#was looking at all my taglists earlier and thinking wait a freakin minute

[queenimmadolla]

Vent post! Are any other writers starting to resent tag lists as much as I am???

I completely understand when one of my followers requests to be tagged in an update and I’m happy to for the most part! I’m a consumer of fics as well and I know updates can get lost in the feed but when it’s someone just passing through on your blog (more often then not on MULTIPLE occasions), it just grinds my gears when they tell you to tag them.

Especially if you’ve seen them go through your masterlist and like all your works. Likes are appreciated, really they are, but it’s the bare minimum when it comes to showing support or appreciation. 900 likes vs 23 reblogs??? I’m not even a big number person, but I know that’s fucked up.

The reason I dislike having people who are just passing though your blog wanting to be tagged is because, unlike with followers, you’re not getting lost in their feed. They just don’t want to have to actively search for your blog, even though they clearly like all your works. And it’s worse when they ask even though they also haven’t bothered reblogging whatever it is they want to be tagged in! It’s lazy and it’s messed up, especially when you know how easy it is to create a side blog for reblogging purposes as most do when they don’t want to mix aesthetics or whatever!

Even before I started writing, I’ve never asked to be tagged in a work by someone I didn’t follow or made the request without reblogging. I always viewed it as disrespectful, I like this work, and I even like all your other works but I’m not gonna follow you or reblog it, so can you just tag me that way I can keep up without having to actually interact with you or it? Thanks!

Make it make sense because at this point, I'm tagging more non-followers and catering to them more than I am my actual followers. And I'm continuously tagging like the same people for multiple works and they simply do not want to follow me after all this time, so I'm considering doing away with taglists. I don't care if you don't want to follow me, I honestly get it. I'm not offended by that. I understand! Sometimes I'm not interested in the other fandoms writers post about (but i dont't really go through my feed, so if I'm comfortable with them and what they write in the fandom we share, I'll follow) and what not and if you're POC, you often have to be really careful about you who choose to follow and the safe space you're crafting because you may end up regretting it, but if you want to read my works, I'm thinking you can come find me because this is getting out of hand with the amount of people i have to keep track of, who don't even want to keep track of me.

and to those of you who interact with me, reblog my works, follow me, etc., I promise you, you are not taken for granted. I appreciate you so much, like a colossal amount, you have no freaking idea. you're what keeps me from pulling my hair out when it comes to stuff like this.

[imaginesbymk]

“Melting.”

Stranger Things One Shot

Summary: Robin thinks you’re crushing on your best friend Steve, but little did she know...

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Reader

Requester: @fangirlsarah16 “Congrats on 1k lovely!!! 😄💗🎉 that’s so freaking amazing and you deserve it! For your 1k celebration, could I please request a one shot with Robin Buckley where the reader is best friends with Steve and Robin has a crush on the reader but thinks they are into Steve so Robin is upset by it and when they hang out, Robin accidentally confesses and the reader kisses her to proves they like her? Thanks love! 💖”

Tags: swearing

Word Count: 1,241

Author’s Note: sooooo sorry for the huge delay, sarah!! but enjoy!!! song inspiration is melting by kali uchis <333 pls leave a like/reblog + feedback :))

STEVE slumped his way to the front counter to serve a new customer. “Welcome to Scoops, what can I get you?”

You watched him from the window, Robin was watching you watching him - a chain, really. It came to her and she wished to look away. The first time Robin saw you as Steve’s best friend (who is technically her best friend from now on - she doesn’t make the rules), she naturally assumed the obvious: you have a crush on your best friend, the one that’s friends with children. 

Now that you’ve been staring at Steve for nearly a minute, that sort of proved her point.

You turned your head around and noticed she was staring at you. “What?”

“Huh, what? Nothing, it’s just uh-” she stammered. “It’s freakin’ hot in here, I’m melting.”

The fact that you were always able to walk in the back and chill at one of the tables with Robin and Steve was beyond either of you three, but neither of you cared - but there wouldn’t be a reason for it to be hot inside an ice cream shop.

“Um, we’re literally right beside the freezer, it’s like minus a thousand degrees.” You popped a piece of gum in your mouth. “Dunno, it could be that cheap uniform your boss made you wear,” you teased.

“Robin, the cash register is broken!” Steve hollers from the other side. That queued Robin to not sit on the job, and she quickly left the back room.

She had this sibling kind of friendship with Steve, and she most certainly couldn’t hate him for being the person you’re crushing on, it wasn’t his fault, the poor kid.

The gentleman who ordered a five dollar vanilla cone stood there as Robin began slamming the side of the register (as if that was gonna get it to work and not break it even more), the thought of an outrage from their boss due to the cost of repair or even buying a new one was out of her mind.

Steve offers the customer a smile.

The door swung open like a saloon, and out you came to see the commotion. You smiled at Robin after noticing what she was doing. Robin’s heart melts like an ice cream faster than the ice cream she serves to customers at Scoops Ahoy whenever you smile at her. For someone who’s miserable and sarcastic eighty-percent of the time, she developed a soft side she never knew she even had. The problem was, she wished you knew that.

After multiple slams, the register let out a sound and the tray pulled out, sending coins flying to the ground.

“Nice. Our boss is gonna pop a vein when he sees this,” Steve says, bending down to the pick up the coins off the floor. You and Robin helped. 

Steve starts with one side, you and Robin collected the dimes and pennies. One last dime was spotted, so you reached your hand over to grab it... as did Robin. Her hand was greeted with yours, barely even touching the coin. The both of you shot looks at each other, blushing like hell. Robin’s melting heart solidified back to normal just for it to hammer.

“Ahem,” Steve cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You two wanna fight over the dime?”

The two of you quickly got up and smiled at the customer who just wanted their cone.

“Y/N?” It was hard to resist going on those coin slot horse rides in the middle of the mall, especially when the mall was closed and it was the three of you, plus Dustin and some old sanitation worker cleaning the ground floors, you wasted no time goofing around.

“Yeah?”

“While you were getting hot dogs, my boss threw a fit earlier."

“Oh, crap.” You swung your leg off the horse and hopped off. “Did you tell him you slammed the cash register like dough? That seemed to get it work.”

“That wasn’t what he was pissed at me for,” Robin shook her head.

“Then what is it?”

“He noticed you’ve been entering the back room. You’re not an employee.”

You nodded. “I know I’m not allowed to do that, no one’s allowed unless they’re wearing that stupid sailor’s uniform.”

“Y/N, I got blamed for that but Steve always leaves the door unlocked from the back hallways because he knows you come from there. If the boss sees you there one more time, we’re done. I’ll get fired.”

“So will Steve, he’ll be in hot water, for sure. He’s the one who keeps the door-”

“Forget about Steve, dude!” She snaps.

You chuckle. “Okay! What’s your deal, Robin?”

“Y/N...” Robin sighs, walking towards you. “If you like Steve so much that you’re willing to go inside Scoops and risk his job just to be with him, and then I’m the one taking the blame for it, then that’s kinda shitty.”

“What?” you said. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! You think I like Steve?”

“Hey, don’t drag me into this!” Steve calls from the front of the shop, locking the gates with the keys.

“Shut up Steve!” you both yell.

You both turn to each other. “Hold on, you don’t like Steve?” Robin asks, hoping to confirm it to be a no from you.

“Why would I ever like Steve that way? He’s a friend,” you say.

“Because I see the way you look at him and you laugh the hardest when he falls down like an idiot, it seemed very obvious,” Robin explained.

“Why would you even care about that?”

“Because I like you!” Robin’s voice echoed in the empty shopping mall. Steve stops jiggling the keys inside the locked gates, eyes bulging wide at Robin. Perhaps all three of you had turned red, and froze all together like mannequins on display.

Dustin walks in from the back hallways, managing to sneak out a bowl of dessert, unpaid. “Who wants to take the first bite - too bad it’s me!” he ignores the awkward silence unbeknownst the argument and Robin’s confession.

“Wait, you... like me?” you said softly. Dustin stares at the two teenagers, slowly savoring the taste of the treat as if he was watching a movie in the theater. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Do you know how hard it is to confess something like that to someone?” Robin’s voice cracks. “Especially when you’re convinced that the person you like - likes someone else.”

“Robin, did all of that ice cream make your brain freeze for good? I don’t like Steve,” you shook your head. “I like you. It’s been you this whole time.”

“Are you freaking kidding me right now?” Robin raised a brow. “You never showed it, I never took the slightest hint, like at all.”

Then why else would you convince Steve to unlock the back doors, and let Robin be the first person you see when you enter, just to brighten her dull day on the job? All that for her. You wished there were better ways, and you wished and wished nothing but the best for her than making money serving ice cream at Starcourt. 

You rushed towards her, your cold hands from the free ice cream pressing on her shoulders. You leaned in, and did the thing that Robin had been wanting to do since the very beginning. 

Steve began to cover Dustin’s eyes. 

“How's that for a hint?” you smile at her after pulling away.

_

taglist: @fangirlsarah16 @moonlit-imagines @captainshazamerica @always-imagine-a-dream @randomfandomimagine @locke-writes

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

Hundreds of academic studies have been dedicated to observing those who are cursed with a toxic reliance on alcohol or illegal substances. Yet, not many have considered to conflate infatuation with addiction, and so the question that remains is… can one become addicted to a person? To their smile? To their laugh…? Further, it is not uncommon for addicts to substitute one addiction with another to relieve anxiety or stress. Perhaps that was why had become obsessed with distractions. The form of the distraction held little significance to you. Whether it was spending ever spare second outside of the emptiness of your apartment or burning your emotions with the poison of the night.

Your craving to escape reality can easily be traced back to three months ago when your primary addiction was no longer within reach.

Since the beginning of your relationship it was no secret that you were infatuated with the younger twin and his affections. Hanamaki once humourlessly commented that you were oddly obsessed with him, but it was just love. Pure, unconditional love.

And when you were no longer able to drown in him – in the love he offered in return, it was only natural that you sought to fill the emptiness with something else, despite the cost.

Now, when Bokuto originally instructed you to wait at the café for him, you intended on abiding without complaint. Except with the buzz of the champagne slowly fading, you were compelled to sustain the haze enveloping your thoughts. Caffeine would not provide you the fix you required, nor would the bottle of water, clutched in your right hand.

With a palm resting against your cheek, you shifted your gaze to the window, seeking the remedy to the hollowness returning to you.

“Oh. I forgot about that.” The comment mumbled under your breath was referring to the establishment located in the building directly beside yours. It was a small pub that you had passed by on countless nights. Glimmering illuminations framed the storefront, naturally drawing your attention to it; and the neon sign plastered against the window could not have been any more inviting. Each second that passed increased your desire to leave the café, as the dazzling colours sung out to you, summoning you to them.

It was not that you desired to disobey your friend’s instructions – it was simply that you yearned to join the lights, as they were offering you something you could not refuse. Bokuto would message you once he left the apartment, anyway. The few minutes it would take for him to return to the ground level would provide you enough time to return to the café. It was a concrete plan, at least that was the lie you comforted yourself with.

**

As you entered the establishment, the illumination drawing you there had become quite blinding. To battle the sudden strain on your eyes, you squinted, scrunching up your features in the process. The overload of your senses only continued as the speaker located to your right, blasted an unfamiliar melody, welcoming you to a party you were not meant to attend. You considered retreating the few steps advanced into the pub, but then you caught a whiff of an unknown liquor and it persuaded you to stay.

Silently, you proceeded towards the bar, ignoring the quizzical expressions tossed in your direction. The designer clothes gifted to you from your employer did not suit the ambiance of the pub, and it did not help that you were blinking excessively. Your struggle to adjust to the light could have easily been misinterpreted as the side effects of consuming an illegal substance. But you could care less what some random individuals thought about you.

The bartender flashed you a hospitable smile once you took a seat on the barstool, she did not seem to harbour any incorrect assumptions. Instead, she seemed to catch onto the strain over your mascara coated eyelids, something you realized when she issued an apology.

“It’s really bright, I know. It’s like the freakin’ sun, am I right?” The apologetic laughter exhaled by the mixologist radiated an energy that reminded you of someone… Though you could not pinpoint who. “Anyway, honey. What can I get ya?” After placing a napkin in front of you, she removed a glass from the pyramid behind her. The way she curved her eyebrow communicated that she was expecting an interesting order, most likely because of your attire.

“I’ll have whatever she’s having.” Crossing your arms over the wooden counter, you leaned forward with a toothy grin prior to motioning towards the girl seated beside you. “Because it looks like it’ll kill me and I am here for it.” Accompanying your words was a little wink, one that brought the older woman to laugh once more.

“Oh, that’s funny. Because that drink is called poisoned by love. It’s our newest addition.” Your answer satisfied her and communicated volumes about your reason for visiting. She made a mental note to observe you closely for the night, vulnerability and alcohol were a deadly mix, after-all.

“Poisoned by love… Cute. I’ll have two.” The number was illustrated by a peace sign, one that landed upon your cheek with accidental force. Yet you played it off, forcing the smile to remain attached to your mouth.

The sloppiness of the action engaged the bartender’s internal alarms. There was no way in hell she would be serving you anything beyond the drink she was in the process of concocting.

“Let’s start with one honey. Whatever kick you’re losing; I assure you that one of these babies will bring it back.” A nod of affirmation was applied to her head as she presented the final product to you, before settling it onto the napkin. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to see how you’re doing.”

The impact of the mixture did not require five minutes to activate. Two minutes into consuming the drink, one of the patrons beside you informed you that it was not meant to be downed in one motion. That would have been useful advice if it were provided before you chugged the liquid, unaware of the consequences that would follow.

At three minutes you understood the warnings issued by the barkeep, as you were stripped of any grip on reality. Glancing down at your hands, you tilted your head curiously at the injured one, trying to remember how it occurred. When the bartender returned to check up on you, upon seeing your brows knitted in confusion, she recommended you close your eyes for the remaining two minutes. Poisoned by love was particularly potent for the first five minutes if consumed in one go.

The initial high of the alcohol dimmed substantially after the five-minute mark, and soon your memories were returned to you. Brushing your fingers against your forehead, a growl was caught in your throat.

“I can see you’re feeling better.” She quickly removed the empty glass from ahead of you, making no suggestion that she would replace it with a second one. “I think this is also when I tell you that we have a rule against drinkin’ and textin’.” Too preoccupied by the phone within your grasp, you paid little attention to her remarks. It was quite obvious that you were plotting something with your newfound courage.  

“You don’t.” Your attention was torn away from the bright screen for only a second, to squint at the woman in disbelief.

“Maybe not… but it’s not a good idea.” Caught in a lie, she raised her hands then blew out a sigh. But you did not acknowledge the gesture, with your gaze returning to the device instantly.

“On the contrary, I think it’s a phenomenal idea…”

Let’s do it again, shall we -  poisoned by love 

Masterlist - Previous - Next

A/N: I am upset rn, NO ONE LOOK AT ME. the fact my finger slipped and I posted half of this earlier - UGH. bad fucking luck. ANYWAY. >:( If there are mistakes in this, it is because I can’t concentrate enough to edit them. >:( 

taglist: @idiot-juice-enthusiast @vicassa  @iloveanime691 @bringmelily @newfriendjen @hikarichannn @anime-simp @tsukkismamagucci @laughingismorefun @astronomyturtle @shegrewupwithoutafather @hyskoa1998 @deephumandragonperson @pretty-setter-bois @raenebalgaire @sugawarabby @justanotherfangirl2 @keijisworld @90s-belladonna@momoinot @sempiternal-amour @cherryblosom111 @yqshirov @haikyuufairy @volleybloop @bloody-bella @sadkaashistan @seikamuzu @namyari  @toaster-stick @coconut-dreamz @roseestuosity @prcttylittlcthing @uzumakioden @nerdynstoned​ @kenmasgameboy @unstableye​ @ouijaeater15 @aquariarose @fandomtrashpandasposts @helloalex80 @stfucanunot @envyusshades @cuddlesslut @seijohiseliterambles @chaichai-the-weeb @meiikuki @theowl104 @cuddlejeongin​ @tchalameme​ @ditu-m9​

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Won’t You Stay (Part 2)

Summary: Jensen starts his first day of work and learns who the reader is...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x Director!reader 

Word Count: 2,400ish

Warnings: language

A/N: There is no taglist for this series. Check out the masterlist to see how to be notified of new parts. Please enjoy!

______

“Ella,” you said into your phone the next morning as you walked out of your budget meeting, ready to dive into filming. “It was an accident. I’m sure the girl on the other team knows that.”

“I know. I broke her nose though. I felt so bad,” she said. 

“She’ll live. Talk to your coach. Maybe she knows the other one and you can send a get well card or something,” you said.

“Yeah, I think maybe I’ll do that,” she said. “How’s the movie going? I didn’t hear dad come home last night.”

“There was a slight problem yesterday but hopefully it’s settled now,” you said, hearing the phone get shuffled around. “No, Anthony, I’m not getting you Gil Nicholas’ autograph. Guy isn’t even going to be in the movie.”

“Really?” asked your brother.

“Really. He’s kind of a douche. I gotta go and you guys have school. I’ll talk to you guys later,” you said.

“Wait!” said Anthony. “The Nolan situation. You said you’d help.”

“Help what? You two are dating,” you said.

“Mom and dad, genius,” he said.

“Anthony,” groaned Ella in the background. “Mom and dad will not care that you like boys. Y/N and I like boys and they don’t.”

“Yeah but I’m the only boy and our dad literally plays a badass on TV and in movies, El,” he said.

“Anthony. Our dad also was a single father to me for years. He played dress up and princesses and he gave me the puberty talk. He loves you no matter what. So does mom. Trust me,” you said.

“Yeah, but you’re like, his favorite,” he said. You shut your eyes and sighed. “You know what I mean. You’re special.”

“I didn’t meet mom until I was ten years old, Anthony. Dad and I were on our own. I’m not his favorite. There’s no favorite,” you said. “Dad is just overly protective of me is all. We’ll talk about your cute little boyfriend later, okay? I promise.”

“Alright. See ya,” he said. You shook your head as you hung up and headed onto the set, stopping by the breakfast line to grab some coffee. 

An hour later you were at the Hale’s house location, everything looking like it was running smoothly. You popped inside and saw your dad rehearsing with Jensen, giving them both a smile.

“How’s it going?” you asked.

“Good,” said your dad. “We gonna start soon?”

“Five or so minutes,” you said, Jensen staring at you.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were a PA on the movie,” he said. Your dad chuckled along with a few other people in the room.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you said, holding out a hand and watching the color drain from Jensen’s face. “I’m your director and the author of The Dark Woods.”

“Well fuck me,” he said, shaking your hand as you smirked. “Oh my...I am so sorry for being late last night and assuming you were a PA and you’re Ethan Y/L/N’s daughter and you wrote my favorite book ever which I was totally fanboying out over last night and I’m going to shut up now.”

“Don’t do that. You’re getting paid to talk after all,” you said with a smile. “Walk with me for a second.”

He followed you out to the back porch and across the yard, swallowing loudly when you came to a stop by a tree.

“Sorry about not mentioning it earlier. I didn’t want you to be nervous in your audition if I was there and I figured it wasn’t a huge deal if you found out this morning,” you said.

“No, no mam. It’s-”

“Please, no mam or boss or that crap. Y/N, that’s it,” you said. “I’m not even your boss.”

“I’m mostly embarrassed about how I gushed last night about the book to the freakin author,” he said, some blush crossing his cheeks.

“As the freakin author, we live for that shit,” you laughed. Jensen relaxed and let out a small one of his own. “I watched your audition. You knew Lyle inside and out.”

“I’ve read the book more than a few times. I…” he trailed off, face going red.

“Yes?”

“I should quit while I’m ahead,” he said. 

“Maybe you can tell me why you like it so much over that drink,” you said, giving him a smile. He looked around and raised an eyebrow.

“You still want to do that?” he asked.

“I’m in charge. It doesn’t mean I’m your boss. That’s casting’s job. I would still expect a drink,” you said.

“Is that such a good idea?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“I sort of asked as...not friends,” he said. “You being...you and the director…”

“Oh,” you said.

“Your dad is kind of terrifying too,” he said. 

“Yeah. He has scared off more than a few guys. Or they’re more interested in him,” you said, forcing a smile. You’d never in a million years want him to feel uncomfortable so if he wanted to keep things professional, that was okay with you. “I guess I’ll be drinking alone on Saturday then.”

“I mean, I didn’t say…” he trailed off. “Maybe someday-“

“It’s cool, Jensen. Let’s get started for the day, hm?” you said. He nodded and you headed back inside the house, finding your chair in a back room. “We ready to go?”

“Mhm,” said your assistant director AJ as he took a seat beside you. You sat back and pulled on your headphones as various departments started shouting off, the camera lining up its first shot.

“Action!” you called. Your dad walked into the kitchen, pointing for Jensen to take a seat. He begrudgingly did so, your dad going to the fridge and pulling out a carton of eggs.

“You live here?” asked Jensen.

“No. I pay the mortgage on this place for fun. Of course I live here, kid,” he said. “Now keep your mouth shut.”

“You’re not a very pleasant person,” mumbled Jensen. Your dad spun around and grabbed the fork off the table, holding it up to Jensen’s neck. He froze, not even letting a breath escape.

“I am still not positive if I’m letting you live yet so be quiet if you want to increase your odds,” he said. Jensen swallowed and your dad pulled away, going back to the eggs. “I hope you like fried eggs.”

“Actually I don’t,” said Jensen. Your dad spun around again but this time Jensen stared him down.

“Fried eggs it is,” he said with a smirk. Jensen rolled his eyes and you called cut.

“Do it again,” you said. “Jensen, can you pause when you walk in and take a look around this time? Notice the house a bit.”

“No problem,” he said.

“Reset,” you said, waiting for them to get out of view of the camera. “Action!”

“Hey, Jensen,” you said, catching him in the parking lot for the actors near the production office that evening. He spun around with a smile, fixing his backpack on his shoulders. 

“Hi, Y/N. What’s up?” he asked.

“I uh, just wanted to say you did really good today. I’m really happy you’re playing Lyle,” you said.

“Oh. Thanks. I’m nowhere near as good as your dad,” he said. “He’s kind of insanely good at this.”

“He’s had more practice,” you said. “Honestly though, I’m glad Gil dropped out. He wouldn’t have done what you were doing today.”

“Why’d he drop out anyways? He’s in freaking Marvel movies. He’s huge,” said Jensen.

“I think he got an offer to do some serious drama. He doesn’t need a breakthrough role. He’s already had that. To be honest I never liked the choice,” you said.

“Well, Lyle’s smart. Gil isn’t exactly known for playing intelligent characters,” said Jensen. You smirked and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I probably shouldn’t trash talk him. I’ve never met him.”

“I have. Trust me. He deserves it. You know your Lyle Sullivan,” you said. 

“I started rereading today during a few breaks. Never hurts to have the source material in your head,” he said. 

“Not sure Gil can read so you’re already winning,” you said. Jensen laughed and nodded. “You don’t have to reread though Jensen. I kept the script the same as the book.”

“Oh, I know. I could tell there weren’t really any changes between them. I just like rereading it,” he said.

“I like to read it every once in a while too,” you said. “I’d say if you ever had any questions on how to play a scene or how Lyle would act feel free to ask but I have a feeling you won’t need help in that department.”

“You had plenty of notes for me today,” he said, ducking his head down.

“I’m sorry,” you said, his head instantly popping up.

“No, no. They were good. It’s kind of why I’m reading it again. Take the kitchen scene today. It’s very clear in the book how Lyle looks around the space,” he said. You stared at him and smiled.

“Jensen, you don’t have to memorize the thing. It’s why I give you notes, so you don’t have to. I know I went a bit overboard today. I’ll try to ease up some.”

“No, it’s good. Keep doing it. It makes it better,” he said. “I want to make it look as good as possible. I can’t imagine being in charge of everything.”

“Well I only get called kid in every meeting I’m in which is lovely,” you said. “I mean my dad is the other lead. I get the whole people thinking this is nepotism thing.”

“Didn’t you use a pen name during publishing though, at least to get someone to choose it on it’s own merits, not your name? I thought I read that,” he said.

“Yeah. I did. Once I got the deal I gave my real name. I mean, people can think whatever they want. I wanted it published because it was good enough though, not because some chick in an office thinks my dad is attractive or something,” you said.

“I can understand that,” he said. “Hey, can I ask question about the book?”

“Shoot,” you said as he leaned back against his car.

“Why does the cover have a picture of the woods on a bright day if it’s the Dark Woods? I always wondered that,” he said.

“Oh boy,” you laughed. “It’s been a while since I’ve been asked that. If you can believe it, there was a printing error where they forgot to add a filter but it was too late to go back and fix it. I ended up liking it.”

“Here I thought it was because Lyle’s a good guy, Hale too, despite all the reasons they have to be bad,” he said. “You know, light in dark. Symbolism or whatever.”

“Nah,” you laughed, Jensen letting out one of his own. “I do like that interpretation though. I uh, I’m sorry for keeping you. I’m sure you want to get home. I have to go do some more work. I won’t keep you anymore.”

“No, it’s cool. I like talking to you,” he said. “I’ll catch you around tomorrow, Y/N.”

“You too, Jensen.”

You headed into the building, heading upstairs to where your movie had a few rooms to use. You popped into your small office and pulled out your laptop from your backpack, stretching before you grabbed your binder and sat down.

You skimmed through it and made some notes, hopping back and forth between it and your email for a while. You yawned and put your head in your hand, scrolling through a few things and making a choice on a few costume choices for Jensen and your dad.

“Kiddo,” said your dad, shaking your shoulder all of a sudden. You popped your head up from your production office desk, your dad giving you a smile. “You missed mom’s calls earlier. She had me come check on you since you never answered. I think you conked out at some point.”

“What time is it?” you yawned.

“About three in the morning. I checked your apartment first,” he said. “Come on, up and at ‘em.”

“I got to be here at six for prep, might as well stay,” you said, stretching in your seat.

“You’ll burn yourself out if you pull all-nighters all the time,” he said. “It’s only day three.”

“And it took a lot longer to film yesterday’s scenes than I thought it would,” you said. “Everything was good but the location hopping took way longer than I thought it would.”

“Follow me,” he said. You groaned and he pulled you to your feet, guiding you down the hall and outside to the night air. You walked for a few minutes until you were at his trailer door, your dad opening it up and flipping on the light switch.

“Your trailers have gotten nicer over the years,” you said as you stepped up inside

“And what was your favorite part of my trailers ever since you were a little girl?” he asked, walking you back to the bedroom. “The big ass bed.”

“They were awesome for jumping on,” you said.

“Well next time you skip dinner at our place, text mom so she doesn’t worry and the next time you need to stay late, crash here, sweetie,” he said. “Now sleep, kiddo. I’ll be out on the pullout.”

“Thanks dad,” you said, getting a kiss on the forehead before you plopped down on the bed.

“Rest up. Tomorrow’s a big stunt day.”

______

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

[bangtan-madi]

All Of Our Lifetimes — Five: Requiem

Pairing — Taehyung x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Taehyung, husband!Taehyung reincarnation au, lovers to strangers and to lovers again, established relationship, implied soulmate au

Genre — fluff, angst, crime (ish)

Word Count — 2.5k

Summary — Does love ever truly end, or does it simply take another form in a new life? The cycle is like clockwork: your lives end and you’re reborn again. You’ve lived it over and over. Each cycle, one of you loses your memories and is tragically unaware until the other finds and awakens their lover. After all these eons, all these lifetimes, is it possible to find each other again—even when neither of you awakens with your memories?

Part — 5 / 15

Warnings — language

A/N — Taglist is open! Comment, message, or ask and I’ll add you to the roster :) (Also I’m a freakin’ moron and forgot to post on Wednesday night like usual, which was yesterday. So enjoy this late chapter lol!)

Previous — Next

The first person you text is Namjoon. To you, he was the obvious choice. Friendly, open, and the first of the members to accept you into their enclave. It wasn't anything in particular, just saying hi and reminding him of who you are and that you were looking forward to tomorrow.

Not two minutes later, he replies and invites you to join a group chat he'd just created for you and all seven members.

"This way, we can all keep in touch!" he says. "DMs are fine, of course, but if we all wanna get to know each other, group chats can be a lot of fun."

He wasn't wrong. The remainder of Sunday evening is spent texting the members. On the way home, while you cook a quick dinner, and when you're relaxing before bed. They're flooding your messages with all kinds of hilarity. Jungkook and Hoseok are a fan of memes, while Yoongi seems to prefer the straightforward communication that gifs provide. Jimin and Namjoon adore emojis, and Jin sticks to his usual bad dad jokes. Taehyung replies to a question every now and then, but for the most part, he's absent from the conversation.

"You're awfully quiet, Taehyung-ssi," Jimin teases half-way through a conversation on whether or not mint ice cream is edible.

"I'm working, but you guys are blowing up my phone so it's hard to concentrate."

A sigh slips out as you reply, "You can put your phone on vibrate, Taehyung. Really, we won't mind. Or at least I certainly won't."

His response is speedy. "Okay. I'll talk to you all tomorrow."

Namjoon sends you a private message. "Don't let him bother you. He can get like this when he's focused. He doesn't do well with things distracting him."

"Yeah...you're probably right."

"Oh, I definitely am!"

"Hey, thank you again for everything. Except for Kim Taehyung, I really feel at ease with everyone. I feel like we're going to get along great at the set tomorrow."

"My pleasure, [Y/n]. I really wanted to avoid you feeling like more of an outsider than you probably already do. Being in a new country, even if you speak the language, can be scary. I've been to enough of them to know that there's no place like home...but maybe we can make it a bit easier."

A smile spreads across your face at his genuine spirit and pure kindness. "You have, big time! Each of you is really fun to be around. Honestly? I can't wait for 'Run' tomorrow! Can I ask where we're going? I didn't see a production report yet, and Director Hyeon hasn't responded to my email."

"We'll probably knock out a few episodes in one night, and I think we're closing down the Seoul Museum of Art. They're going to close a bit early so we can have it to ourselves. The games we have planned will happen there!"

You turn your eyes away from your cell phone at the mention of the museum. Recalling what happened over the weekend, returning to that place doesn't seem like a terrific idea. But then again, if you are there with Taehyung, maybe the two of you can finally talk about what you see in your dreams.

Maybe, just maybe, you can get those answers.

Your resolve strengthens a little bit, and a new message comes through, one not from the group chat or Namjoon. You click out of your conversation with the leader and check the notification.

"Who are you?"

The question is blunt and straightforward, coming from the second-youngest member via a private chat. You open the message, and your fingers hover above the keyboard for a few moments.

"Hi Taehyung. What do you mean?"

"I know we've met before. I can't remember where."

You bite your lip at his statement. So you were right; he does have some sort of familiarity with you, too. Now, to figure out just how much.

"Have you been to a concert before? Or a fan-sign? Maybe you worked on the set of Hwarang?"

"None of those. I actually didn't listen to much of your music before recently, and I've never been to a concert or fan-sign. And I've never worked on any set before."

"You weren't a fan of BTS? Even though you applied to Big Hit?"

"Nope. Actually, my roommate Milo was the Bangtan superfan. I heard of you guys through her, and then of Big Hit. I applied because I wanted to live in Seoul. It's been my dream all my life. Big Hit just happened to have the job I wanted in the ideal location. Call it fate, I guess."

A half-truth, but it will have to do for now.

"I know. I remember. Your gut feeling."

You pause, your fingers halting mid-type. How did he already know about that? You hadn't mentioned it in either the group chat or in the earlier conversation. In fact, the only person you'd mentioned the gut feeling about Seoul to was—

"I have to go, sorry. I'll see you at the museum tomorrow. I think you know the way."

The museum looks almost spooky after the sun begins to set over the buildings that touch the sky. Downtown Seoul is as beautiful as ever as the bright oranges and pastel pinks bathe the exteriors of each in brilliant colors. If it weren't for the thirty or so Big Hit employees rushing about, you might've stood at the entrance for much longer than thirty seconds.

But the moment you're on-scene, you go to work. One of the producers flags you down, offers a brief introduction, and tells you where to hide the English words.

"Have you seen what we did a few episodes back, eighty-seven and eighty-eight?" he asks, shoving a stack of stickers into your hands. "When we put Hangul all over the Oil Tank Culture Park?"

You shake your head, offering a sheepish smile. "I haven't...exactly watched too much 'Run.'"

The producer waves it off. "Just run around the building and stick these wherever you think seven boys may or may not find them. Feel free to go crazy. We have fifteen minutes to get everything set before filming starts. The boys should be here soon. So, go! Once you're done, come back here. While they're running around, you can help me with the grading system."

"Grading system?"

"They're going to make sentences with the words they find. Since you know English the best, you can award points to each word based on difficulty in using."

A smile spreads across your face. "Got it! Sounds fun."

You speed off into the museum, weaving past the sound and lighting crew that are attempting to set up. Several of the museum staff have also stayed behind to give guidance, and you're relieved that the boys and company have the entire building to themselves. This wouldn't be possible during daytime hours when the public is here.

You begin sticking several dozen stickers along the walls, on the frames of pieces of art, on the marble floor. Basically, anywhere you can reach. You cover the Van Gogh exhibit with difficult words like "effervescence" and "halcyon," along with colorful words like "lilac" and "vermilion."

The further into the building you move, the fewer and fewer people you see. Once you've passed the room of modern art and approach the Winged Victory of Samothrace, there's no one in sight. Down to your last few words, you slip into the dimmed hallway and turn the corner.

Winged Victory is just as you remember. Tall and beautiful and haunting. The statue is still so familiar to you. Looking at the base, you can almost see the body of the woman from your dream. Right before you and Taehyung started running for your lives, this was where a murder occurred.

You flinch at the memory of the blood, but something else inside you is pulling you out of the room and towards the fountain. Last time you saw it, you ran from the room and left the friendly acquaintance behind. Part of you wonders what he must've thought. Surely, you looked like you'd seen a ghost.

But you might as well have.

Your feet tip-toe on the marble. The boys have most certainly arrived, and the filming has started from the sound of it. Their crazed and excited laughter fills the echo-y halls. Seeing as there aren't any stickers this far into the museum, you take your chances and continue moving deeper in. The producer could wait just a few more minutes, couldn't he?

The last of the sunlight ricochets across each panel of glass in the dome ceiling, greeting you with shards of light skewed in every direction. Like fireflies dancing together, they bring an almost magical aura to the open space, one very different from the horrors of your nightmares. The columns are made of ever-moving fire, and the fountain is made of glittery stars.

As you stand in the doorway, your throat drys and tightens. Seeing this place again, no matter how different, brings back the memories you can't explain. Are they even memories? Surely, that has to be what they are. But from when or from whom, you can't explain. They're a requiem for someone you hardly know.

Does Taehyung know the answers? Does he know more than you about this event you keep playing over and over in your mind? He's been in your dreams ever since you were a child, as a version much older than you were then and even older than you are now. Who has just one dream their whole lives, unless the explanation is that he has that dream, too?

You shake your head at the absurdity of it all. "What am I doing here?" you murmur, running your hand through your hair.

"Are you okay?"

The deep voice behind you causes you to jump and spin, eyes wide as you spot a familiar face at the entrance to the fountain. Taehyung stands with his hands in the pockets of his pants, his head tilted as he observes you.

"Holy shit, don't sneak up on people!"

The brunet smirks a little and shrugs. "Didn't mean to, sorry. You were staring off into space and didn't even hear me walk down the hallway. And it's hard to be quiet on marble floors."

"God, sorry, I didn't mean to snap." You run your hands over your face. "This museum has...some strange memories for me. I thought coming back here would help, but I think I've made it worse."

"How do you mean? I thought you hadn't been to Seoul before?"

"I haven't. It's complicated." Your eyes flicker to the corridor behind him. "Where's your cameraman?"

"I ditched him, told him I was running off to the restroom. But I didn't see you anywhere, so I figured you'd be back here."

Eyebrows pulling together, you reply, "How'd you figure that?"

"Well, you seemed really freaked out last weekend. You ran out of here like a ghost was chasing you. I was honestly worried until I saw you at Big Hit the next day, and you seemed fine, so..."

He trails off, and the realization of his words hits you. "Wait...shit, were you the one I was talking to both times I visited here this week? The one in the hoodie and mask?"

Taehyung nods, though there's a tiny line between his brows that shows he's as confused as you are. "Yes? I thought you knew that from day one, when you spoke to me at the Van Gogh exhibit."

Shaking your head fervently, you spout, "No! Not at all. I had no idea, honest to god. I just thought you were shy or introverted or maybe had a tough time talking to girls. I never, ever thought you were..." You gesture to all of him.

His brown eyes widen as he steps closer and out of the doorway. "Wait, really? You had no idea."

"None!"

He chuckles softly, turning to gaze at the fountain as the sunlight fades to soft blues of night. "I'd assumed you knew who I was. You were so open and friendly to a perfect stranger. I thought you'd recognized me."

"Not at all," you retort. "I was being nice and friendly because there was something about you that was so damn familiar. Kind of like this whole place, actually. I don't know. I can't explain it."

Taehyung nods and runs a hand through his curly locks. "I won't lie, there's something off about this place for me, too." He shifts his attention from the fountain to you. "You weren't lying about anything you said before, were you? About you being called to Seoul and not knowing why?"

You lock eyes with him as you reply, "I promise, everything I said was true."

"Then why did you run away?"

A heavy sigh slips out, and you sit down on the water fountain's edge. Looking into the water to your side, you run various ways to go about this disclosure. Blunt truth? A comforting lie? A bit of both?

"[Y/n]?"

"I've had this...nightmare, ever since I was a little girl. Ever since I could remember. It's always the same. I'm running for my life with someone I know that I care deeply about. We're trying to escape a murderer who's closing in behind us. He's just slaughtered one of our friends and he's coming for us."

You pause to take a breath, and Taehyung takes that pause to sit beside you. He doesn't say a word, only waist patiently for you to continue.

"We're eventually trapped. The man with me tells me to run while he distracts the murderer. Of course, I don't listen. There's a fight. We're both injured. And we both die."

There's a pregnant pause in the air before Taehyung hangs his head and murmurs, "That sounds horrible."

"I haven't told you everything," you reply. "I'm afraid I shouldn't...but what the hell." You gesture to the space around you. "In my dream, the entire thing is set here, in the Seoul Museum of Art. Our friend was killed at the base of Winged Victory. The fight happens among these columns. And the man and I, we die in this very fountain, bleeding out from gunshot wounds."

You turn to face the man beside you, seeing his eyes shift from his feet to yours as his head tilts slightly. "And every time, it's the same three people besides me. The same woman at the base of Winged Victory, the same murderer with a gun, the same man that this nightmare-version of me loves. I have no idea who the first two are..."

In your hesitation, Taehyung says, "But you know the last one."

Nodding, your knuckles turn white as you drip your knees. Here it goes. All or nothing. No turning back now.

"I do. He's—"

"—Me."

Taglist — @just-call-me-trash-can​, @jaienn​

[thank-you-for-the-vampire-money]

JACK FROST

A/N: This is for @theassetseyeliner follower celebration writing challenge!!!  Congrats on your 1300 ( think it’s 1300) followers, love!!!  Also, this is slightly an AU, just because I gave Jefferson a job.  But other than that, everything is the same.

Jefferson x reader

Word count: 964

Summary: Winter in Main sucked!  But you found something to entertain you...

Warnings: none

(GIF not mine)

Winters in Storybrooke Maine absolutely sucked.  You were up north, where it was cold, and you were by a large body of water, which made it even colder!  But whatever, you had your ways of staying warm.

In the morning, you’d wake up, and stay in the sheets for twenty minutes just lying there, deciding whether or not your urge to pee was greater than your desire to stay warm.  Why didn’t Jefferson ever leave the heat on at night?!

After that, you shower with hot water, get dressed in some nice comfy sweaters and a scarf, generously provided by Jefferson.  You would walk downstairs, most likely still wearing your warm fuzzy slippers, into the kitchen to make yourself some hot oatmeal.

While you were doing that, Jefferson would be up and at ‘em before he left for work at the antiques shop and Grace would get ready for school.  Jefferson would get everything for Grace ready and you’d serve up breakfast for everyone and pack Grace’s lunch; turkey sandwich, carrots, a note from you, and some chocolate, just the way she liked it.  You’d all eat together for a little bit, then Jefferson would kiss you both goodbye, put on his snazzy coat and gloves, and go work.

Once the dishes were clean, you’d bundle Grace up and take her to school.  Why you didn’t think of asking Jefferson to drop her off at the school or its bus station, you didn’t know.  But if you had thought of that earlier, you and your step-daughter wouldn’t be freezing your tail-feathers off in the snow.

As a fun little activity, while you were waiting for the bus to arrive, you and Grace would make a mini-ish snowman on the bench as a funny little joke.  You’d even bring a scarf and a carrot for it!

Grace was now at school, Jeff was off at work, what would you do?  You’d knit for a little, read, usually in front of the fireplace, drink your morning coffee, maybe watch a movie, TURN THE HEAT ON, and clean one or two of the rooms.  Then, you’d walk to Granny’s to meet Jeff for lunch and once again freeze your tail-feathers off.  But, at least he’d buy you hot tea to make up for it.  After your belly was full of hot food and hot tea, Jefferson would give you a warm kiss, then you two would go your separate ways.

You’d get home, organize your home office, get a little of the finances done and pay the bills, maybe look at the stocks to see what was up (or down), then it was off to make dinner in preparation for Grace and Jefferson to come home.

You were all sitting around the table, eating your pasta and making bad jokes.  This was your favorite part of the day; everyone was together, there was no rush to get things done, and you were all smiling and laughing.  You would tell each other about your days, encouraging or comforting one another, depending on how the day went.  It was simply precious.

“Okay okay, what do you get when you cross an agnostic, an insomniac, and a dyslexic?” you asked, trying not to laugh before the punchline, “someone who lays awake at night wondering if there’s a dog!”.  Grace burst out laughing and Jefferson nearly choked on his drink.

“Here’s another one!  I learned this one today at school!” Grace squealed, excited she could participate, “what’s brown and sticky?  … A stick,”.

Grace was in bed, fast asleep after you read her a bedtime story.  Her favorite was any book with animals in it; she loved how you would give them funny voices.  You made sure her favorite Barbie doll was in the bed with her as you turned out the light and went to go get ready for bed yourself.

As pajamas, you used flannel pants and one of Jefferson’s hoodies.  He got mad at you for stealing it, but then you reminded him that he hadn’t worn it since the previous October and that he hated wearing hoodies… plus, it didn’t fit him.  After that he let you keep the hoodie.

“Heat’s off, so bundle up,” Jefferson said, kissing your forehead and crawling under the covers with you.  You could not understand how Jefferson was comfortable in the freezing cold room in only sweatpants with no heat on!  It baffled you…

“Babe, no…” you whined, flopping on your back for dramatic effect.

“Why not?  We’re in bed with pajamas and blankets, we don’t need the heat on,”

“Well you don’t because you hog the blankets!”

“I do not!”

“... If you steal the blankets, I’m going to put my cold feet on you…” you warned, cuddling up to him.

As you predicted, you woke up in the middle of the night, FREEZING.  Your toes were numb, your ears felt achy, and your nose was stuffy and red.  Glancing over you saw the culprit.  Jefferson was sound asleep in his giant cocoon of blankets.  You’d had just about enough of this.

Scooting over, you dug up a section of the blanket mountain, exposing Jefferson’s bare back.  “Let’s see how you like it…” you spat quietly, sticking you numb toes on his hot spine.

“aaaaaiIIEEEE!” Jefferson squealed, retracting away from you, nearly leaping off the bed.  Jefferson looked at you with the most confused “WTF” look he could muster.  “What the hell was that for?!” he gasped, “you’re like freakin’ Jack Frost your toes are so damn cold!”

“I warned you not to steal all the blankets…”

TAGLIST:

@paranoid-borderline-insane @buckyshattergirl @bitchy-tacos @learisa