#i read through my document like ‘damn this is pretty good i hope the author updates soon’ 🙃

[headaching]

babe wake up it’s time for my monthly titanic au zukka breakdown

As he prepared his pencil and steadied his hand, Sokka tried to subdue the incessant, gnawing desire to do Zuko’s image justice. He began with a rough outline of his body, his legs splayed across the couch, the lines of his abdomen.

Sokka didn’t bother brushing the wayward strands of hair from his face as he huddled over his sketchbook in concentration.

“So serious,” Zuko teased with a stern expression, his lips pouted outward.

Sokka shook his head and muttered, “Stay still,” as he shaded the shadows of Zuko’s arms.

“Or what?” Zuko taunted, and Sokka looked up to find Zuko’s playfully angry expression hadn’t changed.

Sokka paused and pointed the pencil at Zuko. “Or I’ll come over there and make you,” he threatened, and Zuko finally stilled.

[jeongvision]

🗣 TEACHER!AU WITH JOHNNY

PART TWO! LET’S GET IT!

pairing. history teacher! seo johnny ✗ english teacher! fem! reader (ft. english teacher! mark lee)

genre. fluff, slight humor, high school teacher au, non idol au

warnings. some cursing and super soft hours after this huhu <3 and not proofread but we can discuss that later

author’s note. this is an continuation to this blurb! this could be read as a standalone but regardless i hope this brought a smile to your face bc it certainly did for me <3

You should’ve seen it coming. Damn it, it was right in front of you all along, so why didn’t you see it in the first place?

You and your students have been grinding nonstop for the past couple weeks to prep them for the AP English IV exam. There was a time where you requested two days off from work for emergency purposes (thankfully it was nothing too major) leaving you to ask your coworker- Mark, another teacher in your department -to help fill in your students on materials needed for the exam.

Everything was perfectly fine when you came back, your coworker going beyond your expectations in taking care of your students. However, one thing you failed to take notice of is the recent changes the college board made in their AP exams, including the course you teach. After reviewing some of the revisions they made, you felt your heart drop.

They’ve added three additional sections to the exam, meaning an additional two weeks is needed to cover the materials for your students to grasp some sort of mastery on those concepts.

You have four weeks left until the exam, and you’re already compacted those remaining weeks with other necessary materials for the exam.

“Fucking hell,” you murmured under your breath.

Running your hand through your hair, you let out a tired sigh. It’s already bad enough that you have to work overtime in making revisions to your lesson plans. However, it’s worse to see the crestfallen looks on your students’ faces when you dropped the news on them. They’re already tired enough from dealing with other classes and extracurricular activities. On top of that, you know most of them are stressing about their acceptance letters from their colleges.

You dropped the pen in your hand and rubbed both of your eyelids. Relax, y/n you told yourself. Don’t worry, you can do this. You heard the door behind you open, meaning someone walked inside the teacher’s lounge.

“Hey, y/n. What’s up- Woah, woah, WOAH! What do we have here?” the person exclaimed. You let out a chortle. You could distinctively point that voice out from anywhere, and you’re sure as hell that the state of your workspace is nothing short of hell. Taking your hands away from your face, you crossed your arms and leaned back a little in your seat to look up at the latter.

“Well, hello to you too, Mark,” you chuckled. You both gave each a fist bump before he sits down in the empty chair beside you.

“What the hell happened here?” He grabs some of the documents splayed out before you, eyes scanning through the materials that you’ve scribbled on in the past hour. “Wait, what? They added new things to the AP exam?”

You sighed and nodded dejectedly. “Yep. And somehow, I gotta squeeze all those materials into my lesson plans before they take it next month.” You rested your arms on the table and rested your head on top of them. “At this point, I just want to light myself on fire and call it a day.”

Mark lets out a cackle besides you, prompting you to smile. You’ll never mention it to him, but his laughs and smiles are always infectious. It’s what makes him so well-known and loved in the English department in the first place, both faculties and students.

“Please don’t do that. We love you too much to let you do that to yourself,” he responded.

Sitting back up in your seat, you take a glance at the clock. Just four minutes before the section ends and you have to go back to teaching your classes again. You heard your coworker clear his throat, bringing you to face him.

“Do you need help with any of this?” he offered.

You shook your head. “No, it’s fine, Mark. I appreciate the offer but I don’t want to bother you with my workload.”

“No, really. It’s fine, y/n. I only teach honors and they’re all pretty ahead in their assignments, so I have some free time if you’d like.”

Just like that, you swear you could see a halo shining above his figure, your world much brighter and clearer than it was this morning. “Oh my god, yes please.” You shifted through your papers, searching the remnants of the piles before handing it over to him. “Can you please go through these and grade them for me? Here are the answer keys for them.” After debriefing him for that stack of papers, you gave him another one. “And for these, can you make some copies for me? I need them tonight so I can plan for tomorrow’s class.”

He listened attentively to your commands, taking a mental note and nodding each instruction given to him. “Okay, got it, y/n. I’ll get these done and hand them over by the end of the day.”

You’re gawking at him, surprised that your coworker is willing to lend you a helping hand. You could honestly cry out tears of joy right now, but timing refuses to let you do so as the bell rings, marking the end of a period. You both stood up in your seats and grabbed the papers on the table into a neat pile. You let out a content sigh as you both walked out the teacher’s lounge.

“Thank you so much, Mark. You’re the best,” you exhaled. Outside your classroom, you already see some students entering inside as you left it unlocked, free for them or your coworkers to enter as they pleased. You both stood next to its entrance before he shrugs his shoulders at you.

“Hey, I mean it’s what I do best, right? Being the best.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a playful shove, earning a laugh from him. Saying goodbyes to one another, you walked inside your classroom. You nodded to the students present. “Afternoon, class,” you greeted.

“Good afternoon, Miss y/n!”

“Miss Y/n, there’s a bouquet of flowers on your desk,” one of your students called out. You raised an eyebrow. Flowers? Looking over to your desk, your student was certainly not lying and neither are your eyes. Perched in the middle of your desk lies a vase filled with varying colors of tulips. Petals are in full bloom and the stems are clipped uniformly. You walked over and saw a notecard attached to one of the flowers.

“Who is it from, Miss Y/n?”

“Yeah! Who got you flowers?”

You looked up and realized more of your students are present, capacity almost at its max. Class was starting soon so more and more are rushing in to see the surprise gift settled on your desk.

“Is it Mr. Kim in the science department? I saw you two walking together in the hallways last week.”

That assumption piqued your interest. “Wait, Mr. Kim? The physics teacher?” you asked. The student, Krystal, nodded, causing you to huff incredulously. “Krystal, please. We’re merely just friends.”

Another student chimes in. “Friends don’t lock arms with each other at work.”

“Jongin, please. Your last girlfriend only stayed with you for a month and she started dating an upperclassman a week later.”

“Hey—”

“Guys, calm down,” you interjected. “As much as I love you crazy bunch, I am still your teacher. Therefore, what occurs in my personal life stays private, and how much I am willing to share with you all lies in my discretion.” But unbeknownst to you, one of your students sneaks behind you to get a glance of the card, discreetly reading the contents:

‘The best deserves nothing less than the best.

Yours truly.’

The student, Luna, almost lets out a squeal. “Guys! Guys!” You jumped in shock, startled by her sudden presence and her high-pitched voice. “I think it’s Mr. Lee! The other English teacher!”

All attention is now on her, excitement filled in the air.

“Mr. Lee? The one that teaches honors?”

“The one with boba eyes?”

“The one that laughs at everything?”

Luna nods to each question, visibly thrilled with the subtle jump in her steps as she walked towards her classmates. “Yes! I heard Miss y/n calling him the best earlier and Mr. Lee joked about being the best! And in the card, it said ‘the best deserves nothing less than the best’.” The bell rang, marking the beginning of the period, but that didn’t stop your students from chattering with happiness, faces completely wiped from fatigue and stress of the upcoming exams. Some students entered your classroom late to the discussion, prompting other students to fill them in only to also be electrified by the ‘news’.

You run a hand through your hair again and sighed. Not this again, you thought to yourself. But just before you could jump in to stop all this chaos, you heard someone knock on your open door, diverting your attention and your class’ to the intruder.

“Well, good afternoon, class,” the person chuckled. “Why’s it so boisterous here? Did I miss a party or something?”

Of course, what better person to appear now of all times? It was none other than the infamous history teacher, Johnny Seo. You rolled your eyes before laughing. Coincidence, my ass.

“Mr. Seo! Someone gave Miss Y/n a bouquet of tulips! She has a secret admirer!” Luna stated.

He raised an eyebrow at her direction. “Oh, does she now?” He looks back at you with a grin. “Did Miss Y/n find out who this secret admirer is?”

“We think it’s Mr. Lee from honors English.”

“And what makes you think so?”

“Because we heard her call him the best earlier before class started, and the notecard called her the best.”

“Coincidence? I think not,” Jongin nodded.

All of the students followed along in unison, profoundly proud of their assumptions that left you shaking your head in disbelief. Surely, you had a smile on your face, but it’s surprising to know how your students are able to make such large assumptions based on groundless evidence. You sat down in your chair and turned on your computer, getting your lesson plan ready for the period as your students entertained themselves with Mr. Seo.

Johnny takes it all in, nodding to all of them before walking up behind your desk. “Well, I think it’s safe to say that you don’t pester too much to Miss y/n about it. You know how much she likes to keep her life private.” While you were browsing through your saved files and pulling up powerpoints, you felt the latter tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Right, Mrs. Seo?”

And just like that, your hands stilled. Wait, did he just—

“Hold up..”

“What?”

“Did you just—”

“Mrs. Seo?”

“Huh?”

You squeezed your eyelids shut. Oh my god, here we go again—

“YOU GUYS ARE MARRIED??”

jeongvision’s milestone event!

[sitaarein]

None Stand Equal In This Dark World

A/N: Officially my largest ever fic so please. Just read it and be nice sob because I’m kinda proud of some of it

Written for @grishaversebigbang 2021!!!

Corporalki: @homicide-depot​

Materialki: @generalnabri (x), @kolarpem (x), @aivicart (x), @maximumbluebirdpatrol , @niadrawing (x)

 (Summary: A murder mystery AU featuring Zoyalai, twists and turns, moral dilemma, and then some more

Read on AO3

Chapter One

The apartment door was wide open.

 In retrospect, that alone should have set off the alarm bells in Zoya’s head. No one left the door to their place wide open. She can’t imagine why she simply dismissed it. 

 Scratch that, she knew why. She’d been tracking this idiotic Grisha for a month now. She was tired and desperate. 

 But it appeared that- who would’ve thought- not being at the top of your game has consequences. 

 Consequences like staring down a man who’s been tied to a chair and gagged in the middle of, what Zoya guesses is, the lounge, eyes wide with terror.

 Zoya is mad at herself for not managing to guess it was a red herring- the damn door - and very, very mad at the Grisha who has, once again, slipped right through her hands. 

 She nods to one of her men, and he immediately drops to the man’s level to untie and presumably interrogate him. Zoya doesn’t stick around for the details- she trusts her people to give her good reports. Instead, after a cursory look around, she tips her head back to face the ceiling, taking in a deep breath, and leaves the apartment. 

 The weather outside took a dramatic turn in the fifteen minutes she was inside- it had been sunny before, or at least as sunny as Ravka ever could get. But now, the sun has all but ceased to exist, and the bitter cold is back once more. 

 Zoya prefers the cold. 

 (She doesn’t, not really, but no one needed to know that.)

 Zoya starts walking, pulling her coat tighter around herself. Her mind races, trying to connect all the dots, trying to figure out where her investigation had gone wrong. Start from the beginning. Don’t miss anything. The most minor of details are the most important.

  The beginning. A woman showed up to their headquarters about her missing family. Those cases were usually dismissed completely, handed over to the police forces- Zoya’s force was Grisha-centric, other cases, no matter how large or important they were, did not concern them. But this case was different.

 The woman was Grisha. 

 Her family weren’t, evidently- and neither did they know that she was. They’d been missing for six weeks, and the odds were pretty heavily stacked against them still being alive. The woman was detained (she was Grisha, this was Zoya’s job ) and a group of officers were dispatched for a search and rescue.

 The officers never returned.

 Alarm bells were now ringing, and the General assigned Zoya to the case. In the time since she officially took over, twenty more disappearances were documented, and all of them in Os Kerva alone. Saints knew what was happening in the rest of the country.

 But Zoya had never believed in Saints, so she found out what was happening in the rest of the country.

 The total number of disappearances in all of Ravka that had this case’s signature mark- an eclipsed sun left wherever the victims were seen last- was an estimated three thousand . Zoya couldn’t believe no one had connected the dots before her. Then again, the entire of the force were filled with incompetent idiots, so maybe it shouldn’t have surprised her. 

  The series of events . Zoya travelled up and down the country with the best of her underlings, talking to anyone who knew the victims, searching their last known places with tooth combs, building up working hypotheses, using all the resources they had available. Zoya was not an idiot. She knew exactly how capable she was. 

 And she also knew when she was fighting a losing battle.

 And so, when she got a call from one of her top detectives about a confirmed Grisha she’d been trailing for some time now who’d begun suspicious activity, she was clutching at straws and willing to take anything that came her way. She met up with her agent, and a few days later, they got the address of the apartment she was currently pacing in front of.

  The present . This part could be summed up fairly quickly. Zoya is, once again, at a fucking dead end . 

 Before she can kick something (or someone) out of frustration, A faint ringing reaches her ears, and frowning, Zoya stops in her tracks. Her phone is never not on silent. Calling Zoya Nazyalensky for anything was utterly pointless- she never picked up. 

  But the GIA has ways of getting into contact with its members regardless.

 Muttering a curse, Zoya digs around her pockets, looking for the infernal device with its grating, high-toned ringing. Finally locating her phone, she jabs the answer button without looking at the caller ID.

 “Yes?” she asks bluntly. 

 “Zoya,” Alina’s voice greets her.  

 Zoya immediately forgets everything that had been on her mind. When Alina calls, it’s rarely for a friendly chat. 

 “What’s wrong?”

“You need to get back here. As soon as possible.”

 “Understood. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

 Alina hangs up immediately, and Zoya pockets her phone, mind racing.

 She orders one of her lackeys to send her a report when they're done, grabs the keys for the van they’d used to get to the apartment from a rather distracted officer, taking off.

 Zoya reaches the Grisha Investigation Authorities in approximately half the time she’d given to Alina, and she may or may not have disobeyed quite a few traffic laws to get to her destination as quickly as she did, but that was frankly unimportant. 

 She strides through the doors, not bothering to acknowledge the many who’ve halted their paths to nod to her or, in the case of a few particularly stupid (or courageous, however you wanted to see it) people, attempt to strike up a conversation with her. She didn’t break her pace even once, until she’d reached the door to the meeting room they usually used to meet up for serious issues. After taking a moment to compose herself, Zoya pushes the door open.

 Inside, she finds all of her fellow Commanding Officers assembled- Adrik, Leoni, Alina, and Genya. Frowning, Zoya scans their faces, and mentally shifts whatever’s happening even higher on her scale of terrible shit to take care of immediately.

 Because not even Leoni, who can find positivity at a funeral, is smiling right now. There’s barely a hint of her optimistic and eternally cheerful personality in her countenance. 

 Zoya carefully takes the seat left for her around the circular table. Her gaze flits from one worried face to another, and she decides to be direct.

 “How bad is it?”

 The question seems to jolt Alina out of her reverie. She looks up, and Zoya feels her breath catch, because she looks so… helpless. Terrified.

 Genya takes it upon herself to answer Zoya’s question with another question, her mouth set in a grim line. “How’s your investigation going?”

 “We lost the suspect,” Zoya admits, her earlier frustration returning with the reminder of the infernal case. “We’re right back to where we started- but without the hope and the general idea of where to start.”

 “I’m not surprised,” Adrik mutters. “Considering who your delightful suspect is…”

 Zoya furrows her brow, and glances back at Genya. “Explain.”

 Genya looks as if she would rather do anything else, but after coming to the realisation that no one else is about to, she sighs and does so.

 “I’m presuming you remember Alina’s case that went cold about two years back?”

  A little too well. Even years later, that case haunts her- the truly horrific killings, from corpses with their body parts stuffed down their throats, to children who had clearly been still alive when burnt, the utter dead ends, Alina’s far too close brush with death, and… the person behind it all.

 “You don’t think it’s the same person??” Zoya demands, horror spreading through her veins.  She can not handle another Kirigan. 

 In lieu of replying, Genya nods to Leoni, who pushes forward a large envelope. Dread pooling in her gut, Zoya opens the package to find pictures from Alina’s investigation.

 “We revisited these when your disappearances started,” Genya says. “And… found more similarities than we’re frankly comfortable with.” 

 Zoya shifts the photos around, and then freezes at one, having caught sight of a mostly blurry but still distinctive calling card. “That’s…”

 “The eclipsed sun,” Adrik provides grimly. “You’re screwed.”

 “Hey, now,” Leoni protests. “We don’t know that.”

 Adrik snorts. “Don’t we? Need I remind you of the damage this person wrecked to the GIA and our country?”

 “How do we know this isn’t just a copycat?” Zoya breaks in. “None of the bodies of the victims this time around have been discovered,”

 “Copy cats still tend to have their own twists on kills, a signature, a mark that’s theirs. While none of the killings for either case have many similarities, they also don’t vary in terms of said signature.” Genya says.

 “Killers are proud creatures,” Adrik inputs.

 “And this one’s no exception,” Leoni says, eyes grim. 

 Zoya looks up. “What do you know?”

 Leoni hesitates, but then gives in. “We got a note this morning. A photocopy should be in the envelope too.”

 Zoya overturns the envelope, and sure enough, a piece of paper falls out. She picks it up, reads it, and crumples it up. 

 “You’re sure this isn’t a stupid joke?”

 “It was in the Director’s office.” Leoni says. 

  Shit.  Zoya glances back down at the crumpled mass she’s still clutching. You will burn on your mistakes. What mistakes? 

 She ignores the faint voice in the back of her head. You know what mistakes.

 Zoya takes a deep breath, focuses her thoughts, and then exhales. “How’s the Director doing?”

“He’s terrified.” All of the COs seemed to be equally startled to see Alina was the one to speak. Her mouth is set in an angry line, and Zoya can guess the track of her thoughts, because they were the same ones that had crossed her mind upon hearing the words- who is he to be terrified? What right did the Director even have to feel scared, when he himself never so much as interacted with the cases???

 Adrik sighs, leaning back in his seat. “Which is what has led us to our current predicament.”

 “And what do you mean by that?” 

 Genya exhales in a huff. “He wants the Mentals on this case along with all of us.”

 “He what.” 

 Alina, lips twisted in a sardonic smile, gestures to nothing in particular. “You heard correctly.”

 “Why ??? This is my case, and I will handle it.”

 “He doesn’t want a repeat of the bad press that came with my failing last time, I’m guessing.”

 “Bad press,” Zoya spits out. “I wonder how much bad press he’ll get when I-”

 “Do not,” Genya warns. “This could be helpful to us.”

  But also a personal disgrace , Zoya finishes the sentence in her head. The Mentals were practically a legend of the GIA- they were special, elite investigators, a whole mix of people ranging from scientists to- if the rumors were correct- ex-spies, who ended up with the cases no one else in the force could solve, and somehow, without fail, solved each of them within a week at the least. 

 It was irritating as hell.

 And having them assigned on your case meant that the Director did not trust you to be successful on your own. 

 Absolutely wonderful.

 “So when are these... spectacular detectives arriving?” Zoya asks. 

 Genya opens her mouth, and then closes it, before starting, “Well-”

 “I hope I’m not too late to this marvelous party?”

 Zoya swivels to see who this truly abnormally cheerful person is, and then blinks. She turns back to face the others once more- Adrik still looks glum, Leoni is smiling her most polite smile, Alina seems to have perked up and Genya is genuinely smiling. They all look… unsurprised.

 Of course they were hiding more secrets up their sleeves.

 “ What,” Zoya finally breaks and asks. “Is the damned PR guy doing here?”

 The aforementioned PR guy pouts. “Is that really what I’m known for around here? My PR duties? That’s quite depressing. Why would you focus on that when you could talk about my stunning good looks, or my undeniable charm, or even my ability to-”

 “Nikolai,” Alina interrupts. “Shut up.” she looks at Zoya, a hint of dry amusement in her eyes. 

 “Zoya, this is Nikolai Lantsov, and he is indeed our PR guy, but he’s also… head of the Mentals.”

 Zoya blinks. He’s what??? And then, wait… they knew who the special investigators were? How long have they known? Why was I not informed?

 She doesn’t voice any of her thoughts, choosing instead to stare, unimpressed, at the blond, who grins at her in response. 

 “If I had known you possessed such astounding grace and beauty, Miss Nazyalensky, I would have made your acquaintance sooner! I’m sure these upcoming days will prove to be an absolute pleasure, provided I get to spend them in your delightful company.”

 “Saints save me,” Zoya utters faintly. “The Director assigned an idiot to my case.”

 “Hey, now!” Nikolai protests. “You haven’t even met the rest of my team yet!”

 “An idiot who talks too much,” she deplores. 

 Genya and Alina both snort at that. In fact, all of her fellow COs seemed to be taking far too much pleasure in this situation. Zoya hates all of them. 

  “Well, now that we’ve gotten the pleasantries out of the way,” Nikolai says, to which Zoya distinctly hears Adrik mutter “pleasantries?” under his breath, “I think now would be a wonderful time for me to introduce you to my brilliant team,”

  Genya sits up immediately, looking eager. Zoya wonders what that’s about. 

 She finds out fairly quickly.

 Nikolai ushers in a group of people, and she recognises one in particular, one who she has, in fact, known since her college years -

 David. Genya’s husband, David Kostyk, is a part of the Mentals. Harmless old David. Zoya can’t believe her eyes. 

 She scans the rest of the group, but the others barely seem familiar. The two Shu right in front of David look similar enough to be twins, apart from the height difference. Right next to David is a woman that, with a jolt, Zoya recognises as Adrik’s sister from what she’s heard and seen of her. Bringing up the rear is a man who vaguely resemblesNikolai himself, ducking his head shyly as he enters the room. 

 “Now that your merry party is all assembled,” Adrik says glumly. “Any ideas where to start?”

 “Shouldn’t we at least get to know each other first?” Adrik’s sister asks.

 Adrik stares at her. “I’ve known you since I was born.”

 “We’re not the only ones in the room, Adrik.”

 “Oh, aren’t we ? I can’t say I noticed.”

 Nikolai interrupts their glaring match to finally provide Zoya with names to all the unfamiliar faces. 

 “Tamar, Tolya, Nadia, and Isaak, meet the officers we’ll be working with for the next few weeks or longer- Alina, Genya, Zoya, Leoni, and Adrik,” he gestures towards each person in turn. Zoya briefly wonders how he already knows their names, before realising that just because the GIA didn’t know who the special investigators were didn’t exactly mean they didn’t know the GIA either. 

 “And now,” Nikolai beams. “Let’s get comfortable. It’s time to discuss our present conundrum!”

[wisteria-lodge]

snake primary + slightly burnt snake secondary (some kind of built secondary model)

Hi hi hi!! Hope you’re well!! So tell me, is there a way to tell whether you’re a lion or a snake secondary beyond the actual “textbook” definitions? I think I’m pretty burnt, and I’m on my way to fixing that, but it would help to know where I’m supposed to be heading lol

(Btw, I’m a Sam coded Dean girl. I don’t think it’s relevant I just thought that system was both useful and hilarious and I’m so glad you posted that)

I also really liked how that turned out.

I’m pretty sure I’m an improv secondary. I think I’m bad at it, hence the burning, but it’s what comes naturally to me and what I would feel most proud of.

I end up planning for a bunch of things, and in some cases I don’t hate it.

Damning with faint praise.

Like if I’m giving a presentation, I open a word document and write down what I’m gonna say verbatim, even the language tics and pauses and hesitations and such, so it’s like I’m actually living it. Then I repeat the whole thing multiple times, amending it whenever I change something, until I feel like I’ve sort of gone through the experience already.

That is… the weirdest way of hacking an improvisational secondary. Because that’s what’s you’re doing. Improvisational secondaries need to be “in it,” so you get as close to that as possible in the prep work.

Then I scrap the whole thing and improvise when it’s actually happening – the result is often pretty different from the word doc

of course.

but I’m a bit more in my element because I’ve done it already and I know I can do it.

This is honestly a really good strategy to make yourself more comfortable with improvising? I can tell you’re unBurning, this feels very much like… training wheels, to me. Heck, I think I would recommend your method to another burnt Improvisational secondary.

I’m not sure, but I think that sort of thing is more built than improv?

Like, kind of? I’m autism spectum, and when I was younger I built a Bird model to help me feel more confident accessing my Courtier Badger. That’s what this feels like.

But I definitely feel like it’s a model I’ve developed to deal with social anxiety and my fear of failure lol. I didn’t do stuff like that before it got bad, and if I could deal with not doing it, I would.

I hear that.

In most other situations, though, I tend to jump right in and go with the flow. I really don’t think very far ahead. I guess I can if I try, when it’s just a matter of logic, but things like my life plans, my relationships, or even more short-term things like plans with friends or what I’m gonna eat or how I’m gonna deal with a task, I really can’t project into the future. I can’t really make decisions or see a situation clearly until I’m in it. Then I tend to make decisions very quickly, kind of on instinct, or whatever feels right in the moment.

You’re definitely an improvisational secondary.

(Actually maybe that’s a primary thing? I’m a snake primary, but I do have a very prominent lion model, and a bit of badger as well.)

Nah, that’s definitely an Improvisational secondary thing. I am curious about your primary though, because you say you don’t have too much in the way of life plans… and *that* is more where a primary would come in. You feel like a safe Snake to me (that is, a Snake whose people are safe) so there is a little bit of… what now? What is the Lion+Badger model you wear over the top interested in?

Point is, I prefer being spontaneous, even if it’s something important. Making plans and having to stick to them makes me feel trapped. I’m not the most constant person, and I like that about me. I want to have room to grow and change, even for the smallest things.

Completely, entirely fair.

Anyway, I feel like I’ve talked more about limitations and things I don’t want so far, but I guess that’s a burnt thing.

I mean, sure you’re a little underconfident, but you seem pretty far along to me.

I’ve seen you mention what’s really useful in determining a secondary is what you actually enjoy, so here goes. I like being in the moment, and I like being able to come up with ideas and solutions on the fly, by taking in the situation and using it to my advantage.

That’s very Snake secondary sounding language.

I think there’s a bit of a separation in my mind between “people things” and “being clever things.”

For “being clever things” (like… I don’t know, an escape room, a problem with an administration, a paper I have to write, video games, some kind of mystery…) I like to rely on being observant and quick-thinking, and if I can find loopholes or outsmart whoever I’m facing to win in an unexpected way, that’s even better (but really more for my ego than anything else, I guess finding the “normal” solution is okay, as long as you get there, it’s just less fun).

Hilarious. Yeah, you sound like a *confident* Snake secondary to me.

For “people things” (drama with family or friends, or if someone is being an ass, or if someone comes to me for advice on interpersonal things), I prioritize being straightforward and honest. If I have time to plan or if I’m giving advice, I might come up with something more sneaky and elaborate, but if I’m in the moment, I’m most likely to be really confrontational, stubborn and unyielding, even if it makes things more difficult for me.

Hmm. I am reading this as a Snake who likes being Neutral - especially those words “stubborn” and “unyielding.” There’s a reason Neutral Snakes are called “the unmovable object.”

If I catch myself, I try to avoid it, but that just means staying silent and removing myself from the situation – I can’t bring myself to make compromises if it feels like I’m betraying myself.

Okay, now that’s sounding more Lion.

To be clear, that’s almost exclusively with people I’m close to, or who are supposed to “know me”.

Oh okay. This is your secondary interacting with your primary. Actively lying to and misrepresenting yourself to Your People would be immoral to a Snake Primary.

With friends who aren’t in my inner circle, or acquaintances, or complete strangers, or authority figures, I might get upset internally if I’m perceiving a slight or injustice, but I can keep up the mask I need no problem. That being said, I don’t have a lot of patience for drama, so if whatever it is can’t be quickly resolved with a convenient lie or saying what works for me in a way they won’t mind hearing, I just stick to what I’m actually thinking and/or my neutral state (I’m not sure it’s accurate to use snake language here, but it feels like it and it’s convenient).

I think it’s highly appropriate and accurate. All that is reading very Snake.

I’ve seen a bunch of people say lion and snake secondaries are sort of at odds with each other, but I don’t really get the contradiction between them yet (as in, I don’t see why people can’t be both those “contradictory” things at the same time). I do mask a lot, and I enjoy it – I think it’s rewarding, and honestly it just makes sense – it’s what works best in that moment, and it feels natural to shift that way. I just don’t feel it’s a misrepresentation. The whole “it’s not cheating, it’s being clever” thing just feels a little too dishonest. Cheating is cheating, no need to be so smug about it. It’s not wrong, though, at least not always. If it’s hurting someone who doesn’t deserve it, then it’s wrong (might still do it if the alternative is worse, but that doesn’t mean it’s suddenly an ethical choice to make, it just means I’m okay with being immoral in that instance).

All that being said, I don’t think masking is being dishonest about yourself. I don’t think anything that comes out of my mind is “not me”, it just doesn’t work that way. The personas I have with different groups or people in my life are all genuine, it’s just that different sides of me are brought up. And if I’m acting in a way that’s actually not genuine, that mask is still my creation – if someone else were to come up with a mask for that same situation, it would be different, because their mind works differently. Everything you do is a reflection of yourself, and even if you were to try your best to be honest all the time, you’d never be able to show your true and complete self to someone else. You can’t even see that yourself.

Oh man. This is why I love writing these, and this is what I mean about Lion and Snake being so incomprehensible to each other. Because Lions fundamentally do not think this way, every word here is dripping with Snake.

It might be helpful to think of Lions as static. That’s how Shakespeare (who definitely seems like a Snake secondary…) writes about them, and he sees them as sort of tragic. Lions really do have a “core” persona that feels more true than all the others, and they really do exist in it as much as they possibly can. And feel good and moral about doing that.

And a mask’s point may be to deceive or to gain something, but being blunt and straightforward can be used in that way too.

You are literally thinking of “common Lion secondary presentation” as another useful mask, and it’s so Snake, and so fantastic.

I’m thinking this sounds more snake than anything else, so I’ll focus on why I thought I might be a lion too now. I guess the reason I’m on the fence is because these two are presented as “either you think the only way is through, or you’re looking for a way around it”, and I’m not comfortable saying I favor either.

That is *a* way to think about the two secondaries. But those are symptoms, not causes. The reason a Lion secondary feels that the only way out is though is because a Lion secondary must be themselves, or die.

My first thought was to say that I get more satisfaction from finding ways around a problem because it makes me feel cleverer and it’s more fun, but that’s because I’m zeroing in on certain types of situations (people giving me some intellectual challenge, debates, or video games). But there were also a lot of times where I stuck it out and kept going with pigheaded stubbornness, and got a lot more satisfaction out of that (physical challenges like obstacle courses, disagreements with my parents, winning over certain people).

Here’s where I think the confusion is. You’re a Snake secondary, and one of your masks looks very Lion. Note how you talk about using this “pigheadedness” with certain people, who you know will respond well to it.

In fact, I remember my father telling me one day “yeah, you’re never here to compromise, you just make decisions and inform us, and keep going while you wait for us to accept reality,“ and I actually can’t describe how proud and smug I was about that. Kind of insufferable, but I just get so euphoric when people see right through me and show they get me, even if it’s about the more annoying or bad parts of me.

I think that’s just a human thing. The mortifying ideal of being known is how you feel loved.

I remember a conversation I had with my ex after we broke up where she cut right through all my bullshit and discarded my whole mask to get right to my inner self and the core of certain issues, and even though I was still mad and upset, and kind of embarrassed that she could see me being vulnerable, I couldn’t help but be happy about it, because I felt known.

Yeah. <3

I don’t interact much with people outside of my inner circle, so I can’t tell if it’s entirely specific to them, but I really vibe with the “honesty is their strength” part of being a lion. That’s why my people trust me and rely on me so much, because even though they know how sneaky I can get and how fun I think tricking people is, they also know I default to telling the truth and saying what’s on my mind more often than not, because they’re my people.

I think that, as a Snake primary who mostly only interacts with Your People, you’re in a kind of unusual position. I know that the presentation of a Snake who feels safe can be blunter, can be more Lion-y. My experience with Snakes is… yeah, sometimes I know I’m being manipulated, or having my buttons pushed in a specific way. But I’m fine with it, because I’m one of their people, and I know they would never hurt me. That’s where the certainty is coming from.

Then again, I also have a “it’s not lying unless they’re entitled to the truth” attitude with basically everyone else. I just don’t think some people deserve to know me that way.

snaaaake

(lions are going to take the truth and PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE with it, and if you can’t deal that’s YOUR PROBLEM)

And “ideally”, as in, if I didn’t have anxiety and a bunch of other issues, I still don’t think I’d just be neutral all the time. Sounds boring. And inconvenient.

Snake secondaries are great.

Ahhh, should I even post this? I feel like my whole thought process before this moment of introspection was “so I really vibe with snake, but I’m also hotheaded and a bit of a bitch, so I MUST be a lion, right” lmao. I just think I’m a straight up double snake at this point.

Yep.

Oof, a long way from my original lion bird sorting back when I first discovered SHC hahaha

Yeah, I used to think I was a Badger Bird.

(For the record, I’m writing this in a word doc, and it’s almost 2k now. I haven’t checked how long these normally are, so I’m really sorry if this is too long!!! I’m like physically incapable of being concise I’m so sorry)

Sometimes I edit or re-arrange these slightly for a cleaning reading experience, but I’m having fun. I was engaged all the way though.

Thanks for reading, and thanks for doing these!! They’re super interesting and I’m sure it helps people a lot, and also it’s really cool to see how different people think. I’m a socially-challenged writer, so it’s useful to have that bit of insight into other people’s minds. Love ya <3 <3 <3

[michyreadsthenwrites]

Plain Bad Heroines - Let Me Give You My Thoughts On This (Character Analysis)

**major maaaaajor spoilers ahead**

(Here we begin with the handful of characters from Danforth’s sophomore novel that have found their way into my heart and apparently, this Word document. It didn’t hurt that they were all women that love women. And I mean, they really loved women.)

 ·   Merritt Emmons is easily my favorite character. She’s got that dry, sarcastic humor and air around her that makes it really easy to love her and hate her guts all at the same time. (If she were here, she’d tell us that this was a talent, not a flaw.) I felt personally affronted when characters in PBH didn’t like Merritt, like they were overlooking the diamond in the rough right in front of their faces. Then, like most things, it became pretty clear: Merritt Emmons could be one hell of a bitch at times. But it really only made me love her more. I realized that I identified with her. Yes, about being a queer woman that really fucking loves other women, but also because she was a writer that wanted her writing to stay true to how she wrote it, especially with so many people traipsing all over it and trying to make it into something it’s not. That was where I realized I loved her early on; when she pitched a genuine fit over who was to play Clara Broward. It was something so petty and childish, something so very me to throw a fit in a packed room of professionals when you have no idea about that kind of world and what it demands. But she fought for what she believed in, alright. Until she didn’t. This made me love her some more, incidentally. We got to see Merritt’s character development throughout the novel, and more specifically, we got to watch her bounce back and forth between the person she was too scared to be but wanted more than she could ever admit, and the person she spent twenty long years being; the person she was oh-so-tired of introducing to people. This constant shift between new-Merritt and old, crabby, prickly-Merritt was a very raw and vulnerable thing for us to experience as an audience. Merritt was certainly a lot more refreshing than every one of the overdone-Hollywood-types we became acquainted with within the book. She was mean and arrogant and wildly insecure, yet somehow confident and sure of herself, when it came to her work or her knowledge or anything that had to do with any book written, ever. A walking paradox, that one. Merritt was a good way to remember that real people, not built-and-put-together-by-Hollywood-people don’t always have their shit together, and they can’t always get it together by the end of a novel, albeit a long, six-hundred-page one. I think I’ll cut myself off here, friends. Not that I want to, but I feel we have a lot to get to in these pages, and Merritt Emmons can’t be the star of all of them (lord knows I’d let her, though). To sum it up: Merritt Emmons was the star of this book, for me at least. And I hope for you too. (This means go get your ass over to your closest B&N and buy the damn thing).

  ·   Harper Harper is somewhat of a mystery to me. She was a major character in the story, as well as one of our three protagonists, our three heroines, and yet I have trouble finding her as authentic and outlandish as she tries to come across. What I’m still having trouble deciphering is if this is an intentional character flaw created by our Miss Danforth, or if Harper Harper really has nothing to her besides being completely reinvented and marketed by Hollywood. Even in saying this, I know I have to give Harper credit where it’s due. She’s a proud queer woman in the movie industry, as well as openly queer online and really with just anyone and everyone she meets. She’s known for various flings and love-interests of the week, which is still a gross misrepresentation and stereotype of (masc?) lesbians and how they’re emotionally unavailable and unfaithful, which again is a possibility of the author’s intentional writing, something that we can leave for further discussion. We do get a bit of a glimpse into Harper’s life – her real-life – about how her mother is struggling with her sobriety, how her little brother seems to be caught in the middle of her mother’s messy relationships, and how she really has mixed feelings about how she fits into her new movie-star life. That’s about all we get from Harper, though. And it really is almost enough realness to take away from the fact that everyone else in the world sees Harper as the face of Hollywood, as this thing of beauty and money and badassery instead of a real person. But still not enough. And I could be wrong, friends. I could be pulling all of this out of my ass because Harper Harper is a badass queer woman that took over the movie industry with barely any experience under her belt. Harper Harper took every room she walked into by storm, and she made everybody pay attention to her, and she became the character we had a little crush on, simply because she was that big of a deal. But nothing of substance, not really. Not ever. But perhaps she had been her most real self with Merritt Emmons, in between the quiet pages that we didn’t get to read entirely. Merritt, our dry and arrogant and favorite heroine, had been Harper’s favorite, too. The most credit that I find myself giving Harper is her aid in Merritt’s character development. She brought Merritt out of her shell in a massive way, though at times she did have a hand in driving her back into the said shell. It was flawed, their relationship, which is another authentic Harper Harper insight we saw, as little of it there was. They were hot and cold, on and off, but always so enthralled with each other. And while Harper seemed to have had an impact on Merritt (among other factors), it doesn’t seem like Merritt had the same effect on Harper. I could be wrong and do feel free to correct me, friends, but Harper Harper did not come out the other end of PBH a changed woman. She was not burdened with the weight of a life-changing revelation. She was Harper Harper, as she always was, floating and untouchable, the kind of woman you wished to know, maybe to be, but also the kind you see right through. They’re transparent, friends, that’s what I’m trying to get at here. And they tend to stay that way. And I realize as I’m nearing the end of this, that I sound harsh in my critiques and analysis of Harper. I don’t mean to come off that way, friends, I really don’t. The truth is I love Harper, she’s everything we wish we could be. She’s gorgeous and sought after, can land any girl she wants with the bat of her eyelashes and a lazy smile. But you have to remember, she’s everything we’re not. I can only speak for myself, friends, and I encourage you to speak for yourselves if you find you have anything to add. I never related with Harper the way I did with Merritt’s character, but that doesn’t mean that Harper isn’t a beautiful enigma waiting to be unwrapped. I just don’t happen to be the kind of reader that would know where to begin unwrapping her, if that makes sense. And because I’m afraid it doesn’t, I do believe it’s time to stop with the metaphors and wrap this up nicely for you, friends: Harper Harper is number two on my list of favorite characters from PBH, and that is not something done lightly or by accident. She was one of our three heroines, after all. And a proper heroine she was, friends. Don’t you ever forget it.

  ·   Libbie Packard broke my heart more times than I count, friends. You’ll notice I have kept her maiden name, then. This is intentional, friends, for our Libbie never wanted to be a Brookhants, not really. It wasn’t towards the end of PBH that we learned much of what we now know about Libbie, and how it came about that she had been married (to a man no less!), as well as the very young principal of an all-girls school. Throughout their chapters in the book, Libbie and Alex, her Alex, were seemingly at each other’s throats constantly. There seemed to be a mysterious tension that we as an audience weren’t privy to – but it didn’t stop us from speculating. I found myself drawn to Libbie more than I did her counterpart, and I still can’t point my finger as to why. Libbie seemed sad, right from our first introduction, and Alex always seemed angry and cynical (as a queer woman in 1902, is there any other way to seem?). This might serve as a dual character analysis yet, friends. I’m not sure how much I’ll have to say about our Alexandra Trills, but Libbie Packard deserves a long sentence, or two. You know when something finally clicks into place and you can’t help but just let out a long “ooohhhhhhh”? That’s a recreation of how I looked when I read the explanation of how Libbie Packard became Libbie Brookhants. Learning that she had become pregnant with a baby she didn’t want was mind-blowing enough, and it filled in the blanks of how young, gorgeous Libbie had become the wife of a rich, old, old man. Libbie gave up her child was because she didn’t want to be a mother, and she had originally rejected Harold Brookhants offer of marriage because she didn’t want to be a wife, regardless of false the marriage was. And for a while, Libbie’s new life was amazing; she got to live with her Alex in a beautiful house and became the principal of a promising school. This was the life she’d always wanted. Or was that just what we wanted to believe, friends? Only at the end did we learn that Libbie had rejected Harold Brookhants offer (to live a quiet, queer life with her lover and without the child she clearly didn’t want) because she didn’t want to be tied down; not to Harold, not to anyone. If you think about it, friends, this was exactly the life that she had been living for years to come now. The tension with Alex had much to do with the circumstances surrounding them at Brookhants and the evil that was unfolding before them, but it seemingly had even more to do with the fact that Libbie Packard felt smothered. She was hiding secrets from Alex, secrets that she felt could destroy this already fragile relationship that they had between them. How vastly different it was to read and experience their relationship at the beginning of their love; playful and full of joy, both women giddy with the promise of something new and exciting. To compare that kind of love to the broken, tight-lipped, empty vessel of the relationship they now pretend to have is heartbreaking. And yet, completely understandable. Alex had fallen in love with the Libbie she wanted her to be, not the Libbie she was. Our Libbie wanted to be eternally young; playful and happy, bouncing from city to city with Sara Dahlgren in a sea of eligible bachelors (and bachelorettes!). It was almost a shock to discover that this life Libbie tried so hard to defend and protect was not a life she had ever wanted for herself. Despite this, she loved her Alex and her students, and devoted her life to them. There was that whole business with cheating on Alex with Adelaide the housemaid (don’t even get me started on that broad) but I’d like to extend to you, friends, the fact that I won’t comment on this. Queer relationships in 1902 are definitely not what they are now, complete with century-old curses and dead schoolgirls. Libbie Packard became the 1902-lesbian-headmistress version of our stereotypical bored housewife, stuck in a marriage that she secretly wishes she could be free from. And my heart broke for her, friends, it really did. But she was a heroine all on her own. A deeply intelligent and remarkable woman. Make no mistake, friends. Libbie Packard and Libbie Brookhants differ by more than just a surname. Our young, vivacious Libbie disappeared the moment she accepted Harold Brookhants’ offer, and this is indeed the sad truth of it, friends: Libbie Packard was gone before she could ever find herself. But Libbie Brookhants was our gorgeous, brilliant, queer heroine that never got what she deserved. So, friends, let’s all have a moment of silence for our dearly departed Libbie Brookhants… wherever she is.

·   Alexandra Trills is a character that I don’t know where to begin with. Her end is not one that I saw coming, at least not in the gruesome and deranged circumstances that came to surround it. Or maybe, friends, I just didn’t want to acknowledge the clear downwards spiral that our Miss Trills had seemed to be heading towards. Her steadfast and growing obsession with the death of Florence Hartshorn and Clara Broward was apparent in every page we turned, and the following death of Eleanor Faderman did not aid in absolving Alex of her obsession with the one, single copy of a book they had all possessed at one point: The Story of Mary McLane. Alex grew hysterical in her investigation of the novel and whatever evil she believed it had brought to the students of her school. I remember feeling a bit hysterical myself at times, following along with Alex’s scrambled train of thought that never seemed to find a place to stop. She was right, you know, my friends. And now what does she have to show for it? A gruesome death and an eternity of haunting the same grounds, day in and day out? I may not have liked her, and felt like she had been the reason Libbie was so unhappy and stuck in a life that she did not want, but the way Alex’s story had ended really did take me by surprise and break my heart. She deserved a better ending than what she got; she deserved to reconcile and fix her strained relationship with Libbie. Damn it, they deserved to live quiet, happy lives with each other. Neither of them got the endings that they deserved, and God, did they deserve plenty. This, friends, is the hill I choose to die on tonight.

 Alright, friends, this is it for my character analysis of Emily Danforth’s Plain Bad Heroines! I have a special place in my heart for book characters that you can relate with (or characters that just really make you love them). The way that Emily Danforth brought our heroines to life was remarkable and highly impressive (I say this because it’s decidedly been a while since any book character(s) have weaseled their fictional way into my little heart). It’s rare that I give a book five stars (check out my Goodreads reviews) (oh god, please don’t), and yet halfway through PBH, I knew that this book deserved it. Good book characters are the ones that stick with you long after you’ve closed the book on them, and our heroines are stuck with me. And believe me, friends, I’m certainly not complaining. 

[retrievablememories]

the assistant | doyoung (m)

title: the assistant pairing: sub!doyoung x black!reader genre: smut request: “Sub Doyoung that works under a (Black) woc as an assistant. He gets turned on when she bosses him around and ends up in a situation where he can’t hide his feelings anymore. Hopefully it’s a smut.” word count: 4.5k warnings: oral (female receiving), handjob, dirty talk, public masturbation/sexual activities, humiliation kink *without insulting names*, dom!female/sub!male a/n: this came out a bit longer than i expected. the title’s a bit generic but the other one i had felt corny. i hope i didn’t make the reader too mean here lol

Taking a job as your assistant over a year and a half ago was both an easy and hard decision—though mostly easy.

Doyoung needed the money, so he wasn’t going to turn down the offer. And he had the skills for it, which he wasn’t going to let go to waste. But he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle the prospect of being sexually attracted to his boss.

It wasn’t just your looks, although they certainly helped. It was your air of authority and the way you knew how to get people to like you or do whatever you requested of them. There was practically no one you were afraid to call out if necessary, regardless if they were a lower-level employee or a fellow boss at the firm. You liked things to be done a certain way, and you wasted little time with hesitating like many others on the job did when they needed a task completed. 

He could tell your demeanor from that first interview, and it made him sweat. It pleased him and compelled him to achieve whatever he could during the hiring process to get close to you. Doyoung found it hard to get you off his mind, thinking about you from the time he left that interview to the hour before he fell asleep that night. He was undeniably pleased when he got the job, but even more happy that he’d be getting to work for someone like you.

Doyoung is a smart man, and he takes pride in a job well done. However...he’s not above making the occasional mistake just to hear you reprimand him. Nothing big enough to seriously impact your business, and never too often, or you’d probably have him kicked out. But every once in a while, he lets something “slip” his careful eye so he can hear your irritated voice or see your pretty eyes roll.

Sometimes he thinks he might be one of the strangest men on Earth to get enjoyment from things that would normally make others feel embarrassed and upset, but he doesn’t mind it too much. He knows what he likes, which is at least more than many others can say.

He’s not sure what he’d do if you knew about his secret, or about how he feels things specifically for you that an employee should never feel towards their boss. But he’ll continue to indulge as long as he can keep it to himself.

“I hope you’re ready for the presentation today.” You tell Doyoung this as you both take the elevator to your department floor. The only practical answer you expect is a yes, and he knows this. Thankfully for him, he’s not one to disappoint. “You’ve organized all the data I sent over to you and added it to the presentation, right?”

“Of course. Have I ever failed you?” 

You sigh, raising your eyebrows. “Those errors on your reports say otherwise, no matter how small they are. Don’t get too cocky about your track record yet, everyone messes up sooner or later.”

“Sounds like you don’t have any faith in me.” Doyoung laughs.

“Doyoung. If I didn’t have any faith in you, I wouldn’t have hired you.” You pat his shoulder good-naturedly, and he relishes that touch for a moment. “But I also know how humans work.” You both walk off the elevator when it finally stops, and Doyoung acknowledges a few people who pass by, though his eyes are always subtly drawn back to you. 

The conference room is almost full with the other bosses and higher-ups who have gathered for today’s meeting. It’s a panel, so there will be a few more people who go before and after you.

When it’s your turn to go up, you take the USB Doyoung’s given you with the presentation on it. 

The first few slides look as they should, which you pretty much expected, but you’re still glad to see that Doyoung got everything right.

You flip to the next slide of the presentation for the data and start going through it, but you quickly realize that something is wrong. None of the numbers match what you remember reviewing for this year’s report. You stop and blink for a few moments, trying to register what you’re seeing. Doyoung sits up in his chair, and his body goes stiff as he realizes his mistake. He knows for sure he imported the data into the PowerPoint, but he must not have been paying enough attention to which data he was using; all of this information is from last year.

There are a few disgruntled sounds from the meeting attendees, some born from secondhand embarrassment, others confusion, and some others annoyance. You clasp your hands together, putting on a fake smile as you regard the other members of the room. “Well...looks like there’s been a mistake.”

The meeting organizer speaks up. “We can continue on with the others and schedule your segment for another day. We’re all on a tight schedule right now, so I’m afraid there isn’t enough time to do this over today.” He gives you a regretful look, and you nod in response. You just hope you don’t get reprimanded for it too badly later.

Doyoung is sweating bullets when you return to your seat next to him. He glances over at you, though he can’t look you directly in the eye. You don’t even give him a glance back, instead keeping your eyes straight ahead on the next person’s presentation. He doesn’t need you to look at him, though; he already knows from your posture and energy that you’re pissed.

The rest of the meeting goes by fast. Maybe too fast. Everyone starts talking among themselves and packing up their things to leave, and you go to the organizer to set another date for your presentation. Doyoung waits until you’re finished with the other man before daring to approach you.

He stumbles over his words as he tries to speak. “Y/N, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

You give him a look and brush him off as neutrally as you can without drawing the attention of the others filing out of the room.“Let’s talk in my office.”

The walk to your office seems to last forever, though it’s only a minute or two in actuality. Doyoung doesn’t know what to think—will you decide to get rid of him? This is the first major mistake he’s made, but he is not so confident that you’ll be very forgiving with the past errors he’s made.

“Close the door behind you,” you say when you finally get in the office. Doyoung does as instructed and only sits down after you gesture for him to take the chair in front of your desk. After you’re both settled, you sigh and put your head in your hands.

You keep that position for a while, which makes him nervous. He isn’t sure if he’s supposed to speak first, so he keeps quiet and waits to see what you’ll do.

Possibly the weirdest part of all this is the thread of excitement that still pulses through him. He’s anxious to know what you’ll say to him, whether good or bad. He’s not ecstatic at the thought of losing his job, no, but he also can’t deny that he likes hearing you raise your voice at him.

You lift your head to look at him, and he feels immobilized underneath your gaze. “I should have you fired, you know that?” He tenses at that. “After making such a huge mistake in front of the upper management, and having to reschedule the damn meeting…everyone spent their precious time coming out here today, pulling themselves away from their own busy schedules...”

Your words make Doyoung panic a bit on the inside, yet they also stoke the fires of his attraction to you. He curses himself in his head. He’s usually better than this at keeping himself under control, but something about your pointed anger today is speaking directly to a deep part of him.

“Whenever I tell you to do something related to the job, you should do it.”

“I know, o-of course. It was a mistake, but—”

“But? Did you really not realize the information you had was from last year?” 

“I-it slipped my attention.” Doyoung can feel heat creeping up his neck, but also rushing farther down below the belt. He’s only seen you this upset before on a few other occasions, and none of them were directed at him. He’s a little ashamed to say that it’s still turning him on, though he also realizes the gravity of his mistake. “I know I can’t make up for what’s already happened, but I’ll do better.”

“You definitely will do better, because you’re staying overtime to fix it.” He figured that much. “There’s not enough time to deal with this mess now.” You sit back in your desk chair, crossing your arms. “Don’t look so anxious about it. I’m still pissed at you, obviously, but I’m not letting you go. There are a lot of fools around here, and I don’t need any of them trying to become my assistant if you leave.”

Doyoung’s shoulders deflate a little from the relief he feels at that, with some of the built-up tension leaving his body. There is still another uncomfortable problem left, though—the bulge in his pants. His face turns redder with the knowledge that he’s gotten hard in front of you, with the only thing to hide it being the folder of documents he’s holding.

You lean over the desk a little, examining your assistant closely. “Doyoung, you’re turning beet red. The hell? Are you getting sick or something?” 

“N-no! I’m not sick, really.” His hands tighten around the folder as he says this, and he tries to look at you as nonchalantly as he can manage, though the eye contact still sends his pulse throbbing.

You stare at him for a few more seconds, trying to read him and getting nothing but more nervousness. “You know what…” You shake your head. “Just go home early and do your overtime tomorrow. You clearly need a break to pull yourself together.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I don’t need you messing up any more of my work if you’re this flustered. Go on, go.”

Doyoung nods, wondering how he’s going to get out of the chair without making it too obvious that he’s sprung a hard-on from your reprimands. You sigh and press your fingers to your temples for a long moment, and he takes this opportunity to stand up and try to zip out of the room before you can open your eyes again.

“Wait. Give me the folder.”

He freezes with his back to you.

“The-the folder?”

“Yes, Doyoung, that folder you’re holding right there.” You roll your eyes. “Come on. Don’t you need to be getting home?”

“Right, yes…” Doyoung hesitates for a moment longer before passing the folder to you, then he quickly covers himself by crossing his hands in front of his crotch. The movement isn’t as natural as he’d like it to be. You raise an eyebrow at his stiff demeanor, but you don’t say anything immediately. He takes that as his cue to escape, and he goes to the door as calmly as possible.

“Remember your overtime tomorrow,” you call out as he opens the door to your office. He turns his head to look back at you, nodding in response. He can’t read the expression on your face, and he doesn’t stick around much longer to find out what you could possibly be thinking.

Once Doyoung gathers his things, he sneaks off to the men’s bathroom. His hands shake a little as he unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants, pulling his hard cock out and gripping his shaft tightly. A tiny moan slips out, though he quickly silences his voice as he begins stroking himself.

All your words from earlier circle around in his head as he gets himself off, his breaths labored and echoing slightly around the walls of the bathroom stall. He imagines that you’re the one pleasuring him, your fingers wrapping around his dick as you laugh at how hard and desperate he is for you. Maybe if he’s good, you’ll let him cum in your mouth.

He’s learned how to get himself off quickly and quietly in the work bathrooms by now, so it only takes a few more minutes before he’s spilling over his fingers, the sound of your name passing through his lips almost inaudibly. After he cleans himself up and flushes the toilet, he spends a few more minutes in the stall to calm his mind and take some deep breaths.

“Ugh…fuck,” he mumbles to himself. The thought of doing overtime doesn’t thrill him, and he still feels shitty about making such a big mistake, but there’s nothing left to do except fix his errors.

Friday goes like any other workday, and Doyoung doesn’t notice anything unusual from you that would’ve indicated you knew what his “problem” was yesterday. He’s a little relieved about that, but he’s still not reassured enough to disregard the incident.

The day passes by more quickly than Doyoung would like, and soon it’s already time for regular office hours to end—and his extra work to begin. He seats himself at his desk, nodding goodbye to the last few coworkers who straggle out of the room. He didn’t see you leave your office, but he figures you must already be gone because the room is dark.

For a few minutes, it’s just Doyoung working by himself. He’s barely gotten started with the bulk of the document fixes when he hears rustling and a door opening. He wonders if it’s someone else doing overtime or somebody who forgot their belongings. What he doesn’t expect to see is you walking towards his desk.

“I thought you were going home?” Doyoung asks, looking up at you curiously. His hands pause over the keys.

“I am; don’t think I want to stay here all night. But I need to talk to you about something first.” You cross your arms, looking at Doyoung from behind his computer monitor.

A cold sweat breaks out on his skin, though he tries to keep his face neutral. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Your behavior after the presentation yesterday. In my office.”

As he thought, there was no way he could’ve hidden it or gotten away with it. He hangs his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Y/N, please. Forgive—”

“Wait. Let me finish first.”

Doyoung stops talking immediately. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and watches you carefully to see what you’ll do.

“I have enough sense to figure out that you were far from sick, but I sent you away to save us both the embarrassment of you nutting in your pants.” His fingers twitch at your words, but he remains silent as he wearily waits for you to continue speaking. At this point, he’s unsure which direction this will go in; will you decide to go ahead and fire him after you said you wouldn’t? Will you scold him and then pretend like none of it ever happened? “You’re crazy as hell, you know that?”

He can’t meet your eyes anymore and instead looks at where his hands still rest on the desk. He stays quiet, mostly because he’s unsure how to respond in any justifiable way.

“You’re acting like a scared puppy now, but you were pretty damn shameless yesterday. Getting hard in front of your boss, really?” You reach out to him. He doesn’t know what your intention is, but he surely doesn’t anticipate you grabbing his tie. You’re not even trying to pull him closer; you simply hold the fabric in your hand, passing your thumb over its patterns. “Do you think any of that was appropriate?” you ask, your voice calm.

“N-no, it’s not.”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you practically sprinting to the bathroom, too. Are you gonna tell me what you did in there, or do I have to guess?”

Doyoung’s cheeks are blazing again, and he can hardly believe that you’re questioning him like this, or that he’s actually about to admit to it.

“I...I, um. I...jerked off.”

“Jerked off to the thought of me. Right?” He can only nod, keeping his eyes firmly on your hand—which is still holding his tie—instead of your face. “And do you think that’s appropriate?” He shakes his head no.

“Good answer. But you’ve also forgotten that I can do what I want, too. Do you think it’s fair that you’re the only one around here who gets to have any fun?” Now you pull him closer, and you lean forward to meet him halfway. The implications of your words have him risking a glance up at you, surprised that this is your answer.

“Fun?”

Any other thought he might have promptly disappears when you kiss him. He’s taken entirely off guard by your actions, and with his walls down, he lets a particularly needy moan slip out. He likes the feel of your lipstick smearing slightly against his mouth, and most of all, your lips themselves.

Doyoung is embarrassed to be getting hard from a single kiss, but whenever it comes to you, he’s gotten it up for much less. Now that he’s had this one taste of contact, he wants you to touch him more, wherever you see fit. It doesn’t much matter as long as your hands are on him in some way. He leans forward minutely, kissing you a little deeper and wanting to push his tongue into your warm mouth.

You part from him as soon as you feel him push closer, though you still keep a grip on his tie. “This is gonna go my way. Got it? If you don’t want this, say it now and I’ll leave.”

“No, I—stay, please. I want this.” His voice comes out more pleadingly than he meant for it to, but he realizes he’s not really concerned about that as long as you understand how much he really does want this.

You move away from Doyoung and he’s momentarily alarmed that you’re going to leave anyway, but you only shrug your coat off and step out of your heels, leaving them strewn on the office floor. You push him away from the desk in his rolling chair so there’s enough space for you to enter his cubicle and sit comfortably on his desk.

Doyoung’s eyes drop to your legs, which are shiny and smooth under your skirt and most likely just as soft as they look. “Get out of the chair and on your knees,” you tell him. He does so, and you kick the rolling chair away so it’s just you and Doyoung, you sitting on his desk and him kneeling in front of you.

“If you want to make up to me for that embarrassment yesterday, you’ll have to do a lot more than fixing a presentation.” You spread your legs a bit, your skirt riding up as you do, and Doyoung’s eyes hyperfocus on the gift that’s waiting between your thighs. His mouth waters a bit at the thought of finally getting to taste you. “So, don’t keep me waiting. Like I said, I’m not staying here all night.”

Doyoung nods and brings his hands up to the sides of your thighs, feeling buzzed at how he’s touching you in a place he’s never been before. He’d like to take his time peeling off your blouse and skirt, exposing your nude form to his mouth and hands and cock that would like to do nothing but worship you, but he hasn’t been given that much permission. So he keeps within his boundaries and hikes your skirt up more so he can reach your underwear to pull it off.

Your underwear, to his surprise, already has a considerable wet spot on it. It makes his dick throb to know you’re as eager for this as he is, even if you don’t necessarily express it. When you notice him staring at your panties, you grab the hand that’s holding your garments and push it into his face, making him smell your scent. “If you like it so much…”

The smell of you appeals to him on a visceral, primal level. His hands return to your thighs with renewed enthusiasm, gripping your body and pulling you closer to his wanting mouth.

The first stroke of his tongue between your lips makes you shudder, and it makes Doyoung moan out loud. He pushes his tongue into you as his nose nudges your clit, wanting to have more of you as you leak onto him. You grab his hair, though not hard enough to hurt, as you push his face closer into you and arch your hips up.

He responds to your actions by bringing his mouth back up to your clit, enveloping it and sucking it fervently. He doesn’t think to bring his fingers into the mix, as consumed as he is with simply tasting you right now, and your body’s reaction says you are more than content with letting him work his mouth on you.

“Doyoung…” The way you speak his name is surprisingly gentle, much unlike he’s heard anyone else say it before—even previous lovers. Maybe he believes it to be so because of how wrapped up he is in you. He tries not to read into it and get his hopes up, instead focusing on pleasuring you.

His cock strains uncomfortably against his pants, though he ignores it to keep licking into you. There seems to be no limit to how much wetness he can coax out of you. The small cubicle, and the office itself, is quiet except for the subdued hum of computer machinery and Doyoung’s mouth sucking your pussy.

The muscles in your legs flex underneath his fingertips as you get closer to releasing. Your hand slips to the back of his neck, caressing the heated skin there as Doyoung pushes you higher and higher until you’re cumming in his mouth. Your legs tense and try to close around his head as you moan softly, and Doyoung accepts the sensation of being caged in by you. Everything down here is hot and wet and delicious.

You are satisfied and properly spent after your climax, but Doyoung is still hard and you’re not quite done playing with him yet. “Stand up.”

He does so and watches with bated breath as you undo his pants and bring his dick out. It’s already dripping precum and flushed with arousal, but you decide that isn’t enough lubrication and carefully spit on his member to make your strokes smoother. His knees almost give way at seeing your pretty mouth so close to his dick, and he has to grab onto the cubicle wall to steady himself.

“Y/N…” His voice shakes as he speaks your name. Your hand moving across his shaft seems too good to be true, and he wants so much for you to take him into your mouth or even let him press in between your legs. But he certainly can’t deny that being touched this way is ridiculously good, too. You only concentrate on his dick for a little while, but your eyes soon venture up to his face, with his bangs sticking to his forehead from sweat.

“Do you like that?”

“I-I do. So much.”

“So easily satisfied, aren’t you…” you murmur, not really caring if he replies or not. You grip him a little more tightly, and he can hardly stop the whimper that results from it. “What do you do when you’re at home? Nevermind—I bet you hug your pillow and jack yourself off thinking it’s me. How embarrassing, Doyoung.”

You continue on, stroking him faster all the while. “Seriously, when’s the last time you had a warm body? You’re so sensitive.” You slide your thumb over the slit of his cock, and he reacts by pushing his hips closer to you and moaning loudly. There’s no one left on this floor but you two, so he isn’t too afraid of being vocal here. “Don’t tell me you’ve been holding out for me. Maybe I‘ll let you fuck me someday, though...you seem like the kind of man who knows what to do with a wet pussy, don’t you?”

You can guess when he’s about to come from his increasingly loud moans and how he has to hold your shoulder to keep himself upright. When Doyoung finally climaxes, you angle his dick so his cum splashes all over his shirt and suit jacket. You don’t stop stroking him until he whines out loud and nudges your hand away from his overstimulated cock. Some of his cum has dripped on your hand, too, and you wipe that on his pants. Lucky for you—and not so lucky for him—he‘s wearing light gray today.

It takes him a minute to recover from his orgasm, and you watch him with a devious smile as he regains his senses. You’re even more delighted when he looks down and sees the mess he’s made of himself.

“Y/N, my clothes…” You’re already standing up from the desk and pulling your underwear back on, along with your coat and shoes.

“That’s too bad, isn’t it? Gonna stain, too. You’ll have to walk out of here like that, and let’s not forget how you always take the subway on Fridays to save gas money.” Once you’ve tidied yourself back up, you give him another pitiful look. “Well, see you at work on Monday, okay?”

Doyoung can only watch your retreating figure as you walk to the elevator and get on, giving him one last amused wave before disappearing to the ground floor.

Perhaps the wildest part of it all, despite his soiled clothes and the night of work still ahead of him, is that he’d do it all over again if you asked.

[harrystyleswatermelon-sugar]

The assistant

„Miss Y/L/N, I can´t bring any of the other women here, when they would hear who the client is…they would freak out. I know you hate being the plenipotentiary and to certify the purchase contract outside of the notary…but you literally have no choice,” my boss says and I sigh. I know he is right and I know I have to go, but I don´t want. I hate it. I like being in my office, having no contact with strangers and do my thing.

“I can do it, I think. But who is this mysterious famous client? Bon Jovi? The Queen?” I ask and laugh a bit my boss rolls his eyes at me and I stop laughing. Sometimes I forget what a jerk he is and try to be myself.  

“It´s Harry Styles, you know him?” he asks and hands me the file. I flip through the pages until I find the draft. He buys a huge mansion in Hampstead Heath. Its value is £8.5. million and I gasp at the numbers. So much money.

“Yes, I do know him. I like his music, but I am not an obsessive fan,” I answer my boss´s question and he nods.

“I thought so, okay the appointment is tomorrow at 10. We are meeting at his house. Please dress formal,” he says and I nod. Normally I just wear denim and a nice top, but with someone this range, I understand that we have to look presentable.

 The next morning, I am indeed a bit nervous. It is not every day that I have to accompany my boss or meet a famous singer. I look at myself and nod in agreement. This is perfect. I chose a formal tight fitted dress in dark blue with a brown blazer and brown shoes. I put on some makeup and took the time to curl my hair, so it falls in flowy waves over my back.

Last night I googled our client and to be honest, I am pretty excited to see him. He seems nice and very attractive.

My boss collects me at our law firm and we drive to Harry Styles house. I carry Harrys file with the certificate and my bag. Mr Smith holds in front of a gate and presses a small button. No name is on the sign, but I think that is for safety reasons. The gate opens and I wonder, why he opens without checking who we are but then I see a small camera and realise, he sees us.

As we walk to the front door, it opens and I see him. He is beautiful, just stunning. Mr Smith shakes his hand and introduces me.

“This is Miss Y/L/N. She will sign the contract for the seller, he can´t be here today. She is authorized to do so,” Harry smiles at me and shakes my hand as well. He is tall and his eyes are sparkling, wandering over me.

“Hello, very nice to meet you,” he says and I smile back at him.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr Styles.” he leads us into his house and we sit down at the huge dining table. He already set up some glasses, water and cookies. They look hand-made, did he really bake?

Mr Smith explains Harry how it will work and starts reading the contract. He has to do so, but I don’t need to listen. I look around me and wonder how it is to be living in such a huge house all by yourself. It must be very lonely.

I see some guitars next to a piano, some sheets with notes and a few books. The room is dominated by a huge couch and a Flatscreen. In the corner, there is a fireplace and everything looks fancy and expensive. I look at my hands, my not so fresh manicure and I suddenly get embarrassed of myself. I am usually not self-conscious but in front of this gorgeous human being, I suddenly am. I get a bit nervous and Harry seems to notice, that I am not as comfortable as before. His eyes look a bit concerned and he cuts Mr Smith off by asking me:

“Are you okay?” I turn red and nod.

“Yeah, everything´s fine,” I answer and smile at my boss, scared that he might get upset. Sadly, I don’t have the best relationship with him, he often gets really annoyed and shouts at me. I am his personal assistant after all, but he is an idiot. If he wants something, he can be really nice but otherwise he usually is an idiot.

Harrys eyes follow mine and he looks at my boss. Mr Smith raises an eyebrow at me and I bite my lip. Oh god, I think I will be in trouble. He continues reading the contract as I can feel, that Harry is still looking at me. I avoid looking at him and stare at my hands.

Mr Smith finishes reading and shows Harry, where he has to sign. Harry does what he has to do and then it is my turn. I look at his hand, as he hands me the pen and smile at him.

“Thanks,” I mumble under my breath and he smirks, touching my hand on purpose as I take the pen. My hand is shaking a bit and I know, that both men notice it.

“I just check, if my information is alright,” I say and flip to the correct site. I read the paragraph and nod. Then I sign right under Harry and hand everything to Mr Smith. He signs and puts everything back into the file, so I can make an official document out of it, when we are back.

“Mr Styles, it was a pleasure meeting you. I think we will head back now and don’t bother you anymore,” Mr Smith says and I am eager to control the reflex and not roll my eyes. He is so over the top friendly, that I cringe. It is disgusting. Harry notices it too and snorts inhumanly. He shakes his hand and then smiles at me, as he says:

“It was nice meeting you too. Have a good day,” he takes my hand in his as Mr Smith walks already out the door.

“Maybe somewhere else,” Harry winks at me and I beam at him. He is flirting with me! With me!

“I doubt that. I don’t think you hang around the same places as I do,” I answer and he shrugs his shoulders.

“You never know, Y/F/N Y/L/N…I will find you, in a not creepy way hopefully,” we both laugh and I look at my boss, who is waiting for me.

“I have to go, he will get mad,” I say and let go of his hand.

“Don’t let him treat you under your value. No one deserves that,” I hear Harry say and walk to the car.

“Was about damn time, what did you two talk about?” my boss asks me and I better get a good reason, or I will definitely be in trouble.

“He wanted to know what the next steps are,” I say and buckle my seatbelt in. I look at Harry, as we leave and he smiles at me. I am a bit sad, that I will probably not see him again, he is really gentle and nice.

 A few weeks later I get a call in my office from our front desk.

“Hey, Y/N. Here is a young man in the line who wants to talk to you. He says his name is Selyts but I couldn’t find anything on him” I laugh and immediately get what happens here. My heart skips a beat and I tell Mary, it is alright.

“White Horse Solicitors and Notary Public, my name is Y/L/N, how can I help you,” I say my usual line, as I am not 100% sure it is Mr Styles.

“Hello Miss Y/L/N. This is-“I interrupt him, because as I hear his voice, I am sure.

“Mr Styles, hello,” I say and he laughs surprised.

“Oh, I was able to fool the lady at the front desk, but not you. I´m not surprised, you figured it, when you heard the name, right?” He asks and I grin. He is such a flirt.

“Yes, I knew it immediately. How can I help you?” I reply and lean back in my chair.

“Well honestly…I just wanted to hear if everything is going it's way?”

“Yes, sure. We sent everything away and I think there will be the announcement of registration and then it is officially yours. As soon as you pay,” I explain to him over the phone. He laughs and I can imagine how his eyes squeeze and I shake my head. He is a fucking client, get your shit together Y/N.

“That shouldn’t be a problem, as long as I get a receipt. So, I don’t need to come to the office or anything else? That´s just it?” he asks and I smile sadly.

“That´s just it. No need to come here, besides my colleagues would freak out if they saw you,” I warn him and hear him laughing once again. His laugh is really cute – oh, stop it Y/N!

“So that’s why you were here? Because you don’t care who I am?”

“Uhm…well, at least I can be professional, what doesn’t mean I don’t care. Please hold on a minute, Mr Smith is coming in” I say just as my boss enters my office, of course without knocking. Before I can put Harry on hold, he already shouts at me.

“Miss Y/L/N, what the fuck did I say about putting the pieces IN. THE. RIGHT. ORDER. Into the file? Is it really that you are so stupid, you don’t even get the simplest thing right? Can you even brew a proper coffee? Probably not, I know why you aren’t a lawyer, because you are just to damn stupid to put the papers in the correct order!” his voice is bitter and he looks so pissed, that I just stare at the ground ashamed. I am sure, I put them in the right order, so it has to be someone else´s fault, but blaming someone else wouldn’t make this better.

“I´m sorry, Mr Smith. I will take care of it,” I mumble and he throws the file at the carpeted floor. Papers fly around and the cover rips open. It will take me at least three hours to get this massive file in order again. Great, I had planned to meet a friend after work. I guess I can quit that now. My boss slams the door shut when he leaves and I get on my knees to collect the papers. I suddenly remember the phone and gasp. I forgot to put Harry on hold, he probably heard everything and I run back to the phone.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I mutter as I see, that the red light is still out. It should be on, to prevent the caller from listening.

“Mr Styles? I´m back…do you have any more questions?” I say and I really hope he didn’t hear anything from the previous conversation.

“No, I mean…yes…what happened?” he asks and I can´t possibly tell him what happened.

“Oh nothing, everything´s fine here. It´s just a bit stressful, I am going to work overtime today, that´s all,” I answer and close my eyes. Hopefully he buys it.

“Okay, then have a good evening and don’t work too much. Don’t forget to eat and don’t let your boss get to you. You are awesome,” he says and I turn bright red. He is so nice, I can´t handle it.

“Don´t worry. Bye, Mr Styles. It was nice meeting you” we say our final goodbyes and as I hang up, I bury my face in my hands. Oh, dear god.

The whole new organization of the file takes way longer than expected. It turns out, someone messed up the whole file and it is one of the biggest we have. At 11 PM I am devastated, hungry and tired. Good thing is, tomorrow is Saturday so I can sleep as long as I want.

I let my head sink on my desk onto all those papers and sigh. This was such a hard day and it is not yet over. I still have a few papers to organize and I flinch, as someone knocks on my office door. Everybody left hours ago, I thought I was alone.

“Who´s there?” I ask and hope I look at least half presentable. The door opens and I see Harry Styles lurking around the corner. He smiles as he sees me and I sit straight up.

“H…ello Mr Styles. What are you doing here? It is the middle of the night,” I say and rescue myself by turning the original H from Harry into the H from hello.

“Hello, love. I thought you might be hungry and overworked, so I brought you some food and company,” he says and I smile. Too sweet, but why? I don’t even know him.

“Thank you, that’s so nice of you. But really not necessary, you are our client. You shouldn’t be here,” I answer and he presses his lips together.

“Look, Miss Y/L/N. I heard your argument with Mr Smith and I noticed, that you are afraid of him. I thought I am coming around and show you some appreciation of what he clearly doesn’t do, so this is for you. If you want me to leave, that´s fine…I will. Just take the food and be sure your work is greatly appreciated,” he says smiling and puts the bag on my desk.

This is the nicest thing someone has done for me in a long time. This is amazing and so thoughtful of him. He turns around and walks to the door.

“Wait…would you like to eat with me?” I ask him and he turns half around, smiling.

“Sure, I´d love to. But please call me Harry,” he suggests and I put the files and papers away. He sits down in front of my desk and gets out all the stuff he bought.

“Oh god, Mr Smith will kill me…but my name is Y/N,” I reply and sit down. We eat together, talking about the contract and my boss.

“I am not allowed to talk about such things, but you are right. He is horrible,” I just reply to his question.

“Why do you work here, then? I think you could work anywhere you want. I bet you have a good education,” he assumes and I nod. He is right, my education is pretty good.

“I don’t know, maybe I am afraid of changes,”

“Change is good, really. We need change. You clearly need it.” He answers and I look at him. His green eyes never leave mine until I break the eye contact and sigh.

“I don’t know, I´m always so afraid,”

“Don’t be. Just do it, be brave. It´s worth it,” he says and I roll my eyes at him. Sure, being brave sounds good, if you have a fortune and don’t care about any normal job.

I get up and begin collecting the waste, to throw it away.

“I am not brave at all,” I finally answer and look at him. He gets up from his chair and sees directly into my eyes. His hands are on my arms, as he now says:

“Then be it. Just try. What would you do, if you´d be brave and would care less about this job?” he asks me and I can´t look away. I would kick the file from my desk, kiss Harry, fuck with him on my desk and then go home and face my boss with no fear on Monday. But I know I´d never do one of those things.

“Do it. Whatever you are thinking now, do it,” he requests and I look over to the file on my desk. He is right, I should just be brave and do it and don’t care about this job. I will find another one, definitely. I smile shyly, move to the file and throw it on the ground. It feels good. Really relieving.

“Very good, I am proud of you!” Harry cheers and I laugh.

“Felt good?”

“Hell yes. You are right, I should do what is best for me, not for the company. I will quit, I wanted it for so long, but I was afraid,” I tell him and he nods.

“If that is what you want, yes. Do it.” He supports me and I think about how a stranger is capable of getting me to the final point to quit. My eyes meet his and I decide, to just do it, like he said. I walk over, grab his face with both my hands and press my lips on his. He immediately grabs my hips and pushes me backwards onto my desk. Two hearts, one idea. I rip off his shirt and he pulls mine over my head.

Sometime later, we both look at each other, swollen lips and panting. His chest is covered in sweat and I can´t believe I just got fucked by Harry Styles on my office desk. And it was damn good.

“That was…unexpected. I did not plan for this to happen,” Harry says out of breath and I grab my undergarments, to get dressed again.

“Well, it did happen,” I reply shy all of a sudden. Being naked in front of someone like him, who has seen models naked makes me insecure. As fast as I can, I put my dress back on and skip sliding into my thighs. I just shove them into my bag.

“Hey, look at me, Y/N.” he says with a calm voice and as I turn around, he comes to me. His eyes wandering over my face, when he takes my hands in his. He is in his briefs and his Shirt, but no pants yet. I look up and meet his green, mesmerizing eyes.

“This was not wrong. I want you to know that I came here to be close to you, to get to know you. I didn’t mean for this to happen right now and here, but it just shows that you feel the same as I do and that’s unbelievable. I want to date you, in private, no cameras, no media, just the two of us. How does that sound to you?” he asks and I can see the hope in his eyes. I am not sure, it is so unprofessional to date a client, but I like him. I do. He is so friendly and nice and to be honest, I already had a crush on him, before I met him but knowing him a bit better now…I am absolutely falling for him.

“I´d like that very much, yes,” I reply and smile at him.

“That´s good news but from now on, we take it slow okay? This happened, but I will date you the normal way, like any regular guy does,” he proposes and I laugh. As if he is a regular guy, but I just nod and hug him. He is so warm and his hug is very comforting and he smells amazing.

 Four months later Harry and I are still dating, I quit my job after we met in my office and found a new job almost immediately. I get more salary, have a nicer work environment and it is closer to my home.

Until today we have been very secretive about our dating and mostly kept it out of the media. Here and there we were papped leaving a restaurant or just strolling around, but there is no evidence, that we are really dating.

“You, ready, love?” Harry asks and enters his bedroom. I am standing in front of the mirror and checking my appearance again and again.

“No, I don’t know. Maybe I should wear the other dress, I am scared this won´t look good next to your suit,” I whine and feel his arms snaking around my waist. Today is the day, we are going public. It is the world premiere of his new movie and he asked me to join him on the red carpet.

“You look absolutely beautiful, don’t worry,” he assures me and kisses my cheek. I look at us in the mirror. His suit is plain dark grey and he looks so good in it, it should be forbidden. My dress, on the other hand, is a sparkly dark red one with no straps or sleeves.

“I am so scared, what if your fans won´t like me? What if it would´ve been better to hide me?” I ask and look at the ground, as he turns me around in his arms.

“Darling, Y/N. I love you with all my heart and I mean it. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I am not leaving you, if my fans don’t like you. Which will not happen. There is nothing to not love on you,” he says and I smile at him. He just said that he loves me. I mean, I figured it but it is the first time one of us said it out loud.

“You love me,” I say and he giggles, resting his forehead on mine.

“I do. I love you,” he repeats and I kiss him passionately. My heart is about to explode and I just want to be near him, hold him, smell him.

“I love you too, Harry,” I reply and look at him. He hugs me and I press my body against him, clinging to him as if I am going to drown without him.

When we arrive at the premiere venue Harry takes my hand, as soon as we are out of the car.

“Just never let go, okay?” I beg him and he nods smiling.

“Never,” his voice is deep and raspy as I take a deep breath. We step into the flashing lights, are fired with questions and I just smile, holding on to Harry hand, turning, feeling him pulling me closer and letting go of my hand. I look at him in panic, but he grabs my hip, pressing me to his side and showing me off a bit, I think.

We finally get to the interviewers and I thought he has to be there alone, but he keeps tugging me with him. He does his interviews and finally, the big question comes.

“Who is joining you tonight? You look stunningly beautiful, by the way” the interviewer says to me and winks. I smile and nod thankful because he is so nice. Harry looks at me and smiles, as he answers.

“This is my girlfriend Y/N, she is breath-taking, you are right”

“It is official, Harry Styles is off of the market, dear ladies. Have a good night today and enjoy yourselves, but be careful this beautiful lady does not steal your show” he winks at us and I look down at our entwined hands.

“Oh, she always does, I am sure. Thank you mate, see you around” Harry says his goodbye and moves on to the next one. It takes so long, that I am nearly dried out when we finally get to the fans. They are so sweet, asking for pictures and autographs, some ask who I am and then want me to join the picture.

Inside we find our seats and I greet his co-stars, which I mostly know. The film is brilliant and I have to decline Harrys snogging attempts because I don’t want to miss anything. He frowns at me and sticks his tongue out. I laugh and when the credits appear I look at him, like a proud mom.

“I loved it, you were brilliant,” I say and lean in to kiss him.

“Thanks, babe. I love you,” he replies and smiles into the kiss. We hear some fans cheering behind us, as the lights turn on and we are still kissing each other.

“See they like you, just as I do,” he kisses my cheek once again and I laugh.

“I hope not, I don’t want to sleep with all of them,” he grins and winks at my response.

“Dirty girl,” we chuckle and then meet some more fans outside the venue before we head home to Harrys house.

Hello lovelies, I hope you liked my newest OS. Yes, I tried a bit smut and if you like it, I have another one with even more smut.

Let me know. 

Love, xx

[7wanderingpaws]

He Loves Love (1/3)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: singer AU (no Exo)

Words: 5.6K

Warnings: none

A/N: I got such a good feedback for He Loves Love (a drabble) - I recommend reading it first - and plus a request to actually write the story about the lovers and how they got together so I did it! This is the first part out of TWO... I hope I fulfilled the expectations. Please let me know what you think, it helps immensely... Thank you and you look pretty today! 💕

This was requested by lovely @shesdreaminginoverdose​ I hope you will like it! And thank you! 🌹😊

Masterlist

1<<<   2<<<

The plastic chair you were sitting on came in very handy since your feet were killing you. The café you were currently in was a famous one, hidden away in the tangles of small streets in Sinsa-dong, where the life of Seoul was bustling with lively, young energy that you should have been able to relate to but it had been a bit difficult recently. It might have been the amount of assignments combined with the internship you managed to land- although you were not sure how.

“It is interesting,” mumbled Hyeri seated across from you,  who, would become your senior at the magazine. “I would never say you have an inch of fashion sense if I were to just look at you.” She didn't look up from the printed text of your blog posts and various stories you managed to get out to the world through indie publications. Wearing an expensive set of sunglasses, there was no chance you would be able to see the sharpness of her eyes. “It is just so... “ she shook her head slightly, searching for the correct word to describe your fashion sense. “Plain.”

Sucking your lips inside your mouth, you nodded slowly although she wasn't paying attention to your physical being, her head still set low, hawk eyes skimming through every word you typed out.

A couple of more seconds passed by without any words spoken, when she suddenly looked up, startling you for a heartbeat. “You also don't say much.”

“I didn't think there is any correct answer I could give you.”

“Well, your senior is talking to you. You should acknowledge their words.” You noticed a frown on her forehead, her eyebrows that were dark with a generous help of a pencil, were scrunched upwards. Her face must have been very pretty, the heavy red lipstick said it, too. Confidence. Authority.

“Sometimes staying silent is better than saying something unworthy,” you replied calmly, giving her a slight uplift of your lips. They were becoming rather dry, not having a lip balm as you left your teeny-tiny one-room apartment in a rush, scared of not arriving on time. Seoul transportation could be sometimes quite nerve-wrecking.

Hyeri reciprocated the tiny smile, but it didn't give you an inch of reassurance. “Alright, good.” She slammed the document shut, reaching for her iced-americano. Carefully pursing her lips, she drank through the straw so that her lipstick wouldn't be ruined. “Let's go to the office, shall we?” Chairs screeched on the floor and you followed her click-click with your tump-tump.

When you started the work, it was crazy because wow, you made it into one of the best fashion magazines in Korea!  But continuing to work there was slowly killing you... until you met him.

Those simple yet somehow powerful words he uttered to you…

I will wait for you until you make it.

The feeling he left inside of you was like a tattoo that should have been temporary, just like it happens in any random first-time meetings with people you don't know. They might charm you and the effect might last for a day or two, sometimes a bit more. But in this case, you could not get the look out of your mind. He was tattooed on your eyelids, and he seemed to constantly talk into your ear.

I will wait until you make it.

Naturally, you were trying to shut the intrusive chain of thoughts out, telling yourself that it was ridiculous. C'mon, we were talking about a famous singer - a very famous singer. For him to reach such popularity meant to not only have crazy talent but also crazy amount of charm which seemed to work absolute wonders to you and to your mind. It wasn't helping that after the meeting, you followed his activities and looked up interviews, trying to decode his personality through videos and his body-language. Because if there was one thing people underestimated - it was the power of body language. But his was pure, honest, well-mannered and completely controlled, with some dangerous flirting and body movements that made your head spin for a bit, totally affected by him, seeing him even with your eyes closed.

You scoffed out loud, unconsciously, as you were transcribing an interview Hyeri did earlier in the morning with Twice. Not realising your colleagues were giving you a questioning look, you typed away what the interviewee was replying, the volume in your ear a bit too loud. 

Huh… He wouldn't even remember you, let alone wait 'till you “make it” as he so confidently said. These superstars… They thought they could just say something they thought sounds cool but it actually didn't. 

It definitely was not the reason you found yourself listening to his latest album as you were going through the minutes of the meeting that just finished. You were supposed to bring them to the editor-in-chief in an hour.

You could manage to do all the work in one hour.

Only if his voice wouldn't have been so distracting.

Why was it so distracting?

Maybe you were just starstruck. After all, he was someone that you knew about before ever applying to university and making it to a magazine. He was the singer hanging on the walls of horny teenage girls and, let's be honest, many young adults and adults… Who would dislike him, right? 

“Ah, Baekhyun,” mumbled Hyeri with a sigh once you were walking up the stairs of the office building after THE meeting with Baekhyun, the singer. “He is a dangerous one. Always a gentleman, though.”

“Why is he dangerous for being a gentleman?” you asked matter-of-factly. Seriously. People should pay more attention to what they were saying and whether it made sense or not. Just like she could have thought twice before saying whether you were good or bad in front of him just now… Why would she give two damns about your feelings being hurt while also belittling you in front of a major celeb… If only people paid a little bit more attention.

Hyeri smirked, stepping on the first floor in front of the golden elevators. She pressed the button to call one, now turning to you. The sunglasses she liked to wear so much, as you learned,  were leisurely holding her hair back as they were resting as a headband on her head. “He is a sweet dream,” she said, calling your name to make sure you are listening. “Working with him is probably more pleasurable than it should be, but then… You just know he isn't a gentleman only to you. He is the same to each of us.”

You frowned, still having his face, his eyes set on you vividly in your brain. Hyeri looked like him a lot if you didn't focus enough. “You know you don't make sense, my dear senior.”

“Yah!” she shouted, making you jump but you smiled right away. “Don't act like you aren't even a little bit phased by meeting him just now. He looked gorgeous. Plus, it was your first-time meeting someone of his calibre.”

“So will you finish what you were saying before?” you asked nonchalantly, definitely not letting her know that you were out of it because him, too. You didn't want to follow the crowds he was obviously so used to have him follow.

“I meant,” she started again, just when you heard a ding! of the elevator. You walked in, pressing the 24th floor. “No girl seems to be special to him.”

Shrugging, you pursed your lips. “Well, you do realise you are not part of his world, right? He isn't here to make us feel special nor to help us to stand out. That is our job. To make him special.”

Of course no one would dislike him. The editor ladies were swooning, always bringing up his name during the meetings as a proposal for the cover of the magazine of the upcoming issue. You typed his name the most when writing the minutes of the meetings. They all wanted him, but he did not want to be wanted always.

Hence his appearance once in a while. 

Hence you saw him again after almost one year and a half for the first time since your first meeting with him. Coming with a new album that had yet to be released, your editing staff was hot on their feet, running errands, picking up calls and making new ones, because our magazine definitely had to be the first one to book such a luxurious star.

“Good news for you,” started Hyeri as she was passing by your cubicle, her heels loud, her hair bouncy, her sunglasses tucked sensually in the sharp V cut opening of her Gucci shirt. “Your first participation in the creative process.”  She propped up on the edge of your desk, and you turned in your chair to face her. She gave you a mischievous smile. “You shall be able to finally prove to Baekhyun that you made it and that he didn't wait for nothing.”

Your eyebrows shot up fast, your reflexes faster than your brain trying to keep your emotions at bay. But wait… did she just say… “Why do you remember those words?” you asked, dumbfounded.

She gave you a funny look. “Why do you ask me that when I just told you some privileged news? If this whole shot goes well, you sure can expect some sweet promotion.”

Swallowing, your eyes were wandering around, trying to process information. It was ridiculous she would remember some words that weren't even directed towards her. But hey, goodness gracious, were you just assigned to participate in the creative process of his promotion in your magazine? “Will I get to interview?”

Hyeri's lips twitched, only the left corner of her mouth raising. Naive child, she must have thought. “No way. The writer has been already assigned. You aren't close enough yet,” was her reply, standing up now. “The meeting is at six.” She gave a quick look at her golden wrist watch. “You have three hours to help your looks and charm off his pants,” she gave you wink and left.

“Hey!” you shouted after her, grabbing a pencil, ready to throw it at her. “Why would I-” you stopped, when you saw she just laughed loudly without even looking at you. “Woah!” you breathed out, “I don't even care about charming him!” Calming down, you sat back down properly, mulling over her words. “I finally get to be part of something,” you sighed, talking to your wildly beating heart to stop it.

Just why was it beating so fast?

It was not because of him.

It was not.

-

You remember wearing this lush white sweater you had to actually tie around your body unless you wanted to flash some skin or worse… a breast. So you tied it very tightly, and took a breath before heading to the meeting room a bit earlier to prepare the documents for the participants. Thankfully, there weren't many. It was the singer's team, you, the writer and, well, the editor-in-chief, because who would want to miss a meeting with such a popular singer?

You entered the meeting room which had a lovely view of the city that was about to be consumed by darkness, yielding to the city lights that always gave you a sense of excitement, a sense of liveliness. And so as you placed neatly each document in front of each seat, you could hear some movement on the corridor, hinting that it was about to go down.

You turned to the glass wall and saw two men with faces you did not recognize until they let in the first person that was behind them. And just then, you made eye contact with him for the second time in your life. His hair dark, bare face and simple clothing combined in dark colours made him so… normal.

But your heart was reacting like it just saw something completely abnormal and it was going nuts because your breath got caught in your throat as you felt a foreign pull towards him. It was because he a famous personality, nothing else…

He smiled.

Wow.

That was a beautiful smile. And did you just sense a hint of acknowledgement on his face? There was no way he could possibly remember you. This wasn't a drama.

But… then…

He uttered your name.

It rolled of his tongue as if he has had always muttered it before, just like to his old friend that he met for the first time in a long time.

Baekhyun, the singer, was walking to you now, and once again, he spoke your name before saying: “We came a bit earlier, I hope that is okay with you.” Stopping right in front of you, you had one document left in your hand which was meant for you. Without realizing, you were bowing to him, hugging the chunk of papers to your chest as you stole a glance at his managers, quickly bowing to them as well.

“Of course it is, Baekhyun ssi,” you said, bowing again before straightening up and stealing a glance at him to see an entertained look on his face. 

Few more heartbeats passed, before he said, not even turning: “You guys can go, the rest of the team will come later. I want to just wait here.”

Was he telling his managers to leave? While looking at you the entire time?

Just like that, they gave you a polite nod before leaving.

Before any uncomfortable silence could take over, you quickly rushed to say: “Please, have a seat! I prepared the documents for you over here. What would you like to drink?” you started, trying not to stutter in his powerful presence and trying to escape his searching gaze.

He breathed out a deep chuckle, causing goosebumps to raise on your back all the way up to your neck. You pushed the chair he was meant to sit on and waited till he finally moved. Ignoring your questions, he spoke: “So you made it, I see.” He started walking, but once again stopped just in front of you, not taking a seat. “You also developed a better fashion style as I observe.”

As I observe.

Blinking at him a few times in slight confusion, you eventually moved out of the way, feeling uncomfortable at his intimate approach to you. You should be both polite to each other and kind of have it awkward.

The fact that he actually talked to you as if he knew you for the entirety of that one year and a half that you didn't see each other (and it wasn't like you were on a “you are my friend” terms… you were strangers. He was a singer for god's sake) was giving you the chills. Plus, the terrible, annoying butterflies in your stomach were giving you the need to vomit.

You decided not to answer his observations.“I guess water will do it for you,” you replied politely, turning to him just in front of the door, ready to leave.

“What makes you think that?” he smirked as he was making himself comfortable on the chair by sliding down a bit, resting his elbows on the arm rests. You bit your lip.

“You look tired, Baekhyun ssi. That is my observation,” you replied matter-of-factly, giving him a kind smile and feeling like a cheeky girl for playing with his words.

He was looking at you without answering before he sighed, nodding once. “Water will be perfect...  Thank you.”

As you were rushing back with the tray with water and some snacks you didn't have time to prepare, you already heard voices coming out from the meeting room, your editor-in-chief already present. Of course, you wouldn't even thought about eavesdropping. It was an official meeting that you were included in, after all. But the next words, including your own name, made you stop abruptly.

“She is doing very well, Baekhyun ssi,” you heard your editor-in-chief say. You could sense she was smiling, given her tone was so relaxed and light unlike her heavy voice she used when she was in her authority mode with her editors. “But I do have to say that if it weren't for your kind word for her, she might have not made it into our staff.”

Oh dear heavens. No way. This wasn't real, right?

He was the reason you made it into the magazine? He actually gave a word in for you to be accepted? The worst was, that if it weren't for him, you wouldn't be here, chasing your dreams, being already half-way done. This could only mean you weren't good enough on your own… Or was it?

The tray with snacks and water for the singer started to shake slightly as you felt tension rising in your body. Trying to calm your mind, you quickly breathed in and out a few times, attempting to control the sudden outburst of emotions. It was difficult when you still had to face them and sit through an entire meeting with them and you were to propose ideas that might not be good enough because you just weren't good enough on your own without some influential person's help...

You were brought back to planet Earth when Baekhyun, the singer, hummed in reply, the noise giving you a terrible, terrible shock. You wanted to hear that one again. “I am glad. Before you arrived, she was very professional and already tried her best  at making me feel comfortable,” he spoke as if there was any need to add more. “She works hard.”

“I do not doubt that,” replied the editor-in-chief.

Before they would wonder what took you so long, you literally thundered into the room, cheerful but very plastic smile plastered on your face as you not so gently put down the tray on the table and with a shaky hand handed the singer his water. Not daring to look at him once, you gave a polite nod to your editor-in-chief who gave you a close-lipped smile before she motioned with her head for you to sit down next to her, facing the main subject of the meeting.

Him.

The singer.

Whose eyes were on you the instant you dared to look at him. You didn't miss the seriousness as the meeting officially started, the three of you along with the managers sitting a bit on the side, going through each page you so carefully prepared. With pictures, ideas and various possible photoshoot spots you provided in the documents, you sure did gain a sudden wave of confidence, just like when you first submitted the ideas to the editor-in-chief. This time, you could be confident and believe in yourself. What you heard before about the singer taking any kind of part of you getting an offer from the magazine to join them did not matter - or so you were trying to persuade your troubled heart. Because, after all, it was you and your hard work - your journalistic worth that kept you there and eventually landed you a spot right opposite the main actor of your entire story. Byun Baekhyun.

-

On the first day out of two intensive shooting days, you were extremely busy and kind of overwhelmed with the amount of work and the control you suddenly possesed. The editor-in-chief's words kept popping up in your head as you commanded the filming team at 4am about what to put where and discussing the possible angles of the photos with the director of photography. 

“This is a great chance for you to experience and understand the hard-work of the people around a photoshoot. I know you love writing, but for you to really understand the process behind interviews and the main subject, you need to first work hard around it.”

You remembered taking the editor-in-chief's words seriously, and you still did, but it was tiring. Also, the superstar was supposed to arrive at 5am and you were not ready to face him in this situation. After the first meeting back in the magazine headquarters, the electric waves you kept feeling were so out of place, you were utterly ashamed about the direction of your thoughts and feelings about him. Because he was just it - a superstar whose main job was to charm people, and preferably, sing well since he was a singer after all.

“Good morning,” your train of thoughts was interrupted by a gentle voice from behind. You were in the storage room where all the props were ready to be used once it was their time to shine.

Turning around, you looked at a freshly looking Baekhyun, the singer, who was standing in the doorway to the storage room. Simple dark jeans, a long hoodie with his dark hair over his eyes... he might have looked like someone that came out of the shower and needed to feel comfy. Not like you gave it much thought.

Letting your eyes drop behind him, you noticed he didn't have anyone around as you expected. There was literally never a time he wasn't being followed, or led somewhere by managers or whatever staff was at hand.  “Ah, you arrived, Baekhyun ssi,” you smiled politely, bowing as you were holding some boxes with fresh flowers that arrived just a little bit ago. Looking into his eyes, you squeezed your lips even tighter, feeling now the familiar shakiness you felt whenever he was anywhere near you. Or more like whenever you knew his presence was somewhere near you. It could be anywhere in the building, really. By now, you didn't even have to see him to get the effect. He was effortlessly affecting you without being physically with you. “How come you arrived early? I bet you could have used some more time to sleep.” You moved towards the doorway where he was stood, wanting to leave the storage room as the flowers were needed at the main set.

He wasn't moving, though. Instead, waiting for you to stand in front of him so he could look down on you with a cheeky smile, he said: “I wanted to come earlier to make sure I understand the concept we are shooting today.”

You looked up at him, lifting the boxes slightly in your grip to ease the weight. “Then what was the meeting for, hm?” you challenged, puffing out some air. Baekhyun took the boxes from you, which you didn't let go of. “No way, Baekhyun ssi. That is my job. Please go prepare for the shoot in the A2 room. It's just down the corner.”

He smirked, pressing on the boxes so you would let go, which you unconsciously did. “I might have not paid proper attention during the meeting.”

“Well, you were tired, it's understandable.”

He kept on looking at you without talking. Then, he hummed. That hum you heard before the meeting. The hum that seemed to have a certain effect on your heart. “Yeah, that too.” He took a breath, his answer somehow distant. “How is the work? Did you have too much on your plate for this photoshoot?”

“Yeah, actually, I really need to work now-”

“Just five minutes. You can spare five minutes for me, right?” he asked quickly, putting the boxes down between the two of you,  as if there wasn't really an option to say no. Because it was him, you did not have an option to say no.

You nodded curtly. “Sure. Five minutes.”

He laughed quietly, which felt strangely intimate. “So, will you answer my question now?”

“Baekhyun ssi,” you started, tucking some messy hair behind your ear, “this is a job that requires me to do this. I love it. The craze, the overtime, the pressure, the fact that not a single day is the same. I should probably thank you, shouldn't I?”

Well, that last sentence wasn't supposed to come out. You really didn't mean to start on this topic now, when you had little time and you also weren't intending on letting him know that you knew about him giving a word in for you. He probably didn't want you to know.

“Thank me?” he asked, slight frown in his eyes. “Why would you want to thank me?”

Now it was your turn to look at him without replying right away. Carefully looking at his features, you were trying to see through him, except there wasn't much to mull over, because his features and expression were genuine. You licked your lips once you noticed his wandering stare - it was fast, but still noticeable. He was standing in front of you, after all. Your hair, your forehead, slowly sliding down your nose before making a quick, but very memorable stop at your unmoving lips before meeting your gaze. “Because you are the first cover of the magazine I get to work on.”

“Oh, what an honour then,” he chuckled, his confusion all cleared up now. “I just wanted to let you know that,” he paused, licking his lips as he dropped his gaze for a bit, making you go breathless in the meantime. He raised his eyes back up to yours. “That I am proud of how far you came. It is always nice to see that hard work pays off.”

“Thank you,” you murmured. “I appreciate your words. Although, I would like to ask - and I apologize if I will come off as rude, but I prefer things being straightforward - why do you treat me this way?”

“Treat you what way exactly?”

“This,” you motioned with your hands at the boxes he put down, him blocking the doorway so you couldn't leave. “You are being kind. And your approach towards me… It is all just…” you shook your head, frustrated for the lack of vocabulary, “do you do this to all the meaningless interns you meet?”

“There is no such position as meaningless intern,” he shot back. “Plus, you are not an intern anymore. And yes, I do like to treat my staff with kindness.”

“No, that is not what I meant. What is this all about?”

He shrugged, amused at your tiny outburst. “So I like you. What is wrong with that?”

You went silent. Speechless. All you could do was just stare at him with wide eyes, your jaw slightly hanging open. The conversation certainly took a very different turn.

“What?” he laughed cockily when he didn't get a reply, crossing his arms over his chest. “I thought you liked things straightforward?”

You heart was about to jump out of your ribcage, and he dared to laugh at this situation? He dared to use your own words? God, this dude really had some courage.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, suddenly quiet as he took the tiniest of steps forward. To you. “You seem surprised.”

“Y-you… Y-you are actually asking me why I look at you like this?” you almost shrieked, causing him to sober up and shush you quickly, moving his hand up, his finger on your lips. Your eyes widened even more, moving your head back. “What do you think you are doing, Baekhyun ssi?”

“I'm doing straightforward business with you,” he explained matter-of-factly, “and you are ruining it.”

“This isn't funny.”

“I am not trying to be funny. For once.”

“I'm sorry but-” you shook your head frantically, bending in your waist to pick up the boxes, “this is a joke. I don't have time for this. I also don't have time for this bullying.”

“Bullying?” he gasped, standing in the middle of the doorframe so that you wouldn't be able to escape. He was genuinely surprised and, was that hurt you saw in his eyes? Disbelief perhaps?

You straightened up, giving him a strict look. “I am not going to become your puppet, Byun Baekhyun ssi. I'm disappointed. Liking someone based on their looks…” you mumbled the last sentence, scoffing and eventually dropping your gaze, to give him an attitude. Hopefully, he would realise you weren't one to be played with.

Despite all of that, you… oh, you were dizzy with emotions swirling around in your bloodstream. His words could actually influence the chemistry of your body. Magnificent. And he just freaking admitted he liked you. You had no idea based on what exactly, but he did. 

“You aren't attracted to people?” he questioned, amused. “When you first see them... You can even feel them.” He went silent for a bit, and you felt each and every touch of his gaze on your face. Eventually, he spoke your name softly. “Look at me. Please.” When you didn't comply, stubborn, he spoke even softer. “I'm sorry if I went overboard. I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. And I definitely didn't want to make you feel like you were bullied. God, no. Never. ” Now, you looked up at him, paying attention. “I just couldn't help myself. There is something about you…” he murmured, letting his gaze drink in your facial features. He shook his head gently. “I apologize. And know that I am looking forward to working with you on this one.”

“You don't even know me.”

“Hm?”

You licked your lips. “You don't even know me. I am nobody to you. It doesn't make any sense to me.” Stubbornly, you were trying to give him a way out, to cancel what he admitted.

Yes. You were a nobody to him. And everything that was happening right now was surreal, abnormal and just plain ridiculous for you. A world-wide famous singer who liked an intern/editor and was proud of how far she came because, it was all thanks to him you were there in the first place.

No. It was just nonsense. Surely, he was just making things up. And because you might have been too starstruck by him, an obvious effect, you were feeling this pull towards him you couldn't quite describe. But then again, it most probably was a natural effect of famous people. 

He shook his head, plucking the bubble you were in. “I don't have to know you to see that you came so far. I met you when you were starting, and now, here you are.” He smiled.

Just in that moment, somebody called your name and you and Baekhyun exchanged looks. Seeing that he was truly sorry about making you feel uncomfortable, you gave him a polite smile and a nod with your head. Before taking your leave, you spilled him the contents of the photoshoot in a speed of light (since that was why he initiated a conversation with you in the first place, right?), ending it with a simple, but direct: “Then I will see you on the set.”

-

It was difficult working on the set with Baekhyun, the singer, when you were so aware of how he seemed to feel about you. As much and as aggressively as you were trying to deny his words and his little confession to you, you couldn't help but notice that, indeed, your eyes met much more than it was acceptable. Nobody noticed. Yet. Nobody was supposed to, anyway - and they mustn't - notice. That was your opinion. But when he was giving you the gorgeous, going-to-your-knees smiles and outright cocky, flirty remarks whenever you were directing the shoot, you couldn't help but give a small smile, or a silent laugh.

Goodness.

What a charmer.

So far, he made every staff member of the set laugh. Yes, even the male staff. Because that was him. Jokes, teasing, remarks, observations, some singing here and there, then whistling a melody you didn't know. That was all him in a bubble. Plus, the shoot was long and tiring, yet his energy would hardly fade or as much as lose a tiny bit of colour. His aura was still strong and so shiny, you might have needed to close your eyes for a minute and let it sink in - his energy that seemed to slowly creep under your skin and make you an entirely bubbly, giggly girl that you never were.

He pulled off all your ideas perfectly. Whether it was a sweet concept, a light one or a dark one with heavy colours - his gaze would adjust accordingly. Holding your breath, you were staring at the photographer's laptop screen. With every loud click, a new photo would load, and you were in awe at seeing the singer shine in such a dark outfit, such heavy makeup and even a dark background. He was enchanting. Scary. Intimidating. Self-confident. And just oh so breathtaking, pulling you in like a riptide.

Looking up, you saw that he was looking at you before changing his modelling position. He wasn't laughing nor smiling, still deep in his role. Maybe it was in that moment you had this weird revelation, a weird desire you might have been pushing down. After all, you were a human with needs. And you have been feeling a weird sensation the more you looked at him, mouth ever so slightly, but still hanging open as you couldn't stop looking at him. Swallowing quickly, you snapped back to your senses when you felt a strong burn of his eyes. You faintly heard in the background, his voice light, yet so husky. “Is the editor satisfied with the photos?”

He was observing you observing him. Your breath hitched, your heart immediately in a frenzy of thumps.

And you liked it.

A lot.

So you nodded. “I very much am.”

[eeveedel]

Hi all, I haven’t recced some fics in awhile but...today is fic writers appreciation day! And there are so many fics that I love so very much and have brought so much happiness into my life. 

And it just so happens I have a personal document where i’ve kept track of fics I’ve read for the past 3-4 years, categorized by tropes. So I thought it would be fun to rec you my all-time favorite fic from each of my personal categories! There are so many good fics so I hope you enjoy. And if you want a full fic rec list for any of these categories, please tell me! 

And a big thank you again to all of the lovely authors out there, I hope you have a lovely day and now how valued your work is. 

A/B/O

Sisterwives by jaerie

This was it, the moment Louis had been waiting for his entire life. Giddy excitement bubbled up as he held hands and stared up at his soon-to-be alpha and husband and grinned. The ceremony was small and simple, but Louis didn’t mind. Fresh flowers pinned into his hair and a brand new outfit was all he needed to feel special in front of their few witnesses. It was just some members of his family and a few of the church elders in attendance as was customary for any marriage beyond the first wife within the faith.

First wives were the ones to have elaborate weddings with the whole community involved. An alpha’s first wedding was a celebration of an their coming of age, his first steps into fulfilling God’s prophecy. There were many glories for an omega that came with being a first wife but also many responsibilities. Louis had never aspired to be a first wife or even a second. He wasn’t experienced enough to be the leader of an alpha’s many wives and children and he didn’t think he’d be up to the task.

Louis was just fine in the position he was stepping into as the seventh.

Or Louis thinks he's getting everything he's ever dreamed of. Harry helps him find what makes him truly happy.

Action/Adventure 

The Dead of July by whimsicule

Harry is Captain America, and Louis’ been dead for 70 years.

Age Gap

White Pages, White Lace, Big Hands, Pretty Face by thechesirepussycat

“He touches his sides, his neck, his lips, all the places Harry has just been, all the places that still tingle from Harry’s touch. Such a strange feeling Louis has, so unreal and nerve-racking. He can’t begin to describe what Harry has done to him, what about Harry makes Louis want to call him… Daddy.“

Or, a gratuitous Sugar Daddy!Harry and Student!Louis AU.

Angst

Bot by tomlinsunshine (11k)

Zayn builds robots; Harry is a big fan of his latest model.

Break Up

got the sunshine on my shoulders by hattalove

five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn't have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone.

now, harry has everything he could possibly want: he's rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he's forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past - and louis, who's spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him.

(or, an au based on the movie sweet home alabama.)

Canon

nonstop earthquake dreams of you by lumineres

And there's heat behind it, blazing, plasmatic, like stars crashing together, like an explosion in space, like a supernova, like a black hole--everything else sucked out of existence. There's no bed and there's no pillow and they're not lying down, just floating somewhere, somehow, and there's no room and there's no X Factor house and there's no Niall snuffling or Liam's deep, even breathing and there's no wind or traffic outside and there's no hum of the heating unit and it's all just Louis. All encompassingly Louis.

or, harry falls hard and finds louis already at the bottom

Classics

Love Is A Rebellious Bird by 100percentsassy and gloria_andrews

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

College/Uni 

Could be Kissing My Fruit Punch Lips by thechesirepussycat

Harry happens upon a porn site that specializes in live videos and sort of falls in love with the cute boy he only knows as Kitty.

And then he gets the surprise of his life when he finds out Kitty attends his university...

Crime

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by haroldslouis 

1997 AU where Harry is a bank robber and Louis falls in love with him

Dom/Sub

No Control Club series by SadaVeniren

Harry, a popular BDSM blogger, writes a negative review about Louis’ club. Louis wants to have a chance to make it up to him.

Dunkirk/Alex

Poison & Wine by tilthesundies

Alex comes home from the war to find a stranger living in his flat.

Dystopian/Apocalypse

things have gotten closer to the sun by starseas

when a solar flare is announced to end the world in twelve days, harry reunites with the people that he used to know better than the back of his own hand.

Enemies to Lovers

you flower, you feast by stylinsoncity 

He's King of the Underworld, but don't assume Louis has it all. He could stand for some excitement in his monotonous, eternal life and maybe, even.....a soulmate.

(Despite not having a soul.)

And along came "Harry"

Established Relationship

I Only Ever Want You by itsmiz

Louis and Harry's relationship goes through a series of changes while Liam and Zayn discover new things about themselves, as well.

Or: Louis & Harry and Liam & Zayn begin to have sex in front of each other and a lot of kink-discovery results from that.

Fairy Tale

Red by frosteddream 

Shockwaves were sent through the village after the McPherson family was savagely killed. There were people who feared the beast that did it, and then there was Louis, or, as most people liked to call him, Red. (Little Red Riding Hood AU.)

Fake Dating 

And Then a Bit by infinitelymint

Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.

Famous (non-1D AU)

a million roses (bathed in rock n roll) by deLILah 

au. harry sings in smoky dive bars; louis misses his flight home. they go to coney island in the morning.

(aka - harry is lana del rey, and louis makes him a star.)

Fashion

Just my style by thoughtsickles

Harry is sick, and the only thing that might help him is the pheromones from his mate--problem is, he hasn't got a mate.

Louis' just been disowned, and taking part in a medical study where he has to cuddle with some strange alpha seems to be his only option for earning a bit of cash.

The hippies and Omega Rights campaigners are busy changing the world--but all Harry wants is a chance to live.

Fluff

Dreaming of You by velvetoscar

The Begrudging Starbucks AU.

The world is winter and steamed milk and creamy espresso shots. The world is a never ending queue. The world is a Starbucks logo and a pink-cheeked smile from Niall and a bored scowl from Zayn and the world is Louis watching his best mate, Liam, fall in love with their newest customer, Harry. Who may or may not be in love with Louis. The world is cruel.

Frat

Soft Feet, Fast Hands, Can’t Lose by dolce_piccante

American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football.

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

Friends to Lovers

OmegaVision by jaerie 

Tomlin Networks Presents: OmegaVision starring Louis Tomlinson! The world's first 24/7 reality channel available in over 150 countries worldwide following the life of the first male omega born in over a century. Follow Louis through his daily routine, the ups and downs of growing up or just leave him on for comfort. There are many reasons to tune in but, no matter what yours may be, there's always a part of Louis that is just like you!

Or a Truman Show au that nobody asked for where Louis is Truman and Harry just wants to be his mate

Girl Direction

Never Enough by idekboo

Louis couldn't get enough of Harry and that gorgeous body of hers. She wasn't shy about letting her know.

High School

I found a love (darling just dive right in) by wonderlou

Louis, an omega with very little control. Harry, an alpha with a lot of emotion. Neither of them have any idea what do to with this little thing called love, but they'll be damned if they don't put up a good fight.

Historical

Coax the Cold by MediaWhore 

England, 1897.

English Professor Louis Tomlinson’s passion for the occult has been a source of mockery and derision for most of his life. When he hears whispers of a travelling freak show newly established in London claiming the existence of a monstrous sea hybrid, half-man, half-fish, Louis sees it as his ticket to credibility amongst his peers. The summer he spends undercover working on the show, however, gives him much more than that.

Miscellaneous/Unique

the impossible now by stylinsoncity

A wish on Christmas Eve sends Louis to an alternate dimension where Harry is a member of One Direction.

Mpreg

The Things I’d Do to Wake Up Next to You by dirtymattress (36k)

Harry wakes up to a pregnant Louis Tomlinson and a wedding band on his finger.

Mythology

Say Hallelujah, Say Goodnight by alivingfire

Louis is an angel who is just a little too bad to be good, Harry is a demon who is just a little too good to be bad, and they're both a little too in love to be impartial when angels and demons go to war.

PWP

mr. tomlinson by iwillpaintasongforlou

Louis is a billionaire CEO who makes grown men cry and rival companies crumble. He's also an omega. Harry is the quiet cupcake of a man he calls his alpha and the only one who gets to see Louis as anything less than fearsome.

Roommates

streetwise hercules by bottomlinsons

Uni AU, where Louis pretends to be Harry's boyfriend to scare away his one night stands.

Royalty

feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream by togetherwecouldbealright 

Harry is a journalist with a lot of secrets and Louis is the future king of the United Kingdom; they live together for 60 days.

Spies

never gonna dance again by togetherwecouldbealright

Louis is a spy and Harry is a dancer. The only real thing they know is each other.

Soulmates

Nameless Night by green_feelings

For their 18th birthday, every person receives a letter that reads a simple date. That is the date you'll meet your soulmate.

Harry and Louis have different beliefs, live in different worlds and have different dreams, hopes and fears. Yet, they're not so different from each other when it comes to love. When their paths cross, there is no doubt they belong together. Except for that one, essential difference: they didn't receive the same date.

Or, a fic about differences that make no difference at all: Harry and Louis are soulmates. In every way possible. Featuring Niall as a role model, and Liam and Zayn as a different kind of role models.

Summer Romance

Rivers til I Reach You by embodied

AU. Louis studies astronomy; Harry studies Louis. They spend their summers on the water and it shouldn't be complicated (spoiler: it is).

Supernatural

Howls Like a Beast (You Flower, You Feast) by indiaalaphawhiskey (16k)

France, 1754. Château de Versailles.

“You don’t love me,” Louis had said, utterly blasé as he callously fractured the heart of a Harry that was just barely eighteen.

“I do,” Harry had insisted pleadingly, green eyes already watering.

Louis had rolled his eyes, exasperated and flippant in the way only beautiful, young boys could be when faced with the affections of a baby prince. He had run his finger down Harry’s cheek then, had forced him to look into his eyes as he delivered the final blow.

“You’ll change your mind once you’ve seen more of the world,” Louis had teased, pressing a brutally delicate kiss onto Harry’s lovely, pure cheek. “Once you’ve been properly defiled.” He had whispered filthily, delighted by the gasp he heard, the frantic pink blush that had rested high on Harry’s cheeks, the power he had felt at knowing he could make the Crown Prince squirm.

[n6or]

don’t leave me | raihan nsfw

Rating: Explicit 

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply 

Category: F/M 

Fandom: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions 

Relationships: Kibana | Raihan/ReaderDande 

Additional Tags: Self-Insert, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Drunk Sex

Words: 4456

READ HERE ON AO3!

It was a blur, really. A messy night of open-mouthed kisses and desperate touches between two hopeless singles. His mouth had found the soft skin of your neck, sucking, biting, bruising the beautiful canvas with his own work of art. Your back had arched up off his bed, thighs trembling as strong hands caressed your supple curves. Even drunk he had you wrapped around his finger, flushing furiously as his hot breath fanned against your ear. You knew it was a mistake—knew that it was just a drunken fling, but the way he held you, the way he whispered those sweet nothings as if it were only the two of you left in the world… it made your heart flutter.

And that’s why, when the first rays of light disrupted your sleep, you knew you had to leave. The light that filtered through the thin curtain made your head throb- made you want to groan and grumble in annoyance, but that would stir Raihan.

Raihan.

Ah.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and blinked.

Morning blurs were the worst...

From your right came a quiet grumble, the Dragon Tamer clearly disturbed by your efforts of reaching over to grab your glasses from the bedside table. You bit your lip once his very strong (and very naked) arm tightened around your waist.

The way the sun poured through from your left, highlighting his beautiful, brown complexion… It made your heart flutter. It reminded you of why you had to leave. And that’s why you did. With no note, no goodbye, and no apology, you left.

Raihan was your best friend--he had always been your best friend. Ever since you were children you had been inseparable; wherever one was, the other wouldn’t be too far. You both followed very strict rules. Very strict rules imposed by a certain dragon gym leader. You were best friends and that was it. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, of accidentally breaking your heart and having you leave him forever.

“I mean, it’s not like you even like me, so it’s not too much to ask, yeah?”

The way he smiled that day almost knocked the wind from your lungs. How could he be so dense? You weren’t sure if you wanted to yell or cry or both. So instead, you smiled and gave him a sharp nudge of the elbow to his ribcage.

“Of course I don’t like you, idiot.”

You rushed down the brick pathway of Hammerlocke, praying that you could just make it back home without too much disturbance. Thankfully, it seemed as if your author was kind and you returned home to have a brisk shower. You grimace at the constellation of reds and purple that litter your chest, neck, thighs, shit!

“Good job, Dragon tamer,” you growl before drying yourself off and changing into your uniform.

There’s a shaky sigh as you pull on your lab coat, noticing the way the red blemishes (along with the very prominent bite marks) are still visible above your collar. Tapping your foot repeatedly, you let out another heavy huff, removing your glasses for a moment.

“Stupid idiot,” you mumble again, voice quiet, shaky. You rub your temples, fingers trembling slightly. “You ruin everything. Every single damn time!” Whether your words were directed at Raihan or yourself, you don’t quite know… but the burn in your chest doesn’t ease up at all.

The memories of last night ache your head as you stroll into the research facility, scarf around your neck, eyes fixated on the floor as you make your way to your desk.

“Heya~ Well don’t you just look beautiful~” Sonia is laughing as she approaches your desk, twirling some of her ginger hair. “I didn’t think you’d really get that drunk! You almost outdrank me!”

You grimace at the thought, adjusting your glasses.

“Y-Yeah… It was pretty wild, I guess.”

“Hm… and you disappeared sometime after Raihan left, too!” Sonia is pouting and you can feel the anxiety swelling in the pit of your throat. “Did you both get home oka-”

“Delivery!”

Thanking the heavens above, you shout suddenly, “I’ll get it!” Before leaving your desk. You sign for the package and ignore the chuckling comments made about your scarf in the summer heat. You just smile and bid them a safe journey before closing the doors.

Staring down at the box in your hands, you worry your lower lip, teeth anxiously raking at the soft skin. You could avoid talking about it, but you couldn’t avoid the way you felt about it. Your stomach was shallow and your chest felt . . . weird. You couldn’t describe it. But knowing that the friendship between you and Raihan had been destroyed in one night… It felt like a cold cavity.

The scarf helped.

           It helped more than that delivery man knew.

It’s lunchtime when you first check your phone. You were anxious, terrified of seeing a message from Raihan, but there was nothing. You stared at the screen in disbelief for a few short moments.

“You expecting a call?” Sonia suddenly asks, leaning over your shoulder and peaking at your phone screen.

“S-Sonia!” You yelp, clutching your phone to your phone and looking up at the ginger.

“What? It was just a simple question, y’know~ if you need to go make a call to a certain someone I totally get it!” She fixes your scarf with a small smile before offering a rather sympathetic smile. “But I hope you’re okay… You seem really…” She trails off and drags a chair over to sit beside you, sighing. “You seem out of it. Like, normally I wouldn’t press this kind of thing, because I know it makes you nervous, but it’s affecting your work and…”

“I’m fine.” You manage out, interrupting her second trailing sentence. She searches your eyes, a gentle hand now resting on your knee. Then she nods.

“Alrighty then!” Sonia gives you a firm rub to the shoulder before leaving some documents.

When she leaves, you sigh, leaning back into your chair. There’s a faint wince from the dull ache in your hips, head hanging over the back of the chair.

This was going to suck.

                       Bad.

The day is long and drawn out and by the end of it you’re certain you’re going to pass out. You can’t quite pinpoint when you actually fell asleep last night, but it must’ve been late considering the daze that seems to be clouding your head. Reaching for a Poke-ball from your bag, you falter for a moment. You notice one rotom phone in amongst your keys, but then you find a second… and it’s Raihan’s.

“C’mon!” Raihan laughs into your ear. Your cheeks are burning by this stage. Hell, with the way his hands hold your hips and his lips caress the shell of your ear, you’re certain that the heat you’re exuding could cook any curry. “Let’s dance, babe! It’s one night~ C’mon! Put my phone in your bag and let’s dance~”

The memory hits you like a truck -- so hard that you’ve had to crouch. A poke ball rolls out of your opened bag and out pops a familiar little Leafeon. She hums softly, curiously, waddling over to nuzzle against your thigh.

“Lea? Leafeon?” She purrs, her two little paws resting on your knee as she leans up and nudges her nose against the backs of your hands. Your fingers part and you meet her caramel eyes, earning and excited squeak from the eeveelution. She presses her nose to your cheek, and you sigh shakily.

You have to pull it together.

And that’s exactly why you did the only thing that you knew you could do in this situation; you called Leon.

“Heya! How’s it going, mate?” Leon’s voice is somewhat strained as he speaks, words hurried.

“Uh, hey Lee. I wanted to--” You can hear muffled voices in the background as you talk. You frown. “Ask you a favour… Could I drop something off to you?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah! Sure mate, sure! Uh--Hop, just--Sorry, Y/N, I’ve got a situation here, haha.”

“Oh… I could call back if you…”

“No! Wait, Y/N, wait!” It’s Raihan’s voice. You blink, swallowing thickly.

“I-I have to go. Can you tell Raihan that Sonia will have his phone? Thanks.”

You hang up.

Leafeon purrs sadly, her head pressing to the shaking of your palm. She licks it gently before nudging at your leg.

You had to take the phone to Sonia.

All you wanted to do was disappear.

And that’s what you did.

Without explanation, you shoved Raihan’s phone into Sonia’s hands and took off to the Wild Area.

“You’ll--You’ll regret this,” you whisper, breathless. “Raihan.. Ha…”

“I could never regret making love to you,” he countered quietly, larger hands holding your thighs, your legs over his shoulders as he kissed up to your throbbing warmth. “Never, Y/N.”

His mouth is hot against you, tongue lapping up the sopping wetness of your nether regions. The way he curls his tongue inside of you would have, on normal circumstances, remindws you that this isn’t his first rodeo, and, on normal circumstances, that would have you refusing any sort of affection let alone sex… but with the aid of a little alcohol, you didn’t care. You wanted to hold Raihan, to let him touch you, to use you, to love you… even if it was only for one night.

You wanted to love him, even if it was a drunken mistake on his behalf.

Pushing back the vines of your secret little area, you sigh shakily. Along the way you had released Bewear from her friend ball; she had let you rest on her back, taking you back to the little place most of your Pokemon knew you loved. You give her a warm squeeze before dropping back down to your feet.

It’s a clearing decorated with beautiful wild flowers, shrubs, lit by nothing by the moon and the little lights that litter the night sky. Your hands are shaky as you pitch your tent, Beware and Leafeon both try their best to help you, sensing that something is off. Once the tent is done, you smile your thanks, give them one final embrace, and return the pair back to their respective Poke-balls. You tuck both away into your satchel and sigh. Tonight, you decide to go to bed without dinner, and without checking your phone. And instead, you grab your dragon jacket -- the one matching to Raihan’s -- and curl into it.

You don’t recall how long the cries racked your body for, but somewhere along the way your silent sobs ceased, and exhaustion won.

You were gone for almost a week. On the first absence from work Sonia had called you, on the third day with no word it was Leon who called you, and on the seventh day…

Well, when you woke up, it wasn’t morning, nor were you alone. Considering your world was blurred from the lack of glasses, all you could see was the outline of a giant, black shadow moving outside your tent. Your eyes widened when you heard the twig snap. Battling was not your speciality. You see, you never wanted to be champion, that was always Raihan’s dream. You were happy to live a contented life amongst your Pokémon and work for Sonia as her assistant until Hop was old enough to train…

So, to put it simply, you were completely

and utterly

fucked

right now--

especially if that thing intended on fighting you.

You reach for your glasses first, grabbing your ladle second. Like hell you’d put your Pokémon in danger. You’re shaking profusely as you quietly raise to your feet, eyes burning, stinging, wet. As you approach the entrance of your tent, you hear a hushed profanity leave the beast outside. You pause instantly, brows knitting together.

“Fuckin’ sticks,” comes the growl.

That’s when you launch yourself out of the tent, aiming high with your ladle and throwing it at the offender.

“O-Oi! Y/N, Y/N! It’s me! It’s--” Raihan’s standing there, hands raised defensively, eyes flicking between you and the murder weapon. He blinks incredulously. “Is that-- …Is that a ladle?”

“Yes it’s a ladle. Mind your business. More importantly, why are you here at goodness knows what time, you moron?! You’re--that’s so inconsiderate of you! I seriously thought I was going to die, you stupid, big, dragon, moro--” Your words are cut off when two strong arms envelope you into the tightest, warmest hug you have ever received.

“I know.. I know. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Your arms lay limp by your sides, eyes staring up at the full moon. Ah. It’s beginning to blur for you now.

“Stop it,” you whisper, voice feeble. “I don’t want this. I don’t want you doing this…”

“I have to apologise, Y/N.”

He clutches you tighter, his face buried in the warmth of your hair.

“No you don’t. If you apologise, then you will end up apologising for what happened--for being drunk. You’ll say it was a mistake and you never wan--”

Again, your words are cut off, but this time it’s by a warm pair of lips occupying your own. Your eyes are wide, tears glistening in the light of the moon.

Your hands come to his chest and you push him back.

“S-Stop that,” You wipe your mouth on the back of your hands, looking away. “Go away, Raihan. You’re-- You’re making things worse.”

Raihan grabs your wrists so gently… they’re almost completely different to the ones you felt the other night.

“Do you really want me to go away, Y/N…?” His voice is quieter than usual -- all his usual confidence seemingly extinguished. You feel the way his lips press tenderly against each of your fingers. It makes thinking hard.

“You’re…” By now you’re looking down, embarrassed, flustered… “You’re the one who made the rules… It was never me. I never wanted them but you’re too stupid to realise that I’ve been-” You cut yourself off from pouring out anymore unnecessary information. Your eyes are wet again. Snatching your hands away from the dragon gym leader, you turn your back to him and move away. “This is your fault and here I am, trying to fix your mess again…” You rub at the back of your neck, sighing shakily. You take your glasses off and rub at your eyes profusely, angrily, shoulders trembling.

“Y/N…” Raihan’s voice is so small as he moves to stand behind you. “It was shit what I did-”

“It was.”

“And I’m shit-”

“You are.” You sniff and there’s silence.

“But please don’t send me away, Y/N. I know I made those stupid rules. I was scared. I know that sounds stupid, but we were so young, and I was already so into you…” You can feel his fingertips gingerly reaching to touch you but pulling back just before he can complete the contact. “That night wasn’t a mistake at all. You’re not a mistake, Y/N. I’m pissed off that I took advantage of you while you were drunk… While we were both drunk… and for that—man… you’ll never get how sorry I am.” The crack in his voice makes you flinch.

Hesitantly, your fingers meet, yours curling around his, faces still downcast. You hear the breath of relief, followed by the forehead dropping onto your shoulder. His free arm wraps slowly, cautiously, around your waist, drawing you back into him. His face is wet in the crook of your neck and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying again.

Instead, you turn around in his arms and bury yourself into his chest, his arms caging you between them and the warmth of his body. Your hands move up the outlines of his tensing shoulder muscles, fingers curling into the back of his shirt.

“I thought the promises would stop me losing you,” he murmured. “But instead they just fucked things up even more, huh?” His hand goes to the back of your hair, fingers entangling in the back of your feathery strands of hair.

The embrace you share under the moon lasts forever. Your body slots perfectly against Raihan’s larger frame. You feel so exhausted, yet so content, so secure, you never knew this state was possible.

“Y/N,” Raihan whispers quietly, fingers threading through your hair. You look up and his hands move to cradle your flushed cheeks, thumbs smoothing over the dampened, burning skin. His eyes search yours, his brows knitted, silently asking and searching for your answer.

When your lashes flutter shut and you tilt your head up, he leans down slowly, taking his time to press your lips together; to relish in suppleness, in the way they fit together perfectly, his slightly thicker than yours, but as gentle as ever. The kiss is slow and patient, easing your anxious heart and near on leaving you breathless. You were never good at the whole kissing thing, never knowing where to put your hands, when to breathe—do you breathe while kissing?

Embarrassed, you pull away, turning your face in an attempt of hiding the way the moon highlights your burning cheeks.

“What’s wrong? Did I go too fast?” You shake your head, leaning into his palm.

“I… don’t know how to do that kinda stuff, y’know? The other night… You and I, well…”

Raihan’s expression was unreadable for a moment before he slowly took your hand in his, staring down into your eyes.

“I can teach you if you want,” he whispers softly, squeezing your hand. “I know I don’t deserve it… but I don’t want to be just the best friend, Y/N. If you don’t want me, I’ll respect that, and I’ll walk away right now… but if you’ll have me then I guess I’m asking…”

“S-Stop being so… Sh-Sheesh… You’re so not that cocky little brat of a gym leader I know…” You peek up at him over your glasses and offer a sheepish grin. His eyes blink wide, almost like an excited puppy, and he tackles you into a bone-crushing hug.

You’re about to protest when suddenly his lips are on yours, and just like the other night, you’re melting into the warmth of the Dragon Tamer. Skilled hands find your hips and slowly guide you back into the tent. There’s a small ting, a low groan, and a muffled laugh when you step into the shelter. Raihan breaks the kiss to rub his injured head, laughing along with you.

Taking your hands, Raihan leads you back to the cot, slowly reclining you back onto the softer surface. He hovers above you, leaning on his arm, one knee between your thigh whilst the other rests against you. He searches your eyes for any sign of hesitation or reluctance but finds none. It’s then that he leans down and recaptures your lips once more, observing the way your eyes flutter shut and your cheeks instantly warm. With his right hand, he caresses your thigh, squeezing it, and earning a quiet gasp from you.

Raihan takes the opportunity to slowly lick into your mouth, his tongue sliding over and around yours, eliciting wet, obscene noises that make your face burn even hotter. He figures you must be nervous with the way you cling to him, your arms laced around his shoulders tightly, lips shyly parted. Though it’s when he sucks on your tongue that you find yourself whining.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against your swelling lips. When your eyes open, you noticed how his are glazed over with a look you’ve never seen before – his eyes half lidded and seemingly…lustful. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N. Can I take photos? Just for us, y’know?”

“H-Haa?! But--? It—Dammit, Raihan. If those photos leak—if even one soul sees—I will end yo—”

You’re cut off with another cheeky kiss, the younger boy laughing into your mouth. He pulls back and smiles at you once more before setting up his Rotom.

“Like hell I’d let anybody else see you like this, babe,” The Rotom flies into the air as Raihan shoots you an almost animalistic smirk. “You’re mine now, Princess. And only I’m gonna be usin’ those photos.”

Raihan finds himself kissing up your bare thighs after having slowly dragged your underwear off and away, desperate to have his head between your thighs again. You gasp when you feel his two fingers pry your lips apart, his tongue taking its time to roll over and around your clit. Your back arches up off the bed at the contact, thighs trembling either side of his head. Your hands scramble to find his hair, breath quickening as his tongue flicks and his lips suck at the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Ra—Rai.. Shit—Ha, Raihan..” His name seems to be the only thing (other than profanities) that you seem to know. You buck your hips desperately into the other’s mouth, tugging on his hair and earning another low groan from the man.

“Now, now,” he mumbles against your heat, looking up at you from between your thighs. His gaze is lazy, seductive. He’s smirking at you, tongue slowly sliding along your clit, barely touching the wetness. “Be a good girl.” He instructs firmly, pushing your hips down.

You writhe beneath his strong hold as his mouth continues to abuse your sensitive regions, completely unrelenting in the way he sucks at your clit, teeth occasionally nibbling at the bud.  It’s then that you feel a familiar pressure building within your abdomen, curling like a coil that’s about to snap at any given moment. You try to warn Raihan, you do. You tug at his hair, choking out incoherent sobs of his name, trying to pull him off… but of course Raihan doesn’t give in. In fact, he pries his forefinger between your sodden, velvety walls and presses upwards, stroking along the upper roof of your sex.

That’s the final straw. It’s all too much to think about: his tongue, his teeth, his finger—

Before too long you’re coming with a loud cry, back arching up off the bed as he continues to thrust his finger inside of you, tongue mercilessly lapping at your throbbing clit. Your body convulses and shakes atop the cot, fingers tugging harshly at Raihan’s now matted black hair. You continue to cry his name as he licks you out, even replacing his finger with his tongue, groaning as he licks you clean.

You feebly push at his head, whimpering and twitching in the afterglow of your orgasm.

“Too… Too much—sensitive… No more, Rai.” He looks up at you from between your thighs, expression rather adorable. You pant through a smile, allowing a small laugh to pass. “How can you look so cute after doing something so lewd…?”

“Lewd? I don’t think making love is lewd!” He inches up your body, kissing over old marks that barely present themselves. “I’d do anything you asked me, babe.” You smile as he kisses you once again, but soon frown.

“But you haven’t…”

“It’s okay. I’m not really prepared, anyway. I don’t have any condoms.”

You nod slowly. You trace your fingers over his naked chest before looking back up to meet the gaze of the Dragon Tamer.

“Can I touch you?”

He blinks a few moments, seeming as If he has short circuited, but quickly nods. “Y-Yeah, yeah. Babe, that would be—shit, that’d be really good… D’you want me to show you?” At your nod, he takes your hand. “Do you have any oil around here? It’ll make it easier.”

You ponder over the question for a moment before reaching over into your bag and fishing out a small container of rose oil.

“Alright, sick. I’m gonna pour some in your hand, yeah? It’ll make it easier for you.” You nod, watching as he pours said oil into the palm of your hand. He observes your expression as he slowly shimmies himself out of his boxer shorts, snickering when your eyes widen. He kisses your forehead for a few lingering moments before taking your hand in his and guiding your hand to the base of his thick shaft. Raihan’s thick lashes fall shut once your soft hand touches his proud cock. He can’t stop the involuntary twitch of his hips.

You blink in disbelief, watching the way his face contorts as your hands slowly move along his pulsating cock. It’s quite hot, you note—the temperature of his… it makes you blush. Seeing him so pliant under your touch like this… it gives you a surge of courage – of boldness. You lean up and press soft kisses to the younger’s neck, following the twisting motion of his hand.

“Shit, Y/N,” he breathes, shakily. He thrusts into your hand when you near his tip. You notice the faint tremble of his hips. Your hand hesitantly moves to the other’s tip, squeezing the sensitive head, experimentally touching him. “F-Fucking—shit, Y/N. Keep that up and I’ll cum, babe.”

That’s the plan, dummy.

You snicker to yourself as his hand guides you up and down the entirety of his cock, twisting and squeezing in different positions, each stroke edging Raihan closer and closer to the edge.

“Y/N—Don’t stop. Fuck, please. ‘M gonna cum, baby. Fuck—just like that—” Raihan becomes increasingly vocal as your thumb swirls across the leaking slit of his dick, your free hand pumping the lubricated shaft of the other. “Y/N, fuck—coming!”

And with that final shout, creamy cum coils from the violently red slit of Raihan’s cock. He grits his teeth, body stiffening for a brief moment before he fucks your hand, head falling back as he rides the euphoria.

“You look cute like this,” Comes your sudden murmur, watching his hips buck into your hand before he slowly guides your hand to his own. He laces your fingers and smiles tiredly.

“You think?” he whispers, leaning down to nudge his nose against your temple. “Guess we’ll have to do it more often so you can see that cute expression of mine, huh~?”

Your face flushes ten times over at the comment, curling into his chest and hiding away (despite the uncomfortable stickiness now between you both). He chuckles loudly at your reaction, fingers tracing along your back as he kisses your head.

“So… this means we’re a couple now, yeah?” he asks after a few moments of silence. You’re slow in answering, but when you do, you look with a tired grin and nod. “Good. Because now I’m definitely never letting you go, babe.”

[natsunoomoi]

Holy crap. So like with the previous post I was thinking about Fushigi Yuugi again and kind of checking up on what was up with Byakko Senki cuz I haven’t checked on it in awhile and it looks like it’s on hiatus right now and she’s working more on Arata Kangatari, which is cool cuz I thought she finished that, but I guess not and she just took a break to like finish Genbu and do Byakko or something.

But also I was scrolling through her Twitter to find that she is really into this Chinese movie “Legend of Luo Xiaohei” and so I was checking that out cuz so ironic that Japanese mangaka that got her big break writing manga about an ancient China setting is interested in a Chinese movie. So just looking through her Twitter thread and apparently she found out about Luo Xiaohei from watching a CM while watching Modao Zushi. LMAO It’s amazing, but this situation just feels like an ouroboros eating itself because I have a high suspicion that her work on Fushigi Yuugi imported into China back in the 90s was probably a huge influence on Chinese creators and artists to write their own stories about their culture and helped to popularize the xianxia and wuxia novel movements in more modern times. On top of that MXTX said she was inspired by a D. Gray-man fanfic and while she mentioned that title specifically, I think in the periphery Fushigi Yuugi itself and more recently Arata were probably an influence too. Growing up a number of my Chinese friends also said they got into anime overall because of Fushigi Yuugi because it was an anime and work from Japan about their culture and arguably done pretty damn well. 

In terms of the danmei movement as well, I’m pretty sure Fushigi Yuugi was included in what started the movement as the movement was influenced by Japanese BL that came in via Taiwan, and the beginning of Fushigi Yuugi had the whole thing between Nuriko and Hotohori even though that kind of went nowhere, Nuriko dies to everyone’s depression (I have several friends who refuse to watch the rest of the series after Nuriko dies because it’s not the same), and that whole ship goes off a weird deep end with Hotohori marrying a woman that looks like Nuriko. Also, the exact reasons for Nuriko being in the harem and all that. There was a whole lot of shipping in the 90s from Fushigi Yuugi and it was one of the first series that had a male cast that was almost entirely ikemen and I think the actual first reverse harem. A number of shows probably simultaneously popularized the female gaze in mainstream anime, but Fushigi Yuugi was definitely one of them. Like literally one or two years before there was a lot of manly men and guy’s guys kind of anime characters, but beautiful ikemen, no, not really. In 2021, there are some things about the series that are a bit problematic, but it’s influence on the world is pretty significant. It was one of the first shows I’d seen that had any kind of reference to homosexuality or transgender in it and although it’s not necessarily portrayed well, the fact that it was there and that Nuriko was such a beloved character it started a conversation and helped us to get to a time where the topics she represents can be more discussed. I’m actually not even sure what pronouns would be appropriate for Nuriko because of her reasons for what she did and in Japanese the pronoun problem is actually really easy to get around because you just don’t have a subject or speaking in 3rd person is totally normal. But still, without her the minds of thousands or even millions of fans around the world would not have been opened as early to LGBT topics. Her existence, even problematic as it might be, allowed people to consider and love a character of a different sexual orientation or gender identity than their own and just open their minds to just not being a homophobic, biphobic (cuz relationship with Miaka?), or transphobic piece of shit.

Then also Genbu Kaiden and Uruki’s powers. Yeah.... I mean, also kind of with the earlier discussion, the idea of dual cultivation I don’t recall even being brought up much before in most media, but such ideas were also banned and repressed in China at a certain point. Documentation shows it was more of an ancient practice that suddenly became known about again. The book I was talking about that has it more explicitly written is banned in China has its only original surviving copy in the Japanese National Library as it was one of the books brought to Japan by scholars escaping persecution in China and bringing with them books to escape one of the many episodes of mass book burning. According to my Chinese lit professor who had us read an English translation of that book as a part of our curriculum anyway. Supposedly the translator of said book had to go to Japan to read the original in order to write the translation. There’s apparently a number of ancient Chinese texts like that because book burnings were a thing at different points in Chinese history, so if you are a scholar of Chinese lit if you want a complete picture of your field for some texts you do actually have to come to Japan to do your research. But yeah, that power mentioned in that very book Watase-sensei gave to Soi, and also the story of Fushigi Yuugi takes place in that very library that contains that ancient copy of a banned and would have been lost to the world book. If you’re asking why a “dirty” book would be something a scholar would grab to save, ancient lit scholars do regard it as a rather well-written piece of literature even though the content of it is basically taboo.

But also the Fushigi Yuugi Suzaku Ibun game is a hot mess when it comes to this same issue because if you romance Nuriko you can save her from death and my friend Hikari said she wasn’t sure if she was happy about fucking with the universe like that. (I’m not either.) Nuriko’s death was such a huge impact on the story and everything. Also, notably, most of the Suzaku Shichiseishi died, but Nuriko had the LONGEST tribute. Like Chiriko and Mitsukake’s was like a tag on of a few minutes. Hotohori’s was too even, but it was addressed more in the later manga chapters the publisher pressured her to write and in the OVA series afterward.

Also, like Fushigi Yuugi other than the Neverending Story was one of the original sucked into a book holy shit how do I survive stories. Idk if SVSSS is influenced by it in that way, but it’s fair to draw the parallels because of the similar theme. It’s just canonically Taiitsu Shinjin is not behind the the system in the book and in a number of ways Shen Yuan is more competent than Miaka. Miaka gets a lot of shit though and when I re-watched FY a second time I actually found the gripes people generally have about it make up only a small part of the series. People just talk it up so much that it seems like a huge thing when it’s not. Plus the technical canon is only the original TV series because that’s where Watase wanted to end the story and that is an emotional rollercoaster that makes you cry so good. But like there’s some other kinds of parallels as well like how toward the end and like the last two episodes you hate Nakago up until the exact moment you find out why he’s an absolute asshole, and characters straight up criticizing him about how he’s an asshole the whole damn series just gives the same kind of feels that SY gave criticizing the original throughout SVSSS. Can’t say for sure, but Fushigi Yuugi has a lot of clout in a general sense.

But yeah, Watase-sensei said that she was really surprised by the animation quality of Chinese animation these days and she thought Japanese anime was going down in comparison. Same, yo. Same. But still, her work was probably a huge contributor to the movement that allowed MDZS to exist because her art is damn beautiful, Chinese influenced, and she had one of the first works in Asia to like bring the subject of LGBT issues into the mainstream after years of oppression from mostly Western influence because in pre-modern Asia no one gave a shit before and there’s a significant amount of classical novels that address some form of LGBT issues at least in Japanese lit and like even academic documentation that notes Confucius saying that doing it with a guy was better than with a woman. And the author of the work that probably was very influential to BL back in the 90s watches MDZS. She noted that there wasn’t any in the actual anime, which is true, but I think she helped that series to exist and she watches the anime so it’s kind of exciting.

I hope it influences her to go finish Byakko, but OMG I want her to finish Arata too because I like Arata. I should try to find time to read more of it because the anime is too short and the wiki descriptions of what’s happening are so damn confusing and incomplete.

[augustheart]

1, 9, 15, 20 for the writing ask meme!

This time around all of these are for fics by the way.

1. Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

Like I said in the last ask at any given time I have a stupidly high number of projects I’m working on but I will take this time to talk about the ridiculously long one I’m putting most of my energy toward now! (The tab is open right now and it is taunting me with that “last updated yesterday at [...]” notification and its 32,427 word wordcount.)

I won’t say exactly what it’s about even though it’s not that hard to figure out and several people already know exact details but progress is generally pretty good! Not the fastest I’ve ever written because I write in fits and starts but it’s going pretty good! (Just jinxed it though for sure.) I’m working on chapter five of a planned ten, and I really hope I don’t overshoot that by accident. It’s fun! It’s definitely more like the things I used to write when it comes to like... the actual angst/“whump” part because there’s a lot of that here, and I’m very really mean to readers with a couple of these cliffhangers. Chapter two and chapter four are especially rude, sorry.

I love all of it. I love that I get to write about people overcoming hardship and coming together and also beating the shit out of people who hurt their loved ones. I genuinely love what I’m writing now and I think it’s probably one of my best works and I’m glad that I decided to write it all out in advance before posting it because I feel like that gives me time to really perfect it. It also makes it easier to go back and seed plot elements through the prewritten chapters, which is helpful because I keep forgetting about a character and going back to make sure that they get to be there because they’re, y’know, the main protagonist of the show. (Don’t worry there is still a character arc and a story she has, it just gets lost in the shuffle a little because there are like... six storylines going on at once that need to intersect. I think six, anyway. There are a lot. Jeez, I think it may be closer to seven, counting the villains...)

Anyway please [Eric Andre “let me in” voice] show me support when I finally post it because I imagine the fandom will be relatively in brumation when I finally do all things considered. 

9. Are you more of a drabble or a longfic kind of writer? Pantser or plotter? Do you wish you were the other?

I refuse to write really short things, it has to be at least 1,000 words for some reason, but I do both! I prefer my longfics, I think they give me more time to write plot and flesh out characters, but I’ve found that a good median wordcount for me is...like...6,000 words? That’s usually what I fall on when I limit myself to something under 10,000 that has the potential for more than just 1-2,000 words. But I do like to read and write both! As evidenced by some of my current projects shaping up to be over 50,000 words at least if they haven’t already left that count in the dust by now (hi, Half Light, you stupidly long son of a bitch). 

And I am the hellish combination of both! I usually know at least how I want it to end, but the entire journey from A to B is a complete mystery to me. Sometimes I’ll have elements I want to incorporate or characters I want to include and I’ll plan for them but I will never, ever write down my outline. The only time I write down outlines it’s when I need to know the concrete timeline for something that’s set in the past or is taking major divergent choices or both (i.e., I made a timeline outline for Heartless leading up to when Eric approaches Dorothy, a timeline outline for Two of Spades when I eventually actually work on that, a timeline outline for what I nicknamed the “I’m no longer baby I want power AU,” etc). Literally every other time I am absolutely flying by the seat of my pants. I don’t know what I’d do without Hedgi who helps me plot at least half the things I write (at least for the fandoms she’s also in), usually after I try to write them and immediately get stuck like a puppy who tried to jump into a lake and found out the shoreline was actually just a bog.

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

Oh, it really depends. I’m alright at nailing tags down, unless there are categories I want to use that don’t already have a set tag, but sometimes when I think of the concept for a fic it comes ready-made with a summary and I don’t have to think about that at all, or I’m directly inspired by a phrase/lyric/etc and I can just use that for the title and spend hours deliberating on a summary. Luckily for the project I’m working on now the conceit can just be the summary, and the title took a tiny bit of research but I knew what I wanted the bare bones to be and I just needed the actual names/terms. I do think in general, though, summaries are a smidge harder than titles for me. 

12. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

I really, really want to answer this one to talk about the different hidden references, relationship development, and foreshadowing that I baked into damn near every level of the big project I’ve been talking about because it’s in literally everything right down to the chapter titles (and there’s a hint to pay attention to them when you read, especially once we get to chapters 6-10, which I am extremely pumped to write), but I also really don’t want to spoil anything, so... time to be as numbingly vague as possible, I guess.

I’m foreshadowing that a character will develop powers by the final act, of course, but I’m also foreshadowing that a different character will not only develop them but use them to basically save the life of another character--and related to that, there is intense foreshadowing of a character using certain things to save someone else’s life at around the same time, which is not subtle at all if you know what you’re looking for (mainly because I slipped it into plain sight) but is part of some nice red herrings if I do say so myself. It also really makes me laugh that I decided to do some, um, “homophobia-shadowing,” where I just... imply that a character is homophobic. I dunno why I just think that’s a funny thing to do even if it has real repercussions for certain characters later. 

There’s some character development mixed that I’m really excited for because it allows a character to go in a completely different direction than they do in canon but in a way that I think still feels really right for them. This happens a couple times, actually, but this one in particular is something I knew had to happen the second I realized how to tie this plot thread back into everything else. I think it’s exactly what the character could’ve needed if this had gone down and I’m really excited to write it. The other character should’ve just been allowed to do this in canon because I think it would’ve fucking ruled.

Also, in everything I write that’s comics-based, whether it’s fic for the comic directly or for a show/movie using comics as source material, everything is a reference. That number code? That could be anything from the first time someone appeared in a comic mixed with the publishing date of the comic itself (i.e. if someone appeared for the first time in 1964 but the comic began publishing in 1959 I’ll use 6459 or 5964) to the creator’s date of birth. I think that I use famous writers of the character/potential creators of the character as street names or last names or aliases whenever I need to bring them up is a lot more obvious. Same with how I use writer/artist initials as “random letters” if I think a code would realistically have one mixed in--I just checked a document for an example of this and found “ADBP5519MWGK6419.”

I also reuse direct lines of dialogue if I think they fit the situation--for example, in Butterfly Effect I lifted the “World War I chic” line directly from Giffen’s Doom Patrol run, which I mentioned in the author’s note, and there’s dialogue in my current big project that’s a direct reference to/play on the “I wish you’d died instead of Mom” line in the JSA Infinite Crisis tie-in (Johns is a fuckin’ hack for that one though and it made no sense for what he used it for, a better line would’ve been “I bet you wish I’d died instead of Mom,” but we don’t have time for that), and I’ll probably directly reference dialogue from JSA/JSA at some point in chapter nine or chapter ten. (Think really hard about how that arc opens if it’s one you’re familiar with, lmao, and remember--there’s no time travel to undo things here!) 

[johobi]

(1/6) Anyone who reads your work and also writes KNOWS why it takes a long time - why it takes so much from you. Your word choice is precise and evocative. It flows effortlessly and that kind of flow takes not just innate linguistic talent, but the willingness to rework and redo and reread. It takes minutes that bleed into hours on just a small section because there is just *something* not quite right.

As I have already expressed to you through DMs, you have somehow perfectly encapsulated everything I aim to achieve with my writing when I’m toiling over it for ages. TT OH how those small sections can sometimes take hours. I’ve never felt so innately understood!!! 

(2/7) I reread Dig Deep last night (for the 5th time) and I am just in awe of how you crafted it. The story is superior, but the *way* you told it was simply masterful - down to the innate cadence the words take on when you read them in your head. You are descriptive without being verbose. The reader is never jarred away by an awkward transition or a repetitive word choice.

Being overly verbose is my BIGGEST fear. And so is being overly simplistic. It’s so hard trying to strike a balance between the two. I’m so glad the fruits of my efforts pay off... even in a story like Dig Deep, which initially was meant to be nothing more than a freaky Hallowe’en drabble. I scour every line for unnecessary repetition (though I also love to utilise it for impact sometimes). 

(3/7) It is vivid and visceral and even good writers cannot always achieve that - because it takes more than just being talented - it takes so much time and an almost undefinable instinct for knowing when something feels right (or if you’re a crazed perfectionist - and you probably are - it almost never feels right, but it at least feels better).

I can easily believe that you are also a writer because you articulate this struggle so well. In a way I wouldn’t be able to without thinking over it for ages. I am definitely a crazed perfectionist. I don’t even understand my standards or what qualifies as ‘good enough’, it’s such a nebulous thing. The goal posts are always moving, which is why sometimes it’s easier to be satisfied, and sometimes it is harder. ‘It at least feels better’. YUP. That’s what I have to settle with and try and move on.

(4/8) Writing like this is an emotionally and mentally exhausting process that takes a considerable toll. I can’t believe you do it for free. I love to compliment writers, because - as a writer - I know that they have earned it. But it is not enough to simply compliment a catalogue like yours.

It takes such a toll sometimes. I do it for free because I wouldn’t do it at all if I was paid - I can’t do pressure. I’m my happiest when there’s no-one to cater to but myself, or I’d plumb up completely. 

(5/8)Your writing ... if I were to hazard a guess - comes from a mind that has read hundreds of books from so many different genres and authors. I could be wrong about all this of course. Perhaps you simply take a deep breath and all this exquisiteness just flows out (and if that’s true then you’re a bloomin savant and someone needs to be documenting you for science and history). I don’t think I am wrong though.

It’s incredibly flattering that that is your perception of me! I actually don’t read at all. I think I read, like, one book in all of 2018 and that’s the last one I can remember. I read quite a bit as a child, but eventually began to enjoy my entertainment through ‘easier’ mediums. I say easier because it takes me a lot to focus and digest words. I’ve always suspected I have some form of ADHD or something, because it’s difficult for me to sit down and settle with any one thing at a time. Or maybe it’s my Gemini moon lol. I’ve played a ton of wordy, flowery fantasy video games though, and I suspect that’s where I’ve picked up a lot of my more archaic style. 

(6/8) When I say your work is worth the wait - I know good and well that your work IS the wait. It is every moment you spend rebuilding your energy from the last endeavor. It is every hour you’ll spend writing, and reworking, and spontaneously changing or adding up to entire plot points and storylines because they came to you when you were already eyeball deep in the narrative. You work is worth far more than any amount of time we wait for it.

Way to gut me with that first line. ; ; oh man. Again, you UNDERSTAND ME SO WELL. It is literally a case of rebuilding my energy between each project. I tend to write in long, productive bursts, 2-3k here and there, and I’ll do that for a few days in a row. But only after weeks, maybe months, of nothing but conceptualising. I can’t explain why I need that long a break but I don’t think I need to to you. You get it. ;; 

(7/8) I know from reading your blog, that you have been facing some challenges lately and my heart goes out to you. I hope my words have lifted your spirits a little. I’ve wanted to tell you this for awhile, but it is easy to be intimidated by someone with your talent and following. Sometimes I feel like a child just hoping someone will play with me on the playground when I put myself out there... I think that is why so many people give praise or ask questions on anon.

They did more than lift my spirits, they invigorated me!!! I know it’s easier said than done but please don’t ever feel intimidated by me. I’m quiet ‘n’ self-conscious and pretty damn awkward lol. I am so, so grateful to you for taking the time to pour your observations out to me. You nailed every. single. one. It’s almost spooky. I FEEL SEEN! Hah. And I will play with you any time, lovely Viola. x 

(8/8) It makes it easier to engage if you aren’t afraid of rejection. The more I read your posts, the more you seemed like someone who is truly down to earth and sweet... So I determined to tell you how much I genuinely admire both your ability and the art it produces. Thank you for sharing it with this community. Sincerely, Viola (P.S Sorry for the awkward numbering. I kept having to break it down into successively smaller pieces to fit the word count 🙈)

And I genuinely admire your courage and intuition. You have a way with words that is uncommon. When I said to you that I cannot wait to read your own works, I meant it. I feel we probably have similar styles, just from reading your words here. You’re a natural. 

Thanks again, Viola. I was overcome with joy when I read these. I hope you have the greatest of days. xxx

[nekokoaa]

May I get a deaf! reader x Present Mic? I just love the idea of him slowing down his speech so she can read his lips, or him going out of his way to learn sign language? (I need more than one author to do this because he's a sweet bean, and this idea should be spread like a plague.) -Perhaps when they meet he gets offended cuz she's 'ignoring' him?-

Fandom: bnha

Character: Present Mic (Hizashi Yamada)

No warnings.

I really feel for this request because recently I watched a documentary on deaf children in Japan and it was the most empowering thing I ever watched. Those children are so inspiring. It honestly made me want to try and learn sign language, so I was really happy to write this request and I hope it represented the deaf community well. It’s in three short parts.

**Signing or other means of communication is in italics. If it’s hard to see for some of you guys, I can change it and make it Bold or just add the quotations instead.

Also, sorry that this request took so long to get out! I hope you enjoy, love!

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I.

Hizashi’s life had always revolved around sound for as long as he could remember. From an energetic child to a raging teenager and even now, as an adult, he couldn’t imagine his life without it. It became a part of him, literally, his quirk was the embodiment of sound and his reason for being the hero he is. Silence was never an option.

Until now.

Hizashi wouldn’t call himself a flirt as he was always a respecter of women and was aware that most women hated to be randomly flirted on, so he didn’t understand what came over him when he saw you treading down the halls of U.A. It was the first time he ever saw you and it was probably the first time a woman ever made him freeze up like that. He couldn’t recall when was the last time he became shaken up because of a woman, but once you were about to pass him, he had called out to you on impulse and to his surprise, you brushed past him without a glance in his direction. Questions emerged within his brain as to why you ignored him, all he did was simply sent a greeting your way, he didn’t comment on your looks or sounded flirtatious in his speech. It was just a simple good morning.

Hizashi pondered about this moment for the rest of the day. He couldn’t understand what was wrong with his approach and later realized how rude you were for not greeting him back, especially a teacher of U.A. He didn’t know what profession you were in or your reason for being at the school, but he at least knew a simple greeting wouldn’t have hurt you.

And once again, to his surprise, he found out the very reason why you ignored him that morning. He stumbled upon it the next day while he interrupted Aizawa’s abnormally large class to inform him about a sudden schedule change for the teachers and the reason for Aizawa’s class being abnormally large was because it was being combined with another class, specifically, your class. Hizashi found out that day that you were actually a teacher for the hearing-impaired middle school not too far from U.A. You had brought your students to U.A on a field trip to inspire and learn from their students and that they can, despite their differences, become a hero too. Each of Aizawa’s students were paired with yours and was engaging in a simple activity together. Aizawa took this as a chance to introduce you to Hizashi and Hizashi, needless to say, almost froze again when you approached him. Just a glimpse of you in the hallway was enough to know that you were a beautiful woman but seeing you in front of his eyes had him wondering if this was reality.

“Nice to meet you, Present Mic. I’ve heard such great things about your work as a hero.” Those words didn’t form from your voice but from your hands in a series of symbols and the woman next to you brought them to life with her voice. He assumed she was your translator.

“Uhh…” For the first time in his life, Hizashi was speechless and Aizawa raised an eyebrow at that. But Hizashi knew he had to get the cog in his brain to work somehow, he couldn’t physically slap himself in your presence (and he sure wanted to) instead he managed to hold his hand out for a shake and his brain started to lag behind slowly. “G-Great to meet you too!” He said, rather loudly, fast even.

Although, you didn’t need your translator to understand what was said. You smiled gently, and it almost made him melt. The next, your hand met with his in a firm grip for a shake and this time, he melted. For such a firm grip, you had the softest hands in the world, smaller than his yet it didn’t falter in strength. You held a steady stare towards him and even though Hizashi’s shades covered his eyes, it was like you penetrated the material. You struck through his soul, his heart, all from a simple shake of hands. Is this what they call ‘love at first sight’? He didn’t believe in such a thing before but seeing you within his sights made it feel all the more real.

II.

Since that fated day, Hizashi had made it his mission get closer to you. He managed to get your number to “continue to plan out events with U.A and your students” but in reality, he just wanted to talk to you more. It started out as simple brainstorming session through text before it took off into casual talk. He learned that you were born deaf but had a quirk that allowed you to physically feel all types of sound waves—even the ones that average human ears couldn’t pick up—absorbed them and reflect them back onto an object.

                                        Today 1:30 PM

2:15 PM: Even though, I can’t hear it. I can feel it. It’s like a vibration. Sometimes they’re small, other times they’re large. And if I wanted to, I can use those vibrations to break something—like glass, I guess.

Hizashi’s eyes widened when he read your text, he was at his desk in the teacher’s office, spinning around mindlessly in his chair. He really should’ve been looking over some documents, but he became lost within his phone, eagerly waiting for your replies.

2:17 PM: Seriously!? That’s one hell of a quirk! You could’ve become a hero if you wanted to!

He sent the text and set his phone down only to pick it back up a minute later when he saw it lit up.

2:18 PM: I wanted to.

Was what he received and nothing else. His eyebrows furrowed at it. His fingers dashed wildly upon the screen and his thumb hovered over the send button.

2:18 PM: I came up with a new activity my students can do with your students. We should inform Aizawa.

But your message came faster, and the message he wanted to send, ‘what stopped you?’, was replaced. You changed the subject for a reason, so he wasn’t going to pry.

2:20 PM: We should talk it over a drink then! I’m free after 5!

Hizashi taut his lips. Was that too friendly? Flirtatious? Damn, he never had to think of his words this much before. He was always a smooth talker, it came to him easy, so why was it so hard to talk to you? He knew his suggestion was a shot in the dark. There was a high chance that you would reject him, but that was the key word, right? Chance. As long as there was a chance of rejection, there was also a chance of acceptance.

2:25 PM: Sure! There’s this bar in the city I like to go to. I’ll send you the address.

“Yeaaah hoooooo!!” Hizashi suddenly jumped to his feet as he howled, thrusting his fists towards the ceiling when he read your text. You said yes! You actually said yes! Is this considered a date? Maybe not, but who cares, you said yes!

Around 5 pm, Hizashi already met up with you at a relatively chilled bar in the southside of the city. He definitely wasn’t planning to get drunk, so he just ordered a beer while you ordered a pina colada. The conversation was simple between you, it started as completely work related. You relayed your ideas to Hizashi by small notebook and pen and he intently read whatever you wanted to say. You read his lips whenever he spoke, at times he had to slow down because you would miss what he said. And Hizashi, at that moment, realized how annoying it was to communicate this way. He somewhat wished he knew sign language to make the conversation smoother between you two.

The conversation shifted from work to personal as the atmosphere of the bar couldn’t help but make it so.

“So, about your quirk…” Hizashi started. He saw your eyes flicker away for a moment before they returned. “Isn’t it annoying being around all these sounds?”

You quickly turned to your notebook and wrote your answer down.

I’m used to it already. When I was little, it was the scariest thing. I remember crying to my parents about it all the time, but I came to terms with it.

“And you’re telling me, you can absorb those sonic waves and reflect them back onto objects?” You didn’t need your notebook for this. A simple smile and a nod were all Hizashi needed. “That’s pretty damn powerful, it’s kind of like my quirk!”

Well… Not really. You project your voice to a certain frequency to where it could cause someone’s ears to bleed! You started to laugh which was the most adorable thing to Hizashi. It was a silent laugh, but your shaking form and your hand that covered your large smile gave it away. Besides… I can take your quirk’s power and use it against you. The louder it is, the stronger I get! Was what you wrote, and it earned a very loud laugh from Hizashi, so loud that the other patrons of the bar glanced at you two. Hizashi didn’t care and neither did you.

“You know, we’re still accepting applications for U.A! Feel free to fill them out!!” Hizashi was expecting to see you laugh again but something about his joke struck a chord with you. Your smile dropped, and you suddenly looked away from him. You reached for your pina colada and stirred it with the straw hanging off the curvy glass.

“W-Was it something I said?” You didn’t know what he said but you felt the sound waves of his voice when he spoke. It was very distinguishable from all the other voices in the bar. There was just something about it that made you know it was coming from Hizashi. “Miss ____?” A nervous laugh after was all he could do to make the mood seem less tense. You started to write in your notebook, your knuckles protruded as your gripped your pen tightly.

Earlier today, I told you I wanted to be hero. Well, I did try back in middle school, I applied for U.A but I was denied.

“Denied…?” You avoided looking at Hizashi and kept your eyes on your notebook. You began to tap your pen against the paper like you were trying to decide your next words.

The reason why they denied me was because of my disability. They didn’t have the resources to accommodate me, so they couldn’t accept me.

Hizashi knew that U.A was harder to get accepted to back when he applied, but he didn’t think they were rejecting students they couldn’t accommodate for.

Till this day, U.A has not accepted anyone who is deaf. Which is why I’m working together with Aizawa to ensure that will change in the future. My students, some of them have amazing quirks… and It’s hard for me to believe that they can’t become heroes because of something they were born with.

“That’s… very heroic of you.” Hizashi lowered his eyes, somewhat ashamed to hear of U.A’s past faults.

Someone has to pave the way for these kids.

Silence had fallen between the two of you, something Hizashi wasn’t used to. You continued to stare at him, waiting for him to say something about the current subject, but he suddenly changed it, his eyes met yours as he spoke. For some reason, it felt as if time had stopped, seeing Hizashi so serious had thrown you off. “If there was a chance to be reborn with hearing, would you take it?”

Your eyes had widened slightly to his question, but it didn’t delay your answer. You began to furiously write in your notebook and Hizashi hovered over slightly to see your words.

I don’t regret being born deaf. It’s not my fault. It’s not a fault. It’s part of who I am… and I’m content with that. So, no.

“I can’t imagine my life without sound.” He grumbled, but you were still able to make out his words from his lips.

Most people can’t. You scribbled.

“I guess that’s what makes you strong.” You were taken aback when you saw Hizashi’s lips slowly changed into a warm smile after he spoke. His eyes behind his shades softened as they gazed upon your face and his arm propped up his head as he leaned his head against his knuckles. He might not have noticed the dreamy expression he was making at you, but you surely did.

You blushed profusely, your eyes started fidgeting between Hizashi and your notebook. You weren’t sure what to do as it looked like he completely lost himself within his head and wasn’t talking anymore. You quickly snatched your notebook off the counter and started to write with your shaky hands and when you were done, you pushed your notebook towards him and leaned your head upon your hand that covered your mouth as you shyly looked in the opposite direction.

Thank you.

III.

Hizashi didn’t know how hard it was going to be to communicate with just his hands and subtle movements of lips, but he practiced for months for this day, the day he would finally ask you out on a date. You and Hizashi talked and nearly saw each other every day, it was only a matter of time until you two start going out, right? At least that’s what Hizashi believed. He hoped he didn’t imagine all those intimate moments you shared with him for these past months. It couldn’t have been all in his head, right?

He sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face. He nearly knocked his shades off his head in doing so and he straightened them when they became crooked. He was practicing his sign language in front of his bathroom’s mirror for the last time until he leaves for your school.

Even though it was Saturday, you invited Hizashi to a poetry event that your students were taking part in and you really wanted him to come. How could he have said no when you looked so sweet when you asked him? Of course, he was going to go. He might’ve overdressed a bit for the occasion though, he was wearing a white suit jacket which was opened and showed his black collared shirt under. His shirt was without a tie and was unbuttoned at the top until his collar flared out slightly. He made sure to gel his hair to perfection where not even a single strand was out of place. This day had to be perfect. It had to be.

Hizashi left his apartment with renewed vigor and he made it to your school just an hour before the event started. You greeted Hizashi with a hug at the entrance of your classroom. He melted in your arms, he honestly wished the hug didn’t last seconds but hours, days even. You guided him to a chair in the front row before you left him to greet more parents that piled into the classroom. Excited smiles were on their faces when they spotted their children all sitting together at the front of the class. The children, however, looked a little nervous until you came to talk to them. You signed a bit at them and their nerves were quickly replaced with soft smiles.

Hizashi was honored to come to this event. It was definitely his first time attending a poetry session in sign language. As like anyone learning a new language, it was still hard to interpret what was being said but you helped him by giving him the written translation of the poems. He still tried to interpret it on his own, only using the translation if he had no idea what was being signed. He also had to make sure you didn’t find out that he’s been learning sign, he wanted to surprise you when he asks you out.

Poems of simple messages like nature or family were the majority but there was one poem that stuck with Hizashi. A loud voice in a silent world, was the title and by just that, he was captured by it. It was a story about the struggles of being deaf in the hearing world, a voice so loud yet silent to the world. He couldn’t help but give the poem a standing ovation once it ended. He clapped loudly and cheered, and your student bowed happily to the audience. You showed him how to cheer in sign after, raising your hands in the air and shaking them with excitement. Once he learned, it was all he did for every student, cheering with his hands rather than his voice.

“That was amazing! Your students have so much talent!” Hizashi had said once you escorted all the parents and students out of the classroom. It was only you two that remained in it. He immediately thought it was his chance. You had a permanent smile on your face and looked absolutely delighted while you were writing your response in your notebook.

Yes, they do! Thank you so much for coming! I’m so happy you came.

“You know I would!”

You smiled with flushed cheeks and looked away shyly before you moved to straighten some desks. You felt Hizashi’s eyes linger on you after you had walked away from him, you had a feeling he wanted to tell you something, but you were still feeling shy from before and continued to avoid his eyes.

“____.”

The vibration you felt against your skin was all too familiar. Straightaway you knew it was coming from Hizashi. No longer could you avoid his gaze, his hands moved swiftly and shakily but you understood every symbol that was made out by his fingers. Language wasn’t coming from his voice but from his hands through sign. You nearly dropped your notebook in surprise, bringing a hand to cover on your lips as you watched his hands.

Do you want to go on a date with me?

He had such a handsome, wide smile on his face once he was done like he was proud to be able to communicate to you with your language. He knew your answer already once he saw that warm smile he loved spread your lips from ear to ear.

Of course, I will!

[alleiradayne]

There’s Something Strange A Reader/Sam Winchester Series

When Y/N Y/L/N escapes to the upper Midwest for a weekend of inspiration to begin her tenth paranormal thriller novel, she never imagined the source of that inspiration to be her own life. Between the old mansion, two peculiar men posing as antiquers, and the mysterious death of the heiress of Hill Manor one-hundred and fifty years ago, Y/N learns the truth about far more than the paranormal.

Part VII - The Aftermath

Summary: The next morning... Warnings/Tags: Angst, fluff, mentions of sexual topics Square filled: Author AU Characters/Pairings: Reader/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Word Count: 1,718 A/N: For @spnfluffbingo2019, this entire series fills the Author AU square. Super giant huge thank you to @atc74 who beta’d this giant thing for me.

The crisp fall breeze cooled her cheeks as Y/N slipped through the front door of Hill Manor, eager to be on her way. With the sun barely above the trees, she had decided to leave then rather than face Sam. She couldn’t bare the thought of disappointing him. She had seen that look on his face before and had vowed to never see it again. Better to remember him smiling in the bar the night before.

“We can keep my involvement out of the story when we talk to the cops, right?”

Dean laughed as he said, “Sure, Y/N. We’ll keep it short.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

“No, sweetheart,” he interjected. “Thank you. Right, Sam?”

Sam hefted his glass in salute. “Thank you.”

A shiver ran up her spine at the memory of Sam’s gaze consuming her over the rim of his glass as they drank to her success. Damn him. The point of her trip was not to find a lover. Inspiration for a book. That was it. And she had that in spades. No need to hang about.

Her suitcase thumped on the brick path at the bottom of the steps, and she paused, heart and mind in conflict. A deep breath filled her lungs as she turned around to soak in the essence of the mansion one last time. But instead of the house, she only saw Sam Winchester standing in the arch of the covered porch, staring at her.

“We never got a chance to talk,” he said as he started down the steps.

By no fault of hers. Between guests and police, Sam and Dean had been busy the rest of the night. True to Dean’s word, they had kept her involvement out of the story. And when the police had interviewed her, she claimed to have slept through it all, exhausted from a long day of writing. The officer had recognized her then, and in a complete dereliction of duty, asked for her autograph. Y/N had gladly given it, but then returned to her room for some much-needed sleep.

Except sleeping had only allowed her to process her thoughts, her feelings. Doubt replaced anything she thought she had felt for Sam. And given the near-death experience, she figured it best to leave as early as possible.

Too bad for her, it seemed Sam awoke with the sun as well.

“I’m leaving,” she stated.

“I see that,” Sam said as he looked to her suitcase and started down the stairs. “I made a promise.”

“Yeah, and you didn't keep it,” she retorted. “I had to save everyone.”

She hadn’t meant to sound so angry, so spiteful. Crestfallen, Sam stopped at the bottom of the steps beside her and held out his hand. “I know. I'm sorry.”

No excuses. No reasons. No spin. A genuine apology. She placed her hand in his. “While I appreciate the apology, you shouldn’t need to.”

“You shouldn't have been there,” he said as he pulled her close.

“You would be dead,” she replied.

“True,” Sam agreed. “So, even though we all nearly died, I'm glad you were with us. We made a good team. You did great. I don't know if I'd have thought to destroy the pen.”

Heat crept up her neck and her cheeks stung as she reached for her back pocket. From it she withdrew the black pen, its gold and green veins glimmering in the fall sun.

Sam's eyes damn near popped out of his head. “What did you do, Y/N!?!”

She withdrew the cap and scribbled on her palm. “It's just a pen, now.”

“But what about the one you torched?” he asked. “How did that kill the poltergeist?”

She replaced the cap and jammed the pen back into her pocket. “I took the twin from the inkwell base with me to the ballroom after reading up on liches and poltergeists.”

She wished she could confuse Sam more often just so she could see his furrowed brow and pursed lips. Y/N could hear the gears churning in his head as he said, “Keep talking.”

“Hillstead thought she was a lich. She thought her spell to splice half of her soul into the pen had worked,” she explained. “That’s why she took off every time I threatened to destroy it. But when we tried to trap her back in it,” she paused as she relived moment, “she remembered what living in that pen was like. Drove her mad, all those years alone inside a tiny, dark space. But she had no idea she had become a poltergeist. She had no idea she had killed herself trying to create a phylactery.”

Sam’s face softened as understanding blossomed in his eyes. “She thought you destroyed the other half of her soul,” he said. “And so, when you destroyed the twin, she…”

“Moved on,” Y/N said. “I think. She believed her 'phylactery' had been destroyed, so she believed she was 'dead’ and moved on. Into the light. I hope. Poor girl suffered for a century and a half, alone. In a pen.”

For too long, Sam stared at her and searched her gaze with is own wide eyes. Under such scrutiny, she shivered, but she dared not look away.

“You’re brilliant,” he said under his breath as he pulled her closer. “The way you think… I'm gonna miss the hell out of you.”

Dammit. He would make it difficult. With his hair, and puppy dog eyes, and tender touches, Y/N knew she would regret waking away. But did she want that life? Wedge herself into his and document everything he and his brother did?

“I'll miss you too, Sam,” she sighed. “Next time I stay in a haunted mansion… well, I think I’ll take care of things just fine.”

The red in his eyes stung her own as Y/N turned on her heel and walked away. It was the right thing to do, the best thing. She wasn't a hunter. She was a writer. She'd almost died on her one and only hunt. There was no way she would survive that lifestyle.

At her car, she tossed her suitcase into the trunk, and slammed the lid shut like a finished book. A sort of finality settled in her gut, not quite satisfied with her decision, but accepting it, nonetheless. And though she would miss him, Y/N knew Sam would get over her in a few days. Besides, she had all the material for her book, and that had been her goal for the trip. Not upending her entire life to live with some—

“Y/N!”

She froze in the door of her car, one foot in and the other on the ground. Against her every instinct, Y/N turned over her shoulder and saw Sam running down the path to the drive. He plodded to a halt before her, and as she stepped from the car, he grasped her by the shoulders and hauled her into him.

When his lips landed on hers, her heart leaped into her throat. Their prior trysts compared so little to that connection, to his insistent hands at the small of her back, holding her so tight, and his desperate tongue plying hers. And dear Lord, what strength. Power rippled beneath his coat, restrained despite his palpable need. All of him inundated her senses, his spearmint toothpaste, musty books, three-day scruff, and the quietest of sighs all tearing down her walls, and Y/N melted into him.

Between breaths and fervent kisses Sam clamored for more, gripping and pulling and tugging as though he could never have her close enough. “I don't want you to leave,” he mumbled against her lips.

She pulled back from him and held him at arm’s length as she looked him directly in the eye. “I don’t want to go either. But I can’t be a hunter. I’m not a hunter.”

He pointed at the house. “That, last night? That’s what being a hunter is all about,” he stated. “Pulling a win out of your ass when a thing has you dead to rights. It’s the Winchester way. We don’t know anything else.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to the questions spiraling through her head, so instead of asking how they had survived all their years, she, once again, logged that away on her ever-growing list. “I still think I got lucky.”

“You did,” Sam agreed. “I’d rather be lucky than dead. Besides, you don’t have to hunt. You could… travel with us?”

Inspiration. “I could use your hunts as material for my books?”

Disgust contorted Sam’s pretty face. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Do not put us in your books.”

His tone had turned so gravely serious in a single second, Y/N knew there had to be a story behind that demand. Her brow knotted as she cocked her head to the side. “Alright,” she said. “But this is… terrifying. I’m uprooting my entire life for you.”

“I know,” he said as he hugged her again, and Y/N, powerless in his presence, submitted to his embrace. “I know this is sudden. I'm not one to rush into things. But I would regret it for the rest of my life if we didn't at least try.”

Regret.

Y/N pulled back once more. “Rather to have loved and lost?”

His smile shined brighter than the sun. “Than never to have loved at all.”

She pushed to the tips of her boots and pressed a kiss to his lips so quick, Sam only just caught her. “If we keep,” he paused to kiss her again. “… doing this…” another kiss, “… I’m going to throw you…” a gasp, “… in the backseat of your car,” a moan, “and tear those leggings to shreds.”

“Oh, so the gentleman is a deviant after all!” she said with a laugh against his lips. “And here I thought the butt plugs were just a joke to creep your brother out,” she teased, but her banter faltered when Sam grasped her by the ass and hauled her into his arms.

“Honey, you don’t know the half of it,” he growled. “But if you come with me, I’d be more than happy to show you.”

His smile against her lips warmed her like the rays of the perfect fall sun breaking through the clouds.

“Take me home, Sam.”

If you want in on any of my tags (Sam/Jared, Dean/Jensen), you can ask for that, too!

THERE’S SOMETHING STRANGE MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN FLUFF BINGO MASTERLIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

The Whole Thang:

@atc74  @hannahindie @bevans87  @meganwinchester1999  @plaided-ani-on-hiatus  @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox @wonderfulworldofwinchester @princessofthefandomrealm  @just-another-busyfangirl @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs  @seenashwrite  @meowmeow-motherfucker  @depressed-moose-78 @staycejo1 @hobby27  @pretty-fortune @mypopculturediva @fanfictionjunkie1112 @sandlee44 @4llmywr1tings @claitynroberts @maddiepants @scarletluvscas @donnaintx @blackeyedangel9805 @rainflowermoon @winchesterprincessbride  @lazinessisalliknow @the-is13 @waywardafgrandma @keymology @sister-winchesters99

Sam’s Sasstresses:

@morganas-pendragons @karouwinchester

There’s Something Strange:

@peridottea91 @amanda-teaches

[yayninjabob]

A story behind a story

I have never wrote 100,000 words of anything in my life and 9 months ago when I first sat down to write Villain: Redux I definitely did NOT anticipate the length it would reach by the end of Part I. Now that it is done though I feel like I can talk about it.  Well not really the story but the story behind the story?  

A very lengthy and personal author's note for Part I: Remote Control

How I started writing again: My relationship with my writing was non existent for years.  I honestly went through a very long drought where I felt like everything I created just sucked so bad and I had zero motivation for creating shit.  I would talk with my therapist or my wife and friends about feeling so out of touch with my creative side and feeling pretty lost without it.  Really, I pretty much felt like it was dead forever.  I eventually started a personal journal again... And little drabbles here and there would come to mind... It felt alright but meh. "What did you enjoy about writing that you still feel is missing?" I was asked. Ffffffuck me I dont know.  Writing as a teen and in my early twenties wasn't something I ever thought about even when I did it every damn day of my life.  I guess I missed having that ongoing plot in the back of my head that I could escape to whenever life was lame. Daydreaming crazy stories as a kid was just my favorite past time and writing went with it.  But I just didnt have any more stories in my head. Nothing new or exciting enough at least. Anyways. January was my dads bday.  2019 and that year my dad asked for something.  Now my dad isn't one to ask for gifts. No, normally he is extremely frustrating and expects everyone to read his mind while saying "I dont care" yet if his gifts dont meet his secretive expectations he gets all butthurt and emo and says that nobody knows him.  Ok but January 2019 he asks me to write him something.   "What?  A story?  A poem?  A birthday card?" "I dont care just write me something." Typical. "I dont care."  Yeah right.  What the hell does he expect from me jeez.... My dad was the OG storyteller in my life- real shit or bullshit- he could spin a crazy story like no one else. My uncles and his friends would sit around smoking and drinking and listening to one wild tale after the next.   He could entertain people for HOURS just with the shit he’d say.  I always thought he'd make a brilliant stand up comedian but my dad would just laugh at the idea. So for his gift I figured I'd retell one of his personal wild tales - his first encounter with a mountain lion at 12 during a hunting trip with my late great uncle Joe who was his adoptive father figure.  Honestly my dad was always so incredibly descriptive and I heard that tale about a bazillion times growing up, and even though he hadnt shared it in probably 15+ years, it was easy to recall. I could just close my eyes and see it clear as day.  I stayed loyal to his story but I used my own words.  It really surprised me how easy I found those words though.  Writing had been such an impossible challenge for so long yet when I finished the short story I had written 12 pages in a single afternoon and I was shocked but in a good way.  It was his story so I was pretty sure he would like it. He's got a pretty big ego lol. I typed it up on the typewriter my dad had gotten me back when I was a teen and serious about becoming a "real writer."  I figured he would appreciate that.  I gave him the story on his birthday.  He didnt read it right away. We went to the backyard and the two of us shared a joint and while I started chasing the dogs in the yard for a bit I saw he finally picked the story up. And when he finished he started crying. Which is always weird when it's your dad right?  He isn't one to cry easily. Last time I saw tears in his eyes was three years prior at my wedding but even that wasnt like this.  He told me "You need to write again.   You need to try." But I still felt like I couldn't. I never really thought I was good at it anyway.  Sure, people told me they liked my writing and it meant a lot that my dad was moved so much by my short story that I started to believe “hey maybe I can write,” but... I dunno.  I had a rough idea for an original novel that I sat down with later that month and tried to work out... But it just felt forced and uninteresting.  It wasnt a story my mind could just escape to effortlessly.  The passion just wasnt there. After a while my wife suggested to me "Well when you retold your dad's story that was easier right?  Maybe you should retell another story that you love." And so in August 2019 I sat down and wrote what would eventually become the scarring scene for Villain: Redux

Part I:  Remote Control I spent the rest of August, September and October slowly falling back into my old world of Villain.  I reread both Villain and VillainE for the first time in yeeeeeears.  What. A. Trip. So much stood out to me that was like "Ok young me, I see where you were going but this could be so much better."  I made my list of what I liked and what I wanted to change.. Constructed my outline and then I just went for it.   Halloween night that year was spent finishing my first draft of chapter 1.  It was still in Buttercup's limited POV.  I liked it OK enough but I wondered if it would be improved if I tried third person instead.  I said "fuck it why not" and went for it again but in third person, adding the beginning history of Townsville and then the opening scene with Mojo.   When I finished it I was pretty amused with it and I found myself just starting right away on chapter 2 and adding even more details to my overall outline- it became a trilogy.  It was flowing SO easy and for once writing didnt feel like some forced chore I was performing.   The entire time though I debated whether or not to share any of it.  I didn't think anyone would read it.  But personally, I was falling in love with my new rendition and I really didn't want to stop writing it. So once again I said "fuck it why not" and I started this tumblr to start documenting my new commitment to rewriting Villain for good.  I edited the first chapter and uploaded it a couple days before Thanksgiving. And the support I got from readers honestly made me cry haha... I really really thought the story would go unnoticed.  After all, when I first started writing for the PpG fandom it was always an uphill battle and 90 percent of my first reviews were just flames and criticism.  The original Villain really took a while to gain much of a readership and even though it had its moment of somewhat popularity in the fandom, that moment came after it was completed. A brief glance at the PpG section on FFnet showed me that things really hadnt changed- still 99 percent PpGxRrB romances.  Man, it just seemed so unfair. I freaking love this show and TBH I will never understand the fandom's fixation on those damn Rowdyruffs.  Whatever.  It is what it is.  But because of that and because I hadnt been an active writer in the fandom for like a decade I really thought I'd be lucky to get one review.   And I did!  On the first day!  And I was PUMPED lol.   Then over the next couple of days I got more and most from names I recognized from the past!  I was so touched by some of the things you guys said, you will have no idea what those first 7 reviews meant to me.  And of course the reviews to follow throughout the next chapters only continued to motivate me further. And now I'm done with Part I.  Jeez what a freaking journey.  I feel like I've learned a lot though and I hope that the story only improves from here.   Today, this story invades my subconscious more than I would like to admit.  But.  It is so nice to have an exciting story to escape to once more.  And I feel like I can say that my creative drive is finally restored again which feels amazing.  Who knew it would be this rewrite of all things to do it. So yeah.  I owe the biggest thanks to my readers (the reviewers especially), my wife, and of course my dad.   I know we are just at the beginning of this story, but personally I just feel like I've accomplished more than I could've imagined already... like I said... 100,000 words is something I’ve never done before lol.  And I cant wait to share the rest of the story with everyone.   Anyways that’s my long soppy backstory on how I decided to rewrite Villain.  Thanks for reading. :)