#never give me a deadline again unless you want me to disappoint

[triforce-of-mischief]

my spoons are in the negatives and my writing is absolute crap right now but im trying so hard to finish my secret santa fic and im really sorry if it doesnt happen until tomorrow (optimistically)

[storytowrite]

|Don’t be late again ~ Kim Seungmin|

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Theme: Seungmin x Y/N, teacher au, smut

Word count: 1,689

Warnings: mention of punishment, sex with the teacher

Summary: Y/N being late again at her classes and her teacher, Seungmin is not pleased about that

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The day was bright and quite warm, which was unusual for the early autumn. You were walking towards your university with a coffee from Starbucks in your right hand and a bunch of notebooks in your left one. You were heading towards your classroom. You were late. And your professor, Kim Seungmin, the most annoying person you’ve ever met, didn’t like that.

You entered the class saying quietly “sorry for being late” and sat down at your desk. You didn’t even look at the clearly annoyed professor who was now standing in front of you.

‘Ehm…’ He cleared his voice. ‘Miss Y/N, what is the rule number one when it comes to our classes?’

‘To not be late?’ You asked rolling your back.

‘Then why are you late, again?’ He asked with sharpness in his voice.

‘Because the line in the café was long?’ You took a sip of coffee and didn't even look at him, which made him even more annoyed with you.

‘Ah, yes. The line in the café.’ He snarled. ‘You will stay after class will end Miss Y/N.’

‘Wha… But why?’ You asked, looking at him surprised. He’d never told you to stay after class.

‘Because I said so.’ He answered and then turned towards the rest of the class. ‘And now, you all can thank your friend here, because all of you will do an additional assignment individually or in pairs. The deadline is due next Friday.’

You looked shocked at him. He wanted to give your class an additional task anyway. You knew that, because it was typical of him. But this time he put all the blame on you. All of your classmates were angry and disappointed with you, and you couldn’t do anything about that.

You sighed heavily. You weren’t the most liked person in your class and with your professor's action, you started to be even less liked than before. You wanted to figure out why he said what he said. Why did he put on this situation?

All of your classmates had ignored you. They paired up and left you all alone. You knew you would end up like that. That made you hate your professor even more than before.

The classes finally ended. You took your belongings and wanted to leave the class when your teacher approached you.

‘Miss Y/N haven’t you forgotten something?‘ He asked with a stern voice.

‘I don’t know, have I?‘ You asked, looking at him clearly annoyed.

‘Sit down, please.’ He said sharply. There was something in his voice that made goosebumps on your body. ‘I said, sit down.’ Now his voice was a little more angry.

‘Y-yes sir…’ You said and stuttered a little. You sat down and looked at him.

‘Good girl.’ He muttered and cleared his voice. ‘I’ll be clear. I hate when you are being late. And I cannot accept that in my class. Do you understand Y/N? There is only one rule and believe me I don’t want to punish you just because you cannot be here on time. And also you, taking back and undermining my authority drives me crazy. So unless you have a good explanation for your behaviour or we will play differently.’

‘I’m sorry sir…’ You said looking at him with wide eyes. ‘I didn’t know that…’

‘Oh stop that nonsense Y/N. You know.’ He interrupted you. ‘We both know that you know what you are doing. You don’t respect me at all.’

‘I… I’m sorry?’ You smiled with a cute expression on your face which made his heart flutter.

‘You are sorry?’ He asked and raised his eyebrow. ‘I don’t think so. Probably I should give you a lesson giving another assignment due tomorrow, hm?’

‘No! Professor please no! I’ll do everything!’ You stood up.

‘I like it when you beg.’ He smiled. ‘You will do anything? Are you sure?’

‘Yes. Anything. Please. I’ve already worked on my own on your assignment you gave us today. Please have mercy.’

‘I do really like when you beg, baby doll.’ He said seductively. You looked at him with wide eyes open. He called you a baby doll. You weren’t deaf.

You swallowed hard and were looking at him surprised. It was the first time in your life when you didn’t know what to say. The first time ever when you couldn’t think about a proper riposte. You were more than confused. Didn’t know what to do.

He was looking at you with an unreadable facial expression. You didn’t know what to do, or what to say. You stared at him with a million questions running through your head.

Was he serious? Did he really call you a baby doll? Little that he knew that it was actually turning you on. You moved your legs slightly feeling your growing wetness in your underpants. Unfortunately he saw your movement.

‘What’s wrong baby doll?’ He put a stronger accent on his last two words. Which only made you go crazier. ‘Do you have a problem, little one?’

‘Wha… Ehm… What? A problem? N-no’. You stuttered again. It was pretty unusual for you because typically you knew what to say or do. But being with HIM, all alone, made you a little uneasy. You didn’t want to admit it in front of yourself, but you in fact liked him more than you could say.

He was just different. He was smart, handsome, not that old and definitely not boring. He was a great teacher though. You secretly liked his lessons. He could catch everyone’s attention easily. Half of the school, including other professors, both male and female, had a crush on him. No doubts on that.

But you. Even if you liked his lessons, since biology was your cup of tea, you didn’t like him. He was an arrogant jerk, who always put some sort of comment towards you. He was the big tease too. And you were sick and tired of his comments. But were you really?

‘What are you thinking about, sweetheart?’ He asked, tilting his head to the side.

‘Why do you hate me professor..’ You said looking at him. He looked a little surprised.

‘Who said that I hate you? I would rather say that it’s quite the opposite…’

‘Because you are always humiliating me in front of the class, and…’ You couldn’t finish your thoughts. Suddenly you were interrupted by his lips, which were on yours. He. Kissed. You. It took you by surprise but after a short while you answered the kiss. He deepened the kiss then pulled away. He licked his lower lip and you followed his tongue with your gaze. He was a great kisser. You just wanted more.

‘Does it answer your question, Y/N?’ He asked.

‘I guess so… You answered quietly. Still confused.

‘Good… Do you want more, baby doll?’ He asked, leaning over you. ‘I can already tell what your answer is… Are you wet?’ He asked again, kneeling in front of you and spreading your legs. ‘Yes, very wet…’ Then he ran his finger over your private area through your panties. You sighed quietly. ‘Take them off, let me see.’ He commanded.

‘B-but what if someone sees us?’ You asked with fear.

‘Nobody will see us, baby doll. I’d closed the door.’ He smiled at you. ‘Take them off.’

You did what he said. You took your underwear off. Now he could see your bare skin and dripping wetness from your pussy. How come one man could make you like this? You didn’t have time to answer that question, because Seungmin’s hands were all over your thighs.

He lifted you and sat you again on the desk. Then he leaned over you kissing your neck passionately. One of his hands slipped between your legs. You felt his finger inside you, slowly teasing you. His other hand was unbuttoning your hand and squeezing your right boob. You whined. It already felt good, and he still hasn't started yet.

‘Be good, baby doll… And don’t be too loud.’ He put another two fingers in your wetness. ‘We don’t want somebody to hear us, don’t we?’

He made you moan loud, with his three fingers inside you and a thumb rubbing your clit. You started to squirm under him. You felt like your orgasm was close. And when you had thought that you would finally feel all the pleasure flooding your whole body he pulled his fingers out of you and took his hands.

‘W-Why?’ You whined looking at him. ‘I was close…’

‘I know, baby doll, I know.’ He smiled at you. ‘But I really want to feel you right now and cannot wait any longer.’ He started to unbutton his pants. ‘But, do I have your full consent?’

‘Yes! Of course yes! Please!.’ You were so eager for him. But that was all he needed. In one, quick push he was all inside you.

‘Fuck!’ He whined. ‘You are tight sweetheart. Even if I stretched you! Fuck, Y/N you feel so good.’ He started to move inside you fastly. You felt like you were in seventh heaven. He was definitely an experienced man.

You hugged him tightly, digging your long nails into his arms. You probably ruined his sleeves but you didn’t care. He felt too good to even be bothered by this. You whined and moaned as much as him. The two of you were connected in that dance of passion.

‘Oh! Fuck!’ You moaned. ‘I’m… I’m close!’

‘Don’t hesitate sweetheart.’ He whined. ‘Fuck! Cum for me!’

‘Min! I… Ah!’ You couldn’t say a word. Your orgasm hit you hard, but you felt too good to complain. You came, and he was with you. Your breathing was heavy. He looked at you and smiled.

‘That was something.’ He said after a while, breaking the silence.

‘Yeah… It was.’ You said with a slight rasp in his voice. ‘So… About the assignment…’

‘Don’t ruin the moment sweetheart, please.’ He laughed quietly. ‘You still have to do your assignment… But I am more than sure that you will like the reward after.’

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masterlist

[femmefatalevibe]

Hi :) I’m in the middle of a career transition but it hasn’t been going very smoothly and I’ve had to wait for ages for updates from HR. Right now, I’m at a standstill in my current department where I don’t want to take on any new work in case I get my new start date, but the people in my dept are taking advantage of that and trying to get me to do work and “squeeze” me for as long as they can. This has really lessened my drive to be around them, and to go into the office, because I just feel like I’ve overstayed and no one really speaks to me unless it’s for work.

Do you have any advice on how to navigate this? And also - if you have any advice on how to be more liked / respected / taken seriously in my new job? I want to be known as this charismatic, outspoken, cheerful person although I’ve executive dysfunction, depression and generally am critical and with high standards (am working on the last one, trying to give more grace to people but they really try me sometimes)

Hi love! Feeling in limbo with your career/everyday routine + responsibilities is very mentally draining, so I empathize with your current headspace and situation.

Personally, I have a very cynical approach to situations out of my control and never believe anything is happening until I see it in writing, have a confirmation message, have a check successfully processed into my account, etc. From my POV, I find it better to be content that all went well versus anticipating a positive outcome to potentially be disappointed if something does finalize in the way I envisioned it to.

If I were in your shoes, I would acknowledge that it's important to try to find a way out of a work environment where you feel like you've overstayed and don't feel appreciated, but operate from a mindset of it is the only option at the moment that is based on reality and not potential, so it's the best to make the most of the opportunity. Operate as though you must stay at your current workplace/position while continuously working towards transitioning to a new role/environment. Make your role there seem like your long-term status quo, so people don't feel the need to take advantage of you or ice you out. Never tell coworkers about another job until everything is finalized.

When it comes to being liked and respected in your new workplace, I would say the following tips can be helpful:

Appear happy to be at your new workplace while remaining generally calm

Say hello to people, shake their hand, and introduce yourself. Ask them their name, and their role. Let them know how your roles collaborate if you can/where in the office you will be so they know you're available to connect

Have a simple elevator pitch prepared: Your title at the company, team/boss you're working for, past job/role, and why you're excited to be at this new company

Dress for the job you want and/or have, especially on the first day or two. First impressions genuinely matter, so help yourself in this regard

Always accept lunch invites, one-on-ones, and any meeting invites for the first week or two (with your boss's approval, of course). Be ready and glad to help with colleagues' projects, too

For your onboarding, have insightful, thought-provoking, and specific questions for your boss/higher-ups on how you can help them meet their goals and open-ended questions/comments that demonstrate working knowledge in your area of expertise

Once you start on your first projects, triple-check your work and ensure you meet all your deadlines. Impress them (without overworking yourself, though). Again, first impressions matter

Set clear goals with your boss and create a plan to achieve them

Contribute insights, articles, related inspiration, etc. to group conversations, meetings, and projects to gain some authority and recognition without overstepping during the early days. This practice demonstrates initiative, enthusiasm, and working knowledge of your role/industry. Showing you understand the big picture is essential to getting noticed and advancing in your career

Remember small details about someone and follow up semi-regularly to ask about how these things are going (someone has a pet, loves to go golfing, etc.). Strong relationships are the key to success, especially in your professional life and business

Hope this helps xx

[ae-azile]

I really appreciate the voting pools you are doing for every upcoming chapter:D. It gives me a taste of what I can look forward to the next chapter of Progression. I love this story so much. I fear that Korn will make some real trouble now. And hopefully he won't get between KhunArm too much. Because yes, Porsche won't have this ship ruined for him:DD. Also I think that Korn won't like developing VegasKinn ship either (i.e. power cousin combo). If that's something he will try to break (again), Chay won't have it. It's his OTP now and Korn won't ruin it. Your writing is amazing and I can't wait for more.

I'm glad you enjoy the voting polls! Meant to make this last one have a week limit but forgot to change it. But they are fun to compile and sometimes hold me to keeping certain plot points that I might delay otherwise.

Korn is...ugh. I will say that he loves his sons in his own way, but he values his own perception and control too highly to truly listen to them and adjust his own views and behavior. In this universe, I have Tankhun getting kidnapped at 17 years old. He was highly valued and Korn's pride and joy up until that point, and then was completely traumatized by everything that happened to him during his kidnapping. I think Korn's mixture of guilt and disappointment that he never bounced back from it made it so he distanced himself from his oldest and went lax on the level of support he needed back then. Khun changed so much from the experience, and I think that was not expected. But it also made Korn more controlling and protective of Tankhun in his own way. He has not viewed Tankhun as capable in a long time, and this extends to normal life milestones that Tankhun was robbed of. He has been so brave and productive these last few years, both secretively and not so secretively, and it has gone mostly unnoticed by close to everyone (except for Arm, and maybe Pol). It probably saddens him greatly, but he knows it has been for the best because the good developments might be halted by his father, should he find out. This upcoming chapter, he may be proven right. It's integral that he has everyone else in his corner at this point. His next steps need to be a strange mixture of bold, deliberate, but also very planned.

I mean, after all, he can't let Porsche down. ArmKhun is his OTP! I think if drama occurs with Korn, he is going to be a mixture of pissed off, supportive of his ship, and extremely involved. He wants them to stay together, and being an active player in making sure that happens will be interesting for him lol. As for Chay, I know he doesn't want the relationship between the cousins to be affected by Korn or his decision to step out of retirement.

The reconciliation with the cousins will probably be kept quiet for now, but I don't see Korn liking it much either, not unless he can keep an active eye on Vegas, Macau, Pete, and Fern. He has been comforted by the knowledge that they are busy with new ventures that don't really affect the major family's, and the fact that Vegas and Pete are busy with fatherhood might be a positive in his eyes. They won't risk the baby's welfare by stepping out of line, and the baby can be used as potential leverage if they do. I don't think it will come to that, but I think Vegas has no desire to get involved with Korn again for this reason, as well as the fact that he views Korn as the root of several different traumas.

I do hope to explore some of this in the new chapter! I am behind schedule right now due to two deadlines at work, but I am currently writing an emotionally charged conversation between Kinn and Khun now. It is way overdue and some resentments are coming out, but it will hopefully be good for them and their bond in the scheme of things! Thank you for the ask!

[toorusbaby]

end of the day

summary: after a very bad day, all you really want is for your boyfriend, kei tsukishima, to hold you in his arms. however, things don’t go the way you hoped they would.

warnings: self-angst, a very upset y/n, tsukki makes up for it <3

word count: 4,987

The loud jingling of your keys as you unlocked the door to your shared apartment weren’t enough to push the negative thoughts out of your mind. The sound of chirping crickets in the air weren’t capable of relaxing your nerves either. 

It had been a long day to say the least, more exhausting than others. If you were running on batteries, the last of your juice was used up hours ago. It was safe to say that you were burned out. 

You had left the apartment at seven in the morning, fifteen minutes later than usual because your phone decided to go missing. Since Kei was sound asleep after a long night at the museum, you were on the lookout on your own. In the end, your phone turned out to be on the kitchen counter, the battery half drained. By the time you reached the station, you barely missed the train by a millisecond, having to hail a taxi instead. If one thing went right today, you made it just on time to work. 

On the other hand, with the combination of being reprimanded by your boss for missing an important deadline that slipped your mind, a coworker spilling hot coffee on your new blouse, and your thoughts jumbled due to yet another argument you had over the phone with your traditional mother the night before, it was as if your world had come crashing down in the span of a few hours. 

It was eight in the evening when you finally left the office, arriving at your apartment’s front door thirty minutes later. The fact that you were starving only made you more antsy. All you wanted at that very moment was to be held by your longtime boyfriend, Kei Tsukishima, as you buried your face in his chest. You needed him more than ever. 

Twisting the doorknob, the familiar creak of the wooden door made its way to your ears when you entered your apartment. The living room lights were on, symbolizing that Tsukishima was home. Letting out a sigh of relief, you gently shut the door shut behind you, locking it in the process before your eyes made contact with plastic bags on the coffee table. 

Just as you were going to check what was inside, you stopped in your footsteps when you heard the voice of your favorite blond from the kitchen. 

“Y/N, is that you?” Tsukishima’s head popped out slightly from the kitchen entrance, his honey brown eyes meeting yours. A tired grin immediately made its way to your face at the sight of your boyfriend, who wore his favorite grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. His hair was a bit damp, probably from his shower. Without missing a beat, you walked your way over to greet him with the usual peck on the lips, holding your arms out for a much needed hug. 

“Kei, I missed you—”

Suddenly, Tsukishima had brought his phone back up to his ear. Your heart dropped at the sight. 

“Is he serious?,” Tsukishima scoffed into the phone. “The exhibition isn’t supposed to open for another five weeks. How are we going to make it work in only two? Fucking ridiculous,���, He grumbled, turning his body away from you momentarily. 

If you thought the coffee that spilled onto your shirt spread fast, the pain in your chest expanded even faster. You understood that you weren’t the only busy person in the relationship; Tsukishima was both an employee at the Sendai museum and a volleyball player for the Sendai Frogs. Compared to him, you felt as if you had no right to complain about being tired. After all, you only had one job, which was working for a well-known design company. And after today’s fiasco, you weren’t sure you even knew how to do your job correctly. 

Kei doesn’t need me bothering him right now, you thought to yourself. He’s busy with work, which is understandable. 

The thought was bittersweet; how could you be so proud of your boyfriend yet feel so lonely? 

 Almost as if he remembered that you were standing before him, the tall volleyball player turned back to face you. Tsukishima pulled the phone away from his ear and placed his palm over the speaker, walking towards you. 

“Sorry about that, Y/N. I should be done soon—” You unintentionally cut your boyfriend off.

“Don’t apologize, Kei,” You spoke with the most enthusiasm you could muster. You hoped it was believable. “I know you’re busy with the upcoming dinosaur exhibition.” 

When you lifted your hands in front of you to wave his apology off, your navy blue blazer had spread open, revealing the brown coffee stain on your white blouse. Tsukishima made brief eye contact with it, immediately frowning to himself; he knew you had been waiting for it to arrive for weeks. 

The exhaustion of the day was catching up with you and you found yourself feeling much more sensitive than usual. Sadness flooded your chest, your heartbeat thudding in your ears. You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with your boyfriend. If you did, you knew you would only end up crying; Tsukishima didn’t need to add you to his list of worries. 

Unbeknownst to you, the blond noticed your stiff posture and the way you refused to meet his gaze. Tsukishima opened his mouth to speak, but you spoke first. 

“I’m so proud of you, baby. Seriously. But if you’ll excuse me,” your voice slightly wavered. “I’m going to take a shower and call it a night. I’ll see you in a bit.” Flashing a small grin at Tsukishima, you made a beeline to your shared bedroom. 

Even if you had tried your absolute best to give him a proper smile, Tsukishima wasn’t stupid. He knew that you were faking it. It only hurt more to know that you were hiding your pain from him. 

༺♥༻

Stripping your clothes off, you mindlessly left them in a pile on the edge of your king sized bed. Taking one last glance at the coffee stain on your shirt, you clenched your jaw in frustration. You weren’t sure you could hold your emotions in any longer. 

Your feet padded across the room and into the bathroom, your hands moving on their own to open the see-through door of your shower, turning the knobs of the shower faucet. Finally, you stepped inside and shut the shower door. 

Although the steamy hot water cascading down your back helped relax you the majority of the time, that wasn’t exactly the case in this situation. Your posture was stiff, your jaw was still clenched, and the crease between your eyebrows only furrowed deeper. 

The only sound should have been the water falling onto the shower floor, tumbling down the drain. If that was the case, why could you hear the voice of your boss in your head?

‘I expected more from you, Y/N. A lot more. You’ve never let me down, not once. What happened this time? Do not miss a deadline as important as this again or there will be consequences. I hope you don’t make me regret promoting you.’ 

The disappointed voice of your respected boss morphed into your mother’s, the tone furious. Memories of her words from the other night played like a record on repeat in your mind.  

‘Do you really think that living with your boyfriend at this age is acceptable? You and Tsukishima are only twenty three. A man and woman should not live together unless they’re married. I don’t think you two will last for long anyways. Your father may have been more accepting about it, but I think you made the wrong choice. You’re lucky I’m hiding this from your grandmother. What do you think she’d have to say, knowing her granddaughter was so easy?’ 

You blinked once. Then you sniffled twice. 

You had finally reached your limit. Every hurtful word from your mother, every head shake from your boss, and even not being able to peck Tsukishima on the lips for a second, the way you usually did when you got home, echoed in your head. Before you knew it, hot tears leaked from your eyes and down your cheeks, small hiccups escaping your mouth. 

What’s wrong with me?, you clamped a hand over your mouth to silence yourself. That didn’t help much. Why am I such a fucking mess?

Wrapping your free arm around your torso as if to hug yourself, your knees buckled in a moment of weakness. Quiet sobs wracked through your body, annoyance filling you up to the brim when you couldn’t silence yourself. You really didn’t want Tsukishima to hear. Despite the heat of the water affecting your senses, you stood still, allowing the water to mix with your hot tears. 

Little did you know, Tsukishima had been standing silently outside your door the moment you had turned the shower on. As soon as he laid eyes on the bunched up clothing on your shared bed, the blond knew you were bottling your emotions. You were always tidy; you never left a mess behind unless you were out of it. You were more similar to Tsukishima than you thought. 

And because you were so similar, your boyfriend knew that you were trying to drown out the sounds of your crying as you stood under the shower head. Even if he hadn’t been able to hear your cries, Tsukishima knew you all too well, only because he was the same way. And he loved you far too much to let this continue. 

Two quiet knocks on the bathroom door startled you, your hands rushing to wipe your face before you blinked. Trying your best to quietly clear your throat, you sniffled once. 

“I-I’m in the shower, Tsukki!”, you called out. “Is everything okay?”

Tsukishima’s silky voice still managed to make your heart skip, even if he was on the other side of the door. 

“Not really,” you heard him say in his usual monotone voice. “Mind if I join you?” 

Your eyes widened and your heartbeat quickened out of nervousness. You did not want him to see your puffy eyes; you were sure you looked horrible. 

“Um, give me a second!” you called out. There was no use in hiding the fact that you were sobbing your eyes out; the reddened skin around them made it very apparent that you were bawling like a baby. The best you could do was rinse your face repeatedly until most of your sniffling went away. 

After a few seconds, you cleared your throat. “Y-You can come in, Kei!” 

When the door opened, revealing your tall boyfriend who placed one of his t-shirts on the counter, you bit the inside of your cheek. However, when he began to strip, you couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks. His toned, fit physique made your heart race and your pulse quicken. Even if you and Tsukishima had been dating for six years, living with each other for two of those, you couldn’t help but still feel a bit shy. 

After all, Kei Tsukishima was your first everything. Your first crush, your first boyfriend, your first kiss. The first person to see your naked body, the person who gave you your first sexual experience, but most importantly, he was also your first love. You knew deep in your heart that the sharp tongued blond would also be your last. 

Silently, you watched as Tsukishima opened the shower door. You stepped to the side, allowing his tall frame to enter the shower which was larger than most apartments would have. When the honey brown orbs you loved so much met your own eyes, you gulped. 

“Kei,” you mumbled with a questioning tone. “Weren’t you busy with work? And didn’t you already take a—” He cut you off with his own questions. 

“I hung up the moment you left the kitchen,” he spoke. ”You’re my priority. What’s going on, Y/N? Why were you crying?” Tsukishima wondered, his tone a bit sharp. Although his tone may have seemed a little harsh to an outsider, you knew that the blond was only worried for you. When he sounded frustrated, it only meant he was concerned. As a result, you only felt worse. 

As Tsukishima reached behind you to lower the excessive heat of the water, you let your eyes wander everywhere but his face. This only made the volleyball player clench his jaw. Even though Tsukishima was known for his patience, he wouldn’t tolerate your avoidance of his question. 

“It’s nothing, baby. Just a bad day, that’s all. I’m okay. Just a little tired— Kei!” you shouted when the warm water suddenly cut off. The cool breeze entering the bathroom from the open window was sure to give you goosebumps. “Kei, stop messing around. Turn the water back on,” you humorlessly chuckled. You really didn’t find it funny.

You reached for the shower knobs, wanting to avoid any confrontation. Your tears were the last thing Tsukishima needed to worry about, especially because he had to focus on preparing for the new exhibition. Your feelings simply weren’t that important. 

As soon as your hand was about to reach the handle, Tsukishima grabbed onto your wrist, gently pushing your back against the shower wall. You let out a loud gasp at the sudden feeling of the cool wall tiles behind you. 

“T-Tsukki, what the hell! It’s cold!” You shouted, your back instinctively arching. Your eyes were wide, finally meeting his golden brown ones. 

About time, the blonde thought. He missed having your eyes on his. 

Suddenly, the boy pinned you against the wall. Tsukishima’s stare was so intense, you instinctively rested your back against the cold tile. His bare body against your own caused your cheeks to redden. When goosebumps formed on your arms, the blond used his free hand to rub them away in order to warm your skin. The action was loving, despite his serious gaze. 

“I’ll turn the water back on when you tell me what’s got you so upset, baby.” Tsukishima calmly spoke, his hand quickly moving to lift your chin up the very second you were about to look down. He knew you well; too well. “What is it that hurt you to the point where you’re hiding your tears from me?” 

When he asked the second question, you noticed that Tsukishima had used a softer tone, one that was gentle yet doting. The feeling of the pad of his thumb gently stroking your chin brought you back to reality. You loved Kei with your entire being. Despite your fear that you would stress him out, you couldn’t lie to him. 

After a moment’s pause, you were ready to open up. Your mouth felt dry, but you forced yourself to speak. “I-I just…” you trailed off. Your eyes wavered on his, your emotions threatening to take over once again. 

Tsukishima could see the glossy screen making its way over your eyes. He knew that you always tried to display your strong side, but he also understood your sensitivity. For you to cry alone, Tsukishima would never allow it. But for you to cry in front of him, in his protective arms, he wanted you to know that everything would be okay. Even if things didn’t seem like they were going to go well, Tsukishima would make sure everything worked out. For you. 

Everything he did, Kei Tsukishima did it for you. 

“Kei, I just…” your voice was uneven. You blinked rapidly. 

Tsukishima’s hand moved its way to cup your cheek in his palm. When he felt you trembling, the blond didn’t hesitate to turn the water back on to its hottest setting. Understanding that you couldn’t meet his gaze at that moment, the volleyball player used his free hand to lay your cheek against his chest. Then, he wrapped his other arm around your waist, pressing your body flush against his. 

You shut your eyes, your heart aching in your chest. Your hands instinctively reached out to hold onto his biceps. You felt like a burden. The moment you felt a kiss on the top of your head, you broke. 

“Kei, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whispered in a desperate voice. Your vision became cloudy with tears once again. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Why can’t I do anything right for once?” you whimpered. Your throat began to ache from holding in your cries. 

Tsukishima felt your shoulders trembling in his arms. In response, he held you tighter to his chest, his large hand reassuringly grazing up and down your bare back. A quiet sigh of relief left his lips when your body relaxed from his touch.  

“First, it was an argument with my mom. You know how she’s always been about us living together,” you mumbled. Your shoulders relaxed when you felt the low vibrations of your boyfriend’s chuckle in his chest. 

“Trust me,” the blond mused. “I know.” The memory of your mother throwing a temper tantrum the day you and him officially moved into your shared apartment was burned into his memory. 

Even though tears were dripping down your chin and your sniffling had returned, a small smile made its way to your face. Tsukishima didn’t have to use his words to make you feel understood. 

You cleared your throat, the smile slowly fading. “And then it was my boss. I-I understand why he was upset. I mean, it was my fault for forgetting about the deadline. But I just…” your grip on his biceps tightened and you sighed. “I hate knowing that I’ve let people down. I really don’t mean to.” Your voice cracked. 

Momentarily, your boyfriend pulled your face away from his chest. The sounds of your whimpering made his chest ache. Using the pads of his thumbs, he wordlessly wiped from under your eyes and gave you a sweet kiss on the forehead. Your eyes responded by welling up with a new batch of tears. 

“Kei,” you breathed out. “Kei, you’re gonna make me cry even more.” You whined and felt your bottom lip tremble. With his large palms now cupping your face, Tsukishima only smiled softly down at you. 

“So cry then. Let it all out, Y/N.” As soon as Tsukishima’s words registered in your head, golden brown eyes watched as tears leaked from your eyes that he loved so much. His thumbs held your head in place gently, his lips moving on their own to kiss both of your tear streaked cheeks, ignoring the salty taste on his lips. In that moment, Tsukishima only cared about making you feel better.

“It’s okay to cry. And it’s okay to have bad days. But it’s not okay to keep all of these emotions to yourself. Why do you think you have me, you dummy?,” the blond gently chided, his lips pursed together when you grinned. After a pause, he continued. 

“I know that I’ve been really busy with work and I’m sorry.”

“Tsukki, you don’t have to apologize—”

The pointed stare your boyfriend gave you halted your words. When you fell silent, Tsukishima gently grazed his knuckles on your cheek. His eyes never left yours. 

“But nothing is more important to me than you. Work can wait, you come first. You always will.” Tsukishima’s hands reached behind you to grab your strawberry scented shampoo. The two of you fell silent for a second, the only sound being your sniffling and the water tumbling down the drain. When your boyfriend poured some shampoo onto his palm, his fingers working to lather the substance into your hair, you swore your heart was going to burst. It was only the sound of Tsukishima clicking his tongue that brought you back to reality. 

“I know you well enough to know that you’ve been calling yourself a burden or some shit like that, so stop it.” Tsukishima watched as your cheeks reddened from the truth of his words. He let out a small sigh, amused at the fact that he was correct, but upset that you viewed yourself as one. The idea of you putting yourself down over inevitable events didn’t sit right with him. 

The feeling of his fingers lathered in shampoo against your scalp released the tension in your body, the scent of strawberry filling your nostrils and the silky sound of his voice filling up a void within you that had been empty just before. It was as if Tsukishima was picking up your broken pieces, placing them back together again. 

“But trust me. You’re far from being a burden. If anything...” the blond trailed off, gesturing for you to rinse the shampoo out of your hair. Leaning your head back, you let the water wash the shampoo off. Tsukishima already had conditioner in his palm, ready to loosen the tangles in your hair. 

“If anything,” he continued. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Tsukishima admitted. The blond could feel heat rise to his cheeks, but he didn’t care. His long, calloused fingers worked their magic on the tips of your hair first. 

“My favorite part of the day is waking up by your side in the morning.” Untangling your hair, then rinsing. “Every time you kiss me, I fall in love all over again like an idiot.” A peck on your forehead. “I love teasing the hell out of you, only because I know you secretly like it.” A smirk and a gentle spank on your butt. You pouted playfully. 

“But holding you as we fall asleep,” Tsukishima breathed out, his forehead against yours. “The feeling of having you in my arms every single night?” His voice was a drug and you couldn’t get enough.

Your attention was only on Tsukishima. You didn’t even feel that the water was slowly growing colder. You wouldn’t care even if you noticed. You had the love of your life keeping you warm and that’s all that mattered. 

“Knowing that you need me, just as much as I need you… You’re the only person I’d go soft for, but you’re also the best thing I could ever ask for, baby. Not even close to a burden.” You felt Tsukishima’s hand intertwine with yours, fingers locked together. 

“I love you so much, Y/N. This will never change.”

You’ve heard Tsukishima tell you that he loved you hundreds of times. The love confessions often paired with either his famous smug smile, the sad eyes Tsukishima only showed to you after a rough day, or the tired tone in bed after a heated argument, after the two of you would apologize; both of you never went to bed angry. 

Hearing Kei Tsukishima, the man with a sharp tongue who was known to conceal his true feelings, remind you of how much you meant to him and feeling him hold you so closely, your body moved before you could think. 

Grabbing hold of his neck from behind with your free hand, you pulled the blond into a deep kiss. Tsukishima didn’t hesitate to reciprocate, his hands running through your wet, now silky hair as he pulled you closer by the waist. You tilted your head to the side, feeling his nose  brush against yours as he deepened the kiss. 

You were on cloud nine. 

It was a long moment later when you pulled away, out of breath and cheeks ablaze. You quickly used your thumb to wipe away the small string of saliva on your bottom lip, embarrassed at how forward you had behaved. Tsukishima only had a smug smirk on his now swollen lips, his tongue poking out to lick at the corner of his mouth. He chuckled when you wordlessly buried your face in his chest. The blond immediately wrapped his arms around your smaller frame, resting his chin on top of your head. 

“I’d rather have you give me a sloppy kiss like that than see you crying, moron. Thank god you’re cute though, even if your eyes are puffy.” 

You groaned into his chest, spanking his butt out of spite. His sudden jolt made you smirk. 

“I love you Kei, but please shut up.”

“Mm, I don’t really feel like it.”

༺♥༻

What once was steamy hot water had soon turned cold by the time you and Tsukishima left the shower. Freshly clean and your tears completely washed away by the water and your boyfriend’s sweet kisses, you were now dry, wearing the blond’s large olive green t-shirt and a pair of black panties.

Tsukishima had gone to the living room to make sure the doors and windows were locked, telling you to get comfortable in bed. Only in his grey sweatpants, the blond didn’t feel like wearing his shirt. You definitely didn’t mind. 

On the edge of your bed, your pile of clothing from earlier was placed in a laundry basket, only to be replaced by the plastic bags you had seen on the coffee table the moment you entered your apartment. A very familiar scent was coming from whatever was inside and your stomach growled in anticipation.

No way, you wondered with wide eyes. Did he…?  

“Did you really think I’d let you go to bed hungry?” 

Your head swiveled back to face your favorite blond. There Tsukishima stood with plates in one hand, water bottles gathered in his other arm. Your excitement must have been evident on your face because your boyfriend gave you an authentic, loving smile, all signs of smugness gone. 

“Baby,” your fingers happily toyed with the plastic bag’s tied handle. “Did you get curry buns?”

Tsukishima made his way over to you, settling the plates down on the bed. Then, he lifted his hand to gently flick your forehead. “Why don’t you open the boxes and see for yourself, hm?”

༺♥༻

The humming sound of the fan in front of your bed blowing cool air into the room filled the air. Very faintly, you could still hear the crickets chirping outside when you lifted your head. Glancing at the nightstand, the clock beside Tsukishima’s glasses read that it was a bit past ten thirty. 

With a stomach full of curry buns along with other side dishes your boyfriend so lovingly spoiled you with, you sighed contentedly. In a sleepy daze, you laid your head onto Tsukishima’s warm, bare chest and closed your eyes. Listening to the sound of his heartbeat was one of your favorite things to do when the two of you cuddled; you found it endearing and intimate. Although he’d never admit it, Tsukishima felt the same way.

A protective arm wrapped its way around your waist, Tsukishima’s long legs tangled with your own. His free hand played with the ends of your hair, twirling it repeatedly with his fingers. You began to feel even sleepier, the food coma making an entrance. You slowly blinked, then turned your head to look up at your boyfriend who had a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“You know I love you, right Kei?”

“If you didn’t, I wouldn’t have bought you curry buns, Y/N.”

Before you could give a sassy response, Tsukishima tilted your head to face him. Then, he gently pecked your lips twice. 

“To make up for earlier. I’m sorry I missed it when you came home. Never again,” he mumbled, using his hand to move strands of hair away from your face. 

You giggled quietly, your face tickled by his blonde hair that loomed over you. You loved it when he was physically affectionate. “Thank you for loving me, Kei,” you whispered. Your eyes were fixated on his, his pupils dilated in the room’s soft yellow lighting. “I love you. So damn much.”

With a kiss to his nose, you readjusted yourself so you could snuggle into Tsukishima’s chest. The volleyball player leaned over to turn the night lamp off before placing the blanket over the two of you, the scent of your strawberry shampoo creating butterflies in his stomach. When he looked down at you for the last time that night, you were already sound asleep with your arm securely wrapped around his torso. 

Sure, the majority of your day consisted of mostly negatives. And yes, you had to say goodbye to your new blouse. Coffee stains on white were a done deal. But it wasn’t as if you couldn’t order a new one. Your boss would eventually get over your flaw at work; you’d compensate somehow and get back on track. And when was your mother not upset with you? It was hard, but it was worth it if that meant living with Tsukishima. Your mom would eventually come to terms with the fact that you were twenty three, almost twenty four. You were an adult after all; days like this were normal.

But at the end of the day, Tsukishima was always going to be there for you. Despite the difficulties you faced and the many downfalls that were yet to come, you knew that Kei was going to be there to hold you when you fell asleep. You’d do the same for him if it was the last thing you ever did. 

Your faint breathing and the whirring fan were the only audible sounds in the room. With his golden brown eyes threatening to flutter shut, Kei Tsukishima gave one last glance at his cabinet across the room. Inside the third drawer underneath his volleyball practice clothes, sat a black velvet box with a diamond ring waiting to be worn on your left ring finger. 

A smile formed on the blond’s lips when he leaned over to kiss the top of your sleeping head one last time before dozing off. He truly couldn’t wait to ask you to marry him when the time was just right. But for now, it was already the end of the day. Regardless, Kei Tsukishima was excited to share a new beginning with you.

[tefilovesreading]

High expectations - Alive!Luke Patterson x Reader

Pairing: Alive!Luke Patterson x Fem!Reader.

Word count: +3,4k

Warnings: meh just a few curse words, and a lot of fluff.

A/N: Because I love to push the deadlines, this is my entry/submission for @cherrymaybank​ Valentine’s Day challenge! Hope y’all like it.

Edited by: @theamazingtomholland

MASTERLIST

I closed my locker with a little more force than needed, and I cringed at the loud noise it made on the empty halls. Most of the students already gone, just a few lingering around the school. Who wanted to spend more time than necessary in school on a Monday?

“Why are you so angry?” Luke’s voice startled me. Leaning next to my locker with a grin on his face, he handed me my water bottle, “you left it in the library.”

“Thanks,” I smiled at him and adjusted the backpack strap on my shoulder. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” he tugged on my backpack strap, making it fall down my arm, so he could snatch it and throw it over his shoulder, “I have band practice, do you wanna come?”

“I have a lot of homework, Luke,” I replied, matching his pace while we made our way out of the building and towards his car, “maybe next time.”

“You always say that but never come,” he accused me, unlocking the car and throwing our stuff in the backseat.

“It’s not my fault that you don’t do your homework,” I joked and stuck my tongue out at the shocked look he gave me.

“Oh shut up, I do my homework at night,” Luke started the car, and the careless look on his face, while he reversed the car with only one hand on the steering wheels, made the butterflies on my stomach flutter. “What are you doing on Sunday anyway?” 

“Uh, I don’t know?” I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, “should I have plans?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” he stated, and then the realization hit me. 

“Oh,” I murmured, “I’m just gonna stay at home. You know I’m not seeing anyone.”

“You stayed at home last year, Y/N,” he pondered without taking his gaze out of the road, “and the year before.”

“So it’s my fault I happen to be single around Valentine’s Day season?” I countered getting a little annoyed at him.

“I’m not saying that,” Luke scoffed, “I was just thinking about the fact that you’ve never celebrated the holiday.”

“It’s not a big deal,” I shrugged and looked out of the window.

It really wasn’t a big deal for me, especially since I never felt the need to spoil the people I love on a specific day because I did that all the time. And it just happened to be a coincidence that all my past relationships either ended before the holiday or started after it. Not that my relationships were even that long because somehow guys always found an excuse to dump me after a few months. And if I was being honest, I was fine with it because I didn’t like any of those guys half as much as I liked the boy sitting beside me.

“It is a big deal for me,” Luke commented as he stopped the car in front of my house, “I can’t let my favorite girl just go around life without a real experience of how you’re supposed to be treated on Valentine’s Day.” 

“So what,” I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned around to give him a stern look, “are you gonna set me up with some random dude, so I can spend Valentine’s Day with someone and not at home?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Luke met my eyes with the biggest smile on his face as if he just had the best idea in the world, “I know you wouldn’t be comfortable around some random dude, but what if I give you the best Valentine’s Day, so you know what to expect next time you date a guy.”

As soon as those words left his mouth I felt like someone threw a bucket full of cold water over me. How could I tell him why this was the worst idea ever and that he’d only manage to hurt me because I was in love with him and fake dating him would only crush my heart? It’d be like getting to taste a piece of heaven and then being exiled. 

“Luke, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” I told him, feeling my throat tight out of pure nervousness.

“Why not?” he huffed and started tapping his finger on the steering wheel, “I don’t have a date either, and we’re just gonna spend the day together, we do it all the time.”

“I can’t say no, can I?”

“Not this time, babe,” he winked at me and rolled my eyes. 

“You’re a pain in the ass,” I groaned before reaching for my backpack before opening the door and getting out of the car.

“You know you love me,” I heard him say before I closed the door. And he was right. 

I waved him goodbye and opened the front door to my house, knowing that Luke wouldn’t leave until he saw me get inside. Those small gestures like waiting for me till I get inside before leaving in case I forgot my keys, or I saw something strange before going in, made me fall more each day for him. 

He didn’t have to care so much and go out of his way to help me if I needed a hand, but he did, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that. He was such a great friend and that was the only reason I kept my feelings for him a secret. I couldn’t risk losing his friendship. 

My phone vibrated in my back pocket and when I read the message I felt the blood leave my face.

Alex: what did u do??? Y/N: Nothing??? why Alex: Luke got to the studio acting like he just drank 5 red bulls Y/N: not my fault

I plopped down on my bed and grabbed the closest pillow, so I could scream in it without my neighbor thinking I was crazy. There was no way this was gonna end well for me and I knew I couldn’t make Luke change his mind.

I furrowed my eyebrows when a folded piece of paper fell to the floor as I took the textbook I needed for my next class. I picked up and put it in my back pocket, I was late for class and the last thing I needed was to risk getting detention for being late once again. 

“Just in time, mister Patterson,” I heard the teacher say, and I lifted my head to see Luke giving her one of his charming smiles and then heading to his seat right behind me. 

“You’re late,” I whispered without turning my head to see him, I knew he was listening. 

“Yeah, I know,” he murmured, and I noticed a hint of disappointment in his voice, “I was waiting for someone.”

“Oh,” I let out in a breath. That’s all I can say before the teacher starts her lesson and I decide to pay attention. After all, Luke’s the one that can get away from trouble with a smile, not me.

I shifted in my seat, bored out of my mind while the woman kept talking about how we need to use the formula written on the board when I remember the folded piece of paper tucked away in my pocket. I reached for it, trying not to let Luke see what I was doing and trying to cover it with the sleeve of my hoodie, even though he was sitting right behind me. 

The handwriting was so distinctive I knew who wrote it as soon as I read the first word on the piece of paper. And after years of deciphering his handwriting, reading the lyrics to his songs, and passing notes during class, made it so much easier to understand it. 

I was thinking of a way to start the whole Valentine’s Day plan, and I concluded that since we’re not dating, we’re gonna be celebrating the real meaning behind the holiday. And that’s love.

I fucking love you, you know that right Angel? 

You’ve been my friend for so many years and I can’t be more grateful for all the support and love you give me without thinking twice. And that you put up with my shit, I know I’m a lot.

So I promise this week is gonna be my mission to show you how grateful I am for having you in my life, starting today.

I’ll be waiting for you at the library before classes start. I got you a surprise.

-Luke aka Major pain in the ass. 

Luke was waiting for me, that’s why he was almost late for our class. And I didn’t show up because I couldn’t stop for half a minute to read the note. God, I was so dumb. He was putting so much effort into giving me the best experience, and I already messed up on day one. 

I turned around quickly, enough time to notice the frown between his eyebrows and the sad expression on his face. I wanted to bury myself. How could I be so dumb?

I traced the word Angel with my fingertip and smiled at the nickname he gave me when we were kids. Luke fell off the swing and I leaned over him to see if he was okay, just to hear him say “Am I dead or is that an angel?”. Even now I still could feel the heat rushing to my cheeks whenever I remembered how he came up with the nickname.

“Make sure you study,” the teacher warns us, “we might have a quiz in the next class.”

As soon as she said that I started shoving my things inside my backpack because I knew Luke would storm out of the classroom the second our teacher let us leave. I stood him up, and I couldn’t even imagine how hurt he felt.

“Luke wait!” I called trying to match his long strides, pushing past the students in the hallways.

“Hey,” he said, slowing down a bit but not bothering to look in my direction, “you need something?”

“Luke, I’m sorry,” I apologized, grabbing his arm to make him stop and look at me, “I didn’t read the note until a few minutes before the class finished. I’d have shown up if I read it right away.”

“If you don’t want me to do this, just say it,” Luke said, and I shook my head showing him my disagreement.

“No, I mean it,” I let my hand fall from his arm and I grabbed his hand, locking our pinkies together, “I promise.”

“Good, because you’re gonna have to wait till tomorrow for your next surprise,” he smiled and squeezed lightly our fingers before letting go.

“What about today’s surprise?” I questioned.

“It was a coffee from your favorite coffee place and some donuts,” he replied, putting his hand on the small of my back and pushing me to keep walking, “once I realized you weren’t coming I gave it to Betty. You know I hate when food goes to waste.”

“Oh, well,” I murmured slightly disappointed because I didn’t get to have my favorite coffee, but with a warm feeling inside because he remembered the place I liked even when we didn’t go together that often, “we can grab lunch off-campus, my treat.”

“But I drive, right?” 

“Unless you give me your keys and I drive,” I wiggled my eyebrows and laughed at the frightened expression on his face.

“No way, I’d like to live,” I snorted at his comment, “no offense, Angel, but you drive like shit.”

“I’m not that bad,” I complained, and I knew my cheeks were blushing.

“Sure, whatever you say, Y/N,” he laughed.

By Thursday, I had a bunch of notes sprawled in my bed, Luke’s messy handwriting bright in every single one of them. He made sure to hide a note in my locker whenever I had to change my textbooks and after the disaster that was the first note he left me, I made sure to read them as soon as I found them. Most of them were just jokes, song lyrics we both loved, but my favorites were those that had memories of moments we had lived together.

Remember the first song I learned how to play, and I was so excited to show you, and when you came over I got so nervous that I forgot not only the chords but also the lyrics, but you sat there with me and told me not to worry while I searched again for the tabs. You have so much faith in me, it really makes me want to do better. You make me better.

My chest was heavy with mixed emotions. On one side I was over the moon with every single small gift and note he gave, but I couldn’t help but dread the weekend, knowing that once Valentine’s Day is over, my bubble would burst, and I’d be left with the sour feeling of knowing how amazing Luke could be as a boyfriend but with zero chances to have him as more than a friend.

I grabbed the small gift and put it in my backpack, waiting for Luke to come and pick me up. Friday came faster than I wanted and felt my whole body tense. Valentine’s Day was two days away, and I wasn’t ready for this to end. 

“Morning, Angel,” I heard Luke say when I opened the passenger door.

“Morning, Lucas,” I said and smiled at his groan. He hated it when I called him like that.

“I brought you coffee, but you don’t deserve it,” he commented, and I looked at him with my best puppy eyes, “that’s not gonna work on me, Y/N”

“Please,” I batted my eyelashes and I swear I saw him gulp. He rolled his eyes and handed me the coffee cup he was holding, “You’re the best.”

“Of course I am,” he winked at me and started the car.

As soon as we entered the building, Luke told me he’d meet me in my locker and then left without another word.

“Where’s Luke?” Alex’s voice startled me and almost made me drop my phone.

“I don’t know, he said he’d meet me here,” I replied and furrowed my brows when he shot me a confused look, “what?”

“Nothing, I thought I’d find him here since he’s been glued to your hip this week.”

“Oh shut up,” I laughed.

“I’m gonna go and see if I can find him with Reggie,” he pointed to the hallway and I nodded, “see you in a bit.”

I checked the hour on my phone one last time and sighed when I saw a girl walking with a rose in her hand. 

“All done,” I got startled for the second time that morning and I closed my locker to see Luke standing next to me with a small box in his hand, “last gift before Valentine’s Day.”

“I got you one too,” I said with a soft smile, “you want it now?”

“Now, obviously,” he answered with a grin. 

I opened my backpack and fumbled with a few things before finding the small gift. I watched Luke’s smile widen when he saw the guitar strings pack inside.

“Did you like it?” I asked just to hear him say it because the smile on his face gave away the answer.

“And you got me new guitars picks!” I laughed when he threw his arms around me and hugged me tightly, “I love it, thank you.”

His smile was on my mind all day, I loved to see him so happy about something I gave him. Shit, I loved him and that was it.

When the last bell rang announcing the end of the school day, Luke was already waiting for me by my locker with a single rose in his hand.

“I knew you’d hate me if I made you walk around with a rose, but I still wanted to give you one,” he mentioned with a shy smile, “you didn’t tell me if you liked the gift, by the way.”

“Oh, shit,” I murmured hurrying to find the small box I put in my backpack, “I forgot to open it.”

He waited patiently for me to open the small box and I looked at him in pure confusion. I knew that was his keychain.

“I don’t understand,” I mumbled, tracing the metallic guitar pick with his initials engraved in it, a gift I gave him last Christmas.

“We’re having a movie night on Sunday,” he explained, and I could notice the nervousness in his voice, “like the old days.”

The fact that Luke was giving me the best Valentine’s Day experience without even dating, and keeping in mind the things I liked or hated, made me realize there was no way another boy would ever come close to the expectations he was setting.

When we were kids, we used to build a fort in front of the TV, so we could watch movies there, but we’d always spend too much time building the fort and by the time we were done with it, we’d be too tired to watch the movie, and that meant falling asleep within the first ten minutes of the movie. Now that we were older, I didn’t know what to expect.

That's why when I unlocked Luke’s front door on Sunday, I felt my hands trembling and my heart pounding.

“Luke?” I called out.

“Living room!” he yelled in response.

The lights were dimmed, and I smiled when I saw the fort made of blankets in the middle of the room. At least that meant we wouldn’t be passing out before the movie started.

“You ready?” he asked, and I nodded, following him and making myself comfortable between the pillows.

“You did a nice job here, Luke” I complimented, admiring the effort he put into everything to give me such a good experience.

“I think building blanket forts is my real calling,” he joked.

“Oh, you definitely got better at it,” I bantered, and he pushed me lightly.

“Shut up,” Luke chuckled and pressed play to start the movie.

I didn’t pay attention to the movie playing in front of us, too distracted by his closeness, the heat irradiating from his body making me well aware of the boy next to me. And the fact that he had one arm over my shoulders didn’t help at all.

“Can I tell you something?” I wondered while keeping my voice just above a whisper.

“Sure,” he said with his gaze fixed on the screen.

“You just set the bar way too high for the next guy I date,” I confessed hoping he’d turned around to look at me. The lights were dancing in his face, and my heart skipped a beat when I caught the glimpse of a smile on his face.

“Yeah, I guess I did,” he whispered and my breath got caught up in my throat when he turned to look at me, “but that means I’ll have to do better next year.”

I blinked once, twice, and a third time, trying to process the words that came out of his mouth. What did he say?

“What?” I blurted out. Luke pulled a strand of my hair playfully and smiled at me.

“Did you really think I’d put all this effort just because you’ve never got to celebrate Valentine’s Day before?” he questioned with a smug look on his face. I didn’t know how to respond, and he took my silence as a signal for him to keep talking, “I was hoping you’d realize by now that I want to be your next Valentine.”

“Fuck you, Luke. This isn’t funny,” I scoffed at him, not believing a single word. He was joking, right?

“You’re really slow for someone as smart as you, you know?” Luke affirmed.

I could feel his breath fanning over my face and when he noticed I didn’t move away after he traced my jaw with his thumb, he closed the distance between us. His lips soft over mine, wandering in unknown territory for both of us. Luke nibbled on my lip with a tenderness I never thought he had in him, persuading me to let him in. 

I let out a deep sigh when he pulled away and didn’t waste time pressing our lips together one more time. Hell, he could be my Valentine for the rest of our lives if he wanted to.

tagged: @chevyimpala00067 @samanthawilliamspring @searchingunderthestars @luke-patt @moneybagmgk @angisbr @happinessinthedarkesttimes @knitsessed @teti-menchon0604 @randomstuff7 @warmness0ul @merceret @headheartbellarke@cordeliascrown @crybabyddl @phantompogues @the-romanian-is-bae @doaspeggy-says​ (Send me an inbox if you wanna be tagged in my stories)

[hoebii]

Like me better

Pairing : Park Jimin x Reader

Genre : Fluff, Highschool!Au, e2l, rivals

Rating : PG13

Warning : ‘Curse’ words are mentioned (is ‘shit’ even a curse word fhgjv), OC wanting to choke Jimin and not in the kinky way, brief mention of Jimin being a playboy thot, hating on mint chocolate because it’s the worst flavour to exist you can fight me on this

Wc : 4k

A/N : Alright, this was originally supposed to be a birthday drabble but it got a little out of hand as you can see. We had a whole lot planned for this fic but it got too long oops- so we decided to cut it short and keep the ending open huhu. Happiest birthday to our precious maknae @heejinnien​ from @xiaokoo​ (who also made this AMAZING banner btw) and I. Hope you like your present baby! We love you so so so much~<3 Also this isn’t as edited as I’d like it to be but I got impatient okay don’t @ me :<

----------------

The bustling crowd of students bumped into you repeatedly as you weaved through them to get to class. You kept a strong grip on your books so as to not drop them. People squeezed passed as you tried not to trip and fall flat on your face. You had slept through your alarms and were currently rushing to your class, cursing at yourself for this blunder in your head. 

“Sorry, excuse me, oh shit!” You catch yourself as you tumbled to the ground. Your books splay across the floor as you winced at the sore feeling. Hopefully, no one would step on you or your books - you had paid good money for them!-. As for tripping over, you looked over your shoulder, glaring when you caught sight of a group of boys laughing. 

“Aw is little princess hurt?~” You heard one of them call out, the others snickering in the background. You ignored them and started gathering all your books, telling yourself they weren’t worth the trouble. You were almost done picking up all the books on the ground when one was suddenly snatched from your grasp. Looking up at the culprit you see Park Jimin, the bane of your existence, holding it up.

“Are you sure you even need books?” He snickers, flicking through it. “You’re not even smart, why bother studying if it doesn’t do you any good?” 

You feel your blood boil. How dare he?! You were smarter than him in every possible way. He had no right to mock you, sure he was smart but you always placed second. If there was one thing you hated, it was being second best to Park Jimin. 

“You’ll just come second like always.” 

That comment hit you hard. You tried to keep your cool, resisting the urge to punch him in the face. Sure, Jimin was annoying but there was no way you were going to create a scene because of it. Not again. Instead, you rolled your eyes, choosing to ignore him and walked away. There would be no reason to argue with a dumbass. Why waste your time?

Jimin watched as you walked away. He smirked to himself. Despite acting calm, he’d known you long enough to know that you were fuming inside. There were buttons he knew how to push to get the reaction he wanted and he thoroughly enjoyed provoking you. 

--------

You stumbled into the classroom, panting from the light jog. “Damn I need to get back in shape, Jesus Christ.” you whispered to yourself. 

“Miss Y/L/N, care to explain why you’re five minutes late to the class?” Your professor’s voice boomed in the small classroom. You look at him, giving him a sheepish smile as you rub your neck. 

“I… got lost…?” 

What was that?! You wanted to smack yourself at your own words. So much for your perfect attendance. 

“You got lost?”

“Y...es…”

Your professor took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Just, just go to your seat.”

You scurried to your seat, setting down your books and sitting down. You heard snickering from beside you and you turned your head slightly towards the sound to see none other than Park Jimin laughing at you. Feeling your face flush in embarrassment, you turned towards your professor and started jotting down notes. You were not going to get riled up by Jimin during a class. 

-----------

It’s official. Life hates you. You must have been some sort of a witch in your last life who thrived by torturing others. That had to be it. Why else would you ever get partnered with Park freaking Jimin for your science project?! Apparently, the professor had said it was because you two were ‘top students that will compliment each other well’. But you’re certain it was actually because she hated you and you must have tortured her or something in your past life and this was her way of getting revenge. You’re pretty sure you came up with at least 7 ways to end Park Jimin in the time he took to move his seat closer to you for ‘discussing details about the project.’ 

“So you’re gonna draw the diagram and write everything,” Jimin started as soon as he sat down. He dumped his bags to one corner taking out the necessities. “I will be supervising you as I’m clearly the better one here.”

Oh how much you craved to just lean forward and wrap your fingers around his neck and choke him. How can a person be this insufferable? You could just shove a damn pen up his- 

“Alright class dismissed! Remember, the deadline is on Monday next week! Have a nice weekend.” Your professor announced, snapping you out of your thoughts.  

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, don’t screw up the project.” 

With that Jimin left you sitting there fuming at him. You let out a tired sigh and begin packing up to leave too, mind running wild. Why couldn’t Jimin just be a good person for once?

-------------

The weekend seemed to go by in a flash, just you working on the project with Jimin, who had surprisingly been quite helpful. Just when you thought he had a heart, he had said it was ‘so you don’t ruin my grades.’ Yeah nevermind he still sucks.

What you didn’t know was Jimin being nice - well as nice as a jerk can get anyway - was because he had a bet to win. One of the boys had proposed a bet after class when he caught Jimin bickering with you yet again. The bet was simple really, ask you out and date you for a while before leaving you. Jimin had refused at first but then everyone started taunting him. Who liked getting mocked? No one. It was plain simple anyways, no one would actually get hurt, wasn’t like you liked him. So he accepted.

It wasn’t easy to catch your attention, given the fact the both of you were mortal enemies, it was near impossible. He did everything in his power so you would look at him but all tactics had somehow managed to flop. There was only one other way of actually getting you to notice him and that was annoying you. However, that would ruin the whole point of the bet. 

“Y/n, Y/n, Y/n.” Jimin chanted as he poked you on the cheek incessantly. “Y/n pay attention to meeee.” He continued to whine. 

You felt your right eye twitch. Why was this dumbass bothering you?! There was no reason for him to even be five feet close to you. 

“What is it Jimin?” You turn to him, a sickly sweet smile on your face. “What is so important that you’re trying to talk to me?”

Jimin grinned, his eyes turning into crescents as he poked his cheek and gave a wink. “Hi~ How are you doing?”  

Is he for real right now? Did he think he was cute? You felt like throwing up. “Park what are you up to? You never act,” you started, eyes squinting in suspicion, “like whatever you’re doing right now.” 

Jimin gasped and placed a hand on his chest as if in pain before exclaiming, “What?! Me? Up to something? Impossible, I’m as innocent as an angel.” 

An angel? More like a devil. There was no way he was telling the truth. You’d known him long enough and not once in your life had he treated you with such...whatever that emotion was.

“Right. An angel. Okay.” You nodded.

“Do you not believe me? You can ask anyone on this campus and they would tell you how amazing I am.” He gestured his hands wildly. 

You scoffed at that, of course they would, he had slept with the majority and had the remaining wrapped around his tiny fingers. Plus, no one wanted to cross Park Jimin. He ruled the campus and everyone knew it. 

“Listen, just get to the point. I don’t have time for this nonsense.” You said, rolling your eyes and huffing. You had to get to your next class in about five minutes. There was no way you were going to be late because some idiot was bothering you. 

“Go on a date with me.”

You choked on air at that, did you hear that right? “E-excuse me what?!”

Jimin shrugged and crossed his hands, flexing slightly, “You heard me, go on a date with me this weekend. Heard there's a new ice cream shop here, we could go there.” 

“You want to take me on a date?” You look at him skeptically. Was this a test? Were you being filmed? “You’re joking.”

“No.” He fixed you with a stare. “I’m serious. One date, if you don’t enjoy that one date, I promise I won't bother you ever again.”

You stood there staring at him, alarm bells ringing in your head. This can’t be real. He’s lying. “You? Never bothering me ever again? That’s like saying you don’t sleep with everyone you meet.”

“I didn’t sleep with you.”

“That’s different!” You exclaimed, face flushing. “You hate me!”

Jimin tilted his head, his nose scrunching up. “I never said I hate you.” You open your mouth ready to retaliate. “You simply assumed I did, my actions don’t mean anything unless I say something.”

You stood speechless. There had to be one occasion where he had stated he hated you. One. You searched your brain. Sure enough there was no such memory. 

Not wanting to lose to Jimin nonetheless you stomped your feet and said, “Yeah well that makes no sense! Haven’t you heard ‘actions speak louder than words’? I thought you were smart” You tsked, shaking your head as if you were disappointed.

“But I’m standing here asking you out, I’m sure that counters all the things I’ve done to you.” He gives you a sly smirk, one you’re all too familiar with. “There’s really two options Y/n. One’s yes and the other is...yes. Which one do you choose?”

If you could you would have burned him to a crisp with your glare. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been gifted with laser vision like superman. It would have been quite a gift if you had. Imagine how peaceful life would be without Park Jimin judging your every move. Then again, you would miss him. Wait what?! You shook your head to clear your mind before looking at Jimin.

“No.”

Jimin’s eyes widened as he spluttered. “W-what do you mean no?!”

“N-O. No. Don’t tell me you forgot basic english.”

Jimin clicked his tongue in annoyance, glaring at you. No one had ever turned him down. Whatever Park Jimin wants he gets. Right now he wants you. 

“Why not?” 

You gave him a look. “Well, it isn’t exactly a secret that you sleep with anything that has two legs. I don't even know why you’re asking me out, you never go on dates.”

“That's because you’re different.”

You scoff. “Listen Park, this isn’t some shitty rom com that you can charm your way to my heart, this is reality and I’m smart enough to realise how much of a jerk you actually are.”

Words seemed to die in Jimin’s throat. A jerk?! Sure, he annoyed you but he didn't think he deserved the title of a jerk. If it wasn’t for that stupid bet he wouldn’t even be asking you out. There was no reason why you couldn’t go on just one date with him. It wasn’t as if he was asking you to juggle swords and then swallow them. Besides, Jimin was a very attractive person and he knew it too. What’s so bad about going out with him? You should feel blessed he was even asking you out in the first place!

“Just say yes already woman. One date won’t kill you,” Jimin groaned out, throwing his head back in frustration.

“One date with you will.”

You stared at each other, no one making a single move. The silence stretched on for a moment before Jimin sighed loudly and ran a hand through this hair. 

“Come on!”

“No”

“...Please?” Jimin couldn’t believe he had to beg. He never begs! The things he does for a stupid bet.

Rolling your eyes at Jimin, you sigh, “Fine. We can go there this Saturday.”

“I begged, why won’t you just accep--” Jimin started before cutting himself off, “Oh you said yes. Um, well, yeah ok.” He mumbled, trying to fix his composure. “Yeah see you there or something. Bye,” and with that he walked away, leaving you both amused and confused… and also late for class! Damn Park Jimin.

-----------

You stood in front of the ice cream shop waiting for Jimin to show up. He was late, but then again what were you expecting anyway? You rolled your eyes as you looked around, “If he doesn’t show up in the next minute, I’m leaving.” you mumbled to yourself, checking your watch for what felt like the umpteenth time. 

“Y/n!” A voice shouted from behind causing you to turn around. Jimin ran towards you, panting slightly. “Sorry, I had to run all the way here.”

“Did you forget about the date or were you just being a jerk and were late intentionally?”

His face flushed pink, avoiding your gaze. “I might have forgotten but that wasn’t completely my fault, I just lost track of time.”

“Yeah whatever.” 

Jimin went to hold open the door for you but you beat him to it, opening it for yourself and slamming it in his face. He held back the urge to leave right there. A bet needed to be completed. He followed you inside trying to strike a conversation with you, trying to get just a crack of a smile.

“So Y/n, how’s your day?” Jimin asked, giving you a sweet smile that would have anyone swooning but it had no effect on you. 

“It would be good if the one who asked me out on a date came on time.” You didn’t look at him, instead you were staring intently at the menu. 

Jimin bit his tongue to stop himself from saying something he would regret, giving you a tight lipped smile. “I’m sure your date regrets being late.” ‘And asking you out in the first place’ Jimin thought the last part but didn’t say out loud.

“Doubt it.” You shrugged. 

Jimin knew what you were doing. You were specifically trying to provoke him, there was no way that he would ask you out on a date voluntarily. You were trying to gouge out any secrets he was hiding. His job, obviously, was to try and not let you find out those secrets. There was no way you were going to cooperate if he told you about the bet. 

The two of you knew each other since you were both babies, your mothers knew each other and would always coo at ‘how cute these two will look together.’ Unfortunately for them though, since you were both young the two of you had some sort of competition going on. Didn't matter if it was who was smarter, who was faster or who could fit the most grapes in their mouth, the both of you were always competing. 

As you both grew older the bickering turned into bullying on his part. In truth, you actually didn't know what started this long feud, all you remembered was one day when you were five an annoying boy yanked your hair so hard that a few strands had come out. Annoying boy turned out to be Park Jimin and the two of you haven’t stopped arguing since. 

“What flavour are you getting?” Jimin peered over your shoulder. He looked at you expectedly. “I’ve already chosen mine, so it’s just up to you and I’ll pay.” He holds his wallet out. 

“Vanilla.” You said plainly.

“What?!” 

You turn to face Jimin, frowning. “What’s wrong with vanilla?”

He makes a face. “Y/n, it’s so boring, like you no doubt.” The last part had slipped out accidentally and he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth. That was it. You were going to scream at him and he would lose the bet.

Instead, you ignored his comment fixing your gaze back onto the menu. “What do you think I should get then? I’ll give you the choice, assuming you don’t pick a disgusting flavour like mint chocolate chip, I’ll be fine.” 

Sure, it was a stupid decision giving Jimin the power to pick what you were going to eat, but what could go wrong? Worst case scenario, you didn't like the flavour and he would be forced to go get a new one, which would cost him more money. It’s a win win. 

“You’re giving me the freedom to pick what flavour you’re having?” Jimin asked, making sure he didn't misunderstand your statement. You simply nodded, shrugging nonchalantly. 

“Yep” you replied when he stared at you for a while longer, popping the p.

Jimin smirked. “I’ll get you the best flavour to ever exist then.”

You raised an eyebrow at his statement, “Oh?”

“Yeah, mint chocolate~” 

You stared at him in disgust, scowling as you said, “Dude I just said that flavour is disgusting. Made by the devil himself.”

Jimin tapped his chin, as if he had no clue about you were saying, “Did you really? Can’t recall anything like that. Hmm.”

“Park Jimin, I swear to god if you get me that flavour I will rip your eyeballs out and shove them up your ass.”

“So you wanna touch my ass now?” He grinned smugly. You felt your cheeks heat up as you spluttered, desperately searching for a comeback.

“Just- just get me whatever you’re having. Unless it’s chocolate mint, then get out of my sight right now.” 

“Don't worry, I hate the flavour as much as you do. So, two birthday cakes coming right up.” You try to find ‘birthday cake’ on the menu. 

“Dude, the thing looks like a unicorn just threw up on it.” 

Jimin shoots you a glare. “Don’t disrespect the superior flavour bestowed upon us by the ice cream Gods.” You gape at him open-mouthed. Ice cream Gods?! The guy was insane. You were on a date with a guy who was insane. Rest in pepperoni to you.

“You’re insane,” You shake your head. “I’ll be waiting over there. Be quick.” You point to a table in the corner. 

“Yes ma’am” Jimin saluted before going to order at the counter. You shake your head. You’d known Jimin of most of your life and he’d always been silly and annoying. 

Some reason you knew a lot about him. You blamed it on your parents making you spend too much time with each other when you were younger. Also you needed to know every little thing about your mortal enemy, wasn’t that what mortal enemies did? You had to be prepared for anything and keep track of them at all times!

“Got your ice cream.” Jimin placed the cup in front of you as you stared at it with distaste. You’d never really had ice cream often but when you did you always went for the plain vanilla. It was simple, no need for toppings or colourful flavours. You weren’t one to take risks. 

“What monstrosity did you get for me, Park?” 

“Oh stop being a baby, it’s just strawberry with some syrup on it.” Jimin answered while he rolled his eyes, lips tugged up into a small smile. Eyes twinkling with adoration as he looked at you. 

“I’m not eating it.”

“Oh yes you are. Here comes the airplane!” Jimin started, taking a spoonful of the ice cream and moving it towards your face as if talking to a child. 

“I’m not a kid. I’m not ha-” Jimin shoves the spoon inside your mouth when you open it to retaliate, his lips lifted into a sly smile. You snatch the spoon off him while glaring at him and start feeding yourself. “Don’t patronise me, you jerk.” You grumbled.

Jimin almost cooed out loud at your pout but he barely controlled himself. Since when were you this cute? He watched as you ate.

“Is it good?” 

“...yes” You reluctantly answered, still pouting.

Jimin smiled, leaning back on his chair as he pat himself on his shoulder. “Another job done well by yours truly.”

You rolled your eyes. Then you noticed that Jimin’s ice cream looked slightly different to yours. It wouldn’t hurt to ask for a bite. Would it?

“What’s on yours?” Jimin looked up, the tiny spoon still in his mouth. “What’s on your ice cream?”

“Just extra sprinkles and chocolate sauce, nothing too special.” He shrugged, continuing to devour his dessert. You stare at your cup and then at his. Something must have been possessing you because before you knew it you were leaning over and digging your spoon into his cup.

“Hey, you can’t just do that!”

“Pretty sure I just did.” You popped the spoon into your mouth, savouring the taste. “You know you really weren’t kidding when you said this was good. For once, you did something right, congrats dude.” 

Jimin would have made a snarky comment but the look of pure ecstasy on your face stopped him. Even though he knew you for most of his life, there were parts you kept hidden. He knew you didn’t get out much, constantly studying was the only thing you seemed to do. A nice feeling bubbled inside of him. It was nice to know you were enjoying yourself, made him feel happy for some reason. 

You giggled, shoving more of the sweet dessert into your mouth. Too busy to notice that Jimin was staring at you. When you did, you gave him a look of confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“You got a little something here.” He pointed to the left side of his face, holding in the urge to laugh at your cute expression. “No here, no.” He leaned over brushing his thumb over the corner of your lips. He stared at you, had your eyes always been so pretty? You felt yourself grow red at the close proximity between you two, not knowing what to do. Jimin leaned away, - why did your heart sink at that? - and licked his thumb. “Love this flavour.”

You avert your eyes quickly, blush getting brighter. You should not have found that as hot as you did. Get yourself together Y/N! Park Jimin, enemy number one! Nothing he does is mildly attractive. Nothing. He is the devil reincarnated!

Suddenly your phone started ringing, shattering whatever moment you two had going on. You picked up the device and checked the caller ID. Why was Jungkook calling now? You gave Jimin a sheepish look.

“Hello? I’m out. No. What? How did you- Alright alright.” Jimin watched as you spoke on your phone. 

You sighed in annoyance, hanging up after a while and giving Jimin a sheepish smile, “I need to go. Jungkook somehow made the microwave catch on fire.” 

Jimin raised his eyebrows in shock, looking at you as if you had grown two more heads. “What? How is that even possible?”

“Not a clue but I gotta dip. Thank you for inviting me here today. I still think you’re up to something though but whatever.” You spoke, getting up from your seat and grabbing your small messenger bag that you brought along. 

Jimin stood up alongside you, the both of you walking out of the shop and stopping on the sidewalk. “Yeah… Thank you for coming here with me.”

You two stood there staring at each other, not wanting to leave just yet. 

“Well then! I’ll see you on Monday. Bye Jimin,” You announced after a while, quickly pressing a small kiss on his cheek before dashing away. 

Jimin stood there in shock, hands raising to touch where you kissed him. Why was his heart racing so fast and why did he feel so warm inside? 

“Huh.. maybe you’re not so bad Y/L/N” Jimin spoke up to himself before he too started his walk back home, mind filled with thoughts of you.

[spicykoreantatertots]

Intro: O!RUL8,2?

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 887

Rating: PG

Genres: SFW, Boss/Employee AU, Non-romantic

Summary:  Your boss calls you in for a meeting and it does not go well... or does it?

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is part of my new drabble series that I’m doing for ficswithluv’s Bulletproof Bingo! 24 drabbles in 12 days so I can get that blackout before the deadline. See my challenge post here and the master list here! Message or send an ask to be on the taglist! (This has not been edited at all, please be kind.)

~~~~~~~

Being an Administrative Assistant to the CEO of the world’s leading manufacturing company is not the easiest job you’ve ever had, but it is very lucrative. You are good at your job, polite to your boss, and he is generous with holiday bonuses. 

The plan is to stay here until you finish paying off your student loans from art school and then save up a little money to start your own art gallery. It shouldn’t take more than another year or two. You do miss creating art, but you still get to do that from time to time. 

“Y/N, please come to my office. Bring the planner.” Mr. Kim, your boss, buzzes your phone. 

“Yes sir, I’ll be there right away.” He doesn’t usually ask you to bring the planner unless he’s going to cancel a lot of meetings or take a last minute vacation. Having to call and cancel all his meetings will not be fun. 

Knocking twice on the open door, you enter Mr. Kim’s big office. He’s facing away from the door, looking out the windows. The large corner suite has windows covering the full length of two walls. The sights of downtown Seoul are better than any art you could put on a wall.

“Thank you for joining me. Please have a seat. What’s on the docket for today?” He asks, in an uncharacteristic monotone voice. He is still facing away from you. 

“You have a meeting in an hour with the VPs of Sales and Marketing. After that you have lunch with the CFO followed by a meeting with the CFO and the board of trustees.” All of these big names in the company will be sorely disappointed to have the meetings cancelled. 

“Okay. That’s all.” He says. He doesn’t usually act this way...

“Mr. Kim, is everything okay?” You ask and he chuckles in response. 

“Y/N, what is your goal in life?” Aside from a few polite questions, comments about day to day things or weekend plans, you’ve never had a conversation about your life with Mr. Kim. 

“Well, sir, I would like to open an art gallery one day.” At this, he turns in his chair. He looks as though he’s been crying. 

“I had a dream like that once.” He says. He wanted to be an artist when he was a child, he tells you. But his father, the founder of the company, did not approve. He wanted to groom his son to take over the family business. “I got trapped in this corporate life and I am miserable.” 

It breaks your heart to see him like this. He’s a good man. It also makes you nervous about your own future. Making the leap from a steady job like this is not an easy thing to do. 

“You need to pursue your passions now before it’s too late.” He warns. 

“Mr. Kim, it’s not too late for you to start creating again.” You counter, but he stands, shaking his head. 

“I would like you to leave. Today will be your last day.” He says calmly. “I will arrange a three month’s severance package for you. Please arrange a temp to take over for you starting tomorrow.” With that, he returns to his seat and picks up the phone. 

~~~~~~~

It’s difficult for you to process that you’ve just been mercy fired. Mr. Kim thinks he’s doing something kind for you. You suppose it is kind though. He’s given you three months of guaranteed salary to get your art gallery up and running. 

Though it is painful that you’re so easily replaceable, you manage to set up a temporary assistant to take over and send them instructions on what their expected day to day tasks are. You consider putting in a warning, do not talk to Mr. Kim about art. 

Before leaving the office for the last time, you make a few adjustments to Mr. Kim’s schedule. He’ll thank you later. 

~~~~~~~

“Good morning Mr. Kim. I’m Park Jimin, I’m your new temporary assistant.” The nervous boy bows politely. Taehyung kindly greets his new assistant. He seems nice enough, but he does miss you.

“It’s nice to meet you. Would you please go through my morning appointments quickly?” Taehyung asks. 

“Yes sir. In half an hour you have your weekly staff meeting. Then at 9:30 you are meeting with the research and development team for a progress meeting. And at 11:00 you have your weekly art lesson.” Jimin smiles. 

“Weekly art lesson?” Taehyung is confused.

“Yes sir. It’s scheduled twice a week.” Jimin responds, also confused. How could he not know about on ongoing appointment. 

“Oh, right...” Taehyung suddenly realizes. You set the appointments before you left, giving him a chance to pursue his passion, just like he had done for you. 

“Is there anything else I can do for you right now, Mr. Kim?” Jimin asks, inching toward the door. 

“Yes, actually. I have a friend who is opening an art gallery soon. I want to arrange an anonymous donation to the gallery.” Jimin nods and takes note of this on his notepad, then quickly exits the office. 

Taehyung turns to look out his windows with a big smile. For the first time in a long time, he is looking forward to an appointment on his schedule. 

~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. Check out my masterlist here and the series masterlist here. I’m always looking for betas, people to beta for, and friends so send me a message! :)

[honeymoonjin]

let’s talk

hi guys <3

I love you all so so much first and foremost, and I’m really sorry if you’re upset at what I need to do, but I’ve decided to go on indefinite hiatus ( a real one this time, not me giving up after a day bc i miss it ) of writing. I’ll still be active on here and in any discord servers I’m in, but it’s no longer wise for my mental health to keep writing. here’s why:

priorities

i’ve noticed over the past three or so months that I’ve started prioritising writing over actual things in my life that need time and attention. whether it’s study, exercise, socialising, all of these things are taking a hit because I tell myself that I’m obligated to finish works within certain deadlines, and it is getting to a point where I can’t stop worrying about the fact that I’m wasting my time. I love making these stories for you guys, but at the end of the day this is a hobby and it’s not wise for me to put my real life on a hold because of this. 

notes

I hate it, but I’m starting to worry too much about followers, notes, reblogs, and that’s not healthy. I always told myself that those don’t matter, that it’s about the joy of writing and sharing it with you guys for the love of it, but I think I’ve lost that somewhere along the way, and if I want to continue writing I need to rediscover that first. 

For a while, I kept thinking ‘if only I could write a quick pwp that passed 1k notes and then it would cheer me up to keep writing again’ and that’s such a wrong attitude to have. Because there was a time when I was getting 1k, 2k, 3k on fics, I started to feel like I was doing something wrong or people stopped caring because my notes were barely getting past 500 at best. The reason I’m telling you this is to be transparent. I can wax poetic about how this isn’t about notes, it’s about the passion for the craft et cetera et cetera but the reality is that this is what my heart won’t stop thinking. I’m not begging for notes; rather, I’m trying to accept that this is a negative thought pattern. I’m so grateful for what I do get, especially the written feedback you take the time to write, and I feel like I’m betraying you guys by not being satisfied. So I need to step back in the hopes that I can drop this mindset.

future

I personally am so proud of the works I write, and so I think I’m just really confused why the readership has dropped so suddenly and never recovered. Comparing yourself to other writers is never wise but comparing yourself to yourself hurts just as much too. 

I can’t help but think to myself that this doesn’t really have a criteria for success. I used to think I was a successful writer because of the numbers I would get for fics, but that’s silly. Numbers don’t equal quality. And besides, there really is no type of real success in fanfiction because at the end of the day, unless you rework a fanfic into an actual novel to sell to the general public, you’re never going to get actual success from fanfic writing. Now, that’s not inherently bad. I knew full well I was writing for the love of it and sharing it to you all for free because I wanted to. And I think that’s where fanfic thrives: passion and community. 

But since I’ve lost that spark due to several reasons, it’s really not healthy for me to keep writing because I don’t want these negative thoughts to get worse.

what’s next?

I won’t be deleting honeymoonjin. I won’t be disappearing. For now, I’m indefinitely stopping writing for the reasons listed above, but I will still be around because I love this community so so much. You are my friends, my family, my supporters and beautiful individuals. I just might not be a content creator anymore.

When I do choose to start writing again, it’ll probably be a new blog. This was suggested to me by my good friend nell, and I think it will be a really positive way to return. I can still reblog my works onto honeymoonjin, and I’ll be open about the fact that the new blog is me, but it’ll give me a fresh start. 

I’m hoping that it’ll help me forget about the numbers. I’ve heard many content creators speak about the intermittent urge to just delete, to just get rid of all the pressure that comes with having a following, and I finally understand. I think it would be best for me if I started writing without any expectation of reception, just writing because it’s a passion of mine. For now, I’ve lost that passion in the noise of everything, but if/when it returns, that’s what I’ll do.

thank you

I want to thank all of you once more. those of you that take the time to read my works, whether you give feedback or not, are so valued, because it’s always special to me knowing i’m being heard, and that my works might have an impact on someone. it’s a beautiful thing and an honour. for those that have ever written feedback, thank you even more. i can’t count the times i’ve felt like giving up, and every time i think of you and your words and it propels me forward. i hope you don’t feel disappointed that i’m leaving, because you were the ones that helped me stay so long. 

to @jamaisjoons, you’re an inspiration. i admired you long before we were friends, and i admire you even more now. thank you for your words of advice, no matter whether it’s a writing crisis, a break-up, or the trauma of having a spider crawl where a spider should not be. it means the world to have you at my side.

to @hobisbeautifulass, my winter bear. you’re stronger than you know, and i’m so lucky and grateful that you reached out to me. my life is far brighter with you in it, and i hope it will be long in the future. love you to the moon and back xx

there are so many more people i admire, love, and am grateful for, and i wanna thank you all for how much you’ve positively impacted me in so many different ways. you are the stars that make up my mikrokosmos here and i hope you know how much i appreciate you:

@spookitokki @honey-boyyoongi​ @holyfluffly @ddaenggtan @jhspetitegf @franklytae @solarjeon @jungtaeyoongles @sonyeonsideupsmile @joopiterjoon @bloodpotato @multycoloredtaco @kookiesspacebuns @gguksgalaxy @ironicarmy @sunkoos @prisczero @koyacult @joonsrack @strawbxxymilk @outroshooky @hungline (i’m so sorry if i’ve forgotten someone! i love you all !)

[lonelyorbit134340]

Untitled (01)

Index: (01) (02) (03) (04)

It’s 9:15am on Monday morning and you scan the office floor. There is a general hum as people type away at their workstations but you noticed one empty chair. Min Yoongi is late again.

As if on cue, you hear a loud thud and see Min crash onto an office plant. He stands up, dusts himself off, looks up and meets your eyes. If he is embarrassed it is well hidden. The look on his face is all defiance.

You think about calling him into your room for a reprimand but you know it’s of no use. In the 3 months since he joined the company you know he doesn’t listen to anything unless he wants to. If he’s not so damn good at his job you would have fired him by the end of the first week. But he gets it. Nothing fazes him and he delivers when it counts. He’s actually performing at a higher level than people that are 2 to 3 years his senior.

So you are not going to get rid of him. But you want him to know who’s boss. A sudden spark cross your mind. “Yes, this will teach him a valuable lesson.” You’re going to put him on Project Flash.

Project Flash refers to a series of purchases by one of your company’s biggest clients, Gordon Wines. The project is not called “flash” because Wines is fast (although he is when he identifies his “prey”), but because if you make a mistake he’ll fire you in a flash. The deals he makes are complex and he wants it done yesterday. Some staff sees working in the project as a death sentence as your life will be consumed by work. Late nights, weekends, you lose track of time as the deadlines pile up one after the other.

 “It’s time for him to learn the value of hard work and discipline,” you think to yourself.

After you gather the relevant paperwork, you send Min a Skype message and ask him to come into your office. He slowly gets up from his chair and heads towards your office.

 *Knock knock*

 “Come in.”

 He sits down and looks straight at you, his eyes giving nothing away.

 “Min, finish up all your existing work today. Starting tomorrow, you’ll be working on a new project.”

 “And what will that be?” he asks.

 “I want you to start working on the Wines account. He has identified a new company for acquisition.”

You can see his mind turns for about a second. “You want me on Project Flash?”

“Yes, the team is busy working on the current deals and I need someone new to start working on this one.

“As you know, Wines is a demanding client and he does not tolerate fools. So I want to you double, no, triple-check your work before you hand it in. Also, his deals are time-critical so expect some overtime.”

“OK.” he says nonchalantly.

“I’ll send you a meeting invite for 10am tomorrow morning to go through the basics of the deal.”

The room is silent for a few seconds. Min realises that’s the end of the meeting and gets up. Just before he turns around, he murmurs “Thank you for the opportunity”.

You’re taken aback by the small hint of humility.

As he walks out of the room, you’re also taken aback by his perfectly shaped ass.

You catch yourself, shake your head, and return your eyes to the computer screen.

——-

It’s 10pm and the office is eerily quiet. The air conditioning unit is switched off, and all you can hear is the sound of paper flicking as Min reviews the mountain of documents on his workstation.

The latest Wines acquisition is at its peak and both you and Min are working insane hours. This is the fourth consecutive night of overtime. You take off your reading glasses and stare out of the office in Min’s direction.

To your mild surprise, Min is fully dedicated to the job at hand. He may still be coming in after the standard start time but with the late finishes you’re not holding it against him. He is quickly grasping the complex details of the deal. He asks the right question in meetings and the quality of his work is impeccable. Even though you know he’s good before the project, you are impressed. 

You walk out of your office and say to Min, “Are you up to Article 50 of the offer document yet?”

“I am reading it now, and I’m a bit stuck on subsection 3.”, he says.

“Bring it in and let me have a look.” you replied.

He strolled into the office with the offer document. Instead of sitting across the table and handing the document to you, he comes around to your side of the table and kneels right next to you. You can smell his musky cologne. Without realising, you take in a deep breath.

“The information in subsection 3 appears to contradict Article 27,” he says as he flicks through the document. You can’t help but notice his long, elegant fingers as he points at the different paragraphs.

You quickly gather your focus and explain to Min the asset cross-collateralisation which is a unique feature of the deal.

“Ahhh, OK I get it.” Min says, and you know that he has memorised everything you said.

“Alright, I think that’s enough for today, let’s call it a day and start again tomorrow”, you say.

Out of nowhere, Min asks, “Would you like to grab a bite to eat? I know you haven’t had dinner yet. There’s a ramen joint 2 blocks away that opens till midnight.”

You pause for just a moment when you hear your stomach grumble. You answer “sure”, grab your bag and head out with Min.

——-

The ramen restaurant is buzzing when you walk in. The owner eyes the two of you and smiles as he recognises Min. “The best table for my loyal customer!” he says and ushers you to the last two available seats at the corner of the joint.

After he sits down, he loosens his tie and moves his shoulders around, like is his trying to shake the stress of the work day off. 

“Two chicken ramyun and two soju please”, Min says to the owner before you have the chance to read the menu. “It’s their signature ramen.” he says as he takes the menu off you.

“I guess I’ll find out how good it is in a few minutes,” you reply.

“You won’t be disappointed.” he says confidently.

——

The ramen is delicious and the soju flows freely. To your mild surprise, you are having an enjoyable conversation with Min about this and that, from reality tv to the latest political news. 

The discussion turns to some of the more colourful characters in the office. “And Jin roasts the other junior staff relentlessly. Some of them are positively scared of running into him in the lunchroom,” he says, slapping his thigh. His eyes light up and his laughter is infectious.

“Two more bottles of soju, please.” Min orders. It may not be the best idea to have another drink, but work has been intense and you’re enjoying this opportunity to unwind. 

After you finish the last sip of the soju, he becomes quiet, looking down at the empty bowl. He’s probably tired after the long day, you think to yourself. You’re just about to offer to split the check when he looks up.

“So, what’s your secret?” he asks. 

“What do you mean?”

“You’re the youngest VP in the company. You handle the most complex clients when many in the company are your seniors. How do you do it?

You don’t know how to respond to this sudden change of conversation. You stammer for a bit. “Errrr, I do my best. And I guess a bit of luck fell my way.”

“Now you’re not being honest,” he says, turning to face you. There is something different in that way he looks at you, but you can’t quite place it. 

“You are exceptional. Smartest person I’ve ever met.” he says. You can feel warmth rising to your cheeks. 

“.... and so beautiful. Irresistible really.“

You look down, absorbing the meaning of his words, when you feel his hand caressing your cheek.

“Min …” you whisper. 

“Call me Yoongi”.

——

When you finally look up, you’re met by his dark, almond shaped eyes. Gone is the aloofness that he displays in this office, replaced by a tenderness that you’ve never seen before. You look at the mild hint of blush on his porcelain skin, his slightly parted lips, tousled honey blonde hair, and your heart is beating faster and faster. It feels like the world is standing still and all you can feel is his gentle touch on your face.

“Come with me,” Yoongi says softly. You don’t know what’s happening next but you want to find out. You give him a slight nod.

With quick movement, he grabs a note from his wallet, drops it on the counter, then takes your hand and the two of you walk out of the restaurant. 

Yoongi leads you to a small alleyway a block away, standing between you and a wall. In the dim streetlight you see him shifting his gaze from your eyes to your lips. The next thing you know his hand cups your face and he leans in. The kiss is tentative, but you can feel the warmth of his lips transferring to yours and there are butterflies in your stomach. 

He pulls away slightly and looks at you, waiting for your reaction. You lick your lips and that’s all the encouragement he needs. His hands move from your face to the back of your head, pulling your closer. No hesitation in the second kiss.

The kisses deepen and soon your tongues are intertwined. You taste the soju in his breath and you’re drinking it all in. He glides his hands down to caress your breasts and you shiver. Your body is craving for his touch.

Then you hear the crack of thunder. 

As the raindrops land on your face you stopped, as if waking from a dream. “What am I doing?” you ask yourself. 

You release your hands from Yoongi’s waist and step backwards. “I’m so sorry,” you murmur, and without looking at him, you start running away.

Yoongi is left standing in the alleyway, getting completely drenched.

[doggy-woggy]

Studying Together (Roger Taylor x Reader)

Requested by @spaghetittiesbcimgay: “dude i love ur writing!! could u do one where rogah and reader have been friends since high school and now they’re in college studying for exams?? and basically rogah can’t stop staring @ reader bc he thinks she looks beautiful concentrating like that.. and basically feelings boil over and fluff ensues?? and could u do the same type of thing where reader is doing a self portrait and she hates it bc she’s self conscious but rogah loves it bc it’s her?? thank you so much dude :))|”

A/N: Thanks for the request! I decided to combine your two prompts into one. I’ve never done requests before and I didn’t know how well I can do them so I thought in case this is bad, it’s better to have one disappointment than two :/ It came out very cheesy smh. Also excuse the misleading title since they won’t actually be “studying” in this. Anyway, hope you like it!

Can be read as Ben Hardy!Roger

Words: 1.6k Warning: Fluff, some light cursing Unedited ******************************************

Roger tapped his pencil at the edge of his drawing file as he looked at you. Your head was lying on the armrest of the couch and your feet were stretched into his lap.

“Roger?” you started, not removing your eyes from the paper in front of you. He hummed in response. “Stop that,” you said.

“Stop what?” he asked innocently, with the corners of his mouth turning up.

“The tapping,” you looked up at him seriously.

“Oh.” Roger put down his file and stretched his arms leisurely. He put an arm over the back of the couch and leaned his head on it.

Both of you had to submit a self-portrait for the art class you were taking that semester. You had often studied or worked on projects together since high school. You got work done only half the time because you’d always end up finding ways to distract yourselves in each other’s company. 

But this submission was important and you had both promised to do nothing but work, except Roger just couldn’t focus.

He wasn’t fully conscious of it, but his gaze rested on your face. You looked messier than usual, given the stress of finals, but he loved the way your hair unintentionally fell out around your face. He observed the way your tongue poked out slightly in the look of pure concentration on your face and he smiled to himself.

“Y/N, I’m bored,” he whined.

“Come on, Roger the deadline is this week. If we don’t do this right we might just fail,” you looked at him sadly.

“Nah, we won’t fail,” he said lightly tickling your feet. You laughed and instinctively kicked your foot violently into the air. “Geez,” Roger laughed.

“Not unless you don’t start working on your portrait now.” You reminded him.

He didn’t react, but extended his arm to the side of your head and pulled it back to show you the coin he had supposedly pulled from behind your ear, grinning smugly.

You rolled your eyes. “Roger, come on. You’re distracting me. We promised we will try to focus.”

“Ugh, this is so stupid! How can they grade us on art anyway? Isn’t art the reflection of the soul? And if this is a world where one soul gets to assess the worth of another soul, much less assess it by a presentation that the soul may or may not accurately be able to express, then I don’t want to be in this world,” he huffed.

“Well too bad you’re already in this world. And you don’t get to leave it anytime soon, not without me at least. Now your soul might just be expressed as a little dot on this paper but the professor’s soul sure as hell won’t give you a grade for that.” You sighed. “So, we have to adhere to the rules of this world and make a presentable self-portrait that appeals to the majority of art intellectuals and academics, and most importantly, the professor.” You looked back down to your page and murmured, “Come on. We got this.”

With that, you returned to the file resting on your thigh. Roger’s amused eyes lingered on you for a few moments longer, filled with adoration. He reached for his pencil and returned his attention to his file.

After about an hour, you felt frustration take over. You glanced up to find Roger already looking at you, but he quickly looked away when he saw you noticing.

“Roger I can’t do this!” You said, slapping down your file. He looked up and you continued, “This is impossible. I can’t draw myself. I don’t even remember how I look anymore!”

“Like an ogre,” he smirked.

“Not fucking funny,” you gritted your teeth as you threw a cushion at him. “This looks so ugly.”

Roger peered over your file to look at your portrait, and just blinked at it. “Y/N, this is fantastic,” he whispered. He saw your faithless expression. “I’m not kidding, it really is beautiful,“ he tried to convince but you still looked dejected. “Hey, you know, it looks very you. So at least you've got the concept of self-portrait down?” He offered.

You had your eyebrow cocked as you stared at him weirdly. “Whatever. This was a practice sketch anyway,” you said as you began to rip the page out of the notebook.

“Don’t do that!” Roger cried.

“Look I can’t hand this in. I’ve drawn closed eyelids. And it looks bland. You know I can’t draw eyes for shit but I feel like it looks lazy to draw closed lids without a purpose.” You finished tearing the page, and looked up to see Roger’s expression frozen in panic. Just as you were about to crumple up the page, Roger grabbed your knee to stop you.

“At least-“ he sighed, “at least let me have it.” He avoided your gaze as he took the portrait from your hand, hiding his reddening cheeks, and carefully placed it on the coffee table.

You sat in silence for a minute before you said: “Show me yours.”

“No,” he returned.

You looked at him in disbelief. “Show me!” you pressed as you reached over to grab his file.

“No!” he repeated as he backed the file away from your reach.

You put down your drawing file and got up on your knees to get further. You ignored Roger’s protests as he murmured “No, stop it!” while you climbed over him to get to the file.

Roger loved the proximity, and couldn’t help but glance down at the back of your leg, where your pyjama shorts where high up your thigh, given your stretched-out body. He always loved those shorts on you.

In his distraction, you were able to reach the file, and Roger gave in. You blew out air as you sat down with it and looked at two gorgeous eyes drawn on the sheet.

“Wow,” you gasped. You studied the eyes. Although he pretended to have limited interest in it, you always knew he could draw extremely well, since you’d caught plenty of glimpses of his doodles in his school notebooks. This pair of eyes, however, was breath-taking.

“But they don’t look like yours,” you thought aloud. You didn’t notice how Roger’s cheeks seemed to have changed permanently to crimson. He scratched the back of his neck and put his hand inside the top of his shirt.

“That’s because they’re not.”

“Forgot the ‘self’ in ‘self-portrait Rog?” you laughed. “Well, whose are they then?”

Roger looked at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher. After seeming to contemplate it, he briefly stated, “Yours.”  

You stared at him, confused and not knowing what to say. He seemed uncomfortable. “They’re your eyes, Y/N. I think they’re beautiful.”

“Oh,” you said. “Well...they’re sure prettier on here than the real thing,” you joked, a little taken aback.

“Well, in any case, I can’t ever seem to look away.” He drew in a breath and took your hands in both of his. “Y/N I can’t do this anymore.”

You sat up straighter as you looked at him with concern. “Do what?”

“I can’t keep looking at you and not be able to do anything else.” His eyes roamed the room. “You probably think of me as some kind of an idiot, but…whenever I’m with you I just want to stay with you, and I can’t focus because you’re all I can think about. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long and now I-”

He stopped abruptly as you reached out to brush your knuckles on the side of his head. He looked at you as you gazed back into his wide eyes that were slowly growing droopy. “Roger,” you breathed as you took in his words. “Can I-do you want me to kiss you?”

Roger closed his eyes for a moment as his silent breath quickened. “More than anything,” he said softly, his breath fanning your face.

You leaned forward to brush your lips with his. You then kissed him properly, and felt his arms wrap around your waist. You laced your fingers in his blonde hair as his hands swiftly roamed your body, seeming unable to settle at just one place.

You pulled away to catch a breath, and he chased your lips with his. You looked up at him to see him part his eyelids slowly, a dopey smile playing across his lips.

“Roger, I really like you. No. More than that. I don’t know what it is but I have felt it for quite a while now,” you said nervously.

“Really?” He smiled. “Y/N, you don’t know how happy that makes me. I really, really like you too.”

Silence fell over as you two simply smiled at each other like idiots. Your gaze then dropped to the two pieces of art lying in front of you. “You’ve drawn the part of me that I couldn’t figure out for myself,” you observed, looking at the pair of eyes he drew.

“I suppose that’s right,” Roger chuckled.

You smiled broadly at him and raised your eyebrows. You put on a high pitched voice and a dramatic accent to say “I guess you complete me.”

Roger rolled his eyes but laughed as he pinned you down on the couch to dive in with his lips. Once again, you two had found a way to distract yourselves from work.

**************************

I apparently have a problem with concision. Feedback is very welcome! @theedwardscollection

[creative-type]

RE: twitter, BM comments being sin. Consider the reader who has been chewed out by writers. Consider other readers scouring BM for recommendations. Consider writers never commenting on other works, despite receiving comments, why reinvest? Consider the writer who never replies to comments. Some attention is better than none, and I think there are worse things than nice bookmark comments that more people see than comments. I understand the feeling of indirect feedback, but reasons might vary.

(For context, a couple days ago I sent out a tweet that it should be a sin for readers to hide their nicest comments in their bookmarks. That’s it. That’s the whole tweet.)

Anon, I hear what you’re saying, and in turn I ask for you to consider the position of writers, particularly writers who write one shots and gen fics (heaven forbid if they do both) which traditionally get much less feedback than shipping fics or multi-chapter works. 

Imagine spending over a month working on a fic for a Secret Santa project, struggling with writer’s block to the point that you have to completely blow up the fic and start over from scratch two weeks before the deadline while working forty — if not fifty — hours a week. Imagine losing another five days of writing due to blinding headaches that make if feel like an ice pick is being drilled into your temple over and over and over again, and being forced to mentally put together the last thousand words during a ten hour car trip as time whittles down because you get too car sick to actually write. Imagine doing your final edits while in the emergency room because your grandfather fell on Christmas Eve and needs a CAT scan to make sure he isn’t bleeding in his brain (you give a sigh of relief when the doctor says it’s “only” a broken rib, but as the only member of the family who works in the medical field and has slept in the last twenty-four hours, it’s your job to sleep on the couch while he rests in the recliner. Rest does not come easily). 

Imagine posting your fic, knowing that the writing is solid and the characterization good. It’s not a masterpiece, you know that, but it’s good enough considering the circumstances. Written there are seven thousand words that you’ve poured your life into, and you’re proud of what you’ve accomplished.

And imagine doing all that, and getting all of two comments in response.

Now, I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I’ve had other people on Discord say they liked my work, and by some miracle of God I got a decent response on tumblr. My giftee liked the fic, and in the end that’s all that matters, because I wrote it for her. 

But unless I screenshot Discord compliments (which I have done) or go trawling through notes to see if someone said something in the tags (ditto), the easiest way to see if someone appreciated my work is to look at the comments. And you know what? That gets really fucking discouraging when at best you have a kudo to comment ratio of 10:1. 

You say sometimes writers are assholes? That we don’t always show our appreciation or respond in kind? Well, so are readers. Every time I post something I run the risk of flames or trolls or people screaming at me because I used a characterization that went against their personal head canon and therefore my whole work is trash. 

And just so you know, I don’t get a notification when someone writes something in their bookmarks. Unless I’m mistaken, I don’t get notified of bookmarks at all. So your “indirect feedback” isn’t really feedback at all, because most of the time I don’t even know it exists. 

I know my fics aren’t God’s gift to literature. Sometimes the writing isn’t my best or my plotting sloppy. I know there are going to be niche fics where I’m writing for an audience of one, and you know what? I’m okay with that. I’ve gotten to the point where I consider comments to be an added bonus. Something that’s nice to have, but not to expect. Because anything else is setting myself up for disappointment. 

But if you the reader are going through the effort to put a note in your bookmarks, know that 99.99% of the time the author would like to know that you enjoyed their work. Kudos don’t have the same effect as someone actually telling you “I liked this. Thank you for writing it”. 

And if you’re unsure of what to write in a comment, I promise that it doesn’t have to be a lot. Find one sentence you liked, quote it, and then say “I liked this sentence” That’s it. You’ve made a fanfic writer’s day right there. 

(Keyboard smashes are also accepted.)

And Anon? That tweet? It was a joke. Meant to be tongue in cheek. So next time instead of jumping me on a completely different platform maybe ask for a bit of clarification if you’re not sure of my intent.

[scourgewins]

A Bendy and the Ink Machine and Good Omens Crossover (Chapter 1)

(I felt inspired to write the scenario in this roleplay brought up in this ask. I’m not sure how many chapters there’ll be; it probably won’t be a lot. I’m super nervous to post this for some reason! We’ll see how this goes!)

(Warnings: None)

Joey was halfway through writing his first name when he chucked his pencil at the far wall and dropped his head onto his desk, shutting his eyes. He opened them after a few seconds to let them travel slowly up the stack of papers next to him. He made a face of dismay, mustache bristling angrily.

“So much work…” he groaned quietly to himself, closing his eyes again. Maybe he could just will it all to be done. If he thought really hard, it would all be complete and he could do something far less mind-numbingly dull. When he cracked an eye open, the paper hadn’t budged and somehow seemed larger than before. Heaving a sigh, he lifted his head off the desk, noticing where he’d signed as “Jo” on the paper he’d been going over.

He couldn’t possibly be expected to do all of this. That was just plain inhumane. I need help…

He dismissed the thought as soon as it entered his mind. Everyone in the studio was working double-time to meet the next deadline. If he pulled someone to come help him, some part of the next cartoon would inevitably suffer. No, that could never be allowed to happen.

Perhaps one of his cartoon children could help. Joey’s face brightened then dimmed. Neither Bendy, Boris, or Alice could read or write fluently. Plus, they’d all become distracted within the first minute of helping; reading over reports and signing papers wasn’t exactly the kind of fun a toon went for.

He was truly on his own. Unless…

Now here was an idea!

He could summon a demon to help him!

Joey leaped to his feet and started to pull open the drawers of his desk, withdrawing his ritual book, some candles, and an inkwell and brush. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? A demon could read any sort of contract in seconds and forge any signature. He’d be done in no time!

Humming happily to himself, Joey got to work drawing the pentagram and setting the candles just so. He flipped through his book and found the passage on summoning a low level demon. No need for any major evil entities; those could be quite a handful.

Joey started to recite the chant, realizing too late a blob of ink had landed on a few of the words. Panicking, he improvised what he wanted to say, hoping his Latin was up to snuff.

I summon thee, demon of the highest level. (He said highest because the highest level of Hell belongs to the least evil of the lot. The lowest levels are where the really bad folks go. It was something he’d learned the hard way.)

The circle began to glow red hot, and Joey backed away quickly, hoping against hope whatever came out wouldn’t incinerate him on the spot. There was a whoosh as red hot Hellfire erupted upward. Joey felt his blood run cold despite the heat. That was definitely a bad sign.

He could see the vague figure of a demon in the middle of the inferno. They were tall, much taller than Joey. As the flames died down, the summoner was able to ascertain more details about what he had summoned.

The demon’s hair was as red as the flames lapping at it and stylishly slicked back from his forehead. For a second, Joey thought the gaping black circles on his face were his eyes, but on second glance could see they were sunglasses. The demon wore a full black suit, complete with a gray tie. His hands were stuffed in his pockets but withdrew to steady their owner as he adjusted to his new surroundings. Then he was straightening from the slight slouch he was in and locking eyes with Joey.

Joey held his breath and clutched his ritual book to his chest. Should I call for help? Maybe if I move fast enough I’ll make it to the door. Is this a high-ranking demon? Oh boy, I’ve really put my foot in it now.

The demon stepped out of the circle as the last of the flames died away. He eyed Joey up and down from behind his glasses, sizing him up.

Joey felt he should say something, “Uh…”

“Where am I?” the demon interrupted. He had what Joey believed to be an English accent.

“You’re in Joey Drew Studios.”

The demon rolled his hand, motioning for him to continue, “And that would be in…”

“Oh! New York… in the United States of America!”

The demon threw his head back to sigh loudly, “Of course! It had to be across the blasted ocean!”

He faced forward again and slouched into a more relaxed stance, not at all putting Joey at ease, “Look, I don’t do the whole ‘selling your soul’ thing, alright? And I’m not going to do you any demonic favors, so you can go right ahead and send me back.”

Joey blinked, “Well, uh, okay, Mister…”

“Crowley.” Crowley supplied through gritted teeth.

“...Crowley, I’ll see what I can do, but I don’t think I’ll be able to get the portal up and running right away.”

“And why is that?” Crowley asked after a beat, taking one menacing step forward. Joey took one step back and met with the wall. He pressed his back against it and tried for a reassuring smile.

“I can’t do a ritual immediately after finishing another one. I need time to recharge!”

“You look well enough to me.” the demon said.

“Yes, well, I’ve had practice. But it is always harder to send demons back than to summon them, especially one from so far away a place as… England, right?”

“How long will this recharging take?”

Joey pondered for a few seconds, “I don’t think it should take more than an hour, plus a few extra minutes to get the summoning circle back in order. You’ll be home in no time!”

“I’d better be.” Joey gulped at those ominous words.

“Yeah, uh, sorry again about all this. I just wanted a lesser demon to help me with some paperwork. Not that you’re lesser!” Joey hastened to add, “I just, um… said the wrong words…”

Crowley raised an eyebrow, “You wanted me to help with your... paperwork?”

“Not you! Some demon, yes.” Joey nodded to the stack on his desk, “It was becoming really boring.”

Crowley followed his gaze then turned back to him, ”Let me get this straight: you summoned a demon from Hell to assist you with office work?”

Joey nodded, “Yup!”

The sunglasses on Crowley’s face started to slip down his nose, enough for Joey to see slit-pupiled, yellow eyes underneath. The demon readjusted them and shook his head, “Usually people want me to give them a paper that they sign.”

Joey waved the notion aside, “Oh, I did that a long time ago. Feel free to roam the studio while I get everything back in order! He slapped a hand to his face, “Oh, silly me! You don’t even know what this studio’s for, do you?”

“No, and I don’t care.”

Joey ignored him. Generally, ignoring a demon was not a wise course of action, but Joey tended to get excited when talking about his beloved studio.

“This here’s an animation studio! We create state of the art cartoons for your viewing pleasure. Our title character is even a demon!” Joey gestured to one of the posters on his wall. Crowley gave it a once over then turned back.

“Not really into cartoons.”

Joey gasped loudly, “Not into cartoons?! That’s probably only because you haven’t seen one of ours before. I’ll have to have one of my employees show one to you, or, er, I guess they are all pretty busy…”

Crowley sighed, “Look, I don’t care about this little cartoon empire of yours. I’ve got a lot of work to do myself, back in London. I need you to send me back as soon as possible. Are we clear on that?”

Joey sagged in disappointment but still nodded.

“Perfect. I’m gonna go for a stroll, and when I come back in an hour’s time, I expect the portal to be ready.” The demon snapped his fingers and the door to Joey’s office flung open. Giving Joey one last commanding look, he sauntered out, the door slamming behind him.

Joey noticed he’d kept an iron tight grip on his ritual book and relinquished it now, letting it flop on his desk. He collapsed into his chair and again looked at the stack of paperwork. If it wasn’t for the circle still painted on his floor, Joey might have thought he’d imagined everything.

Alright, now to figure this out. Joey hadn’t been entirely truthful with Crowley. He did need time to recharge, yes, but the summoning had been fairly simple and he would have been okay to perform another ritual when he’d been asked. There was just the simple problem of Joey being not entirely sure what he’d done the first time. The ink blot on the page had forced him to recite Latin on the spot. He had a rough idea of what he’d said, but it had clearly backfired, seeing as how who he’d summoned was definitely not a lesser demon and definitely not one to be trifled with.

It’ll be fine, he told himself, You’ve got this!

For his own sake, he hoped he was right.

[nightingaleandtheredredrose]

Search for a Cookbook

Word Count: 5,628

Fandom: Ozmafia!!

Characters: Lynette, Silas, Manboy, Alfani, Hansel, Gretel, Scarlet, Caramia, Kyrie, Axel, Soh, and OTHERS???? 

Trigger Warnings: None

A/N: (PLEASE READ THIS A/N BEFORE READING THE STORY) This is just a fun, lighthearted fic that I wrote of my two babies so I could better imagine how they would interact with people around town! Also, just a heads up, this is a draft that I’ve kept for a couple of months now, so;;; um;;; The OCs/OC blogs I mention might not be as active as they were before;;; Or they’re just straight out dead;; And to those of you who know what it is, I mentioned the Carroll Famiglia like once for a small joke, but I’m not sure if that project was discarded, so please forgive any mistakes I make. Oh! This also goes for the OCs I included in this story! I tried to write in a good amount of other people’s Ozmafia OCs who would be, more or less, related to the plot. Unfortunately I couldn’t include everyone (b/c I also wanted to make sure each OC had more than one speaking line), so I’m really, really sorry to anyone I left out (T-T) And for those people whose OCs I did include, please forgive me if I accidentally made them OOC;; Since this author’s note has gone on for so long, I’ll give credit to these characters at the end! (^-^) NOW ON WITH THE SHOW!

Upon hearing the tinkle of a small bell and the creak of the door swinging open, Lynette looked up from the register to see who had just walked in. She beamed, delighted to see a familiar face. “Manboy! Nice to see you!” she exclaimed.

Before Manboy could reply, Lynette heard a giggle and the mess of blonde locks that had followed Manboy through the door finally popped up from behind him. “Hello, Lynette~” sang Alfani, cheerily waving at the now less enthused store owner.

“And… you brought Alfani… Wonderful…” The girl couldn’t help but let some of her uneasiness show. It wasn’t as if she hated Alfani, but rather she worried over how he spoke while he was outside of the salon. He had little to no filter, so the possibility of him accidentally letting an innuendo slip through his lips was too high. It didn’t help that the children’s storytime was starting in a few minutes either. Lynette especially didn’t want Alfani to recount any bondage experiences he’d had during The Lion and the Mouse, especially with that many innocent eyes and ears gathered into one room.

Silas wasn’t very fond of Alfani either. Alfani was too grabby, and Silas hated being touched. Thankfully, he was still in the back storeroom searching for the puppet dolls that were going to be used for storytime, but it would only be a matter of time until he came out.

While Lynette weighed the pros against the cons of locking her employee in the storeroom until this storm had passed, Manboy cleared his throat to get her attention. “Good morning, Lynette. I’m sorry to bother you, but I am in need of your services today,” he explained with a slight bow of his head.

Lynette tensed up at this. Her services? This early in the day? But she normally carried out her murders late at night to avoid suspicion.

Seeing her smile falter, Manboy was quick to correct himself. “Ah! Please forgive me, Lynette! I didn’t mean those kind of services. I just came to purchase a book from your store for a… client of mine.”

The smile that had almost slipped off of Lynette’s face reappeared again, topped off with a playfully raised eyebrow. After handing a purchased book to a waiting customer, she leaned across the counter and said, “Oh? A client you say? That was, ah, quite a pause there, Manboy. Sure you’re not hiding something?”

Manboy’s face flushed at the suggestion. Before he could respond, Alfani laughed and threw his arms around him. “My dear Manboy is gonna get a present for his secret sweetheart! Isn’t that cute? Hey, do you wanna know who they are, Lynette? It’s-”

“Al!” Manboy exclaimed before clapping a hand over Alfani’s mouth. “I’m sure Lynette already has her hands full running her bookstore, so we mustn’t take up any more time than necessary.”

Lynette pouted. Darn. She was always down for some juicy love gossip. But no matter. She’ll let it slide this one time for the sake of Manboy’s dignity. “So what’s the book called? I can go check if we have it in stock once you tell me,” she told Manboy, handling another customer’s purchase as she did so. 

“I believe it was called Cooking 101. It had a hundred and one recipes, so it piqued my client’s interest, but they just couldn’t get their hands on it due to their busy schedule. They intended to try some of the recipes out for an event that was coming up as well as just around the household.”

Lynette hummed in thought as she handed the customer their stack of books along with their change. “Now that I think about it, we did have a cookbook on display a couple of weeks ago. I’m guessing your lov- I mean- your client must have seen it while passing by one of our windows?”

Manboy managed a small smile. “They did admit that they saw it on the way to the salon, yes.”

“If you two are talking about Cooking 101, then sorry, but we ran out.”

Everyone looked up to see where the voice had come from. Alfani let out a small gasp and ran over to the newcomer. “Silas! So you were here! Give me a hu- Ow~!”

Silas kept Alfani at a distance by pressing his hand against his face, keeping that one arm extended to fight against the flailing limbs that desperately stretched out to reach him. “No way in hell,” seethed Silas.

Alfani let out a disappointed groan. “Geez, Silas. There’s no need to hold back, y’know. Just throw me to the ground like you usually do!” “There are children around, so I’ll have to refuse.”

“What, seriously? I thought we still had some at the back,” Lynette inquired.

“Miss Lynette, I can’t even tell what we have at the back anymore. It’s such a mess in the storeroom that I only managed to procure the beheaded lion and the dusty mouse.” Silas fished the headless lion puppet out of his apron pocket and tossed it to Lynette.

She in turn forlornly gazed at the poor doll, caressing the bit of stuffing that was sticking out of its now stump of a head. “Poor Mr Caramia. What’s the Oz famiglia gonna do without you now?” murmured Lynette. 

“Are you sure? Can you… check again?” Manboy asked, a hint of desperation in his voice as he did so. 

Silas looked at Manboy for a few moments before sighing, using his unoccupied hand to rub the back of his neck. He began to feel bad for him. “I’m sorry, Mr Manboy, but that was a bestseller of ours. It was especially popular among those in the mafia. Considering all of that, we more than likely have none left in sto-”

Struck by an idea, Lynette suddenly smacked her fist against an open palm. “That’s it! We’ll just ask those people to give us their copy! Easy peasy! We’ll reimburse them and everything! It’s just a book after all!” she declared.

Already tired from the very thought of exercise, Silas grimaced. “Wait, Miss Lynette-”

It was too late; she was on a roll. She hastily stuffed her apron under the counter and grabbed her dark blue hood, slipping it on as she ran towards the door. She gestured for Silas to follow her as she ran in place at the doorway. “C’mon, Silas. You’re coming with me. Give Manboy the keys to the store too; he’s gonna be in charge today.”

Silas hesitated for a moment but then decided it would be best not to say anything. An argument with Lynette would never end, after all.

Instead, he nodded and tossed his keys to Manboy before following after Lynette. 

Manboy just barely caught the keys and shot a panicked look at the escaping shop workers. “Wait! Lynette! I can’t possibly-!”

“Sure you can! I believe in you, Manboy!” encouraged Lynette as she gave him an overly enthusiastic thumbs up.

“No, it’s not an issue with my self esteem that I’m referring to!”

“Oh! Then don’t worry about the fact that it’s a Sunday. Sales tend to dwindle towards the end of the day, so feel free to lock up early. You could just read the book on the counter to the kids since the puppets just kind of, y’know, died. I’m super sorry for having you do this on your day off, but I promise to have that book you want before today ends, okay? Byyeeee~”

“But still-!”

And before he knew it, the pair had run off to who knows where. Manboy sighed and rubbed at his temples. That Lynette… As flighty as ever. If he didn’t know any better he would’ve thought she was just doing this as an excuse to skip work.

Well… No, that was probably one of the reasons she took up his request. He shouldn’t get ahead of himself. But Lynette was also just too selfless for her own good. The fact that she set a solid deadline for the book retrieval was proof enough. Although there was still one more thing that was bothering him.

“How did she figure out that today was my day off?” Manboy wondered aloud.

“Hey, Manboy! Look at this!” Alfani was holding up the book Silas had left on the counter. He had opened it up to the page where the lion lay entangled in the hunter’s net, Alfani’s eyes shining just a tad too brightly for such a scene. “I could be the lion instead! All we need is a net!”

“... Thank you, Al, but for the children’s sake I think we should stick to just reading them the story from the book.”

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1st Stop: Grimm famiglia

Peering out from behind her older brother, Gretel narrowed her eyes at the people who were browsing the bookshelves in the study. “How the hell did they get in here? Hey, Hansel, don’t tell me you let them in again,” she darkly murmured.

Hansel turned his head to look back at her and sheepishly smiled. “Aahh… No, not this time, Gretel. I actually don’t know how they got in unless…” He let out a startled exclamation and snapped his fingers as if he had just realized something. “I got it! There’s an age old tunnel beneath the estate, and they crawled in through that!”

“Actually, I just let them in. They asked me if they could buy back one of Scarlet’s books,” explained Florentia, leaning against a wall near the door. 

Gretel’s glower became worse. “And you let them in for such a flimsy reason?”

“Well… But they asked politely? They won’t do us any harm as far as I’m concerned.”

Overhearing their conversation, Lynette paused mid search to do a little fist pump. “Yeah, we asked politely! Ain’t that right, Silas?”

“Kindness rules,” Silas chimed in with a deadpan voice. 

“Shut up you annoying little bird and you overgrown broccoli head, and find your damn book before I egg your pathetic excuse of a store with my grenades.”

“...Sorry, Miss Gretel.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” And they resumed their search in a more frenzied manner.

Once this pair was dealt with, Gretel again confronted Florentia. “‘They won’t do us any harm’? How can you be so sure? That annoying bird just reeks of disaster (Lynette flinched when she heard this but continued to look through the books). Spending all that time around that cat lady’s place really dulled your senses.”

Instead of getting mad, Florentia’s expression brightened as she came to remember something. “Oh! That’s right! I need to go visit her estate before the day ends. Hmmm, maybe I’ll pick up the others on the way back-”

“Tch. She already stopped listening to me,” Gretel muttered before retreating behind Hansel’s back once more.

Her brother waved farewell to Florentia as she rushed to leave. “See ya, Florentia! I’ll tell Scarlet that you and the others will be late for dinner tonight!”

Florentia smiled and waved back. “That would be great! Thank you, Hansel!”

“Don’t get yourself killed due to your airheadedness.” “Pffft! I doubt I will, but I’ll keep that in mind, Gretel!”

“Hey, Miss Florentia!” Before she could turn the doorknob, Lynette had called out to her which caused her to look back.

“Yes, what is it, Lynette?” she asked.

Lynette gave her a playful wink and said, “Don’t have too much fun over there with Miss Pashet, okay?”

Florentia responded with a small laugh and a wink in return. “Don’t  worry. I have this all under control~” And with that last remark, she left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Silas and Lynette attempted to continue scouring the shelves but stopped when they heard the door opening. The person who had just walked in pushed back his red hood, sighed, and began with, “Hansel. Gretel. I just saw Florentia run by me and-” Scarlet stopped when he noticed that they had visitors. “Ah…”

Silas and Lynette awkwardly waved at the stunned caporegime. “Hey, Mr Scarlet,” Lynette greeted. Silas gave him a small nod.

“Thanks for letting us into your home, Mr Scarlet.”

Scarlet pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t get paid enough to deal with this. “Hansel, did you let them in again?” he asked.

“Eeehhh? First Gretel and now you? Geez~ It’s like none of you trust me,” Hansel said with a huff. He then folded his arms across his chest and turned away pouting.

Although Scarlet felt the need to bring up the other time Hansel allowed these two into the estate (which ended… badly…), he decided to let this go. “I’m sorry, Hansel. You know I didn’t mean it like that. I just…” Seeing that Hansel wasn’t going to turn around anytime soon, Scarlet gave up and spoke to Lynette. “Then if it wasn’t Hansel, was it Florentia?”

Lynette nodded and fidgeted with the ribbons on her arms. “Ah, yes! It was Florentia. She let us in so we can… Umm…” The longer she gazed at Scarlet, the more she remembered how he unknowingly rejected her confession months ago. She blushed in embarrassment and quickly turned her head to clear her throat. “SILAS. WHAT ARE WE HERE FOR AGAIN?”

Silas looked up from his place on the floor to answer. “Do you happen to have the Cooking 101 book, Mr Scarlet? We want to buy it back from you, so we could spice up Mr Manboy’s love life.”

‘Don’t be that honest!’ Lynette mentally reprimanded but forced herself not to say aloud. Instead she let the smile that was already on her face grow uncomfortably wider. Through gritted teeth, Lynette said, “That’s… right!”

“Cooking 101? Hey, Hansel, wasn’t that the book we blew up in our little experiment last week?” Gretel asked, causing Hansel to snap his fingers a second time.

“Ah! That’s right! The one with the weird cover! We used it as fuel for the fire...eheheheh, sorry, Scarlet.”

Upon hearing this news, Silas and Lynette made their way to the door. Time to search somewhere else. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

2nd Stop: Oz famiglia

They were at a standoff. Granted, it was four against one (so it was a pretty pathetic scene) , but it was a standoff nevertheless.

Caramia stood on one side of the dining table while everyone else stood on the other. He protectively held his cookbook to his chest and gave his opposition a shaky smile. “Ca-Can we calm down just for a minute here?”

Despite his words, Silas and Lynette already had their hands up in the form of an odd battle stance, ready to grab the hardcover from his arms. There was a dangerous glint in Lynette’s eyes as she replied, “Not an option, Mr Caramia. I just spent two hours searching for a book that had already been blown up, so I don’t want to waste anymore time than I have to! Give it up already! … Please.”

Kyrie stood a couple ways off from this scene with his arms folded against his chest. He scoffed. “Just stop being the shitty idiot lion that you are and hand over that book of yours. It’s not as if your meals have become any less inedible because of it. Honestly-” His gaze darkened as he raised his head, a fist poised under his chin. “You’re acting like a pitiful orphan going to get their precious toy snatched by a gang of older children who are just waiting to beat you senseless. For amusement of course.”

“You could have just said I was acting childish! Ah, geez, why did you have to make it that dark, Kyrie?”

Kyrie huffed and turned to leave the room. “I’m terribly sorry; did I hear something? The cries of the pitiful orphan simply do not reach my ears~” And then he was gone.

Caramia sighed. “Well, I didn’t expect Kyrie to help me in the first place. But Axel! At least you’re on my side, right?”

The caporegime hesitated for a moment. He was debating between pointing out that fact that he was obviously standing on the side opposite to his don or staying quiet and obediently joining Caramia. His sweets were at stake here; Axel couldn’t afford another ban on his life source. Eventually, he decided to just let him down easy, also not finding it in his heart to lie to him. “Boss. As much as I hate to say it… Kyrie is ri-rig-righ-” Axel coughed. “You’re acting like a child. I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

Everybody could see Caramia’s heart breaking before their eyes. He stumbled a few steps back, clutching at his chest with an unoccupied hand. This… Is this what betrayal felt like? His own men turning against him? With a hollow voice, Caramia asked, “Axel… How could you?” Then he gritted his teeth. “Why don’t any of you understand? This has become more than a book to me. It’s opened my eyes to new cuisines, it’s helped me perfect my old recipes-”

“What’s… going on here?” a voice called out from the kitchen entrance. Running a hand through her long blue hair in an effort to smooth it down, Nana stood in the open doorway with a flustered expression. Kyrie had told her that there was something she had to take care of in the kitchen; he implied that it was urgent so she ran all the way there, but she was honestly unsure on what to make of the scene before her. 

Lynette grinned. “Perfect timing, Miss Nana! Help us wrangle the book from your fiancé’s hands!” she said.

“‘Wrangle the book’? But why-?”

Caramia smiled as well. “Good afternoon, Amore mio. Will you please call them off? You know how much this book means to me, right?”

“Huh?! Ah, yes, but-”

This then prompted Lynette to turn an accusatory finger on Caramia. Deep down she knew that this was the time to stop, but she unknowingly got swept up in the rush of this senseless argument. “But does that book mean more to you than the very love of your life?!” Lynette placed a hand to the side of her mouth and spoke in a loud whisper. “Miss Nana! This is your chance! Try to convince him to let go of the book by using your charms!”

Nana was at a bypass. On one hand, she wanted to take her lover’s side. She loved Caramia after all, and all this fuss over a simple book just wasn’t worth it. On the other hand, though, Nana had become curious. How exactly did she measure up to that book?

Her curiosity won out in the end, and she stepped forward. Nana fiddled with her earrings as she asked, “Caramia… Please forgive me if it’s rude to ask, but how much does that book mean to you? I’m sure you may have had many wonderful memories with it, but…” She meant to continue, but her voice faltered, and her gaze slowly lowered to the ground in shame. Nana couldn’t do it; she couldn’t bring herself to guilt trip Caramia. 

She let out a small gasp when she felt someone’s fingers interlace with her own. Caramia had set the book onto the table and walked over to Nana in order to grasp her hands in his. He gave her a gentle smile. “Nana, you know you mean more to me than Cooking 101. It’s just a… silly… little… book.” He coughed before continuing, almost as if it had physically hurt him to admit that. “You mean the world to me, Nana. Please don’t ever forget that.”

With tears brimming in her eyes, Nana responded with a choked up, “Caramia-!”

“Now’s the time, Silas! Let’s grab the book while he’s distracted!”

“NO, WAIT! KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF THAT BOOK!”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

3rd Stop: Falada 

Silas and Lynette sat at a table in the Falada café. Lynette had her head in her hands while Silas angrily munched on his fifth salad. 

“I’m… really sorry that I made you go after Mr Caramia alone,” Lynette began.

Silas shoved another forkful of lettuce into his mouth. “Don’t bother mentioning it.”

Lynette winced at his cold tone of voice. Yikes. She had really messed up this time. She had initially meant to snatch the book as well, but Silas had been the first to reach it. Unfortunately, this prompted Caramia to pounce on him like, well, a lion on meat, which ended in a few bruises and a dejected Silas and Lynette being shown the door. She sighed. “I’m sorry for being such an awful person, Silas. I know I should’ve stopped before things got out of hand.”

All she was met with in response was some miffed chewing noises. “Gah… How do I make it up to you, Silas? Do you want me to throw you an apology party or something?”

“Do we even have enough money for that?”

“I-I’ll take out a loan? That’s a thing, right?”

Their table shook when Liesl suddenly dropped a heavy book onto it, causing the pair to jump in their seats. Liesl brushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and sighed. “Here you go! Cooking 1001! You would not believe the stack of cookbooks and recipe sheets I had to go through in order to-”

“Wait. Cooking 1001? I’m sorry, Liesl, but we were looking for Cooking 101,” corrected Lynette.

Silas poked at the side of the thicc hardcover with the other end of his fork, marveling at how many pages there were. “There are 1001 recipes in here?” he muttered. “Who could possibly have that much free time?”

Liesl gave Silas a weary smile as she took back her book. “Apparently I do since I wasted a good thirty minutes trying to find the wrong book.”

“Been there,” Lynette remarked.

Liesl let out a little grunt as she readjusted the book in her arms. “Well, if it’s Cooking 101 you’re looking for, I would suggest the Stivali estate. I think I lent it to… Bercy? The cat boy with the earmuffs?”

Silas and Lynette nodded. Of course they remembered who Bercy was; they had placed bets on him when they first met him. They debated on what Bercy could possibly be hiding under his seemingly useless earmuffs. They still hadn’t figured it out yet, but Silas guessed that he was hiding a skin condition. Lynette, on the other hand, theorized that Bercy had a secret set of human ears in addition to his cat ones and that he wore earmuffs to save himself from embarrassment. 

“Yes, I lent it to him for the day. You could go pick it up from him, and pay me back when you two return with my book.”

Lynette quickly rose from her seat, throwing her chair back with a clatter. “Well what are we waiting for?! We need to get over there before the sun starts setting! C’mon, Silas!”

Silas shot Lynette a worried look as he also stood up. “Miss Lynette? Aren’t you also going to eat? We’ve been running around since morning, remember?”

“There’s no time to eat! Let’s go! Bye, Liesl! Thanks for everything!”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

4th Stop: Stivali/Boots famiglia

As the pair approached the castle-like estate, they heard a violent rustling  sound coming from above which startled some birds out of a tree. Both of them tensed, bracing themselves for an attack.

Seeing a flash of brown and green hurtle towards the ground, Silas warned Lynette to watch out. Lynette did so and quickly backed away from the tree, her fingers already wrapped around the handles of her daggers within her sheaths. She was aware of the Sunday Compromise, but she had no idea what she was dealing with. It was best to err on the side of caution just for now.

The cat lady who had just dropped in (ha) stood up from her landing position. The large bell in her hair jingled as she moved to draw her sword with narrowed eyes. “You there! Both of you! State your names, famiglia affiliations, and business before I cut you down!” she declared.

Lynette grinned and Silas relaxed. Oh, it was just Hazel. 

“Oh, c’mon, Hazel! You remember us! It’s Lynette and Silas from the bookstore!” Lynette chirped.

Silas gazed at the sword tip that was pointed at them with a bored look in his eyes. “You really shouldn’t be waving that thing around, Miss Hazel. The Sunday Compromise is in effect today.” ‘Plus it’s not as if you can actually kill us.’ was what he wanted to add, but it sounded too much like a challenge that Hazel would be more than willing to take.

This seemed to break her composure a bit. Hazel became red in the face and growled in frustration, resheathing her sword. “Fi-Fine. It doesn’t matter anyway. I could still beat you two in unarm- Wait, hey! You still haven’t given me your business, you spies!” she shouted, peeved that they had almost led her off topic.

Lynette raised her open palms in self defense. “We just came to pick up the cookbook Liesl lent to Bercy.”

Hazel shook her head. “No can do. Only the don can allow non-famiglia members into the estate. We put up pretty strict security measures to protect against intruders like you two.”

Despite how harsh Hazel’s tone had become, Lynette couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the implication that Pashet was out. “Oh? And where exactly is Miss Pashet right now? Out of the estate, I presume?” she teasingly asked, already having a good idea where the don could possibly be. 

The blush on Hazel’s face deepened as she became even more flustered. “Tha-That’s none of your business! The don’s whereabouts are highly classified informa-”

“Perhaps Miss Pashet is having an enjoyable time in town. Pulled along by a certain Grimm famiglia member, I presume?” suggested Silas.

“Mrow!! You two really are spies! Both of you better leave Stivali territory before I run you off myself!”

Watching Hazel getting ready to charge, Lynette urgently tugged at Silas’ sleeve. “Hey, did we buy any bread from Falada while we were there? That would be real handy right now,” she whispered.

Silas stared at her straight in the eyes. “You saw me eat five servings of salad, did you not?”

The two exchanged panicked glances before reaching a silent agreement, nodding, and making a break for it.

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5th Stop: Soh’s Food Stall

“And then we tried going over to the Adelheids, but Miss Heidi told us to go away too! Then Silas recommended we try the- the- What’s the name of that other famiglia? Y’know, the song famiglia?” asked Lynette.

“Are you referring to the Carroll famiglia, Miss Lynette?”

“Yeah, fa la la la la. Deck the halls. The Carol famiglia.”

“It’s a different type of carroll, Miss Lynette. With two r’s and two l’s,” corrected Silas.

“What, seriously? Well anyway, we decided against going there in the end. I didn’t think any of them would’ve bought that book in the first place. Some of them give me a bad vibe for some reason too,” explained Lynette with a shudder.

Silas and Lynette now sat at a table next to Soh’s food stall. The sun was already beginning to set, so Soh was in the process of packing up shop as he listened to their story. Lillian was also there, sitting across from them as she gave them a sour look over her cup of coffee. “Why did you even try to ask Miss Heidi to give you anything? All she gives us is work and cheap silverware to defend ourselves,” she bitterly remarked.

Well that explained why Lynette had often seen Lillian tote around things like forks while walking around town. Lynette had just assumed it was a cleanliness issue, like the forks at restaurants being too filthy to eat with.

Soh walked over to their table with his hands clasped behind his back. “Uwah, that sounds tough, Lyn-Lyn. So you were both running all over town just to find the book for Boy-Boy, huh?”

“Mmmm… But in the end we couldn’t find a single copy.” Lynette sighed. “Maybe I could ask some of the townspeople if they have the book? But where would I even start?”

Lillian furrowed her brow in concern as she watched Lynette’s face fall. “Why did you even take up the offer in the first place? Aren’t you already plenty busy with your bookstore?” she asked.

“Y’know how bad I am at turning down favors. It was also Manboy who had asked me for something. He doesn’t deserve any more disappointment. And the bookstore’s doing fine without us. Manboy’s watching over everything.”

Silas took a sip of his tea. “With Mr Alfani,” he added.

“Oh… yeah… him too…”

There was an uncomfortable silence that followed that was spent worrying about the bookstore’s reputation. Hopefully it would still be family friendly when they got back.

Soh broke the silence by cheerily announcing, “Well, anyway, I have a little surprise for you, Lyn-Lyn!”

“What is it?” 

“Eheheh, you’ll have to guess-!” 

Throwing her chair back with a clatter, Lynette growled, “DAMMIT, SOH, I HAVE BEEN TO HELL AND BACK-”

“Ah!! I get it, I get it! I’ll just show it you then, so calm down!”

With a grin, Soh brought out Cooking 101 from behind his back. “Ta-dah! Here, you can give my copy of the book to Boy-Bo- Whoa!” Lynette tackled Soh with a hug mid sentence.

Having underwent a sudden change of heart, she sobbed, “Thank you, Soh! Thank you so much!”

As Soh laughed and tried to politely wriggle out of Lynette’s iron grip, Silas nonchalantly leaned across the table to whisper to Lillian. “Kind of wish you were in Miss Lynette’s position over there, right, Miss Lillian?” he murmured, fully aware of Lillian’s crush on Soh.

Although she felt the urge to punch Silas for even suggesting such things, Lillian too had information she could use to her advantage. She raised her cup to her lips and cooly replied, “O-Oh? From your point of view, I would have thought being in Soh’s position would seem more favorable. Being that close to Lynette, I mean.”

Silas maintained his usual neutral expression but couldn’t help the sudden burning at the tips of his ears. “Touché.”

They drank their beverages in mutual embarrassment. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Final Stop: The Bird’s Bookshelf

By the time Silas and Lynette returned to their bookstore it was already nighttime. Thankfully they had enough time to stop by a gift-wrapper on the way there and handed the prettily decorated bag to Manboy.

He took it from them, his mouth slightly agape as he pulled Cooking 101 out of the tissue paper. “You actually found a copy…” he said in disbelief, causing Lynette to grin.

“Was there any doubt?” she replied.

“Yea. A bit :/”

“Ah, no, of course not, Lynette. Thank you both for getting this for me.”

While Manboy bowed to show his appreciation, Silas glanced over the man’s shoulder, trying to peer through the windows of the seemingly empty bookstore. “Where did Mr Alfani go? Gone with the wind?” he queried. 

“He got bored soon after you two left. Don’t worry; he didn’t cause too much trouble in your store.”

Lynette sighed in relief. “Thank goodne-” She tried taking a few steps forward but ended up stumbling instead. Huh? Why was she suddenly dizzy? She heard Manboy call out her name in worry, and she responded with a shaky nod as she tried to regain her balance. “Yeah- yeah- I’m fine. I ju-” Lynette lost consciousness mid-sentence. Silas barely managed to catch her before her face met the pavement below. He didn’t have the quickest of reflexes, but the way Lynette ran around all day while also skipping meals made him guess that this was going to happen eventually.

After he had hoisted Lynette onto his back, Silas bowed to Manboy. “Thank you for watching over our store, Mr Manboy. Good luck with your gift giving.”

Manboy hummed in thought as a response, smiling at the scene before him.

“What is it? Did you need something else?”

“Ah, no!” Manboy then smiled. “It appears you’ve become kinder, Silas. Back when you used to work at the sal-” Silas’ eyes widened. Images of looming shadows and bruising hands came to mind, causing him to cut Manboy off. 

“Please don’t ever bring that up. Not around here. Not ever.”

Although he was taken aback by Silas’ outburst, Manboy noted the pain that entered his eyes the moment he began to talk about the salon. He felt ashamed for even mentioning it. Of course that was a sensitive topic for him.  “I’m sorry, Silas. Please have a good rest of your evening.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Silas felt Lynette stir as he walked across the bookstore.

Her eyes opened halfway, and her voice was small as she called Silas’ name. “Yes?” he responded, stopping in place.

“Did I… do something good today? I felt like I was more of a nuisance than anything else,” she asked.

Silas moved to pat her head but decided against it. If he let her go, she’ll fall too. Instead, he settled for a light bump of the side of his head against the one that laid upon his shoulder. “You always are a nuisance. But you made Mr Manboy happy, so there’s that,” he replied.

Lynette hummed contently and more tightly wrapped her arms around Silas, startling him. “That’s good… that’s good… Thanks for everything, Silas. Especially when it comes to putting up with me.”

He tried to ignore the sudden racing of his heart as he answered back, “I’ve gotten used to it, Miss Lynette. Don’t worry too much about me.”

A/N: All canon characters belong to Poni-Pachet! I’m not going to @ the creators of the OCs I used b/c I don’t want to bother all of them, but I will of course still mention their usernames! Florentia belongs to yukinonshi (OC blog is grimm-casablanca), Nana belongs to lavendel080 (OC blog is marchenland), Liesl belongs to meilc, Hazel belongs to minoux (OC blog is house-of-fables), and Lillian belongs to quirkless-wonders (OC blog is bearwiththe-goldenheart)! Lynette and Silas belong to me! Thank you all for making such wonderful OCs; it was really fun trying to write for them! Thanks to anyone who read this whole mess as well! Y’all are the real MVPs today! (*≧∀≦*)

[purplesurveys]

529

Trigger warning for the entire survey lols

hows your life at the moment? Tough. Not great. My friend passed away. I see him in everything; every song is about him; all my thoughts are him. There isn’t a day I haven’t cried since finding out. I miss him, and nothing can heal this grief for the meantime. what are you doing? This, remembering Nacho, staying up, on the phone with my girlfriend. who was the last person to call you? Gabie is on the line with me at the moment. is there anyone that you love and hate? No. do watch funny tvshows like family guy and south park? South Park was never funny to me, but there are references in Family Guy that have made me crack up in the past. It’s very select, though. The two aren’t really my type of comedy.

what color are your toenails at the moment? I never paint my toenails. < have you ever had a close friend move away? Yeah, Aubrey suddenly moved to the US in senior year of high school. We had gotten really close when we were juniors so it was a real sucky shock when she dropped the news to me and told me she only had a few weeks left in the PH before leaving forever. what was the last thing you said aloud? I was telling Gab how unfortunate it is that I always seem to be wearing more shabby outfits whenever I see our mutual friend who dresses very well. I saw her at Starbucks today and lo and behold I had a lazy outfit on HAHAHAHA. Oh well. how many friends do you trust fully? I trust all of them. It’s when they abuse it that I can easily cut off that trust. who was the last person to hug you? Jo. I was surprised she reached in for a hug this morning considering SHE HATES THEM. But then again Nacho passed, and everyone’s been giving everybody hugs lately in the college. have you let someone down recently? I feel like I let Nacho down. I hope I didn’t, but that’s between me and me now. I just wish I did something more. has someone let you down recently? Me lmao are you upset about anything at all? If the overarching theme of this survey isn’t clear enough yet - YES!!! what are you looking forward to? El Camino on Netflix, bitch. That’s the only good thing I have going for me. Oh and finishing part uno of my thesis.  quick lyrics from the last song you heard.. I forget what the last song I listened to was at the moment. have you ever had a friend choose their bf over you? Yes, but I don’t mind. I would typically do the same, unless said friend is in an emergency situation or genuinely needs me. when was the last time you took a shower? This morning before heading to class. who is your favorite female celebrity? Kristen Stewaaaaaart. were you nervous on your first day of highschool? I think I was, but I’ve mostly forgotten freshman year. three words to describe your bestfriend: Gab is intelligent, insightful, and ambitious. Angela is approachable, generous, and hilarious. what is your latest reason to be mad? Our President (yes, Duterte) attended Nacho’s wake and halted the entire wake for an hour just because of his appearance. It became all about him and no one was allowed to either go in or out of the room for that period of time - not even Nacho’s friends who came to see him and say goodbye. There was a huge barrage of police all over the damn place and it pissed everybody beyond belief - even Nacho’s fucking mom was barred from seeing her son and she was forced to be at the back of the room along with everyone else just because of this dipshit President who felt the need to have an entire security team with him to go to the wake of someone who completely fucking despised his guts when he was still alive. who have you talked to on the phone today? Just my girlfriend. what color shirt do you have on? Navy green. are you literally afraid of anyone? Rapists, I guess. where are all of your friends right now? I’m sure they’re all at home/dorms. Either that or studying in a coffee shop. what is today? Wednesday. who was the last person to tell you a secret? Kate. make a wish. right now. anything. I want Nacho back. do you know who harriett tubman was and what she did? Yes. what kind of mascara do you use? I dunno. It’s been a while. do you own a pea coat? I don’t need any in this climate. which team are you going for in the super bowl? Nope. if you had to live at one of your bestfriend’s houses, where would u live? Angela’s. Her family treats me like family already, anyway. how are you on this fine day? Day 4 of grieving. It’s not getting any better, especially when everyone else is just as sad. The week kind of came through by giving me all the deadline extensions I mentally asked for, so am thankful to my profs for that haha. Still shitty nonetheless. My girlfriend’s great-grandmother passed away too. 2019 is out to give everybody a harder time before ending, I guess. who did you last take a picture with? Kate. who was the last person to comfort you? Jo. who was the last person to unsurprisingly disappoint you? My mom, lmaoooooo. who was the last person to get on your nerves? Filipino drivers. who was the last person you saw? Chesca. sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare? Hehehehehe I appreciate the Beyoncé reference, thanks. are there any stressful situations in your life? Right now? Stressful is a bit of an understatement. what are your plans for tomorrow? Do thesis, do other homework, study for next week’s exams. are you missing anyone at the moment? Way too much. if you answer a question wrong in class, does it embarrass you? Yes, it’s why I don’t recite - so I don’t have to be wrong lol. can you love and hate someone? It’s possible, but I myself am incapable of doing that. It’s one or the other, for me. I can love someone and be disappointed in them, but never love and hate at the same time. what was the last movie you watched fully? Hello, Love, Goodbye. are you currently hung up on anyone? Nope. single ladies or constant relationship people? ??? how many missed calls do you have on your cell phone? Within the past week, two. do your parents annoy you? My mom does. what color looks best on you? Black, navy green, maroon. are you jealous of anyone? More envious than jealous. what’s your favorite Lady Gaga song? SPEECHLESS Favorite Lady Gaga lyrics? Anything from Speechless. Seriously. Way underrated. where was the last place you went? Starbucks, to study for a few hours. what was the last thing to make you laugh? We were sharing stupid stories about Nacho yesterday to lighten up the mood, like how he was dressed up head to toe in Uniqlo in his casket HAHAHA. We’ve also come to develop our own conspiracy theory for laughs that Nacho actually just moved to Germany so he can finally achieve his dream of becoming fluent in German and that the person we saw in the coffin wasn’t him, and that he’s not actually gone. I found comfort in that and it’s helped me cope with the loss, and I’m sure it’s helped others too. He would’ve found the jokes funny, anyway. is letting go hard for you? Yes. any last words? I’m exhausted. I miss you, Nach.

[neven-ebrez]

Meta Writing: "Finding balance as a television viewer and academic, a look at viewing under the narrative lens versus the psychological lens"

I’ve spoken on Supernatural’s utilization of a mirrored narrative to tell the repressed story of its main characters many times. My blog is full of these essays and discussions.  As a meta writer for Supernatural, this is what I've focused on writing over the years because I found this to be where the complete “full picture” of the story of the show was to be seen.  If Sam and Dean weren't openly talking about their issues then one could simply look at the monster/victim character foils within the MOTW episodes and listen to them talk where Sam and Dean either wouldn't or couldn't.  If one wanted to understand the main characters and their situation better, the show practically forces one to do this.  Or rather, I should say, I felt it forced me to do this.  And for a long time I got used to looking at the show through this type of narrative lens, where practically everything told the story of something else.  I wasn't looking at Charlie Bradbury anymore, I was looking at a narrative mirror for the issues of Sam and Dean in 9x04, where the witch symbolized codependency and Dorothy wasn’t a woman trapped by her own mechanics, but rather a sounding board for Sam and Dean trapped by their own.  

I must say, it's not a terribly fun way of looking at the show, but I thought, back then, a practically necessary one. Supernatural is post modern, after all, and frequently has episodes pointing out its own function as a story.  Robbie Thompson did this a lot (9x18 is forever one of my favorite episodes) and I remember someone asking Robbie about the mirrors of 8x11 on Twitter back in the day, where 8x11-8x16 represented one of the most blatant romantic coded arcs Dean and Cas has ever been given in the structure (as viewed through the "narrative lens", but I'm getting there!).  The person asking Robbie what his intent with the mirror was was clearly viewing the show the way I was (with the narrative lens) so I was curious as to Robbie's answer.  And when Robbie did answer, I remember being disappointed.  He told the person, "That's just how I saw the story of Charlie and Glinda."  This was a recognizing of the what I’m going to call the psychological lens (the surface, real life), but not the narrative one.  No acknowledging of how they functioned in that arc as a narrative mirror for Dean and Cas, nothing.  I felt that as a writer using such a structure it was almost his duty to at least acknowledge it.  But it was like... none of them ever did. Supernatural clearly used it, hell, still uses it, but it's only ever mentioned in passing, in showrunner interviews and the like.  

Probably every documented case of anyone with creative content creation control referencing it (the mirror narrative) is on this blog.  Back then, I was very obsessed with validating what I was seeing in any way I could.  It was like figuring out a secret, a mystery, a truth I absolutely knew to be real and then gathering as much evidence as I could to prove it because people were telling me that I was wrong and I knew I wasn't.  Stuff like 9x15 even bent characterization to cater to it, to sometimes the complete confusion of the actors.  And so that's what meta became to me.  Using the narrative lens I viewed and wrote on the narrative structure at length, writing standalone essays on the matter, discussing it in threads and speculating using the structure to extrapolate how likely certain plotlines were.  Sometimes you're right, sometimes you're wrong, but usually not about the big stuff, the stuff a season was building towards.  The longer I studied the show the better the better I got at recognizing its patterns of repeat.  And for minds like mine, with autism, which are best suited for pattern, these patterns just come so naturally.  For me Supernatural is honestly so predictable, for many reasons, the most of damning of which is right in the structure and its inability to go past a certain point.

I say this word a lot, "structure".  My family hates it.  What I really mean is its overall design.  When I talk about the structure of a car I'm talking about how it looks: the color, the features, the durability, the points of safety, whether it drives smoothly or not.  Things like that.  When I talk about the structure of a story I'm talking about how it looks as well: how it is paced, the significance of the characters involved and whether they and the themes involved within the story itself "teach" the main characters anything, what relationships are formed and how they transform each individual character, (and for visual mediums) the overall visual presentation of light/color, how the setting visually informs what the characters are doing or saying, what the characters are designed to learn through the show pointing out such steps in various ways and then cleanly implementing traditional arcs that change them in some way (usually to betterment, but not always).  All this is structure, a story's design.  Visual mediums like theatre and television have an obvious visual element meant to be incorporated, designed to support (and not work in place of) the story being told. Analyzing a book is not the same thing as analyzing a television show.  Analyzing a television show is much, much more complicated.  Books contain one author and one editor (usually).  Intent and meaningful storycraft is usually easy to decipher. If design in detail matters, the author provides that information. Television, on the other hand, involves hundreds of people refining and creating on a tight deadline. This makes deciphering meaningful story intent particularly tricky.

Discussing the structure, the story telling elements, using that knowledge to speculate or write essays giving a reading of the text (what the term “meta” generally refers to) is what we'd call viewing the show through a "narrative lens", or rather, in the case of television, a "television lens".  It's when you watch the story and realize that you are not looking at real life.  This is easier for something like cartoons (moreso when humans are completely absent), but a little harder for the brain to actively distinguish when looking at something that could *almost be real* (as in, live action people in a familiar setting).  Understanding how fictional rules are different from real life is only half the story though because real life must be accounted for in visual storytelling. I’ll explain what I mean because I’m not talking about behind the scenes stuff. Since being sent an ask about the current state of the meta community (which I still occasionally write for but don’t personally follow anymore aside from following my friends @mittensmorgul and @elizabethrobertajones) I’ve been thinking about this a lot. The fact that we’ve lost a lot of voices over the years as a community of narrative academics is, I think, the root of the challenge currently facing the meta community.  With so many lost voices and angles there's a significant sort of echo chamber that begins when you get people together that all view the show through the same lens against a lack of diverse readings.  In this case, the narrative lens and the Destiel reading.  You see, the problem is the show, as it exists now, isn't always so rigidly written through the narrative lens like it was in Carver era, it's now written primarily through the real life lens.  I find this to be especially true in Dabb era showrunning.  

Regarding the meta writing community and the fandom's two main shipping sides, there’s also a huge disconnect, fostered over YEARS of discord in acknowledging subtext designed by writers for both factions, both readings, and, of course, the arguments over intent (which is usually unknowable unless a public record is made and even then a lot of academics ascribe to “Death of the Author”, particularly given the collaborative nature of television production, so...). Wincest subtext gets scoffed at or ignored, derided for not standing a chance at being canon by the Destiel side and the Wincest side often mocks the Destiel side in such a profound way (pun intended) as to suggest (or outright say) the subtext isn’t even there at all to mean anything in the first place (which is ridiculous).  Again and again I also see (and it's never really worded this way) a disconnect over the lens the show is viewed with: narrative (televison) vs psychological (real life).  The most major arguments I see are between fans watching for the Wincest reading and using the psychological lens versus fans watching for the Destiel reading and using the narrative lens.  

There’s rarely any common ground between these two distinct groups, with the Wincest psychological viewers acting more as critics than providing anything resembling essays of their own.  Maybe they are out there.  I haven’t seen them.  Most “good” Wincest meta died out relatively early. We, as a viewing and academic community, are a house divided in so, so many ways, even on each side of the chasm.  Maybe I have no right to make this post. I don’t know. I don't like things that treat fandom like it's something to be picked apart and examined. This kind of examination makes me... uncomfortable. I keep thinking about that ask the other day asking me what is going on in the meta community though. So I'm going to try and tackle it.  The fact is... we are not a whole and we are not supposed to be. That’s the point. Getting a single exact read off any text, let alone getting a group of people on the same page to watch with the same lens, is practically impossible.  But lately the divide and inbalance has gotten to be so bad that we aren’t even talking to one another anymore, not really. We are all just yelling a lot of misunderstandings back and forth. So... what is happening to the meta community? I'm going to try and talk about it.

Okay.  So I've explained what structure is and what a lens is.  So now I'm going to talk about balance because the current issue plaguing the meta community is a lack of voices discussing and viewing things in balanced way. And I'm going to focus on ship related meta writing because let's face it, that's where a lot of the most passionate arguing is.  Since meta is usually written with a bias for a certain reading we most often get four distinct readings:

A --The Narrative lens: Wincest

B --The Narrative lens: Destiel

C --The Psychological lens: Wincest

D --The Psychological lens: Destiel

Post S12 when Dabb era started I personally made the decision to switch from writing/watching through B to D instead.  A narrative lens focuses on things like mirroring, set design, character arc reading.  A psychological lens focuses on things like characterization (usually with a focus on where a character is and not how they are designed to change), seeing the characters as real people, rather than narrative constructs.  Lynn from Fangasm is a good example here and I don’t think she’d mind me mentioning her here.  Lynn, as a psychologist by trade and J2 fan by choice, views the show through a Wincest psychological reading, in total opposite from me in Carver era Supernatural, viewing with a narrative Destiel lens.  We disagreed on a lot on stuff as you can imagine.  I read her from time to time but she didn’t read me. Now, sometimes viewing one lens too much can make you blind to other things (not limited to readings).  Frequently she’d hate and not understand things that I felt were explained perfectly as viewed through my lens.  It's the difference in seeing Charlie Bradbury personally go through some stuff vs seeing Sam and Dean's issues elaborated on in the complex abstract.  However, for me, post S11 I found myself way too stuck in the narrative lens.  I felt I wasn't even seeing or experiencing the show the way it was designed anymore.  And I wasn't.  And being that Supernatural is part of my job I knew I had to reorient myself.

In Dabb era in particular, there's text and communication between the characters, which means that a narrative lens isn't strictly needed for viewing anymore.  When S12 was airing I had the absolute pleasure of meeting Robert Berens and talking to him at length about meta.  My friends @ibelieveinthelittletreetopper​ and @nicky36​ were with me and the post is on my blog somewhere.  Berens is my absolute favorite writer for the show.  I talked to him about the narrative lens and how stuff like what he wrote about Mary leaving in 12x03 lost its emotional resonance with me because I knew she was leaving for contractual reasons, rather than general characterization ones.  It was a problem with me, rather than a problem with the writing itself.  It's watching a puppet show and instead of paying attention to the story, staring at the strings the whole time.  I knew I had to learn to stop that even before talking about it to anyone.  We also talked about 9x06, which was my favorite S9 episode as a Cas fan!  I remember I talked about the season's theme of consent issues and I mentioned something from the divine reviews I wrote about a consent reference 9x06 made through a pop culture reference about the sex practices this random island had.  He wrote the episode and chose this island to reference.  I thought surely he knew what I was talking about.  I was complimenting his cleverness, after all.  And I'll never forget what he said to me: "You know, meta writers are often far more clever than the writers are themselves."  It means we, as pattern seekers to themes (in the case of S9, consent themes), can pick out any kind of pattern if we are simply looking hard enough for it.  And some things that we think are intentional, are simply coincidental, even within the written screenplay. After talking to Robert Berens that day I never looked at meta writing the same way again and began to work towards switching my viewing lens.

That's not to say viewing the show through the narrative lens is bad, or wrong. It's valid and a fucking important way to view the show, but equally important is realizing that sometimes you need to take a step back and consider other readings and lenses, too.  So I stopped focusing on pop culture references and their thematic associations.  I stopped looking at the set design as a primary storytelling point and regaled it to a secondary support point.  I stopped looking at who Dean and Cas were mirroring and started looking at what they themselves were actually saying to each other, doing together.  I realized that all the mirrors in the world didn’t matter if Dean and Cas weren’t actually talking to one another and physically in the same scenes together.  All the romantic coding in the world through the visual presentation and mirror structure would not take the place of real life escalation.  And I found looking at it and talking of the show in this manner, was getting beyond exhausting, especially when I ended up saying the same thing over and over.  Carver era made the narrative lens necessary to view Destiel, while Dabb era has made it practically irrelevant. Even now I can still see these storytelling elements and comment on them in passing but mostly for me they started working like an overlay in tandem.  And it provided something I hadn't had in a lot time watching: clarity.

Concerning mirroring, I've seen that often the Cas!fan Destiel side focuses too much on this (like I used to) through the narrative lens because Misha isn’t a lead therefore Cas isn’t in every episode so he often exists in this narrative space within the mirrored structure of the show (also called us seeing Destiel parallels).  Through the continued use of the mirrored narrative, the show makes it so Cas fans (who watch primarily for Cas) must look for him there when he’s not physically present in the episode, desperately so in some cases. A Wincest reading, however, has the benefit of J2 being leads and present in every episode, with the reading enjoying touchstone psychology updates/deepening usually in every episode (though yes, Sam/Dean scenes have been cut drastically this year because of contractual reasons). Mirrors for the brothers (good and bad) are easily ignored completely (unless extremely heavy handed) because they are physically there for each other in every episode. Because of this priority watching divide (and handicap on the Cas fan’s side) I believe this has lead some meta writers to focusing too heavily on this element of Supernatural’s storytelling (or otherwise the symbolic narrative), to the point they sometimes even focus on it over Cas’ physical presence without really realizing it.  And other fans do the opposite and/or ridicule them.  And both types of fans and focuses are what I'd call being "out of balance".

On the flip side of discussing the impracticality of viewing primarily through a narrative lens, I'm going to also discuss how it's impossible to view solely through a psychological one, like so many “antis” in Supernatural fandom do.  How many times have we heard, "You are disrespecting the character's sexuality by doing your analysis!  Dean says he's straight so you must accept he is!"?  I know I've seen it a lot.  It's heavy on the fans that favor a Wincest reading through a psychological lens. This type of argument treats the character, Dean in this case, as REAL, instead of a fictional construct subject to other mechanics within storytelling.  This is because the fan is viewing the show primary through a psychological lens and thinks the same ethnics of real life people apply to fictional constructs such as Dean Winchester. This is simply not true.  You don’t judge a real life person’s sexuality based on the colors of their shirt!  What’s wrong with you?  It is quite impossible to disrespect a fictional character. As a viewer/academic, you can only really feel your understanding of them is being disrespected.  In the end, Dean is still very much a fictional construct and thus, is not subjected to being viewed strictly under a psychological lens especially since a medium of storytelling like television and screenplay use visual elements and other narrative devices to also tell the story of the character.

Mel sent me several old posts with some examples. In real life the mailman damaging my mail and delivering it late one day isn’t symbolic of my messed up internal issues as a person. It’s just a crap thing that merely happened one day (even if I muse it feels like my own personal symbolism). I, unlike Dean, also don’t put on the same shirt every time I’m about to make a bad decision.  When May rolls around I don't worry about the world maybe coming to an end each year, but Sam and Dean probably dread it.  When I decorate and paint my walls I'm looking to create a certain pleasing aesthetic for the sake of it being pleasing, not for the sake of displaying the current problems plaguing my inner psyche. Or maybe some people do this to some degree, idk.  Mostly, no.

Supernatural does indeed put storytelling clues in the wallpaper, but usually the intention is not as far reaching as some people conclude.  And it’s in it’s own created language. Regardless, you can’t write a story with wallpaper alone.  At most, you can simply look at it and guess something small ahead of time (like hourglasses signifying time travel). I'll use 11x06 as an example. In this scene we have a demonic liar getting interrogated in a room with Gabriel’s wallpaper from Changing Channels because the demon is trying to trick Sam and Dean into releasing him and saving his meatsuit instead of kill him (since Carver realized he needed to refocus the Winchesters onto saving people after S10, which, idk, maybe he realized how heartless they were seemingly becoming by choosing each other over the world so much, anyway...). Anyway. In 5x08 Gabriel used that entire episode to trick and trap Sam and Dean in a fabrication. Trick and lies.  There’s your thematic tie in. I remember some people just immediately saw that wallpaper and thought it meant Gabriel was coming back when instead it was a simple "beware of trickery" thematic callback. Under the show’s silent storytelling language when this wallpaper is used, it means we are being lied to and tricked.  This is all the wallpaper is meant to invoke.  Sam immediately realizes this in the same scene.  The silent storytelling here is just a fraction ahead of the textual storytelling.  And that’s what silent storytelling is designed to do.  Looking at wallpaper for clues on character development is a whole different analysis problem because Supernatural, by very much all appearances, want Sam and Dean to develop as slowly and as little as possible because the bulk of fans watch for their issues, not to the resolution thereof.  The show doesn’t know what Sam, Dean, and Cas look like past a certain point of development and they are wholly uninterested in exploring that.

But back to wallpaper, interpretation, and 11x06.

A request for this wallpaper was probably not in the script.  Screenplay usually puts as little detail into the script as possible because they simply trust Jerry Wanek and his design team to do their jobs (and Jerry, in fact, usually disregards certain script directions in favor of his own ideas as better symbolically worked into the show).  AU!Michael’s church was originally a concrete bunker and Billie’s minimalistic fate library in 13x05 was originally a country cottage.  Jerry is given extreme leeway on SPN (with I think only like 6 of his decisions have ever been vetoed he told us), but only because he’s so in sync with the show’s thematic presentation.  I’m going off topic again because I’m supposed to be talking about fandom.  Sorry.  Back to 11x06 (again). Gabriel is such a fan favorite, however, that this (look out for tricks) was not the basic thematic message a lot of fans took away.  No, the message they took away was Gabriel was probably coming back soon. I remember speculation continued about that for weeks.  When at the time there were absolutely no plans for that during production. This reading, I can say with confidence, was absolutely unaccounted for.  Jerry Wanek’s whole department is quite literally kept in the dark about future storylines. He’s told me this himself. By the time production for an episode rolls around they have a few scripts ahead maybe, nothing more. This is why Jerry was confused as hell about Asmodeus being a shape shifter in S13, because he didn’t know Gabriel was definitely coming back and that Asmodeus was siphoning Gabe’s powers. Poor Jerry just thought Buckleming was just butchering the canon for fun (I mean... this does happen so...). If there’s an intentional visual motif present, it either draws on some simple visual theme from earlier (tricks and 5x08 vs 11x06) or it’s part of the language of the show as written in the screenplay.  It is very much something Supernatural does.  Just not in such a complicated way, and one that definitely doesn’t conform to real life.

Real life ≠ Fiction and Fiction ≠ Real life

Do we see yet the limitations of relying too heavily on one lens over the other when viewing and analyzing media?  How staring at the wallpaper can blind you to your psychological understanding of the characters, and how likewise, thinking of the characters as real people can just as well blind you to what the story is trying to tell you using a complete framework as a thoughtful examination of human expression and experience? You have to see it all and all at the same time to get a good picture.  If you are going to write about the show then somewhere you must find balance or risk going blind. Television, most of the time is about creating stories that feel real, fourth wall breaks aside.  The average television viewer is honestly not sitting there seeing Charlie Bradbury as Dean and Cas', Sam and Dean’s issues or whatever.  They see her simply as Sam and Dean's nerdy little red headed friend who is coming to help them out with something.  Writers often write through the narrative lens, but realize that most people watch through the "real life" one.  

This psychological lens is not only accounted for, but it is generally catered to all of the time.  Significant storytelling is therefore always in the psychological lens because the truth is television rarely wants you sitting there figuring out futrue storylines.  It operates on you wanting to WATCH to see what’s next.  They hate fans like me who can guess major plot points ahead of time. The truth is they want you to suspect certain things, but not expect them.  The difference is a bit complicated and I extracted my discussion of speculation based on structure out of this post for cohesion.  I hopefully make a separate post on it because I think I pretty much got the S14 finale figured out at this point.  As much as I love, LOVE and have written on the narrative lens, it is not how the show delivers its primary narrative, especially here in Dabb era.

Go through and rewatch S8-S10 of Castiel (or better yet, Dean/Cas) only scenes and really look at what the show is giving itself. Then look at the difference in S11-S14, paying close attention to the difference in S9 over S14.  For those immersed in the subtextual and mirror narratives with Destiel, this is an extremely good exercise, especially if you are someone who really believes or hopes the show will (eventually) convert the subtext into undeniable romantic text at any point (hint: Cas and Dean have to be physically together in scenes in a way that allows for escalation). Note that I don’t say canon here for a reason. Based on compounded narrative character mirrors (meaning mirrors repeated at least three times by various writers and can be deemed "significant" because they are witnessed by either Dean or Cas, though lbr usually Dean because we most often get these in the physical absence of Cas in an episode) and subtext (used to compare and explain Dean and Cas’ feelings towards one another), Destiel is already subtextually canon. Hell, without the mirrors, it’s this almost through romantic tropes alone.  Supernatural is way past something like Korrasami, that got declared canon through subtext, mirroring, and Word of Gay.  Destiel has honestly been way past this point for a long ass time, just like Dean being a canon drug user.

Both things are subtextually canon through different visual/dialogue/mirroring storytelling elements, but I'd consider each canon nonetheless, yet still easily ignored/misunderstood due to various degrees of disbelief or ignorance, usually based in a gap of the viewer’s understanding as informed by their own experiences and/or a lack of understanding concerning how television writing works differently from real life experiences of the same nature. The term "psuedocanon" is something I adopted back in S10 (I believe it was) to talk about the exact undeniable/deniable nature of Destiel within the split academic writing/viewing community.  There’s no right or wrong about something being subtextually canon and television writing accounts for this viewing disparity in every significant narrative. Read that, then read it again because it’s so often the core of so many fandom arguments to the point I wanna rip my hair out. Right now, Destiel is not a significant narrative in the show.  It’s not an obvious plotline.  It’s what we’d call a secondary plotline, yet one that often drives action (usually in the form of Dean and/or Cas moping around in various ways). You don’t really need text of either (not the nature of Dean and Cas’ relationship nor the true nature of Dean’s relationship to drugs) to watch and understand the show on the primary surface level, well... except lately when the show points out how Sam doesn’t understand certain things between Dean and Cas (13x03, 14x12) but even then the show seems content to let us be just as oblivious as Sam there.  

If I’m going to make a comparison here, the show is content with you selling you a car, but it is also content with you not completely understanding whether or not it has cruise control even as an option. The important thing is that you understand they are selling you a car.  Personally I really want and need cruise control, but it’s not a deal breaker for me like it could be for some.

Now, we don't have Word of Gay like Korrasami, but I think... I think a lot of people need to stop trying to prove themselves right about Destiel being subtextually canon through continuously, in a way that denotes hyperfocus, pointing out the new ways in which it is by discussing the show mostly (or even solely) through the narrative lens.  I honestly believe we, as a community, have written enough on it over the years.  It feels... exhaustive at this point. Meanwhile, the psychological lens is right there and, as I can attest, helps keep your analysis' merits grounded in a way that is more easily explained and personally examined.  The future of Destiel lies there. I don't think there are many of us out here writing on the nature of the Destiel narrative that are doing it because it's popular anymore.  If we are still writing on it and have been for a while, it's because we genuinely care and we find it fun.  That or we are frustrated.  For me, it’s a little of both.  When meta used to be written, back when queer reading and codings stayed in the subtext, there wasn't all this pressure being put on meta writers about possibly leading people on.  This post by @bakasara​ from back in the day perfectly sums up the situation we, as a community, keep finding ourselves in, only now the situation seems worse. Since these storylines never got text, the fact that they wouldn't was a given.  Now that the television landscape has changed, and Supernatural still remains, with one reading (Destiel) having a chance of going canon over the other (Wincest), the meta writing community of the show is in a particularly interesting place in fandom history where apparently meta writers can be blamed for somehow leading fans on in place of the narrative itself doing this.  

I used to think this was wholly rubbish, but when you have meta writers ascribing writer intent to a product that deals with hundreds of individual intents, some of which have nothing to do with the writing's main intent, in a way that denotes the meta writer somehow knows best, then we do have a genuine problem.  I feel like I’ve been here long enough and studied this fandom and this text to such a degree that I can say that. I don't personally know of any meta writer who does this, whether they are hyperfocused on viewing the show through the narrative lens or not.  Doesn’t matter. I've already said I don't read other meta writers anymore since meta writing as an art form of expression made for enjoyment has shifted beyond my tastes from writing academic essays on a reading into this kind of weird meta writing subset that either simply tags discussions (anyone’s opinion post) as "meta" or otherwise uses this weird analysis/speculation blend in a way that is not clearly separated and/or defined.  Just because I don't follow it, doesn't mean those voices aren't out there.  I think they probably are.  

And it's no secret that I personally lament what the meta writing community has become, even though it still imo has its essay gems.  There are simply a lot of people inexperienced in many things concerning the analysis of media and they are out there telling people that certain things matter that don't and that certain things are right that aren't.  These I have seen.  I remember back in S10 having to correct someone that thought the title of "Story Editor" meant that another writer could edit a script they didn't write.  Television writing isn't like a school yearbook staff.  I don't remember who they were.  But I do remember thinking, "Dear LORD, this person is talking like they know something when they have NO CLUE!  And what's worse, people are believing it!"  The “story editor” title is literally a pay grade distinction on Supernatural. I think most people would be shocked to know Supernatural doesn't even have a traditional writers room.  The writers get together a few times a year and that's IT.  There’s some collaborate efforts made among themselves but it's not like episode meetings among the whole staff are made.  They aren't. They have a certain piece to write and they write it. The writer's room is a dictatorship overall.

So to sum up... While yes, language and knowledge among certain meta writers is a problem, there's also a growing problem with how different readings are coming to depend too much on a single viewing lens. None of that invalidates any of the meta being written if it is what can actually be classified as meta. We need to stop associating discussion/speculation with meta across the board.  If we want people to stop speculating intent over possible future relationships using meta, then say that.  People won’t do it, but say it like this, I beg you. To this hope, I feel like I might as well be talking to a wall on this point. And like I said earlier, many voices have been lost.  And for that, there's really nothing we as a community can do at this point.  Those people are pissed, bitter, or have been driven away at this point. When I first joined the meta writing community in S8 we were very diverse, and now we simply are not.  And I wrote this not to sound like a policing or patronizing wake up call to anyone.  I fucking love meta writing.  It’s important.  I was asked what was happening in the meta community. Here I attempted to answer that in a general way. I tried very hard to talk about my own experiences writing meta, how I viewed it, how I saw the community on tumblr as it started and how I feel it has since irrevocably changed.  Meta is supposed to be fun, providing a certain point of view, nothing more.  By merit, it can't promise anything and shouldn't be confused with speculation.  In my next segment I'm going to discuss speculation, how writing is designed to create suspicion and not expectation.

Thanks for reading and a special shout out to @justanotheridijiton who had to view this meta in its raw unreadable form and who encouraged me to rewrite it and publish it despite my initial desire to write all this out for myself, then just delete it.