rushed over to Adam. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry. Did something happen?”

She took his hand and Adam squeezed hers in return. “No...”

“Then...why’d you throw it out?”

Adam scratched his head again and exhaled, a light breeze touching Tori’s lips. “Because you’re starting to drink...a lot, Tori.”

Tori’s eyebrows pulled together and she let go of Adam’s hand. “What do you mean?”

Adam released the softness and niceties. She needed to know. 

“You’re just coming home from work and the first thing you’re about to do is pour yourself a fucking drink...”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Adam? I had a long day. People have long days and sometimes they make a fucking drink!”

“You’re right,” Adam responded, stepping closer. “But you come home, you make a drink, and then you make another, and another after that.”

“It helps me rest, Adam,” Tori said with a scoff. She walked back to the kitchen area and opened the cupboard again, hoping that alcohol would magically appear.

“You know what else can help you rest? Tea. Lullabies. Orgasms. Maybe even actually going to fucking sleep!”

Tori whirled around--Adam could almost see the fire circling her body like a tornado. 

“Excuse me, since when did you become Mister Holier Than Thou?!”

“I’m not being holier than thou, Tori. But don’t you think I would know the beginnings of alcoholism when I fucking see it?!”

Tori fell silent. Adam could hear her swallowing her own saliva. He shook his words off and walked to his wife, immediately taking her face into his large hands. 

“I don’t want you to go down this road...”

Tori’s eyes fell to the floor, but Adam lifted her face, making her eyes meet his. “You drink and before you fall asleep, you get sad. You get sad and you start talking about your sister--”

Tori cringed at the word “sister” but Adam powered through. 

“--and your grandma, and you start talking about wanting to die. And I don’t fucking like that shit. That shit fucking kills me.”

Tori’s face was contorted. Her cheeks and eyes burned--the latter desperate to make water. She looked down at the floor again.

“Let me be your fucking husband...”

Suddenly, Adam’s phone started to ring. 

“In sickness and in health, right?” he continued. 

Air left Tori’s nostrils. 

“In sickness and in health. For better or for worse. Right?”

“It’s not that bad, Adam,” Tori mumbled. The words didn’t meet her mind, however. She knew that Adam was right. 

“Yet...”

The phone continued to ring.

“You do so much for me and help me keep my shit together. And I vowed to do the same thing for you. Look at me.”

Tori’s eyes met Adam’s--hers finally welling with tears. 

“Let me help you. Let me fucking be here for you.”

Tori gripped Adam’s wrists and he placed his forehead against hers.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m here with you.”

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Tonight It's Scrooge McDuck

Summary- 3.1k Me (calling him Mike) x Y/N. (Playing It Cool AU) Getting closer to the big day and your starting to get into the spirit. Mikes script goes over well and he decides to pick up another one right away, for reasons. Warnings- Playful Smut. Written for @star-spangled-beard-burn​ Seasons of Fiction Writing 2020 and @jtargaryen18​ 30 Days of Chris. 

A/N- so fun fact about myself, I really love the holidays. When I got a chance to write a Christmas Fic in June, you can bet I jumped at the chance. 

Chapter One- We Gotta Watch The Wet Bandits. 

     Mike nuzzled up behind you, the tip of his nose cold against the back of your neck and you groaned, reaching behind you to push him away. "Stop it, your cold." Burrowing further into the blankets, you heard him laugh, and then his hand slid to press under your shirt against your belly, and that jolted you awake. Yelping, you try to wriggle out of his hold, crying out. "Your such an ass Mike, Santas just bringing you coal." You settled back into a lull as his all over chilly body pressed against yours from behind. "Yea yea, I feel you Frosty, your icicle is stabbing my backside." giggling as your hand came to rub on his that was slowly warming up on your belly when you narrowed your eyes and looked over your shoulder. "Why are you cold? Were in southern California. There is no cold."

"Hot waters out again. I’ve gotta call the landlord later."

Of course it is, your thinking as you roll to your back and rub your hands against his chest. "Well Mike why didn’t you get out? Could have gone to Scott's later." Now trying to warm him up, his lips had a blue tinge, and his cheeks, nose were bright red, you cuddles in closer to him.

"Already had the soap in, no turning back then. Mama didn't raise a quitter. I have a meeting with Brian this morning, so no time to go all the way uptown to Scott's." He pressed his cool lips against your shoulder, before tilting his face up to give you a teasing kiss, which you couldn’t help but smile into, skimming your hand over his short buzzed hair. Even if the rest of him was like a damn igloo, his breath, minty and warm though, and you sighed with appreciation at that.

"Ugh, well I'm not taking a cold shower. Means I have to go to Mal's before work. Also means I also got to get up now." You tilted your head to catch the time on his radio clock. "So I can't warm you up." You go to pull away and his arm just tightens, keeping you there.

"Give me five minutes, that clocks fast." Mikes teasing your pulse point with soft kisses, the kind he knew would make your toes curl.

"That clock is automatically set. Calling bullshit liar liar." You pointed out, your hands now clutching at his back as he moved down your collarbone and didn't seem to be letting up. This was the problem with long term boyfriends.

They knew your weaknesses.

"How about I drive you over to Mallory’s, then drop you off at work before my meeting?" Mike tried to compromise again, this time he reached your chest and let his chin scrape in your cleavage, and he dropped kisses above the swells, not making the effort to remove the top just yet. "Fine. One minute sex, two minutes cuddle, two more to get out the door."

"Counteroffer, two and a half minutes sex, one and a half minutes cuddle, and one minute to get out the door?" He arched a brow and flashed a tantalizing grin.

You rolled your eyes up, thinking when you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck. "Deal lover boy, show me your minute moves."

"Promised I would be quick, works already half done. Remember, I'm frozen stiff." He wiggled his eyebrows as he hovered over you and you couldn't help but laugh so hard your body shook underneath him, his body and arms encasing you and a roll of his hips pressed his groin against you.

So maybe he was stiff, but he sure wasn't frozen. Heated kisses went down your neck, and a hand shifted between your thighs to tease your cunt while you hooked a leg around his hip. “Well, you still have the other half to accomplish.” You hissed as his fingers started to put the right amount of pressure against your clit, and you rocked into his palm.

Mike gave a light bite to your neck, sucking on a pulse point before lining himself up, pressing against your entrance, and making you arch for more. “Are you... doubting my abilities to get you off?” His voice a graveled deepness that rumbled through him the further he filled you, your nails grasping into his back. “No, but I'm not going to hold it against you if you can't in two minutes.” His first thrust made you rock back to meet him, tightening your leg further and bringing the other one around him, gripping lightly around him.

“Two and a half is what I said baby, and I'm not backing down from a challenge.” Angling himself, he sought out that sweet spot that have you clutching around him and pressing your head back into the pillow. “Take that back now Baby?”

Gasping as he was relentless, you bit your lip and nodded, soon cumming around his cock and his thrusts turned quick and hard, moving to reach his end. A tilt of your head, you glanced at the clock, coming back down from your high, enjoying his weight keeping you pressed into the bed. “Handsome?”

He rubbed his face in your shoulder and hummed softly. “Yes?”

“We went over our two and a half minute mark, and passing the five minutes now. I also still need to get to Mallory’s. ”

“Well fuck, there's always next time.” He pushed himself up, and helped you up, the two of you rushing to get dressed, you look at the time as your trying to pack your makeup to do at Mallory's. “Shit, I'm going to be late today.”

Mike pulled you out of the apartment, keys in hand. “Come on, your not going to be late.” Locking the door firmly behind. “I already messaged Mal, doors unlocked, you can jump right into the shower and I will go get you your DD order to go. We're going to be fine.”

“And when did you get to be the collected one in this relationship?” You questioned while going down the stairs, Mike right behind you, following out the door. “Amazing what a cold shower will do for you Baby.”

    Mike settled in Brian’s office, watching as the editor dipped his head back, laughing so hard he was crying, wiping at his eye. “Brilliant Man, I don't know how you come up with this shit, but it's gold.”

Mike gave a shrug, he couldn't help the grin on the corner of his face lifting halfway up. “Good, good, I’m glad it works. You know comedies are eh for me.” Brian rolled his eyes and leaned forward tapping the script. “Mike, you know why I give you these, cause hell if you can't deliver. You're on your game, I’m more than happy to send this off to the studio and have them try to find any issues with this. Now, I got a drama script that I've been holding off from...” Brian started and Mike held up his hand.

“Hold up, I just did this and not looking to jump into one due in another 6 weeks if that's what you're looking to do. Especially since Y/N and I will be going away for a week or two.”

“Right now? Mike, you do know I have people asking for your scripts in particular. I gotta give the people what they want.” Brian tried to reason with him, but Mike just shook his head.

“Sorry, I already booked the reservations and tickets. Y/N hasn't been home in years. If it all works out, we will be going right around New Years. Her office shuts down for about a month after Christmas, so it makes the perfect time to take her.”

Brian rocked slightly in his chair, looking thoughtful, his fingers tapping against the arms of the chair. “Alright, I hear you. You wanna take your girl out and give her a good time. You have been writing for me for a long time, so how about this incentive. Double the pay, and get it half-written for me before you leave. That way I got something to give them.”

Mike looked a bit doubtful as he eyed Brian over the desk. He really wanted to tell him to shove it, in a rather colorful way, cause he was looking forward to perhaps spending the holiday with you without a due date hanging over his head. But Brian had given him lots of chances over the years, tried to get him the best pieces to write, and was somewhat accommodating through his occasional bouts of writer's block. But that extra bit of money to be able to take you to New York with was a tempting offer. And he really wanted to treat you to something special. “You get me an advance on this script, and I will have half of it ready.”

Brian broke out in a grin and held out his hand. “You got it.” Mike leaned forward to and a shake was shared between the men, sealing the deal.

   You burst into the apartment, with yet more bags, and a couple rolls of paper to wrap with to find Mike back at his small desk in the corner, tapping as fast as he could, the computers glow lighting up his face. You paused a second, and your brows furrowed. “What, did Brian not like the script?”

He glanced up a moment, and back to the computer, continuing on. “Oh He liked it just fine Y/N, but he had another lined up for me to take on right away.”

You bring the bags to the spare bedroom, and them come back, looking over his shoulder and running your hands along his shoulders. “I’m surprised Brian insisted you take another one on so soon. You always take a reprieve afterward.” Your eyes scanning what he had so far, it appeared to be a drama of some kind, but he was still in the beginning process.

Mikes fingers faltered a moment, and he pushed back from the keyboard just a bit and turned the chair. You moved to perch on his lap, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck. “Well, he offered and I said ok.”

You couldn't help but show a bit of disappointment, already knowing what that meant. He was going to be attached to his desk for the whole holiday season. His hands came to rub your side, jostling you a bit to get your attention. “What’s wrong Baby?”

You wrinkled your nose a bit, and let your fingers trail along the back of his neck. “Well it's Christmas time, we got the Potluck here this year with everyone. Your going to stress, and worry all the way till you turn this into Brian. Why did you not wait?”

Mike knew you were right, he couldn't help but get caught up in the work, worrying about it's quality and deadlines, but the extra pay for his upcoming surprise made it worth it. He smiled and shook his head. “Nah, this ones easy Baby, I’m already quarter of the way done and won't get in the way of our Christmas, m'kay? I took it cause they couldn't wait and offered me a pretty good chunk of change to get it done. But it's only got to be half done, by New Years. Piece of Cake Baby. ”

You squint your eyes at him as if doubtful and finally give a roll of the eyes. “Okay, Mike. But your on the naughty list. Be good rest of the time and Mrs.Santa might forgive you for this morning. Which, speaking of, You call the Landlord?”

He gave a sheepish grin and you sighed, holding out your hand. “Give me your phone so I can look up his number.” Once he handed it over with a apology, and you stood up, scrolling through his contacts. “Night time movie showing in an hour.”

Mike had already turned back to his keyboard, fingers pounding on it. “Mmhm, what is it?”

“Mickey Mouse and Scrooge McDuck, A Christmas Carol.” You retorted, heading to the kitchen while hitting the phone icon.

Reading over his recent words, he paused, calling out. “Hey, that better not be a jab at me?”

You smirked at him and stuck out your tongue, teasing. “Hey, Carl? Yea, we got a situation. Hot Water is out again...” Mike shook his head and turned back to the computer.

    You were humming while decorating the tree that next weekend, Mike hauling another box up the stairs and set it on the card table you set up in the living room by your fake tree. “Last box Babes" He huffed out, and ran his hand across his forehead. You went to tiptoes and pecked a kiss on his cheek. “And it was much appreciated labor, you will find a cold beer in the fridge with your name on it.” Turning to the box, your singing along to the music playing in the background.

“Giddy-up jingle horse, pick up your feet Jingle around the clock Mix and a-mingle in the jinglin' feet That's the jingle bell rock

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock Jingle bell chime in jingle bell time Dancin' and prancin' in Jingle Bell Square In the frosty air...”

You were swaying your body while dancing around the tree, hanging up ornaments here and there. Mike watched a moment, catching his breath going up all the flights of stairs with the heavy box. You had mentioned a beer, thinking that sounded like a decent idea before going back to writing, he went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Sure enough, there was a beer with his name on it. A Yellow Post It was stuck with his name, a heart at the end, and he gave a soft smile, reaching in for it. Noticing there was another one underneath it, he flipped it up to read “I Love You.”

Something so simple and yet you went out of your way to do it. There was once a time that it would have scared the hell out of him. Would have had him backpedaling so damn fast you would have gotten whiplash. His alter ego be telling him to break it off. Now though, he couldn't imagine anything other than this between you two. He still wasn't sure how in the hell he got so lucky.

Peeling off the notes, he brought it over to his computer and stuck the two notes to the wall, and unscrewed the top, tossing it in the wastebasket. He glanced up again to see you still singing along, and sorting out a various amount of ornaments onto the table to see what you had. Glancing down at his laptop, he pushed the top down to a close.

It was Christmas.

Going back into the living room, you were going to tiptoes to hang something up near the top, when he set down the bottle and came up behind, wrapping arms around your waist as you lower back to your feet. Leaning back into him, you tipped your head back and nibbled against his jawline.

“Not writing tonight?” You asked, and he shook his head.

“Not tonight, tonight we're decorating the tree.” Letting you go and looking over the decorations, he plucked one up and went to hang it in the tree, giving you a look with a smirk. “Close your eyes, Im hanging the pickle and you can't see where I'm putting it.”

“Fine, when I find it, I get bragging rights this year.”

“You're never going to find it.” He teased as you covered your eyes, and the rest of the evening you two teased and debated about where ornaments would go. Finally, when you had hung up the last one, Mike studied the tree with a tilted of the head, trying to find what it was missing. “Doesn’t it need a star Baby?” He kissed your neck, and you hummed in agreement, matching the new song playing in the background.  

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas Soon the bells will start And the thing that will make them ring Is the carol that you sing Right within your heart

“Yup, how about you put it up, and I will plug in the lights?” You reached for the silver star in the box, and gently handed it to Mike, while going around to the backside. Watching as he got it to sit just right, and stepped back to double check. “Okay baby, plug them in.”

The lights came on, and Mike reached out to hit the light switch, turning off the rest of the lights so that only the trees glow lit up the apartment. Coming around and breaking in a huge smile, Mike pulled you back into his arms, and swayed slightly back and forth to the music. “You did a good job Baby.” Pressing his lips to your temple.

“It really does look good this year. Oh! I got one more thing to hang up. But it's not for the tree. Wait right here.” You slip out of his hold and head towards the spare bedroom, and Mike continues looking at the tree, once in a while reaching out to adjust something. You come back out with your hands behind your back, sidling up to him.

“Wanna guess what I got behind my back?” You wiggle your brows, and Mike shakes his head, chuckling. “I couldn't even begin to guess baby.”

“Close your eyes” You instruct, and when he did, you lift your arm to hover your arm over the two of you. “Okay Open them up Handsome.”

When his blue eyes take you in, all the way up to your hand hanging over his head, he laughed and wrapped arms around you to bring you in close. “You plan this, you Little Minx?”

Wiggling it above your two heads, you nod. “You know tradition, you HAVE to kiss me under the mistletoe.”

“Well can't be breaking tradition, can we?” He brought you in flush with a hand against the back of your head, and kissed you deeply, his palm pressing against your lower back slid to grasp your waist, and you dropped your arm to loop around the back of his neck, falling right into the kiss, and he dropped from your lips to scatter across your face, making you giggle.

Pulling back he arched his brows. “So... You think that also works in the bedroom?”

You twirled the mistletoe, and bit your lip. “How about we go find out?”

“At least this time I won't be freezing cold.” Mike stated, not even giving you a chance to change your mind, scooping you up to head back to the bedroom, leaving the tree all lit up for the rest of the night.

[grilledcheeseandguavajelly]

“I’ll Lay You Down Before You Fall” - Ally Mayfair-Richards x Lana Winters

Alright. ALRIGHT. Not to be dramatic, but this ship has absolutely ruined my life and I would GLADLY die 1000 times over for these headstrong idiots. Safe to say that once I thought about it I couldn’t get them out of my head. So, here we are, 9,000 words later. 

Special thanks to @thatgirlintheleatherjacket​ for humoring me and giving me the kick in the ass that I needed to actually post this, and @shineestark​ for listening to my incoherent rants about these cuties and unsticking my writer’s block :)

Words: 9,700

Summary: Allyson Mayfair-Richards doesn’t like losing. And she especially doesn’t like losing to pretty reporters with dark hair and perfect lips and a confidence streak that could outrun the sun. 

~Enjoy!~

Ally had stared at the thick, wooden door for twenty-three minutes, foot tapping as she mindlessly flipped through the papers in her hand. 

It was stuffy in the building, too stuffy for Ally not to be uncomfortable. And after checking and re-checking her watch and telling the receptionist at least three times that she had an appointment, Ally’s patience was near to gone. 

When that same receptionist had come to get her and escort her into the editor’s office, and Ally realized that Lana Winters had been in there alone the entire time, her patience had flown so far out the window Ally couldn’t even fathom reeling it back in. 

And after Lana had smirked up at her, teeth almost bared as she popped her brow and addressed her with a sarcastic, “You wanted to see me, Senator?”, Ally was fighting a losing battle to keep ahold of her tone with every inch of her being, let alone keep her hands from shaking in anger. 

She had barely been speaking with the journalist for five minutes, and Ally was already shocked at how deep Lana had dug herself under her skin. It was like she knew everything Ally was going to say. Had a counterpoint to present before Ally could even finish her sentence.  

All Ally had come to do was politely tell Lana that she couldn’t film on school property. To put her foot down and pull her rank if absolutely necessary. It wasn’t exactly against their state laws, or even the code of the city for that matter. But it was wrong, and Ally had taken the time to draw out a detailed proposal that explained exactly why she was correct. 

But whatever she had planned for, whatever conversations she had run through in her head, she certainly hadn’t considered losing. And right now, Ally sure as hell felt like she was losing, clinging to her point with a death grip as Lana swirled a tornado of words around her and spun her out. 

Ally was barely managing to hold on to her thought process, trying miserably to navigate Lana’s counterargument. Which was probably why her perfectly thought out proposal was currently crunching under her tightening fingers, paper crinkling as Ally forced herself to take a deep breath. 

“They shouldn’t have been at the school.” Ally set her jaw, locking her posture at the annoyance of having to push the same reasoning at this woman seven times. But she just wouldn’t listen. 

“My girls are going to do what it takes to get their story. Otherwise what’s the point?”

“What’s the point?” Ally countered, voice rising against her better judgment. “I don’t know, maybe respecting the privacy of children and learning institutions, and teaching your girls some boundaries for once in their lives?” 

Lana’s eyes flicked down to the “time’s up” button pinned to Ally’s blazer. 

“Are you supportive of female journalism, Senator?”

“Am I...? What?” Ally scoffed. “Of course I’m supportive of female journalism.”

Lana quirked an eyebrow. Popped her tongue. “Alright.” 

And the way she dragged it out, the way she drawled on the word and tilted her head as her eyebrows flicked up in a soft nod, had Ally’s skin crawling and blood boiling in seconds. She threw the papers down on Lana’s desk. 

“Keep your girls out of the public school systems. If you want to get up in some private school’s business, that’s fine. Take it up with them. But our city’s public schools are under my jurisdiction and I am telling you that next time you want your cameras and microphones and pushy-ass questions inside one of them, you’ll have to go through me first.”

And with a huff she was gone, the calm clicking of Lana’s typewriter following Ally down the hallway and making her eye twitch. 

~~~

Ally was late to pick up Oz. Thirty-six minutes late, to be exact. Her meeting had run over and her sitter had fallen through, and her car could only get across the city so fast. 

When she made it to the front doors she was nothing but grateful and apologetic, signing him out on the clipboard and scruffing his hair with a smile as he hugged her legs. 

“I missed you,” he murmured into her side, and Ally knelt down on his level. 

“Oh Ozzie, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He grinned. “What do you think about getting some ice cream on the way home?” 

“Really?”

Ally nodded. 

“Yes!” And then he tackled her in another hug, and Ally couldn’t help but beam as his little arms wrapped around her neck. 

She pulled away, patting him on the head and ruffing up his curls as he shrugged off his backpack for her to carry. She had just picked it up, thinking absently that his books were getting too big and too heavy, when movement behind him caught her eye. 

Oh hell no.

There she was. Lana Winters. With a fucking camera crew and an amateur reporter. She was tracking her finger down the script in the girl’s hands, positioning her and the cameras in front of the fence by the playground. 

“Mama?” Oz questioned, blinking up at Ally. 

And in that split second Ally went against her better judgement because she had principles and she was never one to let things go. 

“Just… sit right here on the steps okay?” she said absently to Oz, dropping his backpack and patting his shoulder as he sat down. “Right there. Get started on your homework and I’ll be right back and I promise,” a soft kiss to the top of his head, “that we will get ice cream as soon as I’m finished.” 

She cut clear across the sidewalk, crossing the grass as her mind ran over the million different things she wanted to say to this woman. But somehow when she reached her, got right up in her face and loomed over her, practically snarling, all she could land on was, “Winters.” 

“Senator.” Lana’s brow quirked up challengingly. 

Ally growled. “I thought I told you that you needed permission to film on school property.”

Lana stifled a smirk. “And I thought I told you that we would do what was needed to get our story.”

The determination that was set in her eyes was driving Ally mad in the most agonizingly slow way. She clenched her fists at her side, swallowing down a rude remark. She was a public figure. They were both professionals. They could work this out. 

“Listen,” Ally tried, speaking a little bit too slowly to keep her voice steady. “Obviously we’re at an impasse. Why don’t you come to my office and we can discuss this properly. Find a middle ground.” 

Lana hesitated, glanced over at her cameraman. It was clear that she had expected Ally to snap, and Ally couldn’t help but smile at the idea that she had thrown her. 

Lana fidgeted with the papers in her hands, composing herself. 

“My lead is going to go stale in about eight hours, Ms. Mayfair-Richards.” Her voice was firm, and the way that her eyes searched Ally’s face, narrowing almost imperceptibly, left Ally’s jaw twitching. “I’m not going to miss out on this story just because you have a problem with me filming in front of an empty field.”

“I won’t let you air it,” Ally warned, crossing her arms. “Not without a proper meeting.”

And Lana had the nerve to sigh, circling her finger in the air and motioning for her team to wrap. She gestured to the young girl hovering a few feet away, taking the papers from her and sorting them with her own. 

“I have about forty-five minutes now,” she said, still looking down at her papers as she rifled through them. She replaced the script and flicked through a few more pages before looking up. “If you want to have a formal meeting. Otherwise I’m not free until Thursday and like I said—“ She pushed the papers back into the girl’s hands, trading her for her phone. “My lead goes dry in eight hours. It’s now or never, Ms. Mayfair-Richards.”

And oh how Ally despised when people called her by her full last name. She knew it was part of the job. It was the proper way to address her. But it only reminded her of Ivy. Betrayal. And when Lana said it… It made something hot stir up inside of her that set her teeth on edge. 

Ally shook her head. “I have to take my son home. Now’s not a good time. I have a slot free before my morning meetings tomorrow, but that’s the best I can do for you.”

Lana smiled, licking her lips. “I’ll give you six hours to change your mind. After that, we start filming, understood?” 

And Ally shook her head again. “What? No. Ms. Winters, that’s not what I said. You’re not filming here without permission, and I’m not—“

“You’ll change your mind,” Lana called over her shoulder, already walking away across the large field. And as she marched off, heels miraculously not slipping into the soil, hands gesticulating and snatching papers back and forth from the girl on her team, Ally couldn’t help but wonder if she was right. 

~~~ 

“Could I please have chocolate chip?” Oz asked sweetly, pushing his glasses up his nose. A moment, and then a tug to her sleeve. “Mama.”

Ally snapped her attention back to the ice cream shop, back to her son. “What, honey?”

“I would like chocolate chip, please.”

And Ally tried for the best smile she could, stroking her fingers through his curls. “Of course you can have chocolate chip, my polite little man. You’re growing up too fast, what am I going to do with you?” And Oz squealed as Ally pinched at his cheeks, scruffed his hair. 

She kept spacing out in line, focus snapping between her son and Lana’s words, echoing over and over in her mind. Her smug smirk. The way she owned every situation she came across. Like Ally was supposed to. Like Ally did. Until today.

Two chocolate chip double scoops later, with the ice cream dripping off the bottom of her cone, Ally decided that she didn’t like losing arguments. She didn’t like not being in control of the situation. And she certainly didn’t like letting someone else have the last word. 

“Mama,” Oz giggled, licking up the side of his cone to catch the melting line of chocolate chips. “You’re getting ice cream on your pants!” 

And shit, of course he was right. Ally had spaced so far out that she had forgotten that ice cream melts. And it was leaving a nice white puddle on the thigh of her black pants. 

“Oh gosh,” she muttered, swiping at her leg. “Thank you, Ozzie. Let me just— I’m just going to go inside and get a napkin, okay?” 

He nodded enthusiastically, and Ally had the wherewithal to keep her eyes on him the entire time she was inside the store, hands finding the box of napkins and pulling too many as she tracked him licking his ice cream, watched every single person who walked by. And when someone walked up with a dog that got a little bit too close, Ally was back out the door like a shot. 

“Ozzie, wait,” she started, but he was already deep in conversation with the man, his inevitably sticky hand scruffing between the dog’s ears. And as Ally glanced up at the man to apologize, her heart stuttered. 

He had blue hair. And even though it was cut short and it was the wrong shade, her brain still played horrible tricks on her. This man wasn’t Kai. People didn’t come back from the dead. But it was just enough to pull those old anxieties up and make the world spin a little bit too fast. 

“That’s enough, sweetie,” Ally tried softly, hand on Oz’s shoulder. 

“It’s alright,” the man with the dog said, smiling kindly at Ally. And she really, truly tried her best to smile back. 

“I appreciate it, but we had better be going. Right, sweetheart? Thank you so much for letting him pet your dog.” She nudged Oz. “What do we say?”

“Thank you,” Oz giggled, muttering a soft “ew” as the dog licked his hand. 

Ally nodded. “Alright now, say goodbye. We’ve got to go.”

Her grip was iron on his shoulder as she pulled him alongside her back to the car, tucking him in close and letting out a soft sigh. 

“Are you okay, Mama?” Oz asked after they had been driving for a few minutes.

Ally nodded, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. “Always, sweetie. Why do you ask?”

Oz shrugged. “He just looked like Daddy, that’s all.”

Ally’s heart lodged in her throat, tears burning her eyes as her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. 

“Ozzie, sweetie. He’s not your daddy. Remember? He was never your daddy. He lied.” 

And Oz nodded with a light “okay” before pulling a book out of his backpack and flipping through the pages. 

Ally turned the radio up as she cleared her throat, swiping at her tears as nonchalantly as possible and sniffing softly. Another glance in the rearview mirror and he was still reading. With her. Safe. 

When she hit a red light she dropped her head back on the seat, groaning and cursing herself before snatching her phone from her purse. A few swipes and taps, and she had her sitter on the phone. 

“Hi. It’s me. I know you said you couldn’t pick Oz up from school, but would you maybe be free in an hour? Something’s come up.”

~~~ 

Ally’s fingers tapped over her coffee mug, leeching the warmth from it as her leg bounced under the table. She watched the door, perking up every time it opened and the bell dinged. But it was a good ten minutes before Lana walked in, blue blazer just a little bit too perfect as she wiped her hands and casually threw her coffee order at the barista. It was met with a frantic “yes, Ms. Winters” and then she found Ally, eyes locking on her and raking down her form. Her brow quirked up as she sauntered over. 

“Senator,” she drawled as she pulled out her chair. 

Ally stood, hand outstretched. “Ms. Winters.”

Lana waved her off, sitting. “Oh for god’s sake, don’t be so formal. Sit down.”

And there it was again, that heat that flared in Ally’s cheeks because she wasn’t in control of the situation. All she could think was fix it. And fast. 

But before she could swallow and get her mouth around words, Lana spoke.

“You changed your mind.”

A nod.

“Why?”

Ally’s hands found her mug again, fingers skimming over the smooth porcelain. She stared down into the foam for a moment, and when she looked up, Lana’s eyes were tracking her fingers. 

“Tell me again what your story is about?” 

And at that, Lana met her gaze. Skepticism clouded her features. She licked her lips. 

“We got a tip that someone tried to break into the school last night. A man was seen hopping the fence and testing the doors.”

Ally nodded. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

Lana’s eyes narrowed, and there was a question pushing against her lips. Ally could see her fighting it. 

“Why this story?” Ally asked, even though she knew the answer. Anyone with any common sense knew the answer. But she wanted to hear it from Lana’s mouth. Just to be sure. 

Lana cleared her throat. Straightened. “Senator,” she started, folding her hands in front of her. “People deserve to know when—“ Her coffee was set in front of her. “Thank you— People deserve to know when their children are in danger. When their neighborhood is in danger. They deserve to know. To be well informed and have the time and the means to protect themselves.”

“And why in front of the playground?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Emotional appeal. If we shot it from across the street, with the logo of the school in front, it wouldn’t hit as hard as if you’re seeing the jungle gyms and the mulch kicked up and the balls left abandoned in the grass.”

Ally hummed, chewing on her lip as she ran her thumb along the rim of her mug. A long moment while Lana took a sip of her coffee. And then Ally nodded. 

“You can shoot your segment there. Tonight. In front of the playground.”

Lana half-smiled at her, taking another slow sip. “Well,” she started, brow raising as she looked up at Ally over the rim of her mug. “I would say thank you, but…”

Ally challenged her, quirking her own brow. “But?”

Lana shook her head. “It’s not important.” She cleared her throat, replacing her coffee on the table in front of her. “What is interesting me, though, is that mysterious stain on your pants. Seems like there’s a story there.” 

The blood drained from Ally’s face as she looked down at the ring from the melted ice cream on her thigh. She had been home for a good twenty minutes. She had had time to change. But Oz had needed help with his homework and then there had been a fiasco with his afternoon snack and a slight fit over the fact that it was peanut butter and celery again, and she had honestly been in such a rush to touch up her makeup and fluff her hair that she had forgotten about her pants entirely. 

Ally tried to blow it off the best she could, pushing a hand through her hair and chuckling something about how kids were a handful and she barely had time to pee, let alone change her clothes once he got home from school. 

Lana smiled. A big, genuine smile as she leaned forward on the table. “Tell me about your son. Ozzie, right?” 

And before Ally knew what had happened, two hours had gone by, both of their coffees ice cold, half-finished, and forgotten between them. They had laughed, Ally had cried, as hard as she had tried not to. And when the tear fell and she swiped it quickly with her thumb, Lana’s hand had found hers across the table. But now, as Lana recounted details from her kidnapping, Ally found herself leaning into her voice, chin propped in her hand and brow furrowed as she nodded along with the words. 

“And he needed me, I think,” she continued, staring intently at Ally. She didn’t look away. She didn’t drop her gaze. It was incredibly brave, how open she was being. And Ally understood. 

“It’s that dependency,” Ally agreed, eyes narrowing. “Did he have issues with his parents? Kai’s died when he was young.”

Something ghosted over Lana’s face and she cleared her throat to cover it, tilting her head and brushing a strand of hair out of her face. Smiled softly. “He had… He needed a mother. And he chose me to fill that gap.”

And the way she talked about it, like it was just something that had happened, like it hadn’t left deep scars and didn’t stick with her. Like she didn’t wake up in the middle of the night screaming… Maybe she didn’t. At this point Ally thought she was probably the strongest person alive. It wouldn’t have surprised her one bit if Lana had completely moved on. Goodness knows she certainly talked about everything well enough. 

But something nagged at the back of Ally’s mind. Maybe it was the way the tip of her eyebrow was twitching. Maybe it was the way she held onto Ally’s eye contact like it was a lifeline. Whatever it was, Ally had a feeling that beneath that strong, hard outer layer was someone so soft and so broken that Lana had to hold onto those walls she had built, re-fortify them every second of every day to keep her most vulnerable parts safe. 

“We don’t need to talk about this,” Ally started, clearing her throat. But Lana squeezed her hand and she stopped herself.

“Please,” Lana tried, a small smile on her lips. “I don’t… Not many people understand what I’ve been through. And probably no one quite like you. I don’t mind.” She swallowed, her smile twitching. “If that’s alright.”

Ally found herself whispering “always” before she knew what she was doing. Before she knew if she wanted to keep talking about it. Because there was something intoxicating about having someone else stare into her soul while she talked about her deepest secrets, her deepest fears. To place them right there. Out in the open. And not be judged. To have someone nodding along who actually meant it. Who understood. Who knew those emotions that she kept dug down in that deep place within her mind, without her having to say a word. 

Lana’s smile grew and she licked her lips, her thumb brushing over Ally’s palm, and a shiver ran up under Ally’s skin. She blinked, and Lana blinked back, and suddenly she was overcome with the deep, aching need to kiss her. 

Anyone but her.

Ally cleared her throat. “Anyway,” she tried, pulling her hand from Lana’s grip. She told herself it was a coincidence that Lana’s smile fell at that exact moment. “Don’t you need to go film your piece? You’re going to run out of daylight.”

Lana glanced at her watch, seemingly jolted back into the real world. Her eyes went wide. “Shit. Shit! Is that the time?” She scrambled, gathering her purse and digging out a ten dollar bill to drop on the table. 

“No no, let me,” Ally tried, fumbling with her own purse. “You did me a favor, meeting me here.” 

But Lana waved her off, shouldering her bag. “How about you give me a ride back to the school and we call it even? I’ll never make it in time if I walk.”

And Ally found herself smiling. “Alright. Deal.”

~~~ 

The television droned as Ally washed the dishes, scrubbing them down and drying them off. One by one. She didn’t know why, but there was something so soothing about it. Oz tucked snugly in bed, the quiet of the house. The rhythm of the washing and drying and washing again. It gave her time to think over her day, sort out cases, process everything and anything that was picking at her mind. 

Right now, it was Lana Winters. And she hated herself for it. Hated how much she had enjoyed the closeness, the familiarity. The immediate warmth that had threaded through her body at Lana’s touch, her words, just listening to her talk. 

The way her hand had brushed over Ally’s as she was buckling herself into the front seat of Ally’s car.

Ally fought to keep the woman off her mind. And she was failing miserably. But she full-on gave up when Lana popped up on her television, her voice breaking Ally’s thoughts. 

She was in front of the school, mouth moving over empathetic words. Brow pushed up. Eyes almost watering. Damn, she was good. Ally had just noted that Lana had taken the story herself, she hadn’t let the intern do it, when the doorbell rang. 

She set the plate down in the sink, drying her hands on a towel and silently cursing her neighbor for always asking to borrow ingredients this late. She had asked her multiple times not to ring the doorbell after nine, but the woman never complied. 

Ally made a bet with herself that it would be eggs this time - what was it with this woman and eggs at night? - as she pulled the door open. 

And froze. 

Lana Winters stood before her, hair caught up in a ponytail and makeup still absolutely perfect. She was wearing the same stunning blue blazer combination that she had worn earlier in the day. And Ally was still in her stained pants.

“Senator,” Lana greeted her, a soft smile pushing her cheeks up. 

“Is everything okay?” Ally tried, tugging at the hem of her shirt and smoothing it down. 

Lana nodded, her brow twitching before morphing back into that sweet smile. “I was just…” She huffed, swallowing. “I know it’s late, but I was just about to head home, and I realized that I pass your neighborhood on my way, so I thought maybe we could—“

Ally bit down on a smile, opening the door wider and gesturing inside. “Come on in.”

~~~ 

“Red or white?” Ally called from the kitchen, hands hovering between the glasses in her cabinet. 

“Whatever you’re drinking,” Lana replied. “I’m not picky.” 

Red it was. 

Ally pulled the wide glasses down onto the counter, filling them just a bit too high, and went to join Lana in the living room. 

She was standing in front of a bookshelf, arms crossed and fingers tapping on her elbow as she looked over the pictures there. She pointed to one, looking over at Ally. 

“Is this your wife?”

Ally moved around the couch, handing Lana her glass. Glanced at the picture as Lana swirled her wine and smiled in approval. 

“Ex-wife,” Ally corrected, taking sip from her glass. 

“Oh,” Lana started, turning back to the photo. “I thought that I heard you were widowed. I apologize.” 

Ally shook her head, placing her hand placatingly on Lana’s arm. “No no,” she said as she swallowed another sip. “I was. It’s just… She’s the one that got us into that entire mess. And I realized after I figured everything out that we hadn’t been married for a while. Not really. So… It’s easier if I…” She cleared her throat. “She’s still Oz’s mother and I think it’s important that he remember her, but sometimes I wonder if it would… be easier for him if this chapter of his life wasn’t constantly on display.”

Lana shook her head. “Who knows…” she mumbled absently. And guilt washed through Ally.

“I’m sorry,” she tried, clearing her throat. “Here I am, making this all about me. You wanted to talk about something?”

Lana waved her off for the hundredth time that day and made for the couch. Something in the back of Ally’s brain hated that she was so casual about it, didn’t wait to be invited to sit. And something told Ally that she didn’t really hate it at all.

A split second decision, and Ally sat on the couch with her, instead of across in the armchair. 

“I just wanted to thank you again for letting me run that story.”

Ally smiled, shaking her head. “I made it into a bigger thing than it needed to be. It was a good piece.” 

Lana swallowed her sip of wine, perking up. “You watched it?”

“I did,” Ally nodded, smirking around the rim of her glass. “What happened to that pretty little intern who was going to run the story?”

A laugh. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

Ally’s brow quirked. “So you knew I would be watching?”

Lana’s eyes narrowed. “I had my suspicions.”

“Oh, is that so?”

A chuckle echoed in Lana’s wine glass, and there it was again, that pounding in Ally’s head to kiss her that left her stomach flipping and her thighs clenching. 

They fell into an amicable silence, staring at each other and taking small sips of their wine. Ally didn’t know when, but at some point, Lana’s hand had slid over her own. And when she realized it was there, she traced her thumb over Lana’s knuckles. 

Lana hummed, and the way it reverberated in Ally’s chest made heat rush to her cheeks. 

“Listen,” Ally started, and Lana’s brow twitched up questioningly. “I apologize if I was too firm about filming at the school. I hope that in the future we can—“

“Mama?!”

Ice shot down Ally’s spine. “Shit.” 

She scrambled, sliding her wine glass onto the table and bolting up. Lana was right there with her, following her out of the living room.  

“Is everything okay?”

Ally nodded as she skated through the rooms to the stairs. “Yes, yeah. I’m sorry, he just, he has night terrors. Just give me one minute.”

She ran up the steps, pushing the door to Oz’s room open. 

“Oz? What is it? What’s wrong? I’m right here.” 

Ozzie was curled up against his headboard, shaking and sniffling. And something hard knotted over Ally’s heart. She rushed to his side, pushing stray hairs off of his sweaty brow. 

“Shh, shh,” she cooed, tucking him against her chest and rocking him softly. “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe. You’re safe.” 

She felt him nod against her stomach and she pulled back, holding his face in her hands. “What was the dream about, sweetheart?” 

He started with his broken explanation, brow scrunching as he tried to remember all of the pieces and put them in a logical order. It wasn’t too bad, until he got to the end. And then it was Kai and Ivy, just like it always was. This time sitting on a throne and making him dance. Kai walking over and ripping his arms off. Cackling as he waved them around. 

Ally pulled him to her again, whispering a soft, “no no no, sweetie. It wasn’t real. They’re not here. They can’t hurt you anymore. I promise.”

She waited for his breaths to steady out before pulling away again and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Do you want a glass of water?” she asked, wiping beads of sweat from his hairline. 

Oz nodded slowly. 

“Alright. Give me one minute. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Another nod. 

“Okay.” Ally pressed a quick kiss to his forehead before turning and nearly jumping out of her skin. 

Lana was leaning in the doorway. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, smiling softly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Mama…?” Oz questioned uneasily, hands twisting into his comforter. 

“I thought maybe I could help,” Lana continued, half whispering, half mouthing the words. Ally gave her a soft smile. 

“Ozzie,” Ally said, turning back to her son. “This is one of my friends, Ms. Winters. She’s very nice. Can she sit with you while I get your water? I promise you’ll be safe if she’s here.”

A hesitant nod.

“Alright. I’ll be right back.”

Ally squeezed Lana’s arm lightly as she passed, whispering a soft and meaningful “thank you”. She paused in the hallway, watching Lana sit down on Ozzie’s bed.

“You’ve got a lot of clowns in here,” she started, her voice pitched up and playful. Oz nodded, fingers releasing his sheets just so. “You know,” Lana continued, and Ally could tell by the tone of her voice that her nose was scrunched up. “If you want, you can call me Lana Banana.”

Ally heard Ozzie giggle, and then she went to fetch the glass of water. 

When she returned a few minutes later, glass in one hand and his favorite blanket in the other, fresh from the dryer, she could hear the laughter before she had even reached the top of the stairs. 

“But why does he use scissors? Why not something more… clown-like?”

“I don’t know,” Oz giggled. “But look, he has juggling sticks, too.”

Ally turned the corner into his room as Lana shook her head softly, Ozzie grinning and fumbling with the action figure in his hands. She paused in the doorway.

“Hm, I don’t know,” Lana started, finger tapping against the figure’s mask. “This doesn’t seem to add up. Where are the rest of his tricks? Does he only have one act?”

Ozzie shoved at her, cackling. “He’s not a real clown.”

Ally skirted into the room as Lana gave a light, “Oh, I see.” She handed the cup to Ozzie, trading him for the action figure and replacing it on his dresser. 

“Alright, now that’s enough Twisty for tonight. We don’t want to bore Ms. Winters.”

She scrunched her nose, mouthing a soft “it’s fine” as she smiled. 

Oz took a few big gulps of water, and Ally smoothed her hand through his hair. 

“Small sips,” she urged, tapping his hand. One last swallow and he handed the cup back to her. “All finished?” 

Oz nodded. 

“Okay then, say goodnight to Ms. Winters, and don’t forget to thank her for playing with you.” 

He did exactly as he was told, her polite little man, and she couldn’t help but smile as she fluffed up his blanket. Before she could stretch it out, though, Lana had grabbed the other end of it, pulling it across the bed so that it laid perfectly flat. And Ally’s smile wavered at the warmth spreading through her, reminding her just how nice it felt to have someone else there. To help. How nice it felt not to be alone. 

Ozzie wiggled and broke Ally’s thoughts, and only then did she realize she had been staring at Lana. She cleared her throat. 

“Okay mister, time for tucks.”

Oz laughed as Ally tucked his blanket around him over-exaggeratedly, grumbling out “tuck tuck tuck tuck” in her silliest voice. 

A kiss to his forehead, one for his nose, and then she was walking back to the door, Lana right behind her in the hallway as she found the light switch. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Ally murmured, flicking the switch off.

She waited for the soft “goodnight, Mama,” before she shut the door. But this time, before it clicked, she also heard a “goodnight, Lana Banana,” and by the way Lana chuckled behind her, Ally knew she had heard it, too. 

She turned, letting out a soft sigh. 

“I can’t thank you enough,” Ally started, making her way to the staircase. “He can be a bit of a handful, but--“

Lana cleared her throat softly and Ally glanced back at her as she made her way down the stairs. And froze mid-step. 

“I-“ Ally tried, brow pushing up at the tears in Lana’s eyes. “Are you alright…?” 

Lana smiled, waving her off and moving to push past her down the stairs. But Ally caught her arms, holding her level on the step. “Lana…?”

And Lana chuckled softly. Ally knew why. It was the first time she had used her first name. And it felt good. It sat warm on her tongue like butter. 

She sniffed again, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye so quickly and delicately that Ally almost missed it. 

“Lana, what’s wrong?” Ally tried again, sliding her hands down her arms and trying to catch her gaze. 

A long moment, and Ally waited, because she could feel Lana warring with herself. Trying to find the right words. 

“Your son is obsessed with a serial killer,” she said. But the way that she said it, like it was funny, with an ironic chuckle laced through her words. 

It split through Ally like lightning. 

“Oh my gosh, Lana. I am so sorry, I wasn’t even thinking. God, why wasn’t I thinking? I can’t even imagine what you— What do you need? Do you want to sit down? Talk about it? Would you like to leave? I would offer to drive you home but I can’t leave Oz—“

Lana pushed her finger against Ally’s lips and she faltered, little electric pulses sparking at the contact. 

“It’s not that,” Lana tried, smiling softly and sniffing against the last of her tears. “It’s that… Your son is obsessed with a serial killer, and I didn’t care.”

Ally blinked at her.

“He was talking to me about Twisty and it should have scared me. It should have brought everything flooding back. But I was so content and happy just to be making him feel better, that it didn’t matter. And I have been waiting so long for this moment to come.” 

She shook her head in disbelief, and then more tears came, her finger falling from Ally’s lips. She giggled over a sob, hand coming up to cover her mouth, ever so proper. And then she choked out a soft “oh, Ally” and Ally let herself smile at the way her name sounded on this woman’s perfectly shaped lips. 

And then Lana kissed her.

Ally froze at the shock that coursed through her body, hands springing off of Lana’s arms. And as quickly as it had happened, Lana pulled away, brow creased and doubt pulling her smile down at the corner. 

“I’m sorry,” she said almost immediately, hands pushing against her cheeks. “I don’t know what came over me, I—“

Ally surged forwards, crushing her lips to Lana’s. A tiny squeak, and then Lana melted under her, moaning as she parted her lips and deepened the kiss. Her hands were in Ally’s hair in seconds, and Ally relished the way that she tugged so lightly, urging her mouth closer. And good lord kissing her felt like filling a mold with molten gold, hot and heavy and brilliant, seeping into every hollow part of her and making her whole. 

Lana made the smallest of sounds, her hand falling to the dip of Ally’s back and pressing her closer. But they were on the stairs and there wasn’t room for both of them to find their footing, so Ally slid her hands over Lana’s waist and tugged her down the steps, one at a time. Nice and slow so that she wouldn’t have to stop kissing her. 

The second they hit the bottom, Lana had her flipped and pinned against the banister. 

Ally cried out before Lana swallowed the sound. “Shh,” she chided between kisses. “I don’t think he’s asleep yet.”

Ally laughed, rolling her eyes. “You’d be surprised.” 

Lana pulled back, quirking a brow. “Is that a risk you want to take?”

“Honestly?” Ally asked, licking her lips as she panted.

“Mhm.” It was more of a hum than a response, and before Ally could blink, Lana’s mouth was on her neck, her fingers scratching up under her shirt. 

Ally fought the urge to let her eyes roll back in her head, grounding herself on the banister digging into her back. All she managed was a small moan. 

“Don’t get in the habit of lying to me,” Lana murmured against her skin, nipping. “That’s never going to end well.” 

Ally’s laugh was smothered by a groan as Lana’s hands slipped down over her ass. 

“Yes,” she breathed, hand coming up to Lana’s hair and holding her against her neck. 

“Yes, what?” 

Another groan. “Yes, I’m willing to take the risk.” 

Lana broke away, pressing a soft kiss to Ally’s lips before nudging their noses together. She smirked. 

“Well, alright then.”

~~~ 

Ally hadn’t replaced the furniture after Ivy was gone. Everyone told her that she should redecorate, should get rid of everything they had shared and start over. A new life. Clean. But Ally had thought that would be too rough on Ozzie, so she had kept almost everything, save wedding photos and some decorations Ivy picked out that Ally absolutely despised. 

And now, pushed deep into her couch as Lana kissed down, down, down her body, she was glad she hadn’t gotten rid of it, because damn it might just be the most comfortable couch on the planet.

It had never been this comfortable with Ivy on top of her. 

Trapping her. 

Ally squeezed her eyes shut, breaths quickening as her hands tightened in Lana’s hair. 

And that was all it took. Just two quick inhales and a slight grip change, and Lana stopped mid-bite, pulling off of Ally just so. 

“Okay,” Lana said softly, resting her chin where her mouth had been, just above Ally’s belly button. She smoothed her hands up Ally’s ribs, sliding her thumbs softly over the dips there. “Okay. It’s okay.” 

And humiliation flooded through Ally as she nodded in agreement. Swallowed hard. Shook her head. 

“It’s nothing,” she tried, letting go of Lana’s hair and flexing her fingers. “Just… Give me a minute.” 

A soft nod. “Okay.”

It was more than a minute, and Ally could feel Lana’s eyes on her. And her thumbs, running so delicately over her ribs, back and forth and back and forth. 

Another attempt at an inhale, but Ally couldn’t get her breath in, the smell of Ivy stuck in her nose and the memory of her so solid on top of her blocking her lungs. Her stomach hitched up with the half-breath, and then Lana was off of her, pulling away and sitting up on the couch. 

“Wait,” Ally started, propping herself up on her elbows, because somehow the cold of the room on her stomach was so much worse, made her feel even more alone. And doubt slammed into her chest when Lana got up off the couch and walked around the coffee table. “Shit.” 

She was just about to cry, just feeling exposed enough and vulnerable enough, cold and open and hell, she hadn’t let anyone take her shirt off since Ivy and it wasn’t—

“Sit up, honey.” 

Lana was standing over Ally, and Ally hadn’t realized she had pushed her hands over her face until Lana’s fingers were prying them down. 

“Sit up.”

Ally did as she was told, propping herself up on her arm and watching as Lana sat down right where her head had been, crossing one leg over the other. She patted her lap, and the smile she offered Ally was so warm, so genuine, that Ally couldn’t help but lay back down. And the way that her head fit in Lana’s lap, the way Lana’s fingers started pulling softly through her hair, Ally brought her hand up to Lana’s knee and traced tiny circles there, breaths steadying out. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lana tried, scratching lightly at Ally’s scalp.

Ally sighed, staring at the wall. Shook her head. “It’s just that sometimes… Everything comes rushing back and I feel so…” She trailed off, thumb tapping against Lana’s knee.

“Trapped.” 

Ally startled, turning to look at Lana. “Exactly.” 

Lana chuckled, but she swallowed it down, something shadowing her eyes. 

Ally sat up, scooting closer. And after waiting for a sign to stop, watching Lana watch her, listening to the quickening of her breaths, she made the split second decision to straddle her, settling down in her lap. 

“Lana Winters,” she murmured, brow furrowed as she searched Lana’s eyes. And Lana held her gaze, hands settling on her waist. “Who are you?” 

Lana’s fingers tightened as she laughed, really, fully laughed, head thrown back just so. And Ally thought absently that she looked like an angel, her hair half-pulled out of its ponytail, curls dropping over her shoulders, lipstick worn down from kissing and kissing and kissing. Ally wondered if it was trailed across her own neck, over her shoulders, down her stomach. But more than that, she wondered if she could kiss her hard enough and long enough to get every last piece of it off. 

When Lana looked back at her, eyes glittering, Ally grinned. Shifted to ease the throbbing between her legs. And Lana’s breath stuttered. She gulped. 

“I should probably be going,” she murmured, fingers twitching on Ally’s waist. 

Ally shook her head. “Don’t go.” 

Lana chuckled, smiling softly. “It’s late.”

But her hands weren’t moving and her eyes kept flicking to Ally’s mouth, so for the thousandth time that night, Ally made a split second decision and ground down against Lana’s hips, brow raising in a hesitant question. “Don’t go.”

A soft gasp. “Alright, honey.”

“Yeah?”

Lana bit her lip, nodding. “Just for a little while.”

And that’s how Ally found herself here, hands in Lana’s hair as Lana mouthed at her neck and forced Ally down on her thigh over and over again. 

“That’s it,” she murmured against Ally’s skin, and it was hot, everything was so hot with this woman. 

Ally nodded, whining. And Lana had the nerve to giggle. 

“What’s funny?” Ally panted, moaning as Lana flicked her tongue over her pulse point. 

“Nothing,” Lana breathed, tightening her grip on Ally’s waist and forcing her faster. Faster.

And the friction that was building was sparking a volatile heat in Ally’s stomach that was pushing and growing and Ally twisted her fingers tighter in Lana’s hair to keep from completely coming apart. 

“For god’s sakes, Lana, just—“ Lana bit down and Ally cried out, and at the heat of Lana’s tongue over the bite she let out a loud moan. 

Another giggle, and a soft hum. “What do you want, honey?” 

And Ally groaned, practically screaming through her clenched teeth. “Will you just— god, oh god— Lana Winters, I swear if you don’t fuck me right now I’ll—“

Lana crushed her mouth to Ally’s, moaning as their teeth clashed and their tongues fought for dominance. 

“There she is,” she panted, hands finding the band of Ally’s pants and yanking them down. They got caught between them and Lana broke away, brow furrowing as Ally lifted her hips. But it wasn’t enough. 

“Lay down for me, honey?” And the way she asked, so soft and so easy, like she wouldn’t mind if Ally said no. 

Well. 

Ally fell back onto the couch, hands finding the silk of Lana’s shirt and pulling her down on top of her. She was over Ally for seconds before she tugged her pants past her thighs and Ally kicked them all the way off. And then Lana straddled Ally’s waist, wiggling her hips down as she pulled her ponytail out and fluffed out her curls. 

“Oh come on,” Ally groaned, rolling her eyes. “You can’t— That’s not fair.”

“Oh no?” Lana questioned, and she bit down on her finger so seductively that Ally actually felt the heat that was pooling between her legs. She thought for a split second that her couch would be absolutely ruined tomorrow and she may need to buy a new one after all, but then Lana threw her head back and laughed and Ally’s hands gripped into her shirt, rucking it up from where it was tucked into her skirt. 

“Off. Now.” Yanking, tugging, pulling. “Get it off.”

Another laugh. “Yes ma’am.” 

She lifted her arms, letting Ally rip the shirt off of her head before yanking her down on top of her and kissing her until she couldn’t breathe. 

Lana broke away, pushing their foreheads together as she panted. “For a second there I thought you were going to go full bottom on me.”

Ally swallowed. “Is that a problem?” 

Lana hummed over a chuckle, tracing her finger down Ally’s jaw, tapping her chin. “Not if I’m the one that gets to make Miss Senator fall to pieces.”

Ally laughed. “Challenge accepted.”

And Lana bit her lip, nuzzling their noses together. “Oh honey,” she drawled, “it’s not going to be a challenge, believe me.” 

Ally gasped, flushing, and Lana took the opportunity to latch her mouth back to her neck, fingers slipping down over her thighs and scratching lightly. And Ally almost drowned in the feel of it, almost begged. But just as her eyes rolled back in her head and Lana’s mouth opened in that sticky, sticky way, there was a thump.

“Mama…?”

Ally’s eyes flew open and Lana froze, pulling back. Ally caught at her shoulders.

“Don’t move,” she mouthed, acutely aware that she was not wearing any pants and Lana was the only thing covering her. “Please.” 

Lana bit down on a laugh.

“Ozzie? What’s wrong, sweetie?” Ally called, pushing a finger to Lana’s lips.

“I was thirsty,” he said softly. 

“Alright,” Ally tried, throwing a look at Lana as she pushed her tongue against Ally’s finger. “I—“ 

Lana took her finger into her mouth, holding it between her teeth. 

“Um, Oz, just—“ 

Lana sucked, hummed, barely audible, and Ally melted into the vibrations, groaning softly. 

She took a deep breath, forcing her mind back to the present. 

“Ozzie, just— go into the kitchen and grab a cup and I’ll meet you in there, okay?” 

“Okay,” he replied casually, and Ally heard him plod out of the room. 

“Stop it,” Ally started before Lana even had a chance to open her mouth. “You horrible, awful, distracting—“ 

She kept muttering as Lana giggled softly, crawling off of her and retrieving her pants from the floor. She held them out to Ally. Quirked her brow. “Quickly, honey, or he’s going to come back in here.”

Ally huffed, pulling her pants back on and pressing her mouth to Lana’s ear. “You’re dead meat, Winters. Just you wait.” 

But after helping Ozzie with his water in only pants and a bra, tucking him snugly back into bed, and making her way back down the stairs, Ally found Lana standing in the foyer, pulling her blazer on over her shirt. 

Ally stopped in her tracks. “What… are you doing?” 

Lana whipped around, smile breaking through as she finished with the buttons. “It’s late, honey. And I have an early morning tomorrow.” 

Ally nodded, brow raised. “Alright.” 

Lana crossed the room, hand settling on Ally’s chest. Two soft pats. “He’s a sweet kid.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ally tried, frustration flooding through her. “I thought he would stay asleep, but—“

“Hey,” Lana started, pressing a soft kiss to Ally’s lips. “You said you were willing to take the risk. And I knew what I was getting into when I pushed you down onto that couch. Okay?” 

A hesitant smile. A nod. “Okay.” 

Lana kissed her again, lingering as her fingers tapped against Ally’s skin. When she pulled back, she was smirking. “Are you going to be okay if I leave now? You’re not going to combust on me, are you, honey?” 

And Ally chuckled, low and soft in the back of her throat as her hands found Lana’s ass and yanked her against her. “Oh baby, I’ll be just fine. But you still have another thing coming. And don’t you forget it.” 

Lana held her out at arm’s length, eyes raking over her. “We’ll see.” 

They stayed frozen like that for a long moment, and Ally could tell by the way Lana was looking at her that she was warring with herself on something. She waited for Lana to change her mind. To pull her in and kiss her senseless. But after biting her lip and tilting her head, Lana chuckled, hands falling from Ally’s arms. 

Alright then. 

Ally grabbed Lana’s purse for her and opened the door. 

“You still have that morning appointment available tomorrow?” Lana purred, shouldering the bag with a smirk.

Ally quirked her brow. “I may be able to pencil you in.” 

A low laugh and one more light kiss to Ally’s lips. “Oh good. And here I was thinking I wouldn’t have time for breakfast.”

And then she was gone, walking down the drive and leaving Ally standing in the doorway alone, gaping and shaking and absolutely soaked. 

~~~ 

“I told you, we’re not cutting the story. It’s already half-way in print, for heaven’s sake.” 

“I’m not asking you to cut the story,” Ally snapped, arms crossed tight. “All I’m asking is that you cut that one specific part.”

“And I’m telling you no.” 

Ally let out a growl, standing abruptly and bracing her hands on her desk. “God, you are so infuriating! It’s two lines. Just fucking cut it!” 

“Why?” Lana slammed back, spinning on Ally. “Why should I be the one who has to cut my story? Why can’t you let us run this one?” 

“Because I let you have the last one. And the one before that—“

“And the one before that you cut,” Lana argued, smacking her hand down on Ally’s desk. “You have no respect for journalism. If you would just listen—“

“No respect? No respect?!” A flat laugh fell out of Ally’s mouth as she skirted around her desk. “Okay. Let’s talk about respect. Let’s talk about the way you completely went behind my back with that story about the bar? About how you snuck one of your girls into a private city council meeting and then flat out denied it when they called you out?”

She was right on Lana now, towering over her as her chest heaved. 

“I’ll protect my girls. I stand by that and I stand by them.”

Ally glared at her, growling. “You want to try that again?”

But Lana only straightened, arms folding across her chest as she tilted her chin up challengingly. 

Ally huffed and Lana licked over a smirk, fingers tapping on her elbow as the fire in her eyes stoked with her inevitable victory. 

Ally forced herself to turn away, shaking her head out as she took a long breath and pushed her fingers into her temples. “Winters, I swear, sometimes I just—“ 

There was a beat of silence and Ally whipped her head up in the same second she smelled smoke. She groaned. 

“Ms. Winters, can you please not smoke in here? This is a public office.”

Lana raised her brow, sucking on her bottom lip. She held Ally’s gaze, pulling the cigarette to her mouth and taking a long drag. “Sorry,” she drawled, resting her elbow on her arm. “Nasty habit.”

Ally pulled her hands through her hair as she gathered her wits, sitting back at her desk and crossing her legs. Straightened her posture. “I am not going to let you run the full story.”

“I think you will,” Lana countered, sauntering over to the desk. She sat down on the edge of it, dragging on her cigarette.

Ally’s eyes caught on the hem of Lana’s skirt as it inched up her knees, exposing the pink skin there and the annoyingly perfect little dip of her bone, hollow and flushed and— 

She caught herself, digging her teeth into her bottom lip and forcing her eyes back to Lana’s face. And the way she had her cigarette caught between her teeth, the way her lipstick stained the edge of it, the way her fingers twitched on it as her lip quirked up at the corner, Ally had to force herself to sort her thoughts, running over arguments and counterarguments, categorizing them and ordering them and building a wall of a defense against the way Lana was cockily skimming through the papers on her desk. 

The nerve of it all, mixed with the way she distinctly felt like she was losing again, had Ally practically vibrating. Her fingers pushed into the arms of her chair as Lana caught her eye, something softening under her gaze as she quirked a brow and covered a smirk with another drag on her cigarette. 

Ally stared her down, jaw setting as her resolve strengthened. Lana tilted her head, and Ally forced herself to match her, not letting herself register the depth of Lana’s gaze or the way her brows pulled together and she licked over her incisor. 

Frustration bubbled up the back of Ally’s throat, pushing against her teeth as she clenched them. She struggled to hold onto it, to keep the words from snaking past her lips. To center herself and stand her ground. It was her office. It was her decision. And Lana couldn’t just march into her day and flip it on its head. 

Lana shifted, crossing one leg over the other as her heel clicked against the side of Ally’s desk. Her skirt shifted higher and it was just edging on being indecent, and as Ally held Lana’s gaze she could have sworn she saw Lana push her tongue into her cheek. And that, mixed with the predatory sparkle reflected in Lana’s eyes, had the last fraction of Ally’s patience pulled to snapping, teetering right on the edge of screaming and gnashing teeth and throwing something. Hard. 

So instead, she squeezed her knees. Took a deep breath. Met Lana’s eyes. 

“You know what? You’re right. I did change my mind. Now, instead of just cutting two lines, I’m cutting the whole thing. Congratulations.”

“What?”

“It’s not appropriate and it’s not a good story and I’m not going to let it run in this city’s newspaper.”

Lana scoffed. Blinked. “I’m sorry, did you just tell me that it wasn’t a good story?”

Ally quirked a brow challengingly. “Do you have a problem with that, Ms. Winters?”

And then Lana was up, pacing and waving her cigarette as she gesticulated. “Do you even hear yourself? You are in no way qualified to tell me that this isn’t a good story. Insult me, fine. Insult my talent, fine. But so help me, if you ever insult journalism again—“

“Get out of my office,” Ally said firmly, fire in her eyes. 

“What?”

“I said get out of my office. This meeting is over. Your request is denied.” 

Lana paused mid-step. “Senator, please. We’re already halfway in print. If you would just let me—“

But Ally stood, her voice pitching higher to counter Lana’s. “I said no, Winters! I have work to finish and papers to attend to and a city to run. So like I said before, I need you out of my office. Now.”

“Senator—“ Lana tried again, brows creased down the middle. But Ally cut her off. 

“Good day, Ms. Winters.” 

Lana growled in frustration, practically screaming through clenched teeth. “I swear you’re going to be the absolute death of me, Allyson Mayfair-Richards.” 

And as Ally watched her bend over and snatch her purse off of the chair, watched her skirt lift just so and caught a glimpse of those little purple-red marks high up on the backs of her thighs, her mouth watered. And the memory of the sounds Lana had made when Ally had sucked them there — the way her fingers had tightened in Ally’s hair as Ally smirked against her skin, hot and flushed and smelling like cigarettes — mixed with the way Ally’s full name fell off of her perfect lips, bubbling up and melting like honey even when she was angry, had Ally seriously considering the possibility that Lana Winters just might be the absolute death of her, too. 

[perlukafarinn]

prompt for you: coffee shop + robots + hurt/comfort?

deancas / 5k(ao3)

Dean hasn’t showered in five days. He’s got twenty-three unread messages onhis phone and eight missed calls. He hasn’t bothered to check his email sincelast week.

Being around other humans is out of the question right now but fortunately,Dean works from home and the coffee shop closest to his apartment isandroid-run.

Chuck’s isn’t a great place. The coffee is only okay and theidentical android baristas creep Dean out but right now, he doesn’t care aboutany of that. He just needs to get his caffeine fix without feeling like he’sbeing judged by strangers.

The barista manning the till today is ‘Steve’, according to his name tag. Hegreets Dean and takes his order with polite indifference, eyes not lingering onDean’s greasy hair or the ratty grey hoodie he’s been wearing for two weeksstraight now.

Dean pays for his coffee then goes to wait by the counter to pick up hisorder. He’s currently the only customer, not surprising considering it’s fiveAM. For once, Dean’s fucked up sleeping schedule is working in his favor.

“Large black coffee to go?”

The voice is right next to Dean’s ear and he flinches back, turning aroundto find the barista standing not two feet away, holding Dean’s coffee. He’sidentical to Steve but according to the name tag, this one is called ‘Castiel’.

“Thanks,” Dean mumbles, holding out his hand.

Castiel doesn’t give him the coffee. He tilts his head, observing Dean. “Areyou alright?”

Dean blinks. This is not how it’s supposed to go – the androids follow avery set script and they don’t deviate from it, ever.

“What?”

“I asked if you’re alright,” Castiel repeats. Those android-blue eyes arewide and sympathetic.

“What’s it to you?” Dean snaps, off-kilter and embarrassed. Apparently, helooks so pathetic now that even unfeeling robots are taking notice. “Just gimmemy coffee.”

Castiel purses his lips and for one wild moment, Dean’s sure he’s about tobe sassed by a robot.

“As you wish, sir,” Castiel says instead, finally handing over the coffee.

Dean snatches it without a word. He feels off-balance and embarrassed, andhe just wants to be back in his apartment where no one can see or judge him.

He sips his coffee as soon as he’s outside, too much and too fast, burninghis tongue. It kind of feels like karma.

*

It’s another three days before Dean finds himself back at Chuck’s.He’s showered in the meantime but the messages still sit unread on his phone –up to thirty-six now – and the phone calls still go unanswered.

It being early morning – still night, really – means that Dean is once againthe only customer in the shop. There’s also just one android behind the counterthis time and unfortunately, it’s just the one Dean didn’t want to see.

Castiel gives Dean an unimpressed look as he approaches, clearly rememberinghim as well. “How may I help you?”

“I – uh – large black coffee,” Dean says. When Castiel just looks moreunimpressed, he quickly adds, “To go. Please.”

“Anything else?”

Dean shakes his head.

As Castiel prepares the coffee, Dean watches quietly. The way he looks, theway he moves seems completely human. Dean at least couldn’t tell thedifference. It’s impressive and more than a little disconcerting.

Castiel shoves the coffee in the go-to cup onto the counter, snapping Deanfrom his thoughts.

“Your coffee, sir.”

Dean takes it, hesitating as the guilt squirms in his gut. He’s come to theuncomfortable realization that if Castiel were human, he wouldn’t havehesitated to apologize for his rudeness. It doesn’t seem right not to, justbecause of that.

“Look, I’m sorry.”

Castiel regards him coolly.

“About last time,” Dean elaborates. “That was… I’m not usually rude toservice workers.”

“I suppose I am the exception,” Castiel says dryly.

Dean shakes his head. “It wasn’t anything personal. I was just having a reallybad day. You didn’t deserve to have your head bitten off for asking aquestion.”

Castiel looks surprised at that. He tilts his head and Dean squirms underthe intensity of his gaze, all too aware of how filthy his hoodie has gottenand the fact that he hasn’t bothered to shave since he last showered.

“Is today better?” Castiel finally asks.

“Not really,” Dean admits.

Castiel’s expression softens. “I’m sorry.”

Dean shrugs one shoulder. His palm is getting uncomfortably warm fromholding the coffee. “Listen, I gotta-” he gestures at the exit.

Castiel nods. “Enjoy your coffee.”

He says it with a smile. Not that service-industry,my-bosses-tell-me-I-have-to kind of smile but small and genuine. It makessomething in Dean’s chest constrict.

“Thanks,” he mutters.

The bell chimes as he exits, much too loud in the otherwise quiet space.

*

Dean stops by Chuck’s during the afternoon a couple of days laterand Castiel isn’t working. There’s Jimmy, Emmanuel, and Lucifer (what thehell), and they’re all identical to Castiel but none of them are him. Theydon’t ask uncomfortably personal questions or give any indication that Dean isdifferent from any other customer.

Dean gets his coffee to go and ignores the pang of disappointment.

The next morning, a couple of hours before sunrise, Dean drops by again andthere Castiel is, working the graveyard shift by himself.

“So, you only work the night shifts?”

It occurs to Dean only after he’s said it just how stalker-y he sounds. Likehe’s been paying attention to Castiel’s schedule.

But if Castiel is at all put off by or creeped out, he doesn’t show it.“Yes. I’ve been told I’m better suited for it.”

“Yeah?”

Castiel rubs the back of his neck. It’s an oddly human gesture. “I’m notvery good with people.”

“But you’re an android,” Dean says, confused. “What are people reallyexpecting?”

Castiel doesn’t say anything. He looks uncomfortable and it occurs to Deanthat him being an android isn’t the problem; it’s the fact that he doesn’treally behave like one. He’s personable in the way the rest of them aren’t, alittle too intense for comfort.

Dean clears his throat, feeling distinctly like he just put his foot in hismouth. “Well, I think you’re doing fine.”

Castiel’s lips quirk in a faint smile. “Thank you, Dean. Did you wantanything?”

“Oh.” Dean shifts, warmth rising to his cheeks. “Um, yeah, large blackcoffee to go?”

“You’ve got it.”

*

Dean’s not sure how many unread messages there are on his phone now but itwas up to forty-two the last time he checked. Most of them are from Charlie,because she is the only person Dean knows who is more stubborn than he is. Hehasn’t opened any of her messages but he sends her a quick update to let herknow he’s alive, just to make sure she doesn’t show up unannounced at his apartmentto check.

Most of the rest of the texts are from Benny but there’s also a couple fromBobby and two from Tessa, Dean’s editor. He hasn’t opened those because he hasnothing new to show her, so why bother?

He doesn’t need to check to know that there are no messages from Sam.

Given that he’s ignoring every other person in his life, it’s strange howquickly it’s become routine to go down to Chuck’s at unholy hours inthe morning and chat it up with Cas.

Not that Dean would call them friends or anything but maybe that’s whatmakes it easier. There are no expectations when he’s talking to Cas. He doesn’thave to be fine.

Sometimes Steve is working too and those nights, Dean takes his coffee andgoes. Other nights, it’s just him and Cas.

The bell chimes as Dean enters and Cas calls without looking up from thetill, “Large black coffee to go?”

It’s probably an android thing. Then again, Dean could be getting just thatpredictable.

“Got it in one.”

Cas gets to work and Dean leans against the counter while he waits,watching. It still freaks him out a little, seeing the way Cas moves. There’snothing off about it that Dean can put his finger on; maybe it’s that thosemovements are just a bit too smooth, not so much practiced as predetermined bysome program.

“What is it that you do?” Cas asks, cutting off Dean’s train of thought.

“Do?”

“For work,” Cas clarifies. “Or school, most of our late-night customers arestudents.”

Dean snorts. “Go figure. I’m, uh, I’m a writer.”

The word feels awkward coming out of his mouth. No matter how many times hesays it, it always feels like a pose.

“Do you not enjoy it?” Cas asks.

“Sometimes,” Dean says. “Why?”

“You were making a face.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “I was not making a face. And how would you know,you weren’t even looking!“

Cas gives him a deadpan look and Dean blushes because, oh right, android.For all he knows, Cas has a second set of eyes hidden underneath thatsurprisingly realistic head of hair.

“I’m just- nevermind,” Dean says. “Do you enjoy what you do?”

Cas approaches, handing Dean his cup. Their fingers brush as Dean takes it,causing a small shock of static electricity.

“It’s what I’m programmed to do,” Cas says.

Dean takes a sip. The coffee is a little too hot still and it tastes asmediocre as it always does. It wouldn’t surprise him if every cup Cas makes wasidentical to the last. “That wasn’t an answer.”

“Sometimes, then. It depends on the customer.”

“What about right now?”

Cas smiles but doesn’t respond. “What do you write?”

Not much lately, Dean thinks with a grimace. It’s been days since he evengot one word down.

“Mostly short stories,” he says. He’s not sure what possesses him to add,“And it hasn’t been published but, uh, some poetry, too.”

“Poetry?” Cas repeats.

“Yeah. You read it?”

Cas ducks his head, looking bashful, and Dean finds himself thinking that’sa good look on him. If he were human, he might even be blushing.

“I do,” he admits. “I enjoy it very much. I’ve even tried to write somemyself.”

His voice goes quieter as he says that last part, embarrassed almost, andDean feels a sudden swell of affection that catches him off guard.

“Maybe you could show it to me sometime?” he asks before he can stophimself. At Cas’ obvious reluctance, he adds, “I’ll show you mine if you showme yours?”

Cas huffs out a quiet laughter. “I’ll think about it.”

“All I ask,” Dean says, grinning over the rim of his cup as he takes anothersip.

*

Despite Dean’s precautions, Charlie drops by his apartment unannounced acouple of days later. Apparently, ‘still alive, stop texting’ counts as a cryfor help, go figure.

Her visit is short because Dean’s apartment is a mess and he’s not gonna lether in but she still manages to pester him on a long list of topics from thedoorway: to call Bobby (fine), to take a shower (it’s only beenthree days), to go outside (does going to Chuck’s count?),to see his therapist (hell no).

The moment she brings up Sam, he slams the door in her face.

He doesn’t go to Chuck’s that night, his mood too foul and hisenergy sapped.  He sleeps through the night and most of the day, findinghimself wide-awake the following evening as his sleeping schedule has beenthrown for yet another curve.

It’s a little past midnight, so not the hour he usually visits, but Deanneeds to go outside and feel like something resembling human for at least a fewminutes.

Chuck’s is unusually busy – there’s two people sitting by thewindows, chatting over their coffee, and for once there’s a line, albeitconsisting of just one person. Dean waits, nodding at Cas when he waves at himfrom behind the counter. Steve is working tonight as well and he’s the one totake Dean’s order while Cas makes the coffees.

As Dean waits, his phone starts ringing. It’s on silent but the vibrationsare obnoxiously loud, almost worse than the ringtone. Dean doesn’t need tocheck to know that it’s Charlie so he ignores his phone, letting it ring out.

“Shouldn’t you answer that?” Cas asks as he approaches.

“Shouldn’t you mind your business?” Dean snipes, reaching out and snatchingthe coffee from Cas’ grasp before he can hand it to him.

He knows he’s being a dick but he can’t help it. He feels tired andfrustrated with himself and with Charlie, and allowing it to transform intoanger is all too easy.

Going out tonight was probably a mistake.

“I was just asking a question,” Cas says, annoyed. “There’s no need to bitemy head off.”

The words ping something in Dean’s head and he knows, he knows heshould just apologize and go home but it’s like he’s watching himself from theoutside, unable to control what he’s saying.

“Then stop asking questions. Just do your damn job and stop acting like youcare when we both know you’re incapable of it!”

He’s not being loud but the words echo around the shop anyway, causingeveryone to fall silent. Dean is all too aware that the other customers are nowlooking at him and even Steve has stopped to stare but he doesn’t care aboutany of them. Doesn’t care about anything but Cas and the visible hurt he’sradiating.

“That’s not true,” he says weakly. “You know it’s not true.”

Dean swallows. Might as well finish this, push Cas completely away. “No, Idon’t.”

He leaves before Cas can respond, throwing his coffee in the trash on hisway out.

*

Dean knows he’s fucked up. He’s let this escalate too far, let himself sinktoo low, and now he’s hurting not just himself but the people around him.

At a loss for anything else to do, he picks up the phone and finally callsCharlie back.

She picks up on the second ring. “Dean? Is that really you or did someonesteal your phone?”

“Very funny,” Dean says dryly. He rubs his eyes, already feeling dreadpooling in his gut. This shouldn’t be this hard. “I, uh. I think I need somehelp.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end. “Yeah, of course. What can I do?”

*

It’s been two weeks since Dean last visited Chuck’s.

He’s been to see his therapist four times in that period, at first escortedby Charlie and then managing the last visit by himself. He’s been out to meetup with friends, all of them politely ignoring the weeks of radio silence andpicking up where they left off. Even Bobby’s been by, mostly to bitch at Deanfor never calling and to complain that the elevator in his apartment buildingsmells like weed.

He’s been in contact with Tessa, getting an extension on the deadline forthe first draft of his novel and a gentle kick in the pants to just finishpolishing his short story collection so it can be sent to print. His sleepingschedule is finally approaching something regular again, though it’s still notexactly normal.

He still hasn’t contacted Sam but, y’know, baby steps.

The one other thing hanging over Dean’s head is his last conversation withCas. He’s not sure their friendship can be salvaged but he at least owes Cas anapology and an explanation. Android or no, it’s obvious that Dean hurt hisfeelings.

On the short walk to Chuck’s, Dean practices over and over in hishead just what he’s gonna say to Cas. He briefly wonders if he’ll be able tosay anything if there are other people around but that turns out to be a mootpoint; when he enters the shop, the only person there is Cas.

He looks up as Dean enters, and he’s clearly shocked to see him but schoolshis expression quickly enough into a blank stare.

“Welcome to Chuck’s, how may I help you?”

Dean winces. Okay, so he deserves the cold shoulder but it still doesn’tfeel good.

He opens his mouth, panics as he realizes he has no idea what to start with,and ends up blurting out, “My dad died.”

Cas blinks. “I’m… sorry?”

“That’s not-” Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s not what I meantto say.”

“Your father didn’t die?”

Dean clears his throat. “No, he did. I just – I’m not expecting you toforgive me or feel sorry for me or whatever, just because my dad died. I justneeded you to know that what I said the other day had nothing to do with you.”

At the mention of their last meeting, Cas stiffens. He doesn’t say anythingand Dean’s not sure if that’s a good sign. It at least means that he can keepmaking an idiot of himself until Cas sees it fit to stop him.

“I’ve got a lot of issues,” hah, understatement, “that I haven’t really beendealing with. And I just… I get angry sometimes, ‘cause it’s easier. But I’mstarting to work through it now and I hope you do forgive me ‘cause I want usto stay friends.”

Cas is still staring wordlessly at him. The urge to look away or to turntail and flee is strong but Dean resists it. He got to say his piece, now it’sCas’ turn.

“So, yeah,” Dean finishes lamely. “That’s all I wanted to say.”

Cas finally looks away. His expression is impossible to read.

“We’re friends?”

The question catches Dean off guard. That is not what he expectedCas’ takeaway to be.

“I mean,” he shrugs, “if you want?”

“I’ve never had a friend before,” Cas confesses quietly. His expressionshifts, becoming determined. “Yes, we are friends.”

The tension leaves Dean’s body and he laughs at the relief of it. “Okay.Awesome.”

“Yes,” Cas agrees. He smiles and Dean didn’t even realize how much he missedthe sight of it until just now. “I forgive you but you have to stop getting madat me for trying to be nice.”

“I will, I promise.”

Cas nods. “Good. And don’t think I’m giving you a discount on your coffee.”

“Buddy, it’s a buck fifty a cup. I think I can handle it.”

*

Dean is relieved to fall back into the same routine with Cas. Things are alittle awkward his first couple of visits to Chuck’s but they smoothover soon enough. Cas is easy to talk to and being around him makes Dean feelcomfortable in a way he can’t quite define.

Charlie would love him, Dean thinks, but he hesitates at the thought ofactually introducing them. He kind of likes having Cas to himself.

One early morning, Dean comes running into the shop to escape the torrentialrain. He shakes himself off as he enters, running his fingers through his hairto keep it from sticking to his head.

“Dean,” Cas greets him warmly, cup of coffee already ready on the counter.“I have something to show you.”

Dean approaches the counter, wincing at the way his shoes squelch as hewalks. He should’ve just sucked it up and put on some rainboots. “Yeah?”

“Do you remember when we talked about poetry?”

Vaguely, but there’s one part of it Dean definitely recalls. “Are you gonnashow me something you wrote?”

Cas nods, a hint of shyness in the way he holds out his touchpad to Dean.“It’s not very good but-”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Dean teases, grabbing the pad.

He picks up the coffee with his other hand, sipping as he reads:

“Green is the color of grass

Or so I am told although I have yet

To discover that for myself.

But is it green like the dollar bills

I am handed in exchange for warm cups of coffee

Or green like your eyes?

I hope it is the latter.”

Warmth rises to Dean’s cheeks. He can guess the subject of Cas’ poem easilyenough – just how many green-eyed customers is he likely to have developed apersonal relationship with? – but he can’t work out what it means. Is Cas awareof the fact that humans consider poetry to be romantic? Did he mean it to comeoff that way?

Would Dean mind it if he did?

“What do you think?”

Dean looks up. Cas is watching him anxiously, clutching one hand in theother and clearly preparing himself for the worst.

Dean hands him the pad. “I like it.”

“You do?” Cas glances down at it, then back at Dean. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s very,” don’t say romantic, “evocative.”

Christ, way to sound pretentious.

Cas smiles, hugging the pad to his chest. “Thank you. It isn’t easy, writingfrom personal experience when you have so little of it.”

Dean nods absentmindedly. Then he pauses as he realizes the full meaning ofCas’ words. “Wait, so have you never really seen grass?”

“Do you see any in here?”

Stupidly enough, Dean looks around. “No, but- you must have seen itsomeplace else?”

“I’ve never left this building.”

Dean’s brain grinds to a halt. “What?”

“I haven’t had reason to,” Cas says. “I work on the first floor and rest inthe facilities upstairs.”

“Yeah, but – never?”

“Well, I am only six months old.”

“What.”

Six. Months. Old.

Dean just had romantic notions about the android equivalent of a toddler.He’s taken his anger issues out on that toddler twice now. Jesus fuckingChrist, Cas has had to deal with Dean’s crap for almost half his life.

“That doesn’t mean I am the same as a six-month-old human,” Cas says, as ifhe can tell what Dean is thinking. “My programming holds extensive knowledge ona number of topics, including human behavior. I probably know more about itthan you do.”

Well, Dean brought that one on himself.

“Okay, so, brushing past the whole ‘six-months-old’ thing,” Dean grimaces,“how have you still never left this building? Are you not allowed to?”

Cas shifts, looking nervous. “It’s not what I’m programmed for.”

“Is that a no? What would happen if you were to leave right now?”

“Nothing,” Cas admits. “It doesn’t happen often but my supervisors do haveother androids on hold in case someone abandons their post.”

“So, you could leave?” When Cas just looks increasingly uncomfortable, Deansighs. “Do you not want to leave? Is that it?”

Cas shrugs. “Where would I go?”

“Somewhere with grass?” Dean suggests. “The park? The beach? I don’t know,fucking Las Vegas?”

Actually, Dean would pay good money to see Cas deal with Vegas.

“It isn’t that I don’t want to see other places,” Cas says. “But I’ve neverstepped a foot outside this building. I wouldn’t know how to do it.”

He doesn’t say it but he’s broadcasting it so loudly he might as well have: Casis scared. And Dean can’t exactly blame him.

He takes another sip of the coffee. It’s already lukewarm.

“Dunno what to tell you, Cas. Can’t have those personal experiences if youdon’t risk something.”

Cas doesn’t respond. Judging by the look on his face, he’s deep in thought.

*

It’s May 3.

Dean was planning on calling Sam yesterday. He dialed his number multipletimes part way through before hanging up. Even got up to five digits a coupleof times.

He just can’t figure out what to say. The last time he talked to Sam, it wasto tell him their father had died and all Sam had to say in response was thathe wouldn’t be able to make it to the funeral.

And that was their first conversation in almost two years.

Dean doesn’t wanna dwell on Sam or his stupid birthday but his mind keepscircling back to it time and time again. It’s been too many birthdays since hesaw his little brother last. Dean doesn’t even know if he ever stopped growing.

He’s in a lousy mood by the time he heads down to Chuck’s and Cascan obviously spot it from a mile away. He doesn’t say anything, though, andDean manages not to be a rude piece of shit this time as he orders his coffee.

After they’ve sat in silence for a couple of minutes, Dean puts them bothout of their misery.

“It was my brother’s birthday yesterday.”

Cas stills. When he talks, it’s clear he’s picking his words carefully. “Ididn’t know you had a brother.”

“I don’t like talking about it.” Dean leans on his elbow. If he’s beingmopey, he’s got reason to be. “I haven’t seen Sam since he went off tocollege.”

“Why not?”

Dean hates telling this story. He’s really only done it twice, once to histherapist and once to Charlie, but he was wasted that time so he’s not evensure that counts.

But then, he knows Cas isn’t gonna judge him. It makes it a little easier.“Dad didn’t want him to go. They got into a huge fight and when it got down toit, I basically had to pick a side. I guess I picked wrong.”

“But your father is dead,” Cas says, as if Dean needs the reminder. “Surelythat must change things.”

Dean shrugs. “You’d think so.”

“Have you told him that you want to make up?”

“He knows I do. I called him after Dad died, told him he should come downfor the funeral.”

“Was that all you told him?” At Dean’s incredulous look, Cas gives him apatient smile. “I’ve found that humans sometimes need these kinds of thingsspelled out for them. They tend to assume the worst, otherwise.”

Dean opens his mouth. Closes it again. He doesn’t have an argument here.

“Well, he should know,” he settles on, just to be petulant.

Cas takes the cup from Dean’s hand and Dean startles, realizing that heemptied it without paying attention.

“You should call your brother,” Cas says.

Dean stares at him, something stirring in his chest he doesn’t have a wordfor.

“You sure they didn’t program you to be a bartender?”

“I do make a mean Tom Collins,” Cas deadpans.

*

Dean doesn’t call Sam. Whatever conversation they need to have feels tooimportant to have over the phone.

He has Sam’s address. He also has a nice car that’s been cooped up in thecity for too long and a job he can do from anywhere. There is literally noreason he can’t take off for a few days on a cross-country road trip.

There’s just one thing he needs to do first.

The sun has just begun to rise when Dean parks outside of Chuck’s.It’s far later in the morning than he’s usually there and there are a couple ofcustomers inside, the very beginnings of the morning rush, but Cas is stillbehind the counter, along with another android, probably just about to finishup his shift.

Dean gets inside, walking past the line by the counter and getting someangry grumbles from the lady up front.

“Hey, Cas.”

Cas looks up from where he’s working the espresso machine and smiles atDean. “Hello, Dean. You’re later than usual.”

“Yeah.” Dean shifts on his feet. This feels like a bad idea but it’s toolate to turn back now. “I’m going to California. To see Sam.”

Cas falters for just a moment before continuing his work, motions smooth andpracticed. “Oh.”

Dean waits as he finishes up. Once the order is ready and Cas has a momentto talk, he continues:

“Come with me.”

It comes out as barely more than a whisper but he knows that Cas heard it,because he goes completely still.

“What?”

“Come with me,” Dean repeats.

“Dean,” Cas says, and it already sounds like a rejection.

“You said you could leave, so leave. You’ve got somewhere to go and you’vegot someone to go with.”

Cas looks at him, eyes wide and begging him to understand. “Dean, I – youdon’t want me to go with you.”

“I don’t want to go without you,” Dean counters. Whatever Cas is feeling,this much he knows. He’s never been so sure of anything. “Come with me toCalifornia, Cas.”

For a long moment, they just stare at each other. Dean is vaguely aware thathe’s causing a scene right now but it doesn’t matter.

“Steve,” Cas finally says.

“Yes, Castiel?” Steve answers pleasantly.

Without breaking eye-contact with Dean, Cas reaches behind him and loosenshis apron strings. “I quit.”

“You what?”

Cas doesn’t respond, shucking the apron off and leaving it in a heap on thecounter. Dean watches, heart hammering in his chest, as Cas opens the gatebetween them and steps through. It’s strange, having his view of Cas becompletely unobstructed.

“Are you coming?”

Dean shakes himself. He grins at Cas, feeling giddy as their steps fall intoan easy rhythm. It’s not until they’re by the exit that Cas hesitates, that helooks unsure.

“It’s okay,” Dean tells him.

He swings the door open with one hand, holding the other out for Cas. Aftera moment, Cas takes it, intertwining his fingers with Dean’s and squeezingtightly. It doesn’t feel quite like holding a human hand, the skin of aslightly different texture, but that’s okay. It’s Cas.

“C’mon,” Dean says. “California’s waiting.”

Cas takes a deep breath, visibly steeling himself, and nods.

They step outside.

[awfullyaster]

andrew and neil are switches, don’t you forget it

ok hi here for my (probably) daily aftg rant,,,,so i’m seeing that the majority of the fandom (as far as i’ve seen anyway)--or fics/fanart consisting of andreil doing the do--view neil as a power bottom ?

am i incorrect? are my resources false? idk bout u but so far i’ve only seen like one fic where neil is the top/penetrator (!mao is that even a real word idk but it sounds weird haha cute ok anyway)

and honestly, i have to disagree. i do. i’m not trying to push andrew’s boundaries by saying that neil could top, i’m just saying that y’all don’t give neil enough credit.

liek,,,,,bro,,,,,do you not see the amount of top energy neil mf josten radiates ???? like, yes, we know andrew takes the lead but it doesn’t necessarily mean he’d top forever ?????

( just a proposition, ofc but this is just my opinion based on observations--yet again ) 

( and tbh i had difficulty trying to figure who was the top and who was the bottom between them when i encountered the first hint of intimate growth in their relationship--to the point where i had to ask my best friend who hadn’t a clue what aftg was prior to (that’s when the aftg rants officially started/ignited) and it took some time/proper discussion/consideration but he first came up with the conclusion that andrew was a sub top and that neil was a power bottom )

as for yours truly, i came to the conclusion that they are both switches (some time after i finished reading).

i mean,,,,,,can you really just look at neil josten--wholly, like his entire personality, attitude (problem !), traits, &c and decide on the spot that he’s a bottom ??? how ??? how the hell do you come up with that ?????

and hear me out, i have evidence/reasons:

one) The Great Riko Roast™️. need i say more? 

(if elaboration is necessary:

keep in mind that neil (this literal fucking nobody) burned riko (supposedly the king of exy or whatever the fuck, who cares) to ground on the spot (no script, just his attitude problem (mwah i love him) and pure spite)

again, he burned him to the ground on live television, publicly humiliating riko with each and every word

idk bout u but i am so damn sure andrew found out right then n there that this bitch radiates top energy for fucking sure (or, in his words, isn’t spineless)

neil committing arson via verbal attacks is just---splendid. absolutely mesmerizing. flawless. truly inspiring. gamechanging. glorious. 

he’s so rude i love him

anyway )

two) neil can shut up andrew up without having to touch or kiss him. he can leave him speechless. with just his words. 

(yes, we know anybody & everybody knows better than to touch andrew but like i mean he wouldn’t have to fight him or whatever) (and he doesn’t have to kiss him to shut him up--though he definitely can--he doesn’t have to because that’s just how fucking powerful he is)

y’all,,,,,are you ready for one of the most amazing lines i believe we all know and love,,,,,

““You have a problem wherein you only invest your time and energy into worthless pursuits."

“This,” Neil flicked his finger to indicate the two of them, “isn’t worthless.”

“There is no ‘this’. This is nothing.”

“And I am nothing,” Neil prompted. When Andrew gestured confirmation, Neil said, “And as you’ve always said, you want nothing.”

Andrew stared stone-faced back at him.

[...andrew had his hand frozen mid-air...(i forgot the rest)]”

if this does not prove dominance to you, i don’t know what to tell you. (HE WAS MERELY SPEAKING AND ANDREW COULD NOT COME UP WITH ANYTHING-- A N Y T H I N G --TO SAY BACK BC IT’S A PERSONAL ATTACK AND HE DIDN’T SEE IT COMING AND THAT’S WHY HE SEES NEIL AS INTERESTING/WHY HE ‘HATES’ HIM SO MUCH BRO I)

hOweVeR

i know that dom bottoms exist (i think so, anyway) or bottoms that radiate top energy/the position (i.e. bottom,top) energy you radiate can be entirely different from what position you really are/are comfy with and that these are just words but that brings me to my following point,

three) (#1 insitgator, he, oh yes, neil josten, yes indeed) his unexpected (and to be frank, quite thrilling) acts of asserting dominance ?????? um ????

(when they were kith kithing next to the kitchen (next to kitchen) in neil’s dorm room) “[neil felt his phone buzz in his back pocket and against the wall it was obnoxiously loud. he already knew it was his daily countdown, but he already knew how much little time he had left. he didn’t need to reminded, especially now...andrew took it out of his back pocket and offered it to neil, pulling away from his mouth. neil took the phone from andrew’s hand and threw it across the living room, not taking his eyes off andrew. andrew watched as the phone bounced off the couch and onto the carpet. neil kissed his neck in attempt to distract him and was rewarded by a startled jolt which was enough reason to do it again. and even though andrew pushed his face away, they were close enough for neil to not miss how andrew shivered.]” 

b r o ,,,,,,,,,,,, bro,,,,,,it just--

(when they were alone in the bus otw to that one away game--belmonte, i think?) “[“i wonder when coach found out about this,” neil prompted. 

“there is no ‘this’.”

“i wonder when coach found out you only want to kill me ninety-three percent of the time.”

neil retraced his steps and had a moment of realization. before andrew left for easthaven, neil had told andrew to trust him and not ‘neil’. 

“it was before you left,” neil started... 

“coach doesn’t believe what other people want him to believe, he believes what he sees,” andrew replied...

“are you going to tell them?” neil was referring to the rest of the team, and this was up to him, whether they’ll be out or not. 

“i won’t have to. renee says the upperclassmen are betting on your sexuality.”

neil knew that matt mentioned that there were bets on about him, but he didn’t know it was about this.

“it’s a waste of time and money. they’ll all lose. i’ve said all year that i don’t swing and i meant it. kissing you doesn’t make me look any of them differently. the only one i’m interested in is you.”

“don’t say stupid things.”

“make me.” and with that, neil grabbed a fistful of andrew’s hair and pulled him in.]” 

dude,,,,,,,,,he can take control,,,,,he can,,,,he can lead, too, but he follows andrew’s because he’s a good boy and he knows how important it is. he improvises and uses what he has and takes control from there. dude. dude. 

three) honestly? i think andrew likes it. neil’s unexpected acts of confidence,,,kinda leaves him on the edge of his seat yk,, like doesn’t it increase his percentage? it does, right? cuz ik it did when andrew guided neil to touch his chest and neil emulated andrew’s words, “i won’t be like them. i won’t let you let me be.” (i love them bye) but liek,,,,yeah idk andrew liking neil’s neck kisses/fetish kinda tells me he likes it so maybe this isn’t concrete evidence particularly but i’m still including it because andrew’s a switch, idc what anyone says, 

four) i lost my train of thought but i ran out of reasons--on the spot, anyway--so i might come back to this if i do but just to make it clear:

andrew minyard is a switch. (it just takes time, like a lot, but it doesn’t mean it’s necessarily impossible/never gonna happen.)

neil josten is a switch. (he respects andrew’s boundaries and doesn’t push him, he’s fine being guided, but it doesn’t mean he can’t take the initiative himself (and i forgot to mention it but re: when he asked andrew if he doesn’t like to be touched in general or if it’s a trust thing + many more times, before & after their first kiss, i believe, my brain is just empty rn) and i just think that deserves more recognition)

so !! 

(this post is a mess, (i always am but today’s just worse) i know, and i’m sorry)

in conclusion,

let neil top andrew !! they deserve it !! 

(not that vice versa is bad, but this isn’t either, yk, just saying. also, i hope this isn’t too late to say in the post, but i do not, i repeat, i do not, intend to pressure any content creator--fic writers, fan artists, editors, &c--to create content this particular way only,,,,okay,,,gotta make that unequivocally clear. and i’m not saying andrew topping neil is bad or overrated, because i know that when it comes to them, sex in general would take some time, especially neil topping andrew, but i think they deserve that freedom, yk. again,,,,this is just my personal opinion. no insisting statements here, just wish for freedom to speak my mind, that is all. also feel free to interact if you agree/disagree or both !! i’m willing to hear anyone’s comments or thoughts or whatever !! i hope i’m talking to a brick wall here ahah) 

bro brain poop rn

anyway

tl/dr: bro let neil top (not necessarily on top, but that works, too--either/or--or both, if y’all dare ;DD (kill me) (but like srsly) (let neil top) (plz) :))

(also somewhat off topic but might anyone have access to some fics in which consist of neil first getting andrew off ??? i randomly remember it from ms. sakavic’s extra content page and i would like to see what the fandom offers, if y’all don’t mind)

im so mean and insistent on my aftg-related opinions now that i think about it

whoops

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

CONFESSION

Prompt: Y/N is having some trouble with Dexter’s new storyline, and he will have to use all of his tools to make her admit her feelings

Word Count: Long-ish

Pairings: Dexter Lumis x Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, dom x sub dynamic, brat taming (slightly), bondage (limb restriction), dirty talk (a shit ton), spanking (light), jealousy

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

Tag: @moxgirl , @theworldofotps , @galens-mistress , @sassymox , @yungbludjazz360 and the lovely anon (who just like me) is a part of the “Thristy for Lumis” club 😈🤣

Notes: I wanted to “keep it light” with my first fic (hopefully first of many!) with this beautiful blonde man, so here we go. If you’d like to check out my other stories, you can find them on my Masterlist

Yes, I am a little jealous, ok? I’ll confess that to you, but to him? Never!

“Hey babe, I was thinking maybe we should-“ He stopped talking once he realized I was zoned out

“Y/N?” He asked, a little louder “Are you listening?”

“Yes” I spat

“Jeez, are you ok?”

“Peachy, just peachy” I mocked, applying the moisturizer on my skin, which was still damp from my shower

“You’re angry...and you’re angry at me, I presume” I could feel his blue eyes staring at me “What did I do? Did I say something? Do something? Or maybe, it was something I was supposed to do but didn’t?”

In the short amount of time since Dexter and Indi’s storyline started, it already irritated me deeply! I like Indi, she’s nice, funny, a good friend to me and a damn good actress! The way she convinced people that she was actually in love with Dexter was insane. Even I had a little trouble remembering that she isn’t.

But I’m...territorial, I don’t like people trying to get what’s ‘mine’ , so needless to say that the plot vs. reality is starting to get a little blurry for me (although it wasn’t for them)

I love Dexter, and I’m happy for him! I was also happy for Indi, but my brain was having a smidgen of trouble processing it.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N? Peanut...please talk to me?” He sweetly asked

I sighed “You’ve done nothing wrong, Dex. I’m just...it’s me ok? Don’t worry about it”

He sensed my insecurity and crawled to the very end of the mattress, kneeling when he reached the foot of it, staring at my still-standing figure.

Placing both of his hands on my hips, he trailed his nose up my neck and collarbone, saying

“You smell so fucking good” He tried to pull me towards the bed but I declined

“Dex, not right now” I took his hands off my hips and took two steps back

“Not right now?” He tilted his head to the side, in confusion, knowing I never decline to have sex with him “Something is wrong, what is it? What happened?”

“Nothing! I just...I’m not in the mood right now” I said

“You’re not in the mood?” He chuckled, in disbelief “Peanut, you’re ALWAYS in the mood! Fuck, even when I’m not in the mood you get me in the mood! So that excuse will not work for me. Tell me, what’s going on?”

“Dexter, please, not right now, ok? We’ll fuck as much as you want to later, just not now, damn it!” I said, angrily

“I’m not pushing you to talk because I want to fuck you, I’m pushing you to talk because there’s something on your mind, and instead of talking to me, your husband, like a grown woman would, you’re just pushing it to the side like a fucking teenager!” He grabbed my hands, asking “Don’t you trust me?”

I nodded, and he continued “So tell me what’s bothering you! I love you and I wanna help you! But I can’t do it if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, peanut”

“I don’t want to say it, because it’s dumb” I murmured

“Baby” He cupped my cheek “If it’s bothering you, it’s not dumb. Tell me, what is it?”

A muffled and inaudible ‘I’m jealous’ left my lips

“I’m afraid you will have to say it a little louder” He cackled

“I wish that storyline with Indi would be over soon” I looked up at him, to find a smug smirk

“You’re jealous?” He asked

“No! I’m not jealous! I don’t get jealous!” I crossed my arms in front of my chest

“Yes, you are!” He teased “I like when you get jealous, that way I know you still have the hots for me” He tried to grab my waist

“Stop it!” I shoved him away “The reason I don’t like the storyline is because you always receive a script with too many lines to memorize and…” I trailed off

“Babe, my character doesn’t talk!” He laughed “You will have to find another excuse for your jealousy”

“Stop saying I’m fucking jealous” I pouted

“Come here, my lil peanut” He beckoned me

“No, I don’t want to”

“Y/N, I said, come.here” His eyes were turning into a cold shade of blue

“And I said, no!” I stomped my foot

Dexter quickly grabbed a handful of my hair, and pulled me towards him

“When I tell you to come here, you better come here, do you understand?” He asked, with an icy tone in his voice

When I didn’t respond, he tugged on my hair harder

“Yes, sir” I said, nonchalantly

“Oh, she’s bratty today, huh?” His other hand wrapped around my neck “I’m sure we can fix that, can’t we?”

Part of me was mad at him for teasing me because of my jealousy but the other part was getting slightly turned on with his attitude. So I decided to test the waters

“Let me go” I yanked his hand off my neck, but Dexter stared at me amused, as he kept his grip firmly on my hair

“You don’t want me to let you go, do you?” He teased

I huffed in response, which made him laugh loudly

“Of course you don’t! You want me to fuck the jealousy out of you, don’t you, baby?”

“I’m not jealous” I tried to wiggle away from him, but that only made him tug on my hair harder

“Y/N, if you wanted me to make the jealousy go away, you just had to ask nicely”

“I don’t want anything from you” I spat

“Na ah” He slapped my face lightly “Don’t you fucking talk to me like that!” He warned “Ask for it nicely, like a good girl” He teased

“Fuck off!” I tried to push him away, but he was faster

Dexter pulled me towards the mattress, I landed on it facing down and he quickly straddled my hips, securing both of my wrists behind my back with one of his hands

“Such a dirty mouth for a pretty girl” He chuckled, dragging his cloth covered bulge against my ass

“You look so cute when you’re all mad like this'' Dexter bit my shoulder and scraped his teeth against my neck “So my lil peanut is jealous, huh?” He cackled “You think Indi will steal me away from you? That’s why you’re so angry?” He took my hair away from my face, so he could look into my eyes

I stared deeply at him, with something in my gaze making his blue eyes soften

“Baby, neither Indi nor anyone else could take me away from you, you’re the woman of my dreams! I don’t want nor need any other woman in my life. The storyline is just that: a storyline, pure fiction. I like Indi the same way that you do, as a friend! She’s never tried to cross that line and if someday she or any other woman crosses it, I know what to do. I love you and I’m more than happy with our marriage. You’re my best friend, my lover, my wife, you take care of me, support me, you’re my everything! My intelligent, sexy, funny and gorgeous everything! Do you understand what I’m telling you, peanut?” He asked softly

“Yes, Dex. I understand” I smiled

“Good, now” His eyes began to get mischievous again “About that attitude...” He trailed off, reaching down to his sweatpants and undoing the drawstring

“I’m sorry for my behavior, sir” I said sheepishly, with my eyes glued to his hand

“Oh, what a drastic change!” He smirked “If I knew that at the mere thought of a dick inside of you, you would change into a good girl so quickly, I would’ve shoved it in you earlier”

Dragging my oversized t-shirt up, Dexter began to slide one finger through my wet folds

“Please, sir” I moaned “I’ll be a good girl, I promise you, just please give it to me” I whined

“Such a greedy little whore for cock, aren’t you?”

I nodded, but that didn’t suffice to him

“Say it! I wanna hear you begging for it, I want you to say the words”

“I’m a greedy little whore for cock, sir. Please, give me your cock, sir. I need it so bad...please, I’ll behave. Can I have it? Please, let me have it” I begged

Dex knelt in between my knees and placed himself on my entrance, sliding only the tip in before he stopped

“You need it? So get it, it’s all yours!” He slapped my ass “C’mon, take it”

I moved back towards his dick, as much as my restricted arms and position would let me, but I couldn’t slide him as deep as I wanted nor could I move as fast as I wished, which made me whine in frustration

“Awww, my poor peanut, what’s wrong? You can’t go as fast as you want to, can you?” He teased and I shook my head

“Do you want me to do it for you instead? Do you want sir to fuck you deep and hard?”

“Yes, sir. Please!”

I gasped loudly when he finally gave me what I was begging for...hard, fast, rough and so deep.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asked

“Yes, thank you, sir”

The familiar burning was already starting to rise inside of me

“Are you gonna cum around my cock like a good little slut, Y/N?”

“Yes, sir” I said, breathlessly

“So what are you waiting for?” He chuckled in my ear, and that was the only confirmation I needed

Dexter slowed his pace as I came down from my high. Noticing he didn’t cum, I asked

“Why didn’t you cum?”

He slid out of me, released my wrists and turned me around, so I could face him

“Who said” He slid back in “I was done with you?” Smirking, he began to increase his pace bit by bit “I still need you to confess that you’re jealous” He winked

And I knew that this little game wouldn't finish until dawn..

Please, if you’re comfortable with it, let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

[canarycontessa]

four writing tips that helped me get out of my own way

- Use a pen for drafts. 

Get used to scratching things out, cramming things in the margins, breaking up pages as new tangents form and then zigzagging back to the original WIP. Go out of your way to not only forget making any of it look pretty, but to make it as ugly as possible (while still being readable to you, of course). And don’t even think about typing it yet because that backspace key is just another eraser. Get over the idea of erasing or covering over your mistakes, because there are no real mistakes in the first draft stage. 

The more you desensitize yourself to your rough draft legit LOOKING rough, the less you’ll have any self consciousness and/or perfectionism shutting you off from your creative flow. Once you get used to the sloppiness, you stop giving a fuck about appeasing your inner critic/editor (editorial input isn’t needed until several drafts later, after all) and just let the words come at will. 

This enables you to have fun with your rough draft and therefore keep coming back to it. You become a kid again, splashing paint all over the walls and not caring that you can’t take anything back. It’s about the journey.

- Deliberately multi-task while writing. 

Emphasis on "deliberately". This sounds really counterintuitive, right? Why would I set out to intentionally half-ass something?

It probably doesn't work this way for everybody, but if I sit down to write in complete silence and with nothing else going on, I will get jackshit done. It's too much pressure. Instead, all I can think about is the blank page mocking me, the deafening silence around me and how my entire future happiness is riding on whether I can get anything down. Then I start thinking about what I fake I am, how I’m bring dishonor to my family ... etc, etc. I’ll probably end up closing my document and getting up to do something else. I’ll come to dread the empty page and write less and less as time goes on, all the while beating myself up for it. It’s not pretty.

If, however, I have my notebook in front of me, pen in hand while I watch the news, flip channels, listen to a podcast or Youtube video, have a conversation with two other people, then half my focus is elsewhere. There’s less room for those unhelpful thoughts, the pressure is off me and, best of all, I open myself up to free associate and draw inspiration from what’s around me. My pen is moving. Words are happening. And before I know it, I’ve added 10 more pages to my project.

As far as what your other task should be, it can be practically anything. I’m a cinephile, so I love movies; I’ll have films, video essays, music videos, etc. playing while I write. Sometimes I go to the park, watch people play chess or walk their dogs while listening to music. The best of all for me is boring data entry. Something about having to keep up the pace of my keystrokes while still having a notepad for me to jot down whatever floats up out of the abyss. I’ve had some of my best ideas and especially dialogue while doing data entry.

This really goes back to that first tip and the idea of letting go of your self consciousness. It’s easy to get bogged down in it when you’re taking the rough draft phase too seriously. Plus I find that after a while I’m shunting more of my focus over to my writing as I pick up speed anyway.

- Your downtime is sacred. Respect your downtime. 

Momentum can’t last for hours and hours on end. Let yourself wind down, set your notebook/document aside and come back to it later. This can take the form of switching gears by working on a completely different WIP, shifting formats (going from a manuscript to a rap verse or essay or tv pilot script), or just stopping your writing altogether and doing something else. It's not a flaw if you can't keep going that day, esp if you're back again the next day. 

This goes well beyond the usual cliche of "be patient with yourself uwu" or “let inspiration guide you”, though there is a little truth to both. This isn’t about patience, or self care, or anything like that. It’s about an inner alchemy that can only take place if you know when to come to a stopping point.

There's this concept called "the boys in the lab" or "the boys in the basement" and it goes like this: you give the boys (your brain, your imagination, subconscious, whatever you want to call it) enough juicy raw material to work with (whatever you've written or outlined that day, notes, dialogue snippets, essay fragments, etc) and then back off. Exit the laboratory. The boys can’t work if you’re still in there nitpicking every little thing and micromanaging them. Get the hell out of their way, and I promise that when you poke your head back in tomorrow, you’ll find all sorts of new things being cooked up in there.

This is where those lightning bolt ideas come from. When something that never occured to you hits you at a traffic stop. When you wake up out of a dead sleep and scramble for a pen and paper so you can jot down something that came to you in a dream. When you get the solution to a problem while you’re in the shower.

That inner alchemy is no joke. And even if you don’t get some grand epiphany, there’s the more mundane but still highly useful phenomenon of viewing your work with “fresh eyes” (especially useful while editing/revising). Your words will run together if you stare at them for too long. Step back when you notice this happening.

- Don’t talk about your projects with others until they’re finished/published. 

And even then, learn to be your own cheering section. Cultivate a quiet sense of pride in your own achievements and let your portfolio speak for itself. This applies to so much more in life, but with regards to writing: You can talk an idea to death, if you’re not careful. It happens all the time. Don’t get addicted to the rush of achievement you feel when you talk about what you’re going to do, when you haven’t even done anything yet. Stop putting your self-esteem in other people’s hands by seeking their validation and opinion on everything you do your writing. And as cynical as it sounds, not everyone wants you to prosper and thrive. So with all that in mind, remember:

[corpsesareoffline]

A Friend in Need

000

MASTER LIST

Pairing: Corpse Husband x Reader

Summary: From strangers to business partners, to friends, to roommates.

A/N: Welcome aboard to the Corpse Husband’s rabbit hole, where you are most likely discovered him from his blew up Among Us game play! Or that you have known him through his previous horror story narration. Never the less, enjoy!

Word Count: 1.1k

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

It all started with your passion and ambition, to hopefully be an influencing writer. You still have not decided what to focus on back then, even now, since the wondrous world of writing includes a lot. Perhaps you would become a novel writer, or an editor for an online media company, or maybe a game story script writer, the possibility are endless. You were still in college, over thinking might not be the best case to start your career. So you took every chance to submit commissions in hopes for early exposure to make life easier after you finished schooling.

One day, watching random YouTube videos due to lack of motivation to work on anything, you stumbled upon Creepy Pasta. Then there it is, you found it.

Horror story narration.

To think about it, it is weird, actually, how people would love to read bone-chilling stories with blood and glory. The thrill, maybe, since not many would experience true horror in their actual lives.

You dug deeper, you listened to more, you read more. The amount of views were not a joke... You could send them your work if they accept commissions!

Your (e/c) eyes twinkled in excitement. You might not get paid, but it was what you wanted to do at the moment. You grabbed your nearest notepad and pen, starting to scribble.

It took you two days. Supernatural related you avoided since it was your first take to write a horror story, so elements that are down-to-earth would be ideal. One time you scraped the whole story and re-write it, two times you edited it to perfect it, three times you read it to ensure everything is right. With a story in hand, all you have to choose is a narrator.

You dug through the videos again searching for a voice best fit to your story. More than twenty voices you heard, but they were either a little bit off... You could be a bit picky at times. You shan’t be discouraged! One shall seek success through determination!

Horrifying Deep Web Story “The Day I Hired a Hitman” ? Curiosity took over you, and you clicked on the an hour clip.

... Wow.

Fuck.

Shit!

You grinned like a child receiving their Christmas gift. You just hit the jackpot. There was no way you would let this chance slip away from your fingertips. His voice was not particularly deep, but the gruff and raspiness made him the perfect candidate for horror story narrations.

He replied your email. He actually did replied and read yours in the coming YouTube video. He even credited your name in the story source! You are much honored from the comments that the story you wrote is captivating and They wished for more from the both of you. Coincidently, Corpse Husband had the idea of reading more of yours if you could write more pieces since you did helped his channel grew a bit more. He felt anxious on reaching you out for that reason, but it felt like the right thing to do. Short emails were exchanged, and eventually you exchanged phone numbers to make communication better.

The messages started from a bit awkwardly formal to casual as both of you were starting to get used to each other. Both of you started to open up to each other when you mentioned to him you were a college student. Turns out you were only a year apart. No wonder you got along easier as the days go by.

I might have just kicked my roommate out. You hit sent in the middle of the night. The sleep-driven Corpse would probably reply, since he seldom sleeps early. You have searched remedies with him in hopes of having him sleep better, but nothing works. He might have just be a night owl, but the fact the he could not sleep in the morning too, then it was out of the question.

How? He replied not after a minute. You rubbed your eyes, had a disagreement. She trashed a party and the neighbors complained. Then she said she wanted neighbors that could accept parties.

Wtf? You could imagine is brows furrow in disbelief. You groaned. You need another roommate to help pay the bills. You chose to move out once you were in college. Your parents were not rich nor poor, buy their earning barely could afford their bills and your daily expenses. You had thought moving out would be the best choice to minimize their pressure. Balancing between schooling, writing stories and having a part time job, it was a miracle you had not collapsed in exhaustion. Though this was not something you would tell him. He did not have to know your financial issues. Wanna hear a story idea?

All ears.

Without a roommate, you had to work twice as hard on everything, and sacrifice some time of sleeping. You were not working on stories on your free time anymore, but rather desperate on finding another roommate.

Corpse knew something was wrong. There was no messages from you for a while two weeks. Even during the finals, you would at least text something complaining the large amount of work. 

(Y/n)? A day went by, you have not even read the message. More than usual. Something was wrong. Maybe you would answer his call. He called your number, it rang all they way until he got sent to voice message. He called again, and you finally picked it up.

“Hello?” Your voice was hoarse. He had not known your voice at all considering it was the first time having a phone call. He replied, “are you okay?”

You hesitated. You wanted to refrain yourself from telling him your situation, but he probably would figure it out in time... You did not really have friends close enough to help you or understand in anyway. He was so far the closest one to you. “I am... financially challenged.”

Desperate in need of income, he interpreted. “So uh... do you... wanna live with me?”

“...Huh?” He shocked you, as if all depression and stress were forgotten at the moment. “Are you sure? Like, really sure? I don’t want to be a burden to you! I mean, I know you don’t usually socialize with others unless their friends or you really have to. I mean we are friends! At least what I see both of us are. I will pay for the bills too. If you’re really really really uncomfortable with it you don’t have to...”

“(Y/n),” you stopped your ramblings. He sounded so sincere. “I’m okay with it. And I insist.

“I just wanted you to be okay.”

You sniffed. How lucky you were to have met this sweet man. You kept in mind you would repay him soon.

I was not until later you learned both of you lived in California.

======

A/N: It’s been a while since I’ve written a fanfic. Hope you enjoy it! I’m planning on writing more including Among Us in the future. UWU

[readyplayerhobi]

Peppermint | 01

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, future light angst

; Word Count: 10.6k

; Synopsis: Achieving your dream job is something that very people manage to do, which is why you’re all the more happier when you land a job on the film team at Poppin’ Culture; the biggest pop culture website, blog and YouTube channel around. What you don’t expect however, is to fall for the exceptionally shy and awkward colleague who is not even remotely your type. Or is he?

; A/N: This is just what I’ve been writing to try and get back into the swing of things. It’s just...light and fun. Was supposed to be a one shot but it’s getting long and it feels like a good place to end as a first part! Please send me thoughts, comments and encouragements as it’s a struggle to write lately ;-;

01 ; 02

-

“And this is our main office. It’s open plan, as you can see so I hope that doesn’t bother you too much. We’ve found it works better to just throw ideas out in the open or to just get reactions so feel free to shout out if you need something. Everyone’s very friendly,” Seokjin smiles at you brightly, his thick lips turning up and making his eyes sparkle behind his glasses as he leads you into the wide open space. “And this is your desk. Feel free to decorate it however you want. Nothing will beat the car wreck that’s happening on Jimin’s desk.”

“Hey! This is artistic mess. Everything has a place and there is a place for everything.” The bubblegum pink haired man in question half stands, a finger pointing threateningly while his pearly white teeth peek out from beneath plush pink lips. You can’t help but smile, as his slim frame and cute cheeks make him look distinctively non-threatening and ruin any hope he has of convincing you otherwise.

It could also be the fact he looks like a hipster from Seattle with the thick, black plastic frames delicately placed on his nose and the retro 80s film shirt with an open black and white plaid shirt over the top. Still...he’s rather pretty and you wonder momentarily if you’ve somehow entered another dimension with astonishingly beautiful people.

Either that, or you’ve walked into the set of some reality TV show but you’re not quite willing to break the Matrix programming just yet.

Seokjin snorts and rolls his eyes, lifting a ring laden hand to brush his black hair out of them. It’s hindered slightly by the tan beanie on his head and you’re momentarily distracted once more by his impressive frame. The white shirt with the Jaws film poster on it stretches rather enticingly over his broad shoulders while his black, ripped jeans are snugly secured with a leather belt that has a Superman belt buckle.

Honestly, how were you meant to work in this place?

He’d already introduced you to Namjoon, the creator of Poppin’ Culture who oversaw all aspects of his slowly booming media empire along with Namjoon’s wife, Chaeyoung. She oversaw the HR aspect of everything and had been your first point of call before Seokjin had come down to retrieve you upon getting the call that you had arrived.

Seokjin is the editor of the Poppin’ Culture website, which is the big daddy of the whole enterprise. It had originally started 10 years ago in Namjoon’s university bedroom apparently, just posting reviews of retro films and any new films that came out.

A decade later and it was the biggest source of pop culture news, blogs and entertainment in the Western hemisphere. The website scores over 250,000 hits a day with the blogs averaging a pretty healthy number too and the YouTube channels generating a steady enough income to keep a small team afloat with ease.

His sheer love of all things cultural meant that Poppin’ Culture had expanded far beyond its original remit of film and now had something for everyone. There was the film blog, the gaming blog, the music blog, the television blog and even the book blog. And you’d heard rumours of them branching into sports with talk of a fighting blog and channel appearing soon which would be interesting.

Sports were a whole other thing in the world of things people obsess over.

Either way, you’d been rather desperate to get a job here when the opening had appeared on the job listings website for a new in house content writer. When you’d found out that you’d got it, you were pretty sure that you’d almost deafened Sunmi with your screams of excitement.

As a film major with an English literature minor, it was perhaps the dream job to combine both of your loves together and work with people who were just as enthusiastic about the world of film as you were. Your friends and family had long since grown bored of how you picked apart the latest films or their trailers, but now you would have an audience of thousands that would not only be receptive to it, but interested too.

In your earlier meeting with Namjoon and Seokjin, they’d laid out your responsibilities for you pretty clearly. Given that you were in your six month probation period, you would be expected to create two blog articles a week with the possibility of writing a video script if it was approved by the video team.

Two articles may not sound a lot, but you’d already been informed that you would also likely have to do some indepth research into the topics to provide factual information, along with making sure it wasn��t something that had been done before. Not only this, but you would be expected to be constantly scouring the internet to find new topics of interest and trying to catch the latest leaks before they even happened.

While you’d been hired for the film team, you’d been told that most people tended to dip into other areas to help out or if they had some particular interest in it. As such, you could be expected to possibly be asked to find out the Top 10 Facts About The NES or 15 Things You Never Knew About Taylor Swift or something.

Wasn’t the most scintillating of things to you, but you were willing to branch out and help if necessary. It was a small team and you understand that sometimes you’d need to pitch in when it was required of you, which in turn meant you knew that you could rely on the same help.

“Jimin is our music guy. He’s the one who usually writes the music blogs and videos but he also does the gaming stuff sometimes. Also has a regular book blog where he reviews obscure international books because that’s his thing.” Seokjin says, rolling his eyes as he leans against the desk.

Jimin’s desk is littered with piles of CD cases - who even uses CDs anymore? - along with three different pairs of headphones. He also has a ton of Funko Pop! Vinyl figures that you recognise to be musicians along with a set of Assassin’s Creed characters. You recognise them because Sunmi’s ex-boyfriend had them too.

“Really? You’re going to come into my space, and ruin my time while insulting me? Am I going to wake up tomorrow morning to find you shitting on my lawn too?” Jimin slumps back in his chair, pulling a pair of pink and white headphones over his head to rest around his neck while eyeing the taller man with narrowed eyes.

“You live on the top floor of an apartment building ‘Min. What am I? A wizard?”

“I wish. Maybe you’d wingardium leviosa your ass off my damn desk.” He grumbles, nodding his head at you. “Have you ever read In The Miso Soup by Ryu Murakami?”

The question is so sudden that you’re left standing with wide eyes, shaking your head slowly. You’d not read a lot of translated work in college, though you were hoping to change that. Jimin sighs and slumps in his seat, clicking on his mouse a few times.

“Fucking weird dude. Still not entirely sure what went on it.”

Before you can even respond, Seokjin is leading you over to the desk behind Jimin. This desk is even messier, only you really can see the artistic mess here. It’s covered in pencil sketches that are stacked haphazardly while a high tech looking electronic drawing pad takes up most of the space with even the keyboard pushed away.

The guy sat comfortably in the green and black gaming chair has a black beanie on his head too, only he has platinum blonde hair that covers his eyes. And what pretty eyes they are when he looks up at you; as if someone has reached up into the sky and plucked two of the brightest, shiniest stars and placed them directly onto him.

“Oh, hey. I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. I’m the graphic designer here...with a side passion of actual drawing obviously. I mostly use Photoshop but I like to get a bit hands on.” He talks rapidly, his voice quite deep but soft. Pausing, he bites on the black lip ring embedded in the right side of his lower lip before sitting back.

The vibrant and colourful tattoos that run up and down his arms do nothing to hide the obvious fit physique he has and you find yourself dragging your eyes away from that ridiculously broad chest. He’s only wearing a black shirt but my god.

Seokjin lets you both talk for a little, discovering that if you need anything made graphics wise then to let Jungkook know. Apparently he’s the head designer and has two more people under him; Jennie who deals with a lot of designing and Soyeon who handles their website and online shop.

You’re then introduced to Yoongi who is in charge of sound for the videos. He’s pretty quiet but friendly and bright, secluded away in the corner of the office with a soundboard in front of him, while his co-worker Lisa, a video editor, is entirely the opposite. They’re both sat on the same bank of desks, and the difference between Yoongi’s monochromatic desk and Lisa’s bubblegum pop explosion is almost amusing.

The video game team was made of Miyeon, Yugyeom and Baekhyun who all took up the corner on the opposite end of the office to you. You weren’t a huge gamer, but apparently the video game side of Poppin’ Culture was one of the most popular and profitable so you could understand why they had the largest team compared to the others.

Your desk is opposite Jimin’s, allowing you a view of him if you look to your right and it looks sparse compared to everyone else’s. The guy behind you is Taehyung and you’re pleased to discover that he’s friendly and warm with a bright box smile that makes you feel at home instantly.

Taehyung is the other content creator on the film team and someone that you’ll be working closely with, though apparently he also works with Jimin on music. From the short conversation you have with him, it seems that Taehyung mainly specialises in foreign film and you surmise that you’ll be left with most of the more mainstream options with the Oscar bait films being split between you both.

He seems enigmatic enough, with the white ribbon wrapped around his neck and billowing white button up shirt that ends with a pair of baggy, tan trousers. He’s not wearing any shoes, or socks, and you wonder if that’s a violation of something somewhere but no one seems to be saying anything.

His entire desk is full of various plants, artistic photographs in elegant frames and beautiful old film posters in miniature form. A photo of a black and tan Pomeranian is eagerly introduced to you as Yeontan, his dog and you can’t help but laugh at how excited he is to show off his lil pup.

But perhaps not as excited as you when you discover that Friday’s are ‘Bring Your Dog To Work’ day. Apparently Taehyung, Yoongi and Jennie all bring their dogs and it usually ends up just being people playing with them.

Yep, definitely the best workplace already.

“Hey Hoseok, come here before you sit down.” Seokjin calls out to the late entry into the office before looking at you. “I’ll introduce you to our head video editor. He’s the one who usually helps with recording videos, then he’ll edit it all together. He works closely with Jungkook for graphics and if you write a script then he’ll work with you to see if you want anything extra added in like humourous cuts, edits and so forth. He’s got Lisa on his team and a guy who works part time, Taemin.”

The man in question almost shuffles forward, a delicate looking hand gripping the brown fabric strap of his shoulder bag tightly while he looks down at his scruffy, black Converse clad feet as Seokjin introduces you to him. He looks about the same height as Seokjin, though all you can see is a head of messy chestnut brown hair and black circular lens glasses that looks like they’re going to fall off his nose.

“Nice shirt.” You say with an encouraging smile, wondering why Hoseok looks like he’s trying to crawl through the floor mentally. He looks up at that with almost shockingly wide eyes and you almost groan out loud.

This place is blessed or cursed. You’re not sure which yet.

He’s wearing a faded Jurassic Park shirt, the famous logo sliced by ‘dinosaur’ claws, while a pair of ever so slightly baggy and ripped denim jeans are kept up by an oversized tan fabric belt, the end trailing down to his knee. A knit grey cardigan covers his arms and you find it oddly endearing how it’s slipping off one slim shoulder, obviously far too big for him.

The shoulder bag he’s carrying also has the Back to the Future logo on it and you point at it with a grin. “Great Scott! I like your bag too.” You point then at your own chest, your shirt emblazoned with the Back to the Future logo and frown as his eyes dart down before his cheeks flush bright red.

His obvious shyness just seems to make him more endearing to you, and you let out a quiet laugh. There’s an almost awkward silence for a moment as Hoseok just stands there, giving Seokjin tiny glances before he finally sighs and points to the desk behind yours. Hoseok almost bolts there, disappearing behind the iMac and you look back at Seokjin with a raised brow.

He kneels down so he’s closer, the music of the radio that’s blasting out 80s classics drowning out anything he might say to you. “Hoseok’s a good guy, he’s just a little socially awkward. A hard worker, and he’ll do anything you ask but...it’s a little hard to get him to open up. Keep trying though, he will occasionally have a full conversation with you and I keep trying to make sure he’s included so he doesn’t feel left out. Don’t take it personally, it’s just how he is.”

Nodding, you turn on your own iMac and wait for it to boot up before going through the process of getting everything ready for you to work. Given it’s your first day, Seokjin just gives you some simple tasks to go through to help familiarise yourself with their method of working before leaving you to your own devices.

It’s as you’re sat reading through the style guideline for the blog that you watch as Hoseok suddenly appears in the corner of your vision. He’s rolled over to the edge of his desk, hands flipping through the stacked letter tray there as he searches for something while he presses his lips together and blows his cheeks out. You can’t help but watch him with idle interest as he does so.

He’s definitely cute, in fact he’s more than cute. Hoseok is actually stunningly beautiful and from the side, you’re getting to see his arresting profile with ease. A strong jawline swoops in bold lines on his face while his nose is a straight slope with the gentlest turn at the end, his lips thin but full enough to look delightfully kissable as he pouts suddenly without thinking as the tiny frown of concentration causes his strong brows to fold in.

As he finds what he needs, you watch as he disappears back behind his screen before sighing quietly to yourself.

It’s probably not very moral, but you definitely had enough new material to keep your spank bank going for a good few months now. If nothing else, you should thank Namjoon for that.

-

“Did you watch Roma yet?” Taehyung asks, rolling his chair backwards until he appears in your vision. His wispy blonde hair lays straight on his forehead as he rests his hands behind his neck, letting his long sleeved blue sweater stretch across his torso. It’s unusually tight for someone who basically lives in baggy clothes; you’re pretty sure he’s even worn his pyjamas once.

Over the last three months of you working at Poppin’ Culture, you’d understandably grown close with Taehyung as you’d bonded intensely over your love of film. It turns out he was also a film major with a photography minor, meaning he was exceptionally invested in the artsy films or just films with great cinematography.

You’d already been subjected to two passion filled rants of his about Mad Max: Fury Road and Blade Runner 2049 as being prime examples of great cinematography in big budget cinema. It was okay though, as you’d already chewed off his ear about why you thought Aliens was one of the best sequels ever made in history and he’d listened with interest.

There was nothing better than someone who was willing to indulge in your long winded talks about your favourite films; from cult classics to obscure favourites to Hollywood blockbusters. Your rapport with him was so good in fact, that Seokjin had had you do a test video with him to see how well you worked in front of the camera.

The results must have been positive as you’d been given a weekly film podcast with Taehyung that talked about the week’s releases along with any news in the film world. If there was time then you both would regale viewers with your favourite films and analyse them.

So far, it was doing pretty well and you were pleased with the numbers it was pulling in. Not to mention that people seemed to like your inclusion into the videos, which was why you’d ended up in a few other videos around music or even gaming just to voice over them. Taehyung had obviously been a hit.

He had a face for the camera and you’d already jokingly suggested in many a team meeting that they should make merchandise with just his face on it. His little fan club even named themselves ‘Taes Baes’.

“No, I haven’t had chance yet. I’ve been watching The Sinner, I’ve only got like two episodes left but I’ll check it out at some point! Alfonso Cuarón makes such good films; Gravity is still amazing and I’m still mind boggled at the sheer complexity of how that must have been to film with all the CGI they had to do but I feel like Roma looks a little more stripped down.”

Taehyung is nodding slowly, biting his lip almost absentmindedly as he listens to you. “Gravity is great, but you should definitely check out Children of Men. Much better, but Y Tu Mamá También is also phenomenal if you don’t mind the sexual scenes. But yeah, watch Roma. Definitely going to be a bit hit with the awards season and I can see him getting Best Director at the Oscars.”

“Really? It wouldn’t surprise me.” You muse, leaning back in your own chair and crossing your legs as you watch him now.

“Yep. And if he does win, then that’ll be his second Best Director win and it will also mean that Mexican directors have won five out of the last six. They’re killing the Oscars game lately. I still wish Barry Jenkins had won for Moonlight...way better than La La Land.” He sighs wistfully before nodding at your computer screen inquisitively, the beginnings of your latest blog post on the screen.

“Oh, I’m writing why I think Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse deserves the Best Animation at the Oscars. I liked The Incredibles and Ralph but if they win over the magnificence of Spider-Man then I will flip this table.” Pointing to your desk jokingly, Taehyung giggles sweetly.

Your desk has also changed over the last few months as well. A few cute Funko figures of your favourite Star Wars characters have popped up along with one or two more stylised figurines like your Xenomorph alien. Along with that, you’ve invested in some funky letter trays and pots to just bring some brightness to portray your personality a little more.

“I’ve not watched it yet. I know, feel free to pinch my arm. Hoseok has watched it though, he mentioned it the other day. Hey Hoseok, come here bro.” He calls out loudly, turning slightly to watch for the quiet man who spends his days on the computer behind yours.

Slowly, and adorably you might add, Hoseok’s meek face peers around the side of both his and your monitors as he stares owlishly at Taehyung beneath those outdated glasses. You’d say they were ugly, and they were, but he seemed to pull them off.

His hair is hidden today beneath a sand coloured beanie, leaving his entire face exposed and you coo softly at his tiny folded ears. It wasn’t something you’d noticed till Jimin had one day pointed over to the video editor, whispering words of adoration to you as he stared a little moon-eyed and lamented how his own ears didn’t look that cute.

It was beyond endearing, along with the slight pout his lips were pursed in. He probably hadn’t been listening to your conversation and so had no idea what was going on.

You’d noticed that Hoseok either kept an earphone in at all times or covered them with over-ear headphones when he wanted to work hard and not be disturbed. He certainly wasn’t rude but he definitely didn’t seem to be hugely confident in making conversations with people.

That didn’t stop people from trying to include him though, and you got the definite sense that everyone in the office adored Jung Hoseok and simultaneously wanted to hug him and protect him. You certainly did, and you were quite pleased that no one bullied him.

He, unfortunately, had the demeanour that would attract the attention of assholes but Seokjin and Namjoon ran a tight ship here. You did kind of wish that he got included in more outside events though.

“S-sorry. W-wh-what?” His voice is soft, the perfect mix of deep and high as he stutters out a response to Taehyung. The long sleeved shirt he’s wearing is almost salmon pink and has some generic looking cartoon on the front. It looks warm, and you find yourself lamenting the fact that you hadn’t brought a cardigan with you today.

“Spider-Man, the new one. You said to Jungkook that you’d watched it right?” There’s a moment of hesitation as Hoseok’s eyes flick to you before he’s nodding slowly. Almost immediately you grin brightly, not noticing the way that Hoseok pauses with his breath caught before his shoulders shift up to his ears.

“Oh my god, wasn’t it so good? The animation is just beautiful, it makes me want to scream. Like those cityscape shots? Could easily be mistaken for a photo if you just showed someone it. And the perfect blending of the different art styles of the Spider-People and god the music was so good. Miles is amazing and if it doesn’t win then I’m gonna Hulk out,” You pause and look at Taehyung who’s smirking in amusement. “Seriously, I don’t even know how to describe the animation. Think 3D...but not. You get me, right Hoseok?”

Hoseok’s eyes go astonishingly wide once more as you question and his mouth opens and closes a few times as he struggles to find an answer for you. He just settles for nodding quickly, reaching up to pull his beanie off and sort out his hair.

The chestnut locks have gone a bit wild under his hat and you have to bite your lip to stop laughing at how it goes all over the place, though another part of you wants to aww at how cute he looks.

“One day Hoseok, one day I’ll get you to spout poetic bullshit about a film you love.” You tease lightly, tapping at your gel wrist rest that lays alongside your keyboard to ease the pressure on your wrists as you type. He swallows audibly, causing you to laugh out loud while Taehyung chuckles and shakes his head.

“Hoseok has fucking terrible film taste. He thinks Batman v Superman was actually good.” Jungkook calls out and you turn to look at the graphic designer. He’s reclining in his chair, hands over his stomach with an ankle hooked over his knee while he observes the scene on the other side of the office.

Jimin is in the exact same position behind him while he nods his head sagely and you gasp in horror, a hand to your chest as you look back at Hoseok. “Say it isn’t so Hoseok.”

The man in question looks like he wants to sink through the floor as he gives a meagre shrug. Your wail of horror has him cringing while everyone else in the office sniggers and Taehyung pats your back in consolation.

“This can’t be. Why? Is it because your mom is named Martha too?” Jungkook lets out a bark of laughter at that while Jimin creases, folding over in his chair as his forehead rests against his knees from the force of his laugh.

Hoseok attempts to speak a few more times before he frowns deeply, taking a deep breath and shaking his head. “N-no. That was d-d-dumb. I just like Batman. I-i-it’s not my favourite f-f-film but it’s not terrible.”

You lean back and stare at him, raising a brow slowly as you narrow at your eyes at him. “What is your favourite film then?”

This is probably the most you’ve talked to Hoseok in the whole three months about non-job related work. You’re actually surprised he’s engaging this far, and you study him closely to make sure he doesn’t look uncomfortable or unhappy. The last thing you want is him to get upset.

But he doesn’t back down from your question, instead staring at something on his desk intently before looking back at you. You almost lean back in reaction, the intensity of his gaze far stronger than you’d expected and you’re surprised to feel a slight stirring of sexual lust for him. While you’d always acknowledge he was handsome - wasn’t everyone in this place? - you’d never quite seen Hoseok in a ‘oh holy cow’ light until right now.

“I-I-I don’t have one. B-b-but I like Jurassic Park and Blade Runner. And the Godfather. Oh, and Big Hero 6.” He adds as an afterthought, and you feel oddly proud that he didn’t stutter throughout the rest of the conversation. It was obviously just a nerves thing, but you kind of hope that he’ll get a bit bolder if you keep trying with him.

“Good choices. Solid. Not pretentious like the avant garde master here. He probably watches his porn in French black and white too.” A casual thumb thrown in Taehyung’s direction gets you the finger in response.

“It’s black and white softcore German, you heathen. No one does the group sex quite as good. The camera angles when there’s so many bodies.” He kisses the tips of his fingers before blowing them in the air, causing you to stare at him with a slightly grossed out face.

Looking at Jimin, you shake your head. “You know, I’ve only known the two of you for three months now. But I can easily see how you started dating. You with your weird music and books and Taehyung with your pretentious films.”

Taehyung gasps theatrically before smiling, fully aware that you’re joking around with him. Jimin on the other hand, snorts loudly and sticks his tongue out at you. “Hey, there’s nothing weird about my music choices. And what the hell. You’ve been listening to Billie Eilish non-stop lately according to your Spotify. And while she’s incredibly talented, I wish she’d lighten up a little.”

Turning to look at the cotton candy haired guy, though his hair was mostly hidden today by a black ball cap, you raise an eyebrow slowly. “Firstly, don’t insult Billie like that! Her songs are beautiful and soothe my soul. And also, this coming from the guy who listens to Morrissey. Unironically, I might add. Your opinion is invalid in this conversation.”

“...You know what. I can't even argue that. You right.” Jimin shrugs in defeat and sits back while Taehyung makes consoling noises at his boyfriend from his seat.

The delicate snort from behind your monitor makes your eyes widen, causing you to shift over slightly to watch Hoseok as he giggles. His white teeth peek out at you as he bites on his lower lip to try and contain his laugh.

And from how pretty and sweet it sounded, you wish he wouldn’t. The soft noises he lets out are oddly infectious, causing you to laugh in turn with a pretty dopey expression on your face and making you completely oblivious to the sly look Jimin and Taehyung are sharing.

“You love Imagine Dragons too, right? Hoseok listens to them all the time.” Taehyung says helpfully, gesturing with his chin towards the man behind your monitor.

Spinning back, you look at Hoseok with a happy grin and clap your hands together excitedly. “Oh my god, yes! I’m in love with Bad Liar right now, and Zero is so fun. I think Jimin keeps laughing at me for dancing in my seat.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond to you properly though, just nodding his head and smiling slightly as you playfully glare at the slim man across the office.

“On the subject of dating though...Hoseok. Have you ever had a girlfriend before? Or boyfriend, if that’s your thing.” Jimin asks, his tone not even slightly sly and you look at him in surprise. If he was trying to not be obvious, then he was being about as subtle as the Seattle Space Needle. Surely they’d already know this right?

As far as you’ve gathered, Jimin has been at Poppin’ Culture for four years and Taehyung for three. The two had started dating two years ago and despite your teasing, you were already confident that they were two of the cutest couples you’d ever seen.

Hoseok though, had apparently been with the company for years. He’d gone to college with Namjoon, Chaeyoung and Seokjin and had a film production degree. Namjoon had started Poppin’ Culture when he was 19, in his second year, and Hoseok had come on board once they’d branched out to a YouTube channel.

Still, you’re surprised by the way Hoseok’s cheeks go bright red and his eyes dart to you for a moment before he’s looking down at his desk once more. A wet tongue peeks out of his mouth quickly as he licks along his lips to wetten them, coughing to clear his throat before he’s looking back up at Jimin with a frown.

“Would you like the name of my e-e-ex-girlfriend? I’m s-s-socially awkward, not inept.” You suck your lower lip between your teeth as you look at Jimin with a ‘wtf’ look. As nice as he was, he was a bit blunt and you felt that situation could have probably done with a little more tactful handling. Hoseok looked like he could fry an egg on his cheeks and Jimin winces at the glare both Taehyung and you give him.

“Sorry man. I was out of line. I didn’t mean to insult you.” The apology is sincere in tone, with Jimin ducking his head and turning back to his work. You watch carefully as Hoseok eyes the younger man before letting out a quiet sigh and nodding his acceptance.

The atmosphere is slightly awkward now, and you’re desperate to make Hoseok less uncomfortable which is why you find yourself blurting out words you immediately want to swallow back up. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve not had a boyfriend since I was 20 and I’ve not been laid in four years.”

Almost immediately your hand is slapping over your mouth as your eyes widen in horror, apologies falling from your lips like honey as your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Not only are Hoseok’s eyes resembling dinner plates, his jaw dropped open in shock, but so is just about everyone else’s in the office. Well, that’s certainly one way to make him feel better about himself you guess.

“I’m sorry for your loss. Everyone, we need to be careful with her. She’s going through some tough times. Only 26 and already looking at a life of non-sexual fulfilment.” Taehyung drones deeply, his voice faux-sincere and you glare at him while pushing his hand off your shoulder.

“I will delete your folder of obscure foreign films.” You hiss at him through narrowed eyes, causing him to burst out into laughter as his hand slaps his thigh in amusement.

“Oh god, you crack me up. I need to thank Seokjin for hiring you, seriously. God, get on with your Spider-Man boner before you accidentally reveal something else way too intimate for the workplace to know.” He snorts before rolling back to his own desk. The office thankfully goes back to normal after that, the low level of chatter competing with the soft sounds of today’s playlist.

Looking at your screen, you’re distracted momentarily by the sight of Hoseok still in view just around your monitor. He’s looking at you in that way people do when they’ve checked out, their brains focused on something else entirely and you watch him back in amusement until he realises.

Almost immediately he cringes, bowing his head slightly and giving an uncomfortable smile before sliding back out of view. Smiling, you shake your head and pop your headphones back into your ears as you get back to work.

You’re oddly pleased to see Hoseok stand up for himself bluntly, and you remind yourself not to baby him. He’s a grown man after all, older than you.

The flashing of your phone lets you see that you’ve got a new notification from Facebook, and you roll your eyes as you click on your screen to see what it is. What you see however has you slowly smiling as a flutter of butterflies take flight in your stomach and you tap accept eagerly.

You have a new friend request: Jung Hoseok

-

The next few weeks roll by quickly with Taehyung and you becoming inundated with awards season nominations, ceremonies and just general Oscar bait films. It had even resulted in a whole ‘Top 10 Oscar Bait Films’ video on the Poppin’ Culture Film YouTube channel which had proven remarkably popular, even spawning a sequel that was generated purely from user comments.

You’re actually surprised with just how much you continue to love your job, even with the sheer pressure of blog and video deadlines constantly breathing down your neck. And it doesn’t take you long to realise that it’s because of the people you work with who make working that overtime all the more sweeter.

Jimin is genuinely hilarious and when paired up with Jungkook he becomes hysterical. Lisa has easily become your female work best friend, with the two of you Skyping all the time on your work computers and soon venturing out into the world to go to dinners, concerts and the cinema while Taehyung is an incredibly hard working colleague who always keeps a close on eye on how you’re doing.

It’s genuinely one of the best places you’ve ever worked and you thank all your lucky stars that you’d been accepted because you were pretty sure that you were making some of the closest friends you could.

And then there was Hoseok.

Jung Hoseok still remained a mystery to you and you weren’t entirely sure why you so desperately wanted to figure him out. Or maybe not figure him out, because you kind of liked how shy and mysterious he is.

The rest of your colleagues have been pretty open books and you were pretty sure that you were on the verge of receiving daily updates on Jimin and Taehyung’s sex life - you were that close with the two. But you still knew almost nothing about Hoseok and it drove you wild.

What was even more annoying was the fact that only you were apparently bothered by it too. The others just shrugged and said that he’d always been quiet and introverted, so they just made it clear to him that they were there if he wanted to talk or make friends with them. Apparently he never went out on the workplace socials and he rarely talked to others via text or Skype.

Which kind of infuriated you, because it probably was true that Hoseok preferred to be alone and lost in his world of music. But there must be something horribly isolating about never getting invited to things or never being included, which is why you kept trying to include him in your own conversations. The others would sometimes talk around him, but you always tried to make sure that he felt comfortable and included in your conversations.

Taehyung had honestly admitted in a meeting that he wasn’t entirely sure why you kept asking Hoseok things, pointing out that you might be annoying him. But you’d countered with the fact that you always gave Hoseok plenty of options to slip out of the conversation, yet he would continue it on sometimes.

It had been then that Taehyung had flushed a pretty golden pink, nodding his head as he acknowledged the fact that Hoseok had opened up more in the last few months of you being here than in the years he’d been here. That on its own had made your heart hurt. No one could enjoy being so easily disregarded, no matter how quiet and introverted.

Currently though, you were slouched on your couch with your best friend, Sunmi, as you both ate pepperoni pizza while watching Avengers: Infinity War for the bajillionth time. You, because you just loved the film, and her because she really loved Chris Hemsworth.

Honestly? Mood.

“I swear, this is the most badass entry scene of any entry scene in all of film,” You blurt out randomly, lifting your fist as Thor appears on screen in the middle of the battlefield and shouting out alongside him. “Bring. Me. Thanos!”

Sunmi snorts elegantly from your side, taking a bite of greasy pizza and chewing slowly while she eyes up her fictional man with pleasure. A hum of delight leaves her when Thor meets up with Captain America and you laugh, poking at her side.

“Imagine being in a Chris sandwich.” She looks at you and wiggles her carefully put together eyebrows before giggling.

“I wish. God, they can wreck me any day. You know, I can’t believe that you get to watch stuff like this and then write about it or make a video about it. Why can’t I just laze around and do that? Do they have an opening for me?” She pouts at you, placing the crust back in the box before wrapping her hands around your wrist and playfully whining.

You laugh loudly and take a bite of your own slice. “For what? Sorry Elle Woods, but you’re going to have keep your bending and snapping for the judge and jury. I doubt Poppin’ Culture - The Law Version will be very popular.”

“What about if I wear a hot pink bikini?” She says seriously, her face carefully blank as you give her a droll stare.

“Yeah sure, lemme give PornHub a call. I’m sure they’ve got a whole audience just waiting for their law lectures from Bikini Girl 3.” Sunmi shrieks with laughter at that, rolling backwards until her head is hitting the arm of the sofa and relaxing into the pile of cushions there.

Reaching her foot up, she prods at your thigh annoyingly until you push her away with a sigh.

“So, how is your work though? You’ve been spending a lot of time there. Which, by the way, is ridiculous. I only spend extra time doing work if I’m getting paid for it because I do not enjoy my job that much.” Sunmi sighs heavily, letting her arms fall behind her head as she turns her gaze back to your large television screen.

“Okay firstly, it was your decision to take a law degree. Your parents are assholes but they’re not dickish. They would have been fine with you being a doctor instead. Secondly, you make so much money an hour that you shouldn’t complain. You can literally buy a pair of Jimmy Choos with an hour.” Closing the pizza box, you lean forward and place it onto your wooden coffee table before leaning back and patting your stomach affectionately.

“Firstly you bitchass, I don’t make a lot because I’m still not fully qualified yet. It costs a lot to be a lawyer and the work is boring because I’m in property law. Yawn. Secondly, I hate property law but I would’ve passed out being a doctor. Blood and snot? No thanks. Maybe I should just give it all up and go back to college to become an artist.” She says dreamily and you look over at her with a raised brow.

“Do it. If it’s what you want. Your life shouldn’t be made on a decision you did based on what your parents wanted for you, as much as you might want to make them happy. They’re not your life, and you’ll burn out quicker if you do something you hate.” Sunmi just hums before shifting the pillows until she’s looking at you.

“Still. It’s nice that you’re enjoying it. I’m happy for you. I need to meet this Lisa, so you better set up a playdate or something. If she’s banging, I may just bang her. I mean, if you’re alright with that. And she likes girls.” Sunmi wiggles her brow and you laugh, shaking your head slowly.

“I think Lisa swings both ways honestly, so go for it. She’s pretty and cute with a really nice and fun personality. I wish I could introduce you to Jimin and Taehyung as well. They’re funny individually but hilarious together. Urgh, I wish I had someone the way Jimin eyefucks Tae across the room.”

“Does he realise you can see that?” She asks, an incredulous look on her face and you nod with a laugh.

“Oh yeah. He just gives me an innocent smile. They’re fun though and make me laugh, it’s like a family.” You sigh softly, slumping down further into the couch pillow. Sunmi’s quiet for a few seconds before speaking again.

“What about that quiet guy? Hoseok right?” Pausing, you chew on your lip as you stare blankly at the screen and wonder how to describe him to her.

“Hoseok...is sweet. Quiet but sweet. He doesn’t get involved in conversations of his own accord still, but I include him and he’ll get more involved now. We even have whole conversations just him and I, particularly about our love of 80s films though they’re not very long conversations. It’s nice, I’m literally watching him become more integrated and it’s kind of annoying that everyone just let him stagnate in his isolation. Like, seriously. Did no one ever think that maybe he doesn’t get involved because people have let him isolate himself? It’s hard to pull yourself out of that, and he’s obviously trying.” You don’t even realise you’re half ranting until you see Sunmi’s bemused smile, causing your cheeks to heat.

“Anyway, yeah. He’s a lot more caring than people think too. He just doesn’t show it in ways that you or I would, nor does he talk about them. Like...the other week I came in one morning to find a tube of dissolvable vitamin C tablets on my desk. When I asked where they’d come from, Hoseok Skyped me and said that he thought I looked like I was lacking a bit of vitamin C and to take one with water every day. And then when I was feeling a bit tired, he made me a cup of green tea. I swear Sunmi, he was so sweet and adorable because he kept stumbling over his words while telling me that green tea was healthy and rejuvenating but he didn’t like the taste so he always has peppermint and he hoped I liked peppermint too.”

Sunmi says nothing for a moment and you look at her in confusion, wondering why she’s suddenly decided to be quiet. It’s not like her to not get involved in your conversations, only she’s staring at you with wide eyes and a pretty mouth that’s fallen open.

“Oh my god. You like him.” Her words cause you to pause, frowning immediately as you shake your head in denial.

“What? No I don’t. I mean, yeah as a friend. Or I hope as a friend, but not anything more than that.” She lets out a peal of high pitched laughter while sitting up, looking closely at your face with those mahogany eyes of hers.

“Yes, you do. Oh my god, he is not even remotely your type from the sounds of it yet you’re falling hard girl. Show me a picture of him.” You want to keep denying her, mind spinning from what she’s come out with as you wonder where she’s got this impression from.

But once Sunmi has made up her mind, then it’s game over for everyone else. Sure enough, you find yourself scrolling through your phone on Facebook to find a nice picture of him to show her. And as you look through his, admittedly few, profile pictures, you pause for a moment as you realise that maybe she’s right.

Only people who like someone try and find the best looking picture of them, too afraid that their friend or family member will laugh and think their crush ugly. The swooping sensation in your stomach is confusing, and you don’t know whether it’s shy excitement or just plain old nausea.

Finally deciding on a picture of Hoseok that has obviously been taken in a coffee shop, you turn the phone screen so she can see. It’s got dim lighting, and has looks to have been taken on a Polaroid style camera from the style of it but he looks good.

In fact, he looks beautiful and his bright smile kind of takes your breath away.

He’s just wearing a plain white, long sleeved shirt with dark brown hair parted in the centre, the strands laying carelessly on his forehead while those beautiful chocolate eyes stare out from behind the lenses of his glasses. The table blocks anymore view of him and yet you can’t help but feel the fluttering in your stomach slowly spread along your veins.

Hoseok’s smiles are still rare, but they’ve slowly been becoming more frequent as you continue to talk to him. And every time you think he should smile more often, because he has a face that’s made for a smile.

His mouth is stretched wide with perfectly white, straight teeth showing and the force of the expression causes his eyes to narrow, soft tan cheeks looking adorably kissable.

Oh, you’re totally fucked.

“Holy shit…are you kidding me? This is Quiet Guy? Shy Guy? Holy fuck girl. He’s gorgeous! Look at that smile, oh my god. And he has such pretty eyes, that’s just not fair. Oh, please go for him. I know I said that he’s not your type because you normally like either those hipster guys or bad boys but he looks like he’d be so good for you. He looks kind, like you’d call him and say you’re sick and he comes right over to make you food and wraps you up in a blanket before cuddling with you, telling you that you need body heat to stay warm.” You look at her with a raised brow as she takes your phone and scrolls through his photos.

“And he obviously likes you.” Her words throw you then, causing you to frown as you stare before finally asking why she thinks.

“Because you said it yourself. He talks to you, even when he doesn’t talk to the others. You’ve said he keeps conversations going with you. He added you on Facebook first and he’s taking care of you in a weird but cute way of flirting. Like I said, he looks like he’d be a good boyfriend because he’s already trying to make sure you’re healthy and okay.”

She hands your phone back and points at the screen, where a new photo of Hoseok is. It’s not from his profile pictures, so you just presume it’s one that someone took of him and tagged him in. He’s asleep on his side on a couch, his right cheek smooshed into a pillow while his other looks soft and round. Pink lips pout in his sleep, the ends turned up while his lashes remain firmly closed and his hair is all over the place.

You have the strongest urge to reach through the screen to kiss his cheek.

“I think you should think on it, because I know you. And you’re probably having a little internal argument right now about whether or not you like him. But...if you decide that you do. Then I think you should go for it, because he looks nice. Get to know him a bit more, get him to open up his walls to you a bit more and then see if he really is interested. It’s been a while since you smiled like that about someone, and even longer since you searched through their pictures to find me the most flattering.” Dammit, you knew she’d figure you out.

You don’t respond though, simply locking your phone and placing it down on the cushion next to you as you both turn your attention back to the film. But you can’t help the what if’s that float around in the back of your mind, wondering if perhaps she’s right not only about yourself, but also him.

Did Hoseok like you?

-

Quite understandably, your interactions with Hoseok are suddenly tinged with a film of awkwardness as you contemplate the fact that you quite possibly like your shy colleague. And that’s to say nothing of how closely you watch his interactions with you to see if there’s a chance that he likes you in the way you like him.

Honestly, anyone would think you were 14 and not 26.

But he made you feel like a teenager though. The fluttering of nervous excitement in your stomach whenever he would look at you with that soft, bashful smile he’d give you whenever he caught your eye in the office. The way you would feel sad resentment when he was ill or was working from home and so didn’t come in.

How could you not though? Not only was he soul wrenchingly handsome and pretty, he was also thoughtful with the few conversations he would engage in and he was so sweet and kind.

When you’d complimented him on the peppermint green tea he’d brought you the other week, you found yourself with a mug being made every time he got up to go to the kitchen. You’d be completely absorbed in your work, staring at your screen intently with headphones in to keep distractions at bay, when you’d suddenly smell the pleasant scent of peppermint drifting to your nose.

And then you’d look to your side and see a fresh cup of tea sat there, steaming slowly in your Star Wars mug.

A quick glance behind your screen would let you see Hoseok staring firmly at his screen, refusing to look at you and yet his cheeks tinging a rosy glow that made your heart tug. It was only fair to respond in kind, and so you’d taken to making him a cup of your favourite tea as well, delicious salted caramel, and leaving it on his desk.

He hadn’t complained, so you took that as a sign that he enjoyed it too.

Maybe others would look at your interactions with laughter or bemusement, but you liked them. If he was flirting with you, because let’s face it you were flirting with him, then you were quietly excited and hopeful. You could cope with glacial, as long as it would hopefully result in something at the end.

Currently, you were attempting to film a video talking about the films that were snubbed completely at the Oscars. Taehyung had written up the script for you but was suffering from a winter cold at home. You’d claim man-flu, only you’d video called him and seen the dark circles under his eyes, sallow skin and bright red nose as he’d sniffled and snorted his way through your conversation.

As a result, you’d had to grab your emergency make-up kit from your drawer and rush to the bathroom to apply it. Today had been a lazy day; meaning you were just wearing a pair of ratty black jeans and an ancient Star Wars shirt that had once been black but was now an odd shade of grey.

Once you’d felt that you looked at the very least passable to the potentially thousands upon thousands of people who would be watching your face, you rush back through the office to place your kit back before heading over to the recording room. Tapping on the door lightly, you open it up to find Hoseok and Lisa inside as they set up the camera and lighting.

Already, the big ring lights are glaring and you’re feeling hot as you move over to the two, watching as they mess with the camera before checking over the computer on the desk next to it. Lisa moves around to the front, standing over the duct tape X on the floor and clipping the tiny microphone onto her shirt while waiting for Hoseok.

He’s wearing a plain white shirt today with a yellow and black check shirt open over the top and a plain pair of jeans. For some reason, he’s apparently decided to emulate Jungkook and is wearing some tan Timberland’s as well, though they surprisingly work well with the outfit.

You’ve noticed that Hoseok isn’t exactly the most fashionable person, but he’s yet to wear something that you find genuinely offensive. In fact, you often find that he manages to look hot even when he really shouldn’t. Maybe it’s just a talent attractive people have?

Hoseok gives a small nod to Lisa as his eyes flicker up from the screen, the light being reflected in his glasses. Lisa begins to talk random nonsense, performing a soundcheck to make sure the microphone is working properly while also making sure the camera’s fine.

Once done, she helps you to thread the microphone through your shirt and clip it on while placing the main pack into your back pocket. You stand on the X while going over the script that you can read on the screen reader facing you on the table.

Lisa slips away while you’re busy practicing, going through quick vocal exercises to warm your voice up as you continue to read over what you’re going to say. In your mind, you’re already visualising what the video will look like and you kind of feel sad that Taehyung can’t do this. It’s a good script.

“Okay. Are you ready?” Hoseok’s voice is soft and light, every word sounding like it has been cautiously thought of before he speaks it. You smile slightly as your head nods forward in response to him before clearing your throat and clenching your hands a few times while letting out a deep breath.

“Am I in the right place?” Looking down at the floor, you make sure that your feet are squarely on the spot and Hoseok looks through the camera before giving a cute okay symbol with a wink and pressed smile. It causes you to bite your own lower lip, desperately keeping inside the ‘cute’ that wants to escape.

“Okay, recording in three...two…” He stops speaking after that and mouths out the final one before pressing the button to record, a red light sparking to life on the camera and immediately you’re smiling brightly.

There’s no real pressure on you to do a good take in one shot, because Hoseok will be editing the scenes together and making some shorter to suit the video anyway. But you don’t really like wasting unnecessary hard drive space for him if possible. Plus, it just means he has to stare at your foolish facial expressions for longer and you’d really rather not.

On that note, it’s a little unfair that he gets to watch your face up close with a 4K camera. Actually, you’ve never thought about that before and almost immediately your brows crease at the thought of him seeing every pore and blemish on your skin. Christ, the camera does not do anyone justice and you want to whine at the thought of him seeing all your bad points in such harsh lighting.

When you don’t actually start speaking and instead start making a distressed face, Hoseok’s head peeks out from behind the monitor and he frowns at you in turn. Eyes focusing on his pretty visage, you have to squint slightly to see him properly from behind the astonishingly bright lights set up but you shake your head to reassure him.

Rolling your head on your shoulders and blowing bubbles with your lips, completely unaware of the tiny amused smile on Hoseok’s lips as he watches you through the monitor, you force yourself to get back into the zone.

The rest of the hour spent recording goes more or less like usual, with multiple outtakes when you mess things up and cause yourself to laugh. One of the hardest things of recording videos is just being able to being able to speak properly. You’ve had to learn to over-enunciate sometimes to avoid slurring your words together, because that just encourages hate from viewers.

And you are not in the mood to get hate. It’s already hard enough being a female commentator on the channel, and you’d had to grow some pretty thick skin in both the comments and on your own social media.

But there were plenty of equally great people too in fairness, and you’d even kind of got to know some regular viewers from the constant interactions you got both on your videos and on your own Twitter account. It was nice to have a mini fan club of people who were willing to defend you against the trolls and raise you up when you’re feeling down, though it’s not nearly as many as Taehyung’s extortionately big legion of fans.

There’s only a few major mishaps this time, with a few pronunciations of your words going horrifically bad and you find yourself cringing. Hoseok has a good chuckle on occasion and the bright bubbles of his laughter make you smile in turn, heart sparking with happiness at making him laugh.

Once Hoseok gave the signal to indicate that he was pretty happy with the recording, you let your shoulders drop while your head falls back on your shoulders, a deep groan leaving you as your entire body relaxes. Reaching to pull the microphone and its pack from under your shirt, you move over to Hoseok as he turns the light and camera off before he’s checking over the computer to transfer the new video files to his solid state drive.

“Did everything look good in it?” You ask, leaning your hip against the desk while your arms cross over your chest. Hoseok pauses for a moment at your close proximity before looking up at you slowly, his beautiful brown eyes looking sweetly innocent and big as he takes you in.

It’s still ridiculously endearing how shy he gets around you, but what you like even more is how it’s only when he’s not doing work related things. The last hour has been spent with him practically bossing you around, barking out polite requests when you’ve moved out of frame or have said something wrong.

He wasn’t mean about it or anything, he just took his job very seriously and it’s what made him such a damn good videographer and video editor. He knew what he needed and wasn’t afraid to tell people what to do in regards to that, so the sudden reversal back into the meek Hoseok tugged at your heart.

“Y-yeah. You did good. Less bad shots today.” You pout at him theatrically before pushing lightly at his shoulder, just enough to make him rock where he stands.

“Hey! There’s no need to be mean. You make it sound like I’m as bad Yugyeom! I don’t mess up that bad.” Lower lip sticking out, you look down at the floor until Hoseok lets out a soft and breathy laugh, shaking his head while adjusting his glasses slightly.

“I-I didn’t mean-. I’m not saying anything else,” He looks at you and gives you a wry smile. “I-I’m not stupid. I think I’ve dug enough of my own grave here.”

You can’t help but laugh out at that as you lean forward, body moving of its own accord before you move around him and rest your hand on his shoulder. It’s warm and solid beneath your palm, even through the layers he’s wearing and you swallow in sudden awareness of the firmness of him.

He freezes in place subtly as well, the muscles under your fingers tensing a little as neither of you move for a moment. It’s the first time you’ve ever touched him, and neither of you really seem to know what to do.

Swallowing, you let out a chuckle that’s a little higher pitched than you perhaps intended but you try to make it sound as natural as you can. Even if you’re feeling a little overwhelmed now when your hand feels warm and bizarrely sweaty.

“Funny, you’re way funnier than I thought Hobi!” The nickname you’d overheard Seokjin calling him once slips out without meaning to and you cringe with gritted teeth behind his back, taking your hand off his shoulder to pinch your leg at your stupidity. “Well, I hope it goes well. Let me know if there’s anything you need from me or just when it’s done so I can look it over? Thanks and bye!”

You can’t stop how fast the words fall from your lips, a faucet stuck on full when what you really want is a vault so tight not even the crown jewels of England can get out of it. Giving him an awkward smile, you book it out of the recording room as quickly as you can and leave him alone.

In fact, you go so fast that you don’t get to see the way Hoseok watches after you with widened eyes of shock which soon melt into half-moons of unguarded happiness in the quiet room. His hand shakes as it moves up to press at the place your own hand had been, the skin feeling prickly underneath and his breath shakes as a hesitant smile slowly paints its way on his face.

You don’t see that, nor do you see the way he pauses on a close up of your face with a fond smile before closing the programme down and leaving.

[shinelikethunder]

Fandom Userscript Cookbook: Five Projects to Get Your Feet Wet

Target audience: This post is dedicated, with love, to all novice, aspiring, occasional, or thwarted coders in fandom. If you did a code bootcamp once and don’t know where to start applying your new skillz, this is for you. If you're pretty good with HTML and CSS but the W3Schools Javascript tutorials have you feeling out of your depth, this is for you. If you can do neat things in Python but don’t know a good entry point for web programming, this is for you. Seasoned programmers looking for small, fun, low-investment hobby projects with useful end results are also welcome to raid this post for ideas.

You will need:

The Tampermonkey browser extension to run and edit userscripts

A handful of example userscripts from greasyfork.org. Just pick a few that look nifty and install them. AO3 Savior is a solid starting point for fandom tinkering.

Your browser dev tools. Hit F12 or right click > Inspect Element to find the stuff on the page you want to tweak and experiment with it. Move over to the Console tab once you’ve got code to test out and debug.

Javascript references and tutorials. W3Schools has loads of both. Mozilla’s JS documentation is top-notch, and I often just keep their reference lists of built-in String and Array functions open in tabs as I code. StackOverflow is useful for questions, but don’t assume the code snippets you find there are always reliable or copypastable.

That’s it. No development environment. No installing node.js or Ruby or Java or two different versions of Python. No build tools, no dependency management, no fucking Docker containers. No command line, even. Just a browser extension, the browser’s built-in dev tools, and reference material. Let’s go.

You might also want:

jQuery and its documentation. If you’re wrestling with a mess of generic spans and divs and sparse, unhelpful use of classes, jQuery selectors are your best bet for finding the element you want before you snap and go on a murderous rampage. jQuery also happens to be the most ubiquitous JS library out there, the essential Swiss army knife for working with Javascript’s... quirks, so experience with it is useful. It gets a bad rap because trying to build a whole house with a Swiss army knife is a fool’s errand, but it’s excellent for the stuff we're about to do.

Git or other source control, if you’ve already got it set up. By all means share your work on Github. Greasy Fork can publish a userscript from a Github repo. It can also publish a userscript from an uploaded text file or some code you pasted into the upload form, so don’t stress about it if you’re using a more informal process.

A text editor. Yes, seriously, this is optional. It’s a question of whether you’d rather code everything right there in Tampermonkey’s live editor, or keep a separate copy to paste into Tampermonkey’s live editor for testing. Are you feeling lucky, punk?

Project #1: Hack on an existing userscript

Install some nifty-looking scripts for websites you visit regularly. Use them. Ponder small additions that would make them even niftier. Take a look at their code in the Tampermonkey editor. (Dashboard > click on the script name.) Try to figure out what each bit is doing.

Then change something, hit save, and refresh the page.

Break it. Make it select the wrong element on the page to modify. Make it blow up with a huge pile of console errors. Add a console.log("I’m a teapot"); in the middle of a loop so it prints fifty times. Savor your power to make the background wizardry of the internet do incredibly dumb shit.

Then try a small improvement. It will probably break again. That's why you've got the live editor and the console, baby--poke it, prod it, and make it log everything it's doing until you've made it work.

Suggested bells and whistles to make the already-excellent AO3 Savior script even fancier:

Enable wildcards on a field that currently requires an exact match. Surely there’s at least one song lyric or Richard Siken quote you never want to see in any part of a fic title ever again, right?

Add some text to the placeholder message. Give it a pretty background color. Change the amount of space it takes up on the page.

Blacklist any work with more than 10 fandoms listed. Then add a line to the AO3 Savior Config script to make the number customizable.

Add a global blacklist of terms that will get a work hidden no matter what field they're in.

Add a list of blacklisted tag combinations. Like "I'm okay with some coffee shop AUs, but the ones that are also tagged as fluff don't interest me, please hide them." Or "Character A/Character B is cute but I don't want to read PWP about them."

Anything else you think of!

Project #2: Good Artists Borrow, Great Artists Fork (DIY blacklisting)

Looking at existing scripts as a model for the boilerplate you'll need, create a script that runs on a site you use regularly that doesn't already have a blacklisting/filtering feature. If you can't think of one, Dreamwidth comments make a good guinea pig. (There's a blacklist script for them out there, but reinventing wheels for fun is how you learn, right? ...right?) Create a simple blacklisting script of your own for that site.

Start small for the site-specific HTML wrangling. Take an array of blacklisted keywords and log any chunk of post/comment text that contains one of them.

Then try to make the post/comment it belongs to disappear.

Then add a placeholder.

Then get fancy with whitelists and matching metadata like usernames/titles/tags as well.

Crib from existing blacklist scripts like AO3 Savior as shamelessly as you feel the need to. If you publish the resulting userscript for others to install (which you should, if it fills an unmet need!), please comment up any substantial chunks of copypasted or closely-reproduced code with credit/a link to the original. If your script basically is the original with some key changes, like our extra-fancy AO3 Savior above, see if there’s a public Git repo you can fork.

Project #3: Make the dread Tumblr beast do a thing

Create a small script that runs on the Tumblr dashboard. Make it find all the posts on the page and log their IDs. Then log whether they're originals or reblogs. Then add a fancy border to the originals. Then add a different fancy border to your own posts. All of this data should be right there in the post HTML, so no need to derive it by looking for "x reblogged y" or source links or whatever--just make liberal use of Inspect Element and the post's data- attributes.

Extra credit: Explore the wildly variable messes that Tumblr's API spews out, and try to recreate XKit's timestamps feature with jQuery AJAX calls. (Post timestamps are one of the few reliable API data points.) Get a zillion bright ideas about what else you could do with the API data. Go through more actual post data to catalogue all the inconsistencies you’d have to catch. Cry as Tumblr kills the dream you dreamed.

Project #4: Make the dread Tumblr beast FIX a thing

Create a script that runs on individual Tumblr blogs (subdomains of tumblr.com). Browse some blogs with various themes until you've found a post with the upside-down reblog-chain bug and a post with reblogs displaying normally. Note the HTML differences between them. Make the script detect and highlight upside-down stacks of blockquotes. Then see if you can make it extract the blockquotes and reassemble them in the correct order. At this point you may be mobbed by friends and acquaintainces who want a fix for this fucking bug, which you can take as an opportunity to bury any lingering doubts about the usefulness of your scripting adventures.

(Note: Upside-down reblogs are the bug du jour as of September 2019. If you stumble upon this post later, please substitute whatever the latest Tumblr fuckery is that you'd like to fix.)

Project #5: Regular expressions are a hard limit

I mentioned up above that Dreamwidth comments are good guinea pigs for user scripting? You know what that means. Kinkmemes. Anon memes too, but kinkmemes (appropriately enough) offer so many opportunities for coding masochism. So here's a little exercise in sadism on my part, for anyone who wants to have fun (or "fun") with regular expressions:

Write a userscript that highlights all the prompts on any given page of a kinkmeme that have been filled.

Specifically, scan all the comment subject lines on the page for anything that looks like the title of a kinkmeme fill, and if you find one, highlight the prompt at the top of its thread. The nice ones will start with "FILL:" or end with "part 1/?" or "3/3 COMPLETE." The less nice ones will be more like "(former) minifill [37a / 50(?)] still haven't thought of a name for this thing" or "title that's just the subject line of the original prompt, Chapter 3." Your job is to catch as many of the weird ones as you can using regular expressions, while keeping false positives to a minimum.

Test it out on a real live kinkmeme, especially one without strict subject-line-formatting policies. I guarantee you, you will be delighted at some of the arcane shit your script manages to catch. And probably astonished at some of the arcane shit you never thought to look for because who the hell would even format a kinkmeme fill like that? Truly, freeform user input is a wonderful and terrible thing.

If that's not enough masochism for you, you could always try to make the script work on LiveJournal kinkmemes too!