#if this is so bad that you need to barge into my inbox just have your friends talk to me
Note
How come you finished welcome home commissions before other commissions?
Sorry to be kind of rude but a friend of mine commissioned something a while before you started posting about Welcome Home and it’s understandable that you are busy but the welcome home commissions were likely commissioned after you started posting about it so I don’t know why you did them first.
I already know I’m gonna sound like an ass for a moment but here we go-
Firstly this can be taken up privately by your friend if they’re concerned. I also don’t particularly appreciate this in my inbox but to answer, it’s just whatever I can get through quickest. My oldest of the ones sitting are from much longer ago than anything anyone in Tumblr has commissioned me for and I’m finishing those tomorrow (they’re from Twitter and Instagram respectively and I dedicated my entire last Saturday to them alone). Those two have been quite kind and expressed their concerns about turnaround themselves if need be
Anything that’s particularly fun and interesting gets done quicker and keeps space open when others are a bit stuck when I need a quick slot filled like last week to cover an expense, for example. Scraping by on harder/less interesting commissions slows things down
Truly, it’s not that I don’t like some commissions, they’re just harder to sit and focus on
Additionally, my time management has been awful this year because of several points of uncertainty about getting a job, a couple scares on my living situation, and not having a clear window of time consistently to know when to work on things that have been sitting (and of course, burnout is always an issue). It’s easy to find time to just. Scribble and doodle, maybe do a piece for myself, but getting actual work done is a little more difficult. I’ve discovered preclaimed adopts and taking up so many commissions in May last minute wasas a bad choice so I’m still quite literally 15 commissions in the hole to finish on top of your friend’s commission. So making sure that isn’t gonna happen again is all I can do, at the moment. I’ve been chipping away at em in little bits of free time as best I can, reorganizing my canvases, getting a good idea of what’ll be finished first and last, etc etc I’ve actually been quite productive for the last week or so
If your friend is upset they need to tell me. They’re the client, and the content doesn’t concern you directly if you haven’t commissioned me and are waiting. If they’d like a refund because the turnaround is too long, that’s for them to communicate with me and I’m happy to provide a refund. I’m not always gonna be the best artist for the job if you want quick work and that’s fine. I’ve refunded MUCH larger pieces before for that reason. Clients may check in at any time whether I’ve got progress to show for the time or not. And oftentimes I don’t! Sometimes it’s days or a couple-few weeks before I can get progress to people, it just happens and I’ve been working on making sure it doesn’t keep happening so I don’t have to make people expect to wait so long before they hear from me. Trust me, it’s always a bit disappointing when I can’t show anything
And now that I’m working as well, my ability to finish those things just depends on what days I get to myself during the week and atm thats 3 days this week so those 3 days are dedicated to downtime and paid commission work. Which quite frankly, is a bit exhausting. Fun puppet characters and scaly dragons and whatnot are fun and rewarding and I’m clearing my queue while doing something I’m enjoying and that gets me to the older stuff much faster
I’m very sorry the turnaround estimate was more than a little off and it’ll be tweaked for better preparation in the future. I’m also sorry if they’ve asked and I didn’t respond quickly or have sounded dismissive. Hell, some clients pester and pester and that certainly makes doing work for them unenjoyable. I think about these commissions every single day and how I can approach them so I can finish them by sometime in July
#I probably shouldn’t answer this so late bc I’m tired and burned out socially and was extremely pissed earlier#but while I hate to say it it’s true#commissions are hard work#people have sat for a long while and I hate that they do#all the time every day I’m thinking oh#surely I can get this sketch out for this person#pr I can do the flats for this person#just to make a LITTLE bit of progress#and it just doesn’t happen#I do try I really do#and some I’m more successful than others ‘]#half the time it’s no excuse but like I said#if this is so bad that you need to barge into my inbox just have your friends talk to me#I’m sure they’ll be a lot more respectful about it than you certainly were
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Congratulations on the milestone! Can I request for a rival teachers drabble with Seokjin? I live for his chaotic energy and I can’t think of a better author to bring it to life than you. Thank you!
ah, thank you so much for this request! my only chaptered fic for my old fandom was a teachers au, so it was really fun to get back into that old headspace.
sorry this (& the rest of the requests i still have in my inbox) took me so long. i hope you enjoy it anyway. <3
also, big shoutout to @effortandmore for helping me with my korean honorifics. they still might be wrong but i tried my best. :')
musical chairs
pairing: seokjin x reader (no pronouns used)
genre: rival teachers au; crack/humor
warnings: for once, absolutely nothing! just a general warning to activate your suspension of disbelief regarding how any of this works. i was neither a drama nor band kid in high school and i didn't want to ask my husband. unedited.
rating: e for everyone
wordcount: 1.3k
The first time everything went wrong, you’d chalked it up to an accident.
Kids are kids: stubborn and accident-prone on the best of days, but nearly impossible on their worst. That’s okay—you wouldn’t be a teacher if you didn’t have some degree of patience and desire to make the youth of the future the best possible versions of themselves. So you can excuse their bad moods, the kids who only take your class to get out of doing something worse, all the new slang that pops up once a week to make you feel like the oldest person alive. You can excuse their lack of attention, noses buried in their phones, texting this month’s crush. You can excuse the requests to perform “something cool for once.”
You can excuse a lot of things.
What you can’t excuse is good, old-fashioned sabotage.
Not that your kids would sabotage you. They wouldn’t. They might be hormone-addled teenagers who are stubborn at best and impossible at worst, but they aren’t cruel. They wouldn’t take what you’ve worked so hard at for the last few months and burn it all to the ground just for a laugh.
But you know who would.
Usually you’d stomp down the hallway and barge into his office and demand answers. Knock everything off his desk one by one like a mischievous cat. Come up with some kind of revenge, because you and Seokjin have prolonged this rivalry long past its expiration date because it had always been childish and harmless before. Dare you say it used to be fun. Clearly the rules have changed.
Now, there’s no time.
Now, there’s twenty minutes until opening night of the musical you’ve spilled sweat, blood, and tears working on since the beginning of the year, and all your sheet music has disappeared and been replaced with children’s nursery rhymes. Not even the same nursery rhyme, either: each booklet has something different.
Seokjin, of course, is nowhere to be found. His drama kids squeak in fear when you tear through the dressing rooms looking for him, stumbling over apologies and explanations that they haven’t seen him all evening, don’t know where he is. Kim Taehyung, second in command, has been in and out, but they haven’t seen much of him, either.
So you have two options: waste all your time looking for Seokjin, who will probably laugh and deny any and all responsibility and refuse to help you anyway, or finally put this feud to bed and prove once and for all why you’re the best band director this high school has ever seen.
“Listen up,” you say, barging into the room where all your kids have congregated. “This is usually the part where I’d give you all an inspirational speech, tell you that everything’s going to be fine and to take deep breaths.” You spare a glance around the room. Wide, panicked eyes stare back at you, and—yeah, you’re gonna need to give that speech after this. “And I will,” you amend, which does nothing to alleviate the fear, “but, uh. Something unfortunate has transpired.”
The room immediately descends into chaos. Through the chatter, you can make out bits and pieces—
Oh my god, do you think the musical’s canceled?
No, can’t be, I heard the auditorium burned down.
What? But we’re in it.
Oh, yeah.
—and you grab the first thing you can find and slap it against the wall. “No, the auditorium didn’t burn down.”
“But—”
“It’s something far worse.” You accidentally pause for dramatic effect. Suck in a deep breath, as though you’re about to deliver the most devastating eulogy known to man. (You might be, you think. Losing all your sheet music and depending on the dedication and preparation of dozens of high school band kids might truly be the death knell of all your hard work.) “All of our sheet music has gone missing.”
No one reacts, which… was not what you were expecting, to be honest.
Instead, all the kids stare back at you, fear having morphed into confusion. “We have our sheet music,” someone says, hidden behind a massive tuba.
“No, no, I collected it from you yesterday, remember? So none of you would forget it at home or lose it.”
“Kyungmin made us copies,” comes a voice from the second row. There’s some rustling in their bookbag, and then a clearly homemade booklet appears in the air, PRACTICE THIS OR ELSE written large and bold across the front.
You swear you hear a choir sing, and it’s not the one practicing in the next room. The skies part, the booklet backlit by holy, golden light, and it’s like an angel has descended from the heavens above to hand-deliver this precious gift.
You have never been more thankful for overachievers.
“Holy shit,” you swear. Cover it fruitlessly with a cough. The kids won’t let you live it down, but it’s a small price to pay for how severely they’ve just saved your ass. “Pretend I didn’t say that. You’re all the best kids in the entire world. No more homework or practicing for the rest of the year. I’ll bring in candy on Monday. Is it inspirational speech time?”
Tuba kid pipes up again. “What happened to our original sheet music?”
“I don’t know—”
“I heard Kim seongnim paid one of the drama kids five-thousand won to steal it all.”
You clear your throat. “I don’t think it’s appropriate to spec—”
“No way, Hyungseo would’ve told me.”
“No she wouldn’t, she told me she’s been mad at you ever since you refused to stream for that new girl group she likes.”
“I’m busy—”
“Well I heard,” Kyungmin interjects, and you damn near collapse to the floor. Your bright overachiever, participating in gossip? This is far worse than you thought. “Kim seongnim wanted this year’s musical to be the Spongebob musical and seonsaengnim wouldn’t allow it—”
“It wouldn’t have translated correctly—”
“Yeah, Hajoon really wanted to be Patrick. He was really upset seonsaengnim said no—”
“It would’ve lost all meaning! And stop gossiping!”
“You’re all wrong. Haewon said…”
It’s five minutes to showtime, and Kim Seokjin has two problems.
One, he has no idea what to do with two dozen booklets of sheet music. Namjoon would kill him for sending them through the shredder and wasting so much paper because he can’t let go of a feud, so they’re just sitting in an incriminating stack in the corner of his office.
Two, his pride has been irreparably damaged. He’s been outwitted and outplayed by your gaggle of band kids, and it’s sitting all wrong in his gut. He’s never been outwitted before. Especially not by a bunch of teenagers. Everything feels bad and queasy, like that time he ate questionable convenience store kimbap after you’d superglued his wallet to the ceiling and maintenance couldn’t get around to sawing a hole in the paneling until after lunch.
Oh well. Not much he can do about it now. It’s showtime, and he has to prove once again why he’s the best theater director this high school has ever seen.
Except—
The lights dim. The curtain opens. There stands his lead actor, who he knows has worked tirelessly over the course of the school year to make sure it’s his best performance yet, and he looks confident. Prepared. Competent. There’s a barely-there smile on his face that tells Seokjin he’s going to kill it and he couldn’t be more proud. He’s proud of all of his kids.
Seokjin has a third problem.
Because his lead actor opens his mouth to launch into the opening number and it all sounds wrong. Tinny and artificial. Someone switched all the mics to autotune, and Seokjin’s face goes fifty shades of red as he watches the entire orchestra swallow their laughter; watches Taehyung scrambling in the background to turn it off.
Touché, he thinks.
There’s always next year.
#work: 1kfm#seokjin x you#seokjin x reader#jin x reader#jin x you#seokjin fanfiction#seokjin drabble#seokjin imagine#bts x reader#bts x you#bts x y/n#bts imagines#bts scenarios#bts crack#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#jewel answers#jewel writes
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hello my dear! as i was falling asleep last night i thought about your oceans 8 kimchay au again and then this thing popped out of me as soon as i woke up:
Kim surveys the gallery with a nonchalant air. "So what exactly am I stealing?"
"My heart," mumbles Chay.
"What?"
"What?" Chay looks at her audio controls, and sure enough, her mic is on.
Shit.
"Uhh, art. I said art."
"Okay," laughs Kim. "I deserved that. But seriously, Chay, what art am I stealing?"
Chay eyes Kim's image on the security footage. Even on the grainy screen she looks better than everything else in the room.
"It's that sculpture 45 degrees to your right."
"This hideous thing?"
"Well, it's worth 2.4 million USD."
Chay can hear the scowl in Kim's next words, "Why do rich people have such bad taste?"
"P'Kim, aren't you rich too?"
Kim's laugh sets Chay's ears on fire. "Okay, to be fair, most of my life consists of choices made in bad taste. And the rest… well there's more than one way to bad, isn't there, Chay?"
"Can you two please stop flirting on the channel? I don't want to hear this."
"Je!" Chay nearly screams into her mic, but she manages to rein it down to an outraged whisper at the last minute. "As if this is as bad as the time we walked in on you and Kinn having sex on the couch?"
"It's not my fault you barged in," whines Porsche.
"It was in the living room? In a shared space?? In the middle of the afternoon???" Chay feels nauseous just thinking about it. She hasn't so much as looked at that couch, never mind sit in it, since The Incident.
Chay can see Kim nodding on the screen, as if she's contemplating one of the paintings on the wall. "She's right, Porsche. One of these days I'm going to burn that couch."
That of course spurs Kinn to open her big mouth. "We'll just have sex on the new couch."
"Oh, fuck you," says Kim.
"Yes, I will," says Porsche.
"I quit. Can I quit? I suddenly don't want to be here. Chay, meet me at the coffee shop around the corner. Kinn, Porsche, the two of you can steal this shitty trinket yourselves. I don't need a cut of the 2.4 million. This isn't worth it."
Kim's mic feed goes dead and Chay tracks her annoyed power walk through the various camera feeds.
Hell yeah! Chay fist bumps in celebration. A date with Kim is worth way more than 2.4 million.
---
i hope you think about this kimchay oceans 8 universe so much that you'll write it once idolistic is done okay ilu bye 😇
SOBBING YELLING THROWING UP!!!!! what a beautiful gift to grace my inbox this morning!! i'm so full of emotions ahhhhhhhh
Kim surveys the gallery with a nonchalant air. "So what exactly am I stealing?"
"My heart," mumbles Chay.
"What?"
"What?" Chay looks at her audio controls, and sure enough, her mic is on.
THIS BIT!!! THIS BIT STOLE MY HEART it's perfect thank you. love these pda siblings (poor chay, poor kim, porsche and kinn listening to them flirt is what they deserve) and ahhh chay getting a date with her girl!! chay's little fist bump 🥺
now they're gonna have a cute little coffee date with kim (in her incognito casing a joint clothes?) which is like a very gay leather jacket and ripped jeans, big boots. grunge art school student style. while chay just beams at her with big eyes and holds her hand. kim orders her everything on the menu
also repeat this in the future. kim dressed up fancy fancy (cape, we all know which one) abandoning some gala job to hole up in a late night take out joint, ethereally pretty and jewellery sparkling in the dingy decor while chay sits across from her, smiling adoringly. that's her girl!! chay proceeds to order her everything on the menu
#HI THANK YOU THIS WAS LOVELY TO WAKE UP TO!!#seriously shirleyy ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh 🥺💖#kimchay#ocean's 8#chay is gonna order kim everything on the menu (her girl is hungry!!)#but kim's the one who pays for it lol#anyway i'm full of emotions!!!!#this was a wonderful little read!#also tumblr i freaking dare you to tell me when i have messages in my inbox on mobile#IT NEVER TELLS MEEEEEEEEE
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You are an evil person, generalizing all religious people. Religion isn't a mental illness. Atheism is. Just wait until you die and stand before God.
Just wait until you die and stand before Kahless, the Unforgettable, who denies you entry to Sto-vo-kor and condemns you to Gre'thor on the Barge of the Dead for your lack of warrior honor.
Just wait until you die and stand before Santa Claus, who makes you dig coal for eternity, to fill the stockings of bad children on Christmas.
Just wait until you die and stand before Anubis in Duat for the Weighing of the Heart, to be eaten by Ammit, the Devourer of Souls.
If all that sounds stupid, that's exactly how you sound to me. "Since you don't believe in my pleasure palace, maybe you'll be afraid of my torture chamber." All of that nonsense you regurgitated is part of the same fictional universe. You might as well threaten to push me into the lava pit of Mount Doom.
Apparently, it's evil when I say it, but it's good when you do. That sounds about on-brand for religious hypocrisy.
Do you even think about these things before you vomit them up?
Despite my repeated requests for believers to justify the existence of their god(s), the best you have is "I'm going to report you to my imaginary manager, who'll deal with you when you're not around." Thanks, Karen.
What you're telling me is that you can't. You can't show me your god, and more devastatingly, you have no reason to believe in it yourself. If my "mistake" can't be shown to me until after I'm dead, you can't know it either, and your assertion and belief in it is inherently unjustified.
Your god's displeasure at my lack of belief in his existence is between him and me, just like Zeus' displeasure at your lack of belief in his existence is between you and him. So why does this have anything to do with you? Why are you in my inbox sending me threats? Why is your god so feeble or so non-existent that he can't get things done without you? Or, why do you think so little of him that you feel you need to step in and fix his great cosmic plan that he has for everyone?
Not only that, but you're not really making a very good case against the generalization you claim to object to, since you're doing the classic Xian trope of threatening people with fire and torture for not doing what you want them to do. For not subjugating themselves to your nonsensical mythology. I literally have a tag for that. You're doing the stereotype right here and now, but the problem is me? How does that make sense? Don't claim you don't want to be treated as a cliche, and then go and behave like a cliche. The same kind of Xian who insists that their religion is about love, not fear or hate, will also send you threats of torture, to show you they were lying about the first thing.
If a loving, all-knowing god exists, then I'm pretty sure you've pissed him off more than me, since I never threatened anyone with violence, I just explained my lack of belief in the unbelievable. But you certainly did.
Thanks for demonstrating the damage your religion does to people's mentality and morality. You really undermined your claim that it's not a mental illness, didn't you? "Religion isn't a mental illness, and me psychopathically looking forward to your eternal torture and suffering proves how good and mentally healthy I am." And this makes sense and feels good to you.
Evil is wishing eternal suffering onto a complete stranger for not believing the thing you do, for finding it unconvincing. I didn't do that. But you did.
I'd really rather not end up any place you are, anyway. That really would be torture.
Your religion needs new salespeople. No wonder people are leaving in droves.
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Hello hello~!
I am so sorry for like, suddenly barging into your inbox. I find you really cool, but I am kinda awful at communicating so yeh. I've been feeling guilty about this, hence my ask;
I am so sorry that quite literally never joined in most of the things you tagged me in. I am in the process of draft/WIP-dumping my only book, and not even one chapter is done. That's why whenever I see you tag me in stuff like "specific words from your wips" or "character voice" and the like, I feel really bad because I wanna join but I just don't have the material.
I love that you tagged me, and while I didn't join, it's really nice to be shown those kinds of stuff since I get to learn a lot!
Also writeark is my writing blog, I have a few snippets of my book there if you're interested? To just look, of course! And maybe critique or something yeah.
Imma just see myself out now. I hope you have a lovely day!
Heyy!! 🤗
You can barge into my ask as many times as you like I don't mind it one bit! I'm not the greatest at communicating either so trust me I get it😅 but that's for the compliment! You don't have to feel guilty about anything I completely understand and I'm sorry that I made you feel that way. Don't stress about joining in on the tag games if you feel that you aren't ready for that yet. They'll still be there when your at a point in your WIP you feel comfortable enough to start joining. That being said I'm glad to know that you enjoy being tagged and that your using it as a chance to learn something much like I do! I'm still pretty new to writing myself so it's great to be part of a community of writers where we build each other up and help each other out!
I will most definitely be taking a look at your blog because I love reading other people's WIP and seeing how much they evolve and grow over time! I hope you have a great day too and remember to take breaks when you need it- don't force yourself to write something when you aren't feeling up to it, that can cause you to get burnt out faster. And make sure to drink lots of water and stay healthy! ❤️❤️
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Tilly my lovely writer,
you absolutely can't imagine how I love your work. You are so talented and I can't stop reading your stuff. I'm so obsessed with Fake It, you gave Jake such a special personality, omg I LOVE IT. So sad that you suffering fro. I writers block, don't stress yourself, we love you.
Because of my very (un)healthy obsession with Fake It, I've got a lot of ideas for these two idiots. Hear me out, imagine this whole fake dating is stressing Princess so much and one day the bitch friends of Jake's ex saying to her that she's just a consolation prize for Jake and she will never be worth it or enough for him. Hurt to no end and an migraine incoming she goes home only to have a bsd argument with Jake. Shhr snaps at him and he also says something hurtful (like "no wonder that you're just have a fake boyfriend"). Of course Jake instantly regrets his words but his best friend is hurt. Alone in her room she cries herself to sleep only to wake up hours later with a raging migraine. Imagine Jake finds her nearly passed out in the kitchen, one time more realizing how important she is to him. He takes care of her. Worried Jake, protective Jake, care taking Jake that's what we need
first of all, i love you too & thank you so much for this sweet message because, really, i needed to hear that, i’ve felt so awful for not being able to update fake it (i know i shouldn't but it happens). anyways, this felt so nice to write bc i wasn’t struggling with it, so here is worried jake!! i know i had two other requests for this in my inbox as well, so this is also for those two anons :)
Jake doesn’t hate.
All his life, he was told by his mother that hate was bad for the heart. That hate had no rightful place in his growing body. But, in the midst of his underwhelming teenage angst, Jake Seresin secretly concluded that his hate should be reserved for one thing, and one thing only—and that was making you cry.
So, when you came barging into his room, hysterical and teary eyed over some stupid thing some girl said about you two, Jake had no intent of making you cry. It was just that, he could barely get a word in when you were mindlessly repeating it back to him.
That girl has her head on backwards if she thinks Seresin actually likes her, he’s only sticking around because he feels obliged to. I feel sorry for him, I’d go ballistic if my parents picked out my friends for me.
Frustration spread through his body like a virus when you kept cementing that it was true, accusing him of agreeing with it too. And that’s when the worst thing he ever said to you came out his mouth this evening.
If you want to fucking believe that you’re so unlikeable, then maybe it’s true. Maybe you are.
The moment the words fell off his tongue, you immediately went quiet, giving him a glimpse of what it looked like when he made you cry.
At that, Jake hated himself more than anything. Jake hated that you looked more hurt than you did when you originally stalked inside, looking for his assurance. Jake hated that he had to listen to you sob for most of the night, alone in the bathroom with the door shut. Jake hated that you might have taken what he said out of anger to heart. That you believed you weren’t worthy of being liked, especially by him.
Because if anything, that was far from the truth.
And Jake couldn’t let you fall asleep tonight like this, not when he knew you always punished yourself by not tending to the migraines you got from crying.
“Swallow it please,” Jake lets out a guilty breath, watching your throat weakly bob when you take down the Motrin he eased past your lips.
Seated across from each other in the bathtub, Jake’s frame struggles to fit in the confines of the porcelain, more than yours does—but he pushes the discomfort away, because you’d been sitting here for hours while he was laid in his bed.
And maybe it was because Jake had tiredly pleaded outside the door for a hour before coming in or maybe it was because you watched him struggle to fit himself in the tub with you just so he could mouth feed you some ibuprofen, but you lurch forward—knocking the wind out of him in a desperate hug.
It takes all of Jake’s self restraint to not fall apart when you slot yourself between his legs and gently rest your chin on his shoulder, letting him feel you again.
With a tight throat, he forces himself to speak. “I’m so fucking sorry, princess.”
When you sniff in his ear, Jake pulls you closer against him, cushioning the side of your head so it doesn’t hit the bathtub faucet. “I didn’t mean it. God I—I really didn’t fucking mean it,” he starts, voice already shaky. “I don’t want you thinkin’ that I only stick around because our families are close.” Jake swallows when he feels you move a hand to softly scratch at his nape, comforting him through this.
“I know,” you whisper softly, trying to ease the tension in his body. “If you did, you wouldn’t pick a fight with your sisters everytime they claimed me as a roommate when we stayed at hotels,” you let out a hoarse giggle, throat still sore from crying.
At that, a small smile settles on his face. “I also let them put makeup on me so I was allowed in the girls room,” he adds.
“Yeah, exactly. You just like me that much, you loser.” Your mouth stretches into a wide smile, cracked lips burning as it does. Finally, Jake lightens up, laughing at your little jab.
“I just like you that much,” he repeats.
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𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠.
PAIRING: alex chen x fem!reader
WARNINGS: none
GENRE: angst and then fluff, fluff and then more fluff
SONG INSPIRATION: wherever i go by onerepublic
WORD COUNT: 500
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you saw as alex went from person to person asking questions about mac or her comforting others.
it angered you, not because she was being nice no.
because it was her brother that had passed, everyone else you included knew gabe, but nothing compares to being blood.
you had not seen one person check up on her, hearing i’m sorry for your losses and he was great person all things true, but not one thing asking how she was or how she felt.
you saw the tight-lipped smiles she’d give everyone trying to be strong, but for how long?
how long could she keep putting this façade on for?
she was hurting. she had only just gotten him back and lost him as quickly as she found him.
you couldn’t imagine how she was feeling.
this was so unimaginably unfair on her.
you decided you were going to do something to make up for other people’s behaviours.
you found her walking away from the new haven bridge alone. caught her just in time.
“hi alex! can i quickly show you something?” as she nodded you grasped her hand in yours and strung her along to the secret location.
you knew you’d made the right decision about bringing her here, alex’s face lighting up at the array of beautifully coloured flowers before her. a whole field of them just sitting there swaying in the breeze.
“what is all this for?” she asked walking closing smelling a light pink tulip.
“a distraction.” looking over confused, you just shrugged before sitting on the pastel blanket you had laid out previously.
“you deserve the best. as soon as you got here something bad happened, first, was mac barging in on you fighting gabe, then having to rescue ethan. most horrible of all you lost gabe the same day you got here.” her eyes just wandered over the field not letting her emotions get the best of her.
“you don’t deserve anything but the best so i thought you deserve a break for a bit and since this is normally where i go when im overwhelmed i thought this might also help you too?”
you could tell she was appreciative for what you had done even without saying anything. this led to the both of you getting away from reality for a couple of hours talking about everything and nothing. making flower crowns from already broken flowers, laughing your asses off trying to guess what shape the fluffy clouds were forming into.
time was getting on and it started getting dark so you two walked back to the black tavern, stopping in front of the building, her turning to you smiling shyly.
“thank you. i really needed this. it felt nice not to be so in my head for at least a little while.” alex wrapped you up in her arms, melting into hers. the hug lasting a little too long, but you certainly weren’t complaining.
not when it comes to alex chen.
© ruewrote.
#alex chen#alex chen x reader#alex chen imagines#alex chen oneshots#alex chen fanfics#life is strange#life is strange x reader#life is strange imagines#life is strange oneshots#life is strange fanfics#life is strange true colors#life is strange true colors x reader#life is strange true colors imagines#life is strange true colors oneshots#life is strange true colors fanfics#x reader#imagines#oneshots#ruewrote#fanfics
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I wrote this short story for you, I came up with this scenario after imagining that Soni would need an Indeedee to lessen the load from studies and handling other stuff.
Another tiring day of having to deal with the problem children, AKA the braincell trio that consisted of Ace, Deuce and Grimm, their knack for trouble never seems to cease.
As much as Soni likes having them around, wouldn’t it be nice to just have a normal day without having to constantly hear “Teacher’s pet! There’s trouble this… trouble that!”.
Honestly, those three should look to a certain someone and give her a well-deserved break.
The certain someone she was referring to happens to be outside of Ramshackle and was tending to the garden.
The trainer who was also transported to this mad land, Phoebe, a young trainer from Johto who was simply traveling the region until she ended up falling from the sky and onto Ramshackle’s lawn.
It was a shock because she thought this was a one in a million chance of happening. So, now Crowley has left the young girl in her care… someone who is also young.
At first, Soni wasn’t so sure about Phoebe. Knowing how most would look at her with disdain due to her being the youngest champion to inherit the title as well as her not being entirely Kalosian.
She was a bit guarded, but seeing Phoebe treat her so casually as if her title didn't matter got Soni to trust her a little bit.
She got to know the kid pretty well, she was surprised when she knew how to craft pokeballs traditionally.
But most of all, Phoebe took the role of housekeeper since she's not a student here. The kid didn't seem to mind at all, in fact she even allowed her to ask a certain Pokemon for assistance.
A short creature with two horns that stood with a butler's stature. Yes, Phoebe had a male Indeedee that was available for Soni to ask for help.
"He's very diligent with household chores, of course since I'd be helping out a lot along with my Audino and Blissey. He's got a lot of free time… why don't you let him be your personal butler for now?"
The Emotion Pokemon was always there to serve Soni. Got piles of documents or homework? All sorted neatly onto the desk and with tea and biscuits on the side in case she gets hungry.
Keep Ramshackle clean? Indeedee is assigning groups to the appropriate chore as well as smacking the lazy ones with a broom if they don't pull their weight (AKA Grimm).
Expecting visitors? Everything was prepped and ready.
Indeedee was such a lifesaver to Soni. She doesn't have to stress over the work Crowley dumps onto her anymore.
Though Phoebe jokingly said that Soni must feel like an actual duchess with how she has a butler now.
"You know? You just need to put on a fancy ball gown and I'd be convinced you were one of Parfum Palace's nobles from long ago" As Phoebe said to Soni in a slight grin.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the smell of scones and sandwiches invaded her nostrils. Indeedee floats a tier stand filled with food towards Soni's desk.
"Indee, Indeedee…" The Pokemon bowed gracefully as if to say 'enjoy your meal' and left.
Soni hums with delight as she bit into a scone with clotted cream. Moments like these make the hectic school life a little bit better.
"Teacher's pet we heard you having a tea party without us! Oh hey, Pheebs!"
"Ace, don't just barge in whenever you like! Very sorry for the intrusion..."
"Henchman, are those sweets I smell?!"
Umm… Oh well, tea time is much better with company either way.
wakes up to this in my inbox
AHHHHHH!
This really brightened my day! I didn't expect this 😭💕💕💕
Phoebe letting Indeedee help out Soni with her work when she's busy and taking care of her 😭💕 My girl needs sleep and rest! She really does!
Honestly, I love the fact that Soni takes a little bit of time to get used to Phoebe's casualness, but then she thinks: "This kid's not that bad. Much better than most people."
Also, I love Phoebe just having her own little vacation of sorts at Soni's dorm though. That sounds like a lot of fun.
Of course, the boys come in at the right time that snacks are served! That be the power of snacks! 😂
I really like this short story! It's so cute! It's given me the serotonin that I needed for the day! Thank you so much, Pheonix!
#world hopping au#twisted wonderland x pokemon#fan short story#fanshot#twisted wonderland#pokemon au#soni monet#pokemon trainer oc#phoebe#indeedee#i am happy crying#look at this!
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helloooo! i know i owe everyone everything and even still have things in my inbox to reply to ( sorry about that omg ) but i'm here anyway to make a plot call for aera's birthday event! she'll pretty much be on cloud nine the whole time due to all the attention and having yoojung as her date ♡ ; and she'll definitely be working the room because she's coming as a saint but changing into a sinner after midnight with a costume change ... because it's her party and she gets to be as dramatique as she wants! anyways, below the cut there's some ideas off the top of my head but please like this post if you would like to plot and i'll come to you! i'm happy to brainstorm and as always, please feel free to hit me up via disc as well, as it's always preferred over tumblr ims!
so she's making an attempt to not get too drunk ( tipsy at most ) or blasted because she wants to actually remember this event. but you bring party favors and she's trying to resist temptation but damn it's hard
while there's no vip section there is a vip list so that those she cares about don't have to wait in line to get in. you walk to the front thinking that you're on the list but end up being turned away. when aera is called to fix the "mistake" all she can say is an uninterested "wow, that's crazy..." ( hint: it wasn't a mistake )
all the fun of getting ready and whatnot! because you can expect aera's outfits to be extra and she'll probably need some help putting them on LOL but this can even extend to sometime prior, like coming up with ideas for outfits or shopping!
flirting with the wrong person and then proceeding to ignore them out of embarrassment after the masks come off and she realizes her mistake
oop or in that same vein, maybe they do know who each other are but the anonymity that comes with a mask gives a good excuse in case they get caught
sneaking away with someone for a just to get some reprieve for a bit, could end up looking like something different is going on
aera going to the one of private rooms for her outfit change prior to the midnight countdown and barging in to see something that she Was Not Supposed to See ( open to interpretation! )
you're someone that she's mad at / usually argues with and find it so odd that she's treating you so much better than she usually does, too bad that only lasts for tonight. maybe you use that for your advantage?
you're one of the very last people to leave the next morning and aera is tired and uncomfortable in her dress and wants to go home but you can't take a hint for some reason. or maybe you help her kick the stragglers out?
#﹠ ㅤ ♡; ㅤ oocㅤ ▫ ㅤ𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐰#xoxo.event03#* oh also these will also be shorter threads too! or at least i'll try to LOL
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Hi Ana!! Ive been gone for 5 months from tumblr! Did something happen while i was away? 😞 I'm sorry i wasn't there bc my grandma passed away & my family were in grieve for two months. I was in bad health after i learned she passed away.
But now my family & i are doing way better now! So i came back here! 🥰🩷 I hope its not a bother for barging ur inbox like that but i do hope ur doing well! 🥺💗 just wishing you all the best & rooting for ur beautiful creations always! ☺️🌸🍡✨
heya emma sweetheart!!! it's been a long time it's so good to see you on tumblr again honey!! awww no need to apologize hon! you did well on taking somce time for yourself... i'm sorry for what happened to your grandma.. my condolences ; A ; i hope you and your family are feeling a lil better tho we never recover fully when we lose a loved one... if you need to rant with anything sweetie i'm here oki? *hugs* never apologize to come here to send me a message emma!! it was a huge and awesome surprise for me bby, i missed you dearly and seeing you coming to my askbox made me smile sm for the rest of the week hehe ^^ nothing special has happened on tumblr, all the usual ^^ i have been less online cause of work but everything is going well hehe!! thank you so so much for coming to say hi, to talk a bit with me and to bring me your sweet wishes emma, you're always so kind and cute i love you so much bby!! <333333 hehe i have seen your recent edits!! they look wonderful as always!! always so bright, cute and pretty just love it!! <333 bless you emma!! hehe can't wait to see more of your edits >3< wish you too a lovely weekend and stay well bby!! take care and rest lots!! don't push yourself too much!! thank you!! this message made my day hon!! <3333333
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Hey I'm sending a request for the match up event, and I would like it to be for Obey Me please.
My personality type is INFP, I'm a taurus and a non-binary, bisexual. I practically live off of coffee and energy drinks and I adore any content that has to do with horror. In my spare time I love to either read my mangas/comics, draw, take photographs of flowers and plants or listen to rock/metal music and take naps. I'd also say that I'm more of an introvert than an extrovert, however once I get to know/grow more comfortable around certain people I'll begin to talk a hell of a lot more.
(I hope this was enough info and if it wasnt/it's too much sorry)
•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅•
MATCH UP FOR COFFEE ADDICTED ANON
— details ; obey me x non-binary! reader ; match-up based ; obey me m.list ; no stated pronouns
— requests are open as of 22/8 —> 5 match-ups left
— a/n ; hello hello you didn’t give me a name so i hope the nickname is okay for you aha 😼 im finishing up requests in my inbox so i’m speeding through these.
•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅•
drum roll ~ i match you with … belphie !!
• if you live off energy drinks and coffee i’m assuming you’re tired most of the time and therefore need these drinks to keep you awake.
• what better than to have this sleepy fuck constantly try to cuddle with you in bed even when your alarm is ringing.
• its constantly getting snoozed by belphie or you.
• the first few times you both shared a bed with one another belphie would allow you to get out of bed when the first alarm rang , not without some whines here and there.
• as time went on he would move towards the night stand on your side , snatch your phone , snooze the alarm and put your phone on his side of the night stand.
• sneaky little bastard.
• if you scold him for it he’ll just snuggle up closer to you , i mean you cant scold him if he’s that cute right ?
• he adores taking naps with you , its his favourite part of the day.
• anytime anywhere if you need a cuddle buddy and personal body warmer feel free to sleep right next to him and he’ll instinctively wrap his arms around you.
• both of you enjoy the horror genre a lot and occasionally watch really bad ones just to make fun of them.
• if you both watch with mammon it’ll be you guys laughing at his reactions instead of the tv.
• belphie loves smelling flowers and occasionally walking in the garden , he finds it relaxing and the smells of the fresh flowers are comforting.
• he’ll bring you out to the garden to take pictures and plant new ones to grow just for you.
• belphie will point out which flowers look the best on camera , believe it or not he picked up a few things about photography through asmo.
• when he’s awake , he’ll scroll through the internet to find new places with nice scenery for you to take pictures and bring you there to indulge in your hobby.
• you like comics / manga ? no problem theres a whole shop in the house itself called levis room.
• if you mention a comic / manga you want to read he’ll barge into levis room , take it and give it to you. [ he says levi agreed but we all know he just took it and is too lazy to deal with levis shit so he’ll deal with it later. ]
mini scenario !!
“ the main character is hella stupid , like god the killer was right there a second ago why did you go and check the same exact spot ? “
“ right. i mean at least come up with a better way to kill them off. “
“ its lazy , boring and overused. “
“ at least taunt the victims more to build up suspense. “
“ yeah taunt them like how y’all did to me. “
“ mc no- “
•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅•
© 2022 cryptiles. please do not repost / translate my work and post it to other social media websites without permission , thank you.
#obey me#obey me x reader#obey me fluff#obey me x you#requests are open#shall we date obey me#obey me headcanons#obey me x mc#matchups
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play fake | part six
masterlist
pairing rafe cameron x female reader
summary when rafe cameron needs to secure a girlfriend in order for his father to see him as a stable man, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.
content series, 18+, eventual smut, angst, jealousy, fake dating trope, ward cameron being a bad father, rafe and sarah rivalry
— reader type hyper-independent, people pleaser, smart mouth, stands on business, mysterious past
— rafe's characterization insecure, possessive + jealous person, asshole, mood swings
zya's notes thank you so much for your sweet notes in my inboxes!! also, please read the important note at the end 🩷
Rafe's mind is spinning.
He didn't have a plan when he barged into your house. It was short-sighted and willed by his temper. All he knew was the hot, pulsating jealousy raging inside of him and he couldn't do anything to contain it. He knows you're nothing more than a fake title created to impress his father. He knows he can have any other woman in the world. He knows you two aren't real. But, for some reason, despite the lack of formal commitment, he wants you—your sharp mouth, your kind heart, your ability to tease and challenge him in one breath—all to himself.
The idea of sharing you with someone else—a Pogue, nonetheless—irritates and angers him. Because it means that a Pogue can beat him. Is better than him. More suited for your time and trust than him.
And deep down, he knows it's true.
Since you fucked Maybank, there's nothing he could do to change that. Instead, he needs to prove to you, someway, somehow, that he was better.
You said nothing when he wrapped his hand around your throat, your eyes slightly widened and your lips part. His gaze traces the outline of your features, trying to read every minuscule detail to figure out what you're thinking.
"Speak." He demands, his jaw clenching down, his desperation boiling over. Your words are mute. "Fucking talk."
You can't. You're preoccupied with the presence of Rafe Cameron in your home, just a few feet away from your sisters from discovering him, from seeing him here, that it renders you without a response.
"I—" You stutter, your soft eyes meeting Rafe's hard ones. "You're not supposed to be here."
Those weren't the words he wanted to hear.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
You lay a hand on his wrist, not necessarily pulling him off, but in preparation to. You don't answer his question, anxiously looking to the back door. You squint through the tinted screen to see if your siblings are still running around the yard, no signs of them returning to the house soon.
This move—you looking away from Rafe—twists something ugly inside of him. Rafe interprets your glance as another way to look for them, the Pogues; the people who are better than him. His hand slides from your throat to cup your chin, forcing your sight back on him.
"Who the fuck are you looking for?" He snaps, his gaze darkening with each second, pupils dilating, the sound of his own heartbeat drumming in his ears. "Maybank? Are you looking for your other boyfriend?"
You didn't bother acknowledging what he's saying. He's always saying shit. You place a hand on his chest, ready to push him out of the front door but he refuses to budge. "You really can't be here, Rafe, I'm so serious—"
"Or what?"
He hears nothing but the sound of his own blood. He can't do this. He can't stand that you're choosing Heyward and Maybank over him. That they're more important than him. That they get to stay but he has to leave.
He wants to be here too.
You inhale a shaky breath, worry edging around your heart at the idea of one of your sisters walking in. You can't afford that.
"Where's your room?" He demands, his words are sharp and filled with authority. His tolerance slipping. You don't answer him immediately and his grip on your chin tightens. "Either you tell me or I'm going to fuck you right here and I don't fucking care who sees."
His threat is real. Your panic spikes.
Having no other choice, you pull yourself out of his grip—something you know he allowed—and grabs his arm, navigating him deeper into your house. Something about it rubs you wrong; the way he's getting to see more intimate details of your home, where you grew up, where you've been surviving for the past twenty-two years. It's getting access to something you've shielded from most people.
Stepping into the small master bedroom, you close the door behind you, disregarding any attempts to lock it. It's broken.
You turn back to Rafe with a gentle gaze; you don't know where to start this conversation.
"I—"
You don't need to. The next thing you know, his lips are on you and he's kissing you, the blunt force of his sudden action slams you against the back of your door with a loud creak. His hand travels to cup the underside of your jaw, guiding him closer.
It takes you by surprise but you find yourself reciprocating him, the familiar slant of his mouth pressing against yours slowly dissolving any panic, calming your turbulent mind to one focus.
But his touch isn't anywhere soft or gentle. It was rough and demanding, punishment easing its way through his will and onto you.
Rafe breaks the kiss to descend down your open neck and you tilt your head to give him more access, a delicate sigh leaving you. His hand finds itself under your baggy tee and cups your breast. "You think Maybank can make you feel this way?" He whispers against your warm skin, his fingers lightly grazing your nipples in a way that makes you arch into him. "That he can fuck you better?"
When you don't answer him, your mind too muddled to correct him, he pulls back. His eyes are hard. "Do you?"
His insecurities are getting to him. Your lack of response is getting to him. Now knowing that JJ Maybank—a no-named Pogue from the rough side of The Cut that has nothing—could be a potential suitor for you, it opens up the idea that you can be taken away. From him. From this.
He hates it. He hates you.
"Rafe." You start gently, trying to calm him down. It does the opposite. It's only pissing him off more how you can't give him a direct yes-or-no. "I didn't—"
He pushes himself off of you. Taking a step back, his cold eyes scans your clothed figure.
"Take it off." He commands lowly. "Fucking take your clothes off."
You can hear the fury in his voice, how tense and dark it is. You don't try to argue as your fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your shoulders. Your shorts and panties soon follow and you're left with nothing but complete bareness for him.
Your body is insane and his erection hardens in his pants at the sight of you. Standing before him; obedient and naked. He can't help but come to the conclusion that it's only for him to see, for him to touch and please.
And he has to share that?
Fuck, no.
He just has to remind you of that.
Rafe steps forward and captures your lips once more, his large frame covers you with warmth. Now, without your clothes, his hands travel all over—playing with your tits, pulling at your hips, spreading apart your thighs against the door. His mouth leaves yours, sucking on your neck and leaving marks on the curve.
He rolls your nipple between his rough fingers. "These are mine," he declares, tugging them in a manner that makes you arch into him, a mewl leaving your lips. Your mind growing dizzy. His hand lowers to cup your pussy. "This is mine too. I thought we went over this, sweetheart."
You shudder at his touch. "We did."
"Then why the fuck are you letting Maybank touch what's mine?" He growls, his fingers grazing against your slit, teasing you with slow strokes. You arch into his hand, only for him to hold you firm by your hips. "Not so fast."
"Rafe, please," you whisper, your pleading eyes finding his. "I'm aching."
His jaw tightens, conflicted between two things. He wanted to torture you further, slow and agonizing, but he can't help but take in the look on your face that's begging him to fuck you, against this door, hard and fast.
He had to look away, back to your cunt, spreading apart your folds. "Fuck, you're wet," he groans, your arousal collecting on his fingers. You throb at his feather-light touches. "Tell me it's all because of me."
His mouth captures a sensitive spot on your neck, just behind your ear, that you can't help but do anything to what he says. "It's all because of you," you confirm, which grants Rafe to add more pressure on your clit. "Just you, Rafe."
He loves hearing his own name coming from your lips. With satisfaction, his fingers finally plunge into your pussy and he begins to pump. You gasp at the intrusion.
His fingers curl inside of you. "I bet that Pogue doesn't make you feel this fucking good." He asserts.
"Never." You shake your head vigorously, tipping your head back against the doorframe as Rafe works in-and-out of you. The sound of your pussy squelching echoes through the small room. "Oh, fuck, right there. That feels so good."
He adds a third finger. "Oh, god."
"You're so fucking tight," he whispers into your ear, watching your face twist in ecstasy as he stretches you out. "Can't even fit it all the way in."
Pleasure and pain rides together as you mutter no audible words and feel the familiar knot tightening in your lower belly, rising in crescendo.
"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?" He taunts, feeling the way you clench around him, challenging him to pump you further. You nod fervently, moaning with containment. "Right here against this door?"
"Yes, yes."
He pulls his fingers out.
"Get on the bed." He orders, watching with sick amusement at the way your face twists in frustration from the emptiness of his touch. He's proud to make you feel this way. "On all fours. Now."
You want to argue, but you're aching all over. The orgasm on the reachable horizon slowly fading away with each passing moment, that you end up obeying him. With a huff, you go to your unmade bed and settle on the mattress with your knees and palms.
Rafe smiles cruelly, taking in the mental image of you waiting for him. He quickly strips out of his clothes, his cock red and swollen, dripping with precum from the strain. But, when he steps up behind you, he doesn't immediately enter you. No, he wants to make you beg for it.
His fingers trace your wet entrance and you flinch at how sensitive it is. "Aw, my poor baby," he mocks, his voice lacking any sincerity, "do you want to come? Do you want me in you?"
It's so degrading how much you're willing to submit. To reach your release. But, nonetheless, you nod with abandon, every second passing is another unbearable heat between your legs.
"Use your words, sweetheart or I'm not fucking you," Rafe declares sharply, his ringed finger brushing against your clit and running light, broad circles. "I know you know how to use that mouth."
It's too much.
"Rafe, please," you beg, "please come inside me."
Your words make him impossibly more hard, that he couldn't take it any longer. He lines himself behind you, before slamming his cock into your pussy.
The pleasure hits you instantaneously, that you had to bite your bottom lip to contain the loud moan threatening to make itself known. You can't have that. Your sisters are just right outside your wall.
His rhythm is sharp and quick, his movement uncontrolled. "See what happens when you listen?" He grunts, the feeling of you wrapped around him is so fucking perfect. "When you do what you're told?"
"Yes, yes," you mewl, your arms giving out and you sink into your pillows from the force Rafe is pounding you from behind. "I'll be good, I swear."
Rafe anchors himself in a way that allows him to hit your g-spot with precision. You moan louder this time, forgetting your desperate attempts of keeping your voice down. "Oh god, just like that," you encourage, as he feels your walls flutter around him for the second time. "I'm ab–about to come."
He pulls out again.
This time, frustration and anger rolls over you. You're aching terribly bad, the knot in your stomach is growing uncomfortable from the lack of release.
Rafe says nothing as he grabs your waist, hauling you upright as his strong arms wrap around your front. You let out an irritated whine, your peak fading once again.
"What the fuck?" You cry out, on the brink of tears, as your spine rests on Rafe's chest and you feel his hard erection pressing against the small of your back. You know he had to be aching too. "Why'd you pull out?"
He chuckles darkly. "Want me that badly?"
"I want your dick."
He doesn't answer you, his free hand lowering. You can't see it, but the smirk of his face is full of self-satisfaction and pride.
"You can't punish me." You declare, remembering his words earlier. You wonder if this is part of it; leaving you on the edge for so long, you're going to explode. "I didn't do anything wrong."
Rafe begins to run tight circles around your clit, your swollen nub causing you to jolt into his touch by surprise. His speed quickens, drawing you back to your climax.
"Does this feel like punishment to you?" He whispers while you're writhing before him. Your head tipping back on his shoulders while your body is weakening from the strain of past attempts. "Do you want to come?"
You nod your head eagerly, one of your hands enclosing his to make sure he doesn't leave you empty again. "Yes, please."
"Who's fucking you?"
"You."
"Who makes you feel this good?"
"You." You whimper, your orgasm is so close.
"Say my fucking name."
"Rafe." You let out a moan, his cooled ring brushes against your slit and makes your sensitivity heightens. Your hand tightens its grip around his. He chuckles at the sight of your desperation. "God, please, keep doing that. Please don't stop."
Rafe's starting to know your body. Know when you're about to come. He wants you to remember. Fuck the names—the whole idea—of any other men from your head. Only his.
His fingers quickens as he lays sloppy kisses against your open neck. Your hips bucks, your thighs shaking, and your breathing shuddering. The little moans you're letting go, more contained than anything he's heard before, is a mere challenge to his ears. He wants you to be loud. He wants them to hear.
"Come on, baby," he whispers tenderly. "Come for me."
You come on his hand, slumping back against his broad chest as you catch your breath. Rafe doesn't allow you to gather yourself, flipping your position as he lays against the mattress.
Your heart is slowly calming. You blink at him through the haze of your post-orgasm.
"Ride me." He instructs, leaning back against your headboard.
Your breath hitch as he gestures to you to come forward, which your body auto-pilots and follows. You anchor yourself over his cock, lining the hard length at your entrance as you slowly sink into him, hissing from the sensitivity of your recent release.
You're taking your sweet time to get adjusted and, with thin patience and him needing his own orgasm, Rafe grabs your hips and draws you down completely, causing him to fill you to the hilt.
"Fuck," you whine, your eyes teary from the sensation of your overstimulation. You look up to him, wanting to get off, but his hands stay on your hips. "I don't know if I can..."
A hand leaves your side to cup your chin. "You want to make me feel good, don't you, sweetheart?" He taunts. "Isn't that fair?"
You let out a shaky breath before you begin to rock your hips against him, finding a speed where you can control. Rafe groans at the way your body rolls, the way your walls grip him, that he leans back against the headboard.
Your pleasure builds once again, eyes fluttering close, taking in everything. Every spot his cock is hitting, every pressure point he meets, every buzzing feeling in your body. It's all because of him.
One of your hands rubs your clit while the other plays with your pierced nipples. Rafe watches with intent as you chase your own pleasure.
"I love seeing you play with your tits," he groans, because truly, something about you playing with the little metal barbell between your fingers, twisting and pulling, drives him fucking wild.
"Yeah?" You challenge, leaning over. He raises himself, taking a nipple in his mouth as your hands are splayed across his chest to steady yourself. The sensation of his warm mouth sucking and your angle at which you grind against him—you feel yourself rising to your climax again while his cock twitches inside of you.
His arm locks you in an embrace as he comes. His cum spills inside as you straighten yourself back up, rubbing your clit once more, bouncing up and down on his dick as you allow him to ride out his high while you chase yours. His hands lazily slides to your thighs, gripping them as you go faster and harder, your wetness dripping over his abdomen and you tip your head back with an uninhibited moan.
"Fuck." You cry, knowing that that was one of the best orgasms you had, and with how loud you were, embarrassment follows. Rafe sees the look on your face and smirks, knowing he made you break one of your rules.
You slump on his broad shoulder, catching your breath as his hand rests against the small of your back, his fingers caressing your arched spine. You haven't lifted off of him; his cock still warm and softening inside of you.
Worn out, you manage to pull yourself off of him and fall back against the hard mattress. It's nothing like the one you laid on at Rafe's bedroom. With a harsh breathing pattern, you watch the ceiling, waiting to return back to normal.
Rafe follows a similar method, refusing to look at you afterwards, that you twist your head to look at his profile.
You can tell he's in deep thoughts. It pulls you back to when he came into your house, when he stepped into your sanction with this look—this anger. It was nothing like it was before, like it was with his father. This was something completely different.
"I didn't fuck JJ." You whisper in confession, hoping it would ease something out of him, and watching as Rafe finally turns to you with a look of surprise.
"You didn't?" He hates how elated his voice sounds. He tries to suppress the emotion with the blanking of his features, to appear detached, but you caught on.
"No." You smile softly. "He's like a little brother to me. I can never imagine myself doing that."
Rafe's chest lightens. Tremendously. He didn't realize how heavy it felt until you said that. But, his doubt still remains.
"Why was he in your house, then?"
"I was patching him up," you say with a sigh, pulling yourself into a sitting position. Rafe had the urge to grab your wrist and pull you back down. To be here with him a moment longer. "His... something happened. Got into a fight. I was just helping him."
His jaw ticks, "he could've gone to the hospital."
"Do you forget we're poor?" You turn back to Rafe with a defeated laugh. He looks so big in your bed, so out of place, like he doesn't belong. That this world could never be something of his. "Insurance is expensive. The hospital takes forever. I'd rather take care of them without them spending hundreds on normal injuries."
Rafe says nothing as he watches you. Trying to understand you. He's coming up mostly blank.
But, he realizes one thing.
You do that. You help people when they don't deserve it. You even helped him after a fight when he was being a complete asshole to you at Topper's party. Your instinct is so friendly, so giving and undeserving, he doesn't know what to do with this.
It elevates the sentiment that, perhaps, his father was right.
"That doesn't explain why I couldn't be here."
This one, you hesitate to answer. You look away, to the bedroom door where the lock doesn't work and knowing, if your sisters decided to barge into your room right now—there's absolutely nothing you can do to stop it. Fear pricks your chest again.
"Hey." He places a hand on your back. He couldn't beg you to respond. That's pathetic. "Answer me."
"I..." You let out a reluctant sigh. "I didn't want my sisters to see you."
This surprises him. "You have sisters?"
You nod, not supplementing more information. You already revealed too much.
His brows furrowed together. "What do you mean? I'm good with kids."
You chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood. "Yeah, probably with making them, but you can't meet my sisters."
"Why not? Are they scary?"
"No, they're like eight and twelve."
"Then what's the fucking problem?"
"I..." You mess with your hands, trying to rid yourself of this discomfort. You hate telling people about yourself. "I don't bring guys home to meet my sisters. Not unless it's serious."
Not unless it's real.
You think it's all the bedtime stories you read to them. Of princesses and princes, of fairytale endings, and they have this fantastical expectation of love that only happens in books. They want you to find that same love, to be happy, and they get so attached whenever you bring someone new home. Like it could replace the hole in their hearts with your missing parents. So, you try not to get their hopes up.
Because you know. Whatever is going on with Rafe is not your storybook ending. It can't be. You're nothing more than a fake girlfriend, someone he fucks whenever it's convenient, someone he doesn't even consider a friend. Even if you're starting to feel something more, to see him beyond his privileged, over-pretentious self, you agreed to those terms. You're going to stick with it.
Rafe doesn't say anything in return.
The back door squeaks open and your eyes widen as you hear your name being called from the hallway, footsteps approaching your bedroom.
"Don't come in!" You shout to whoever is behind the broken door, their steps pull to a halt.
"Why?" JJ asks. You can see from the corner of your peripheral, the way Rafe's jaw tightens at the sound of the Pogue's voice.
"I'm... I'm naked."
He chuckles with amusement. "I'm sure I can take a peak," he teases, testing the door as it creaks from the disengagement.
Rafe sits up, ready to fight the Pogue, but you lay a flat hand on his chest.
"If you open that door, JJ, I'm going to kill you."
He laughs. The door falls back into place, the deadbolt sliding into the latch, before announcing. "Alright, whatever. I'm just telling you that I'm heading out with Pope so your sisters are going to be alone out here."
"Thank you." You say, your heart is still racing. "I'll be out in a minute."
JJ bids a farewell as his footsteps retreat, and you turn back to Rafe. His expression is unreadable, his thoughts elsewhere.
"They know your sisters?"
You can't decipher the tone in his voice.
"We grew up together, of course they know." You answer, hearing the familiar roar of JJ's bike engine leaving your driveway. You turn back to Rafe. "You gotta go."
He doesn't move when you get up from your mattress, putting your clothes back on.
"What if I want to meet your sisters?"
The inquiry, so genuine, stops you in your tracks. "For what?" You question, tilting your head to the side.
He shrugs.
"I..." You don't know what to say. How the earnest attempt brings a feeling of warmth and buzz to your stomach. "This has nothing to do with our arrangement."
Rafe sucks in his cheeks, swallowing hard, before nodding. "Right."
He gets off the bed and redresses himself silently. Nothing else to be said. He doesn't bother to turn to you to bid a farewell before he goes. Just as he's about to open the bedroom door, you stop him.
"Go through the window."
"What?" His brows pull together. Irritation flares in his expression. "No."
"Either you do that or you have to wait till my sisters are off to bed."
"So what if they fucking see me?" He snaps, making another move towards the door. He didn't understand why it bothers him so much that you're hiding him from your family. He doesn’t care if he breaks one of your stupid rules. You grab his arm before he makes another break.
"No, I'm serious, Rafe." Your voice is firm. "This is one of those things you can't just decide on your own. You have two choices. Pick one."
He's frustrated. He's a bit pissed. He's angry with himself. He can't complain about you wanting to set boundaries with him, with this relationship, because it makes sense. Because, if it was anyone else, it would've been perfect for him.
He shouldn't want to meet your sisters. He shouldn't feel this unburden urge to impress them. To make them like him more. He shouldn't care about you—beyond what you can offer with your end of the bargain—but he fucking does. And he can't fucking stand it.
All he knows right now is he can't bear to be in the same room with you right now. He needs to be alone. With others. People who don't give a shit about him the way you do. Smoke. Drink. Attend one of those parties someone on the island is hosting.
So, he leaves. Through the fucking window, like a teenager again, trying not to get caught by the parents. When he treks to his car, his phone is already in his hands and he was dialing up one of his buddies, asking where the next rager is.
—
You arrived at Sailor earlier than opening time to make up for your absence yesterday. It’s at the same time Heyward opens his shop, that you manage to meet him on the docks as you're unlocking the bar.
He calls you out by name.
"Hey, Mr. Heyward," you greet with a smile, turning to him. "What's up?"
"Hey." He stops just a couple of feet away from you. His expression flits with trouble. "I just... I wanted to tell you that Aaron stopped by here yesterday."
Your heart stops.
"And, I don't know if you know, kid, but messing around with someone like him is—" You cut him off.
"I know." You say gently, adrenaline pulsing through your veins at this reveal of information but you can't let him know that. You plaster on a look of normalcy, trying to calm him down from his worry. The man has known you and your family forever and he can almost be seen as a second father figure to you, but the way he over-extends himself to make sure you are fine makes you uncomfortable. "It's... it's probably nothing."
"Y'know, Luke Maybank got caught up with Aaron once and—"
"I know." You say again, this time, a bit firmer. This get Heyward to back off on you. "Don't worry. I got it handled. Thank you for telling me."
He's watching you, full of concern and wonderment about what's going on with you. You're just a kid, with too much on your shoulders, taken on too many responsibilities at a young age. He's afraid something is going to happen.
"Be careful." He warns, knowing that's all he can offer with what you're giving him. You nod appreciatively, just as he departs back to his shop.
You watch as his figure disappears into his store, and when he's gone, you release a heavy breath. God, Aaron was here? And you weren't? This drives panic in your system, because you know the man doesn't bother you physically unless a deadline is approaching.
You were afraid. You were getting stressed. You have to plan your next steps.
But, you couldn't think of that right now. All you can do is twist the key in the lock and enter the bar, starting your day.
★ part seven ★
hello! my taglist is getting a bit long and exhaustive, so i've shifted into a notification blog! i'm probably going to tag for a few more parts, but otherwise, please follow @zyafics-library + turn on notifications if you would like to follow my stories!
taglists: @quicksilversg1rl / @uraesthete / @maybankslover / @trshngyn / @irides-solstice / @kur0obaby / @groovycass / @emmalandry / @rivaiken / @outlawedmando / @ditzyzombiesblog / @mattyskies / @sunshinepanic / @too-deviant / @rafesgiirl / @lafavoritaangel / @bunniii-98 / @vvvhack / @babygoddam / @cami-is-reading / @peachesmilk / @whore4fictionalman / @artemiswinnick / @janediazwindsor / @pandora-rosier1 / @solanathascientst / @itshellie / @grace-sully / @loveyouok / @tayrcse / @mysteris-things / @ella131989 / @starrkissezz / @sanriobuny / @chopshopcheesecake / @fentyxmalik / @fleets-world / @supernaturalwriter / @taylorsmissamericanna / @hehelollmao / @lac0nically / @elysiasshit / @kravitzwhore / @tommysaxes / @ma-yangg / @carolinaxvz / @bandsbooks / @sourjoonie / @rafemotherfuckingcameron
#rafe cameron#rafe obx#rafe x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe imagine#rafe smut#rafe fic#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron smut#obx fanfiction#obx fic#obx x reader#obx smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#obx#rafe cameron x female reader#outer banks#rafe jealous
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subrry making y/n jealous and she’ll ignore him and he’ll get whiny bc he wants her attention so she’ll fuck him super hard and rough 😩😩
this has been in my inbox for months?? what. i literally just saw it anyhooo sryy for the delay😭
you sit back on the chair, watching harry intensely as he dances with some random person, obviously being too touchy which makes you scoff at how pathetic he looks trying to get your attention on him.
you shake your head and chuckle, making eye contact with him before getting up and walking to the bar to get yourself a drink. you barely count a couple of seconds before harry makes his way towards you, sitting down on the stool next to you with a pout plastered on his face.
you thank the bartender for your drink, still completely ignoring harry who was now frowning and huffing way too loudly. after a couple of minutes you hear harry mutter a firm "fine" before getting up and dragging the stranger back out on the dance floor.
you turn your head to the side and watch him wrap his arms around the person's waist, grinding himself on them as the song gets slower. he turns around to face you, trying to get a reaction out of you, but all he gets is your monotone relaxed face.
but when he takes it up a notch by leaning down to whisper something in the stranger's ear, getting even more touchy, you decide you've have enough of his games. you quickly chug down your drink, slamming the empty glass back on the bar before making your way towards the dance floor.
when harry notices you approaching him he smirks, knowing his plan worked. but his victorious face quickly fades when you make your way to the restroom instead, not before throwing him a hard glance on your way.
harry gets too distracted by you to notice that the stranger was now trying to get closer to him, obviously trying to kiss him. once he sees them, he quickly backs away, placing an arm in front of him to stop them mumbling a low "no thank u" before getting off the dance floor to follow you into the bathroom.
just like you predicted, you didn't even need to wait a couple of minutes, before he was barging in the empty restroom. you stood there, against the wall arms crossed over your chest with a smirk plastered all over your face.
"well well well, look what the cat dragged in, thought you forgot about me for a second there" you say in a mocking voice, a fake pout appearing on your face. all harry does is start walking towards you, arms open reaching out for you while he mumbles "m'sorry, just wanted to have fun".
you shake your head backing away from him "so I guess you won't mind if I have some of my own fun?" without answering he lunges forward to press his lips on yours, but you turn your head away "not on the lips, y'need to be punished", he whines in return trying to give u puppy eyes but you don't fall for that, instead you just press a kiss to his cheek "now, get on your knees".
he widens his eyes a bit, surprised by your request and when you realize he was still looking at you, not even moving you repeat "I said get on your knees. did I stutter?".
he shakes his head before slowly lowering himself on his knees, looking up at you, waiting for your next action eagerly. you chuckle, slowly undoing your pants to reveal the strap-on you've been wearing all night with a plan to fuck him against the counter until he was shaking and crying.
his jaw drops a bit, obviously surprised. he licks his lips, looking back at you, not daring to make any other move without your approval. you stroke his cheek slowly, watching him lean into your touch. "so so pretty, such a shame y'had to be bad tonight right?"
you wrap your hand around the dildo bringing the tip to his lips. "suck" you order him, which he does, eagerly giving the tip kitten licks before slowly sinking the rest in his mouth. you deliver a harsh thrust which makes his eyes water. he makes sure to maintain eye contain as he slobbers all over the fake cock, bobbing his head, his hands placed on your thighs for balance.
you thrust the toy in his mouth a couple of times making him gag, before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting his lips to the toy. "good boy, now bend over the counter f'me, need to show you who you belong to".
he quickly gets up, doing exactly what you asked, already feeling his half hard cock, hardening to the fullest. you stand behind him, palming his ass through his jeans, making sure he's watching you from the mirror, before pulling his pants down until they hit the floor. you bite your lip, delivering a smack to his ass when you see that he isn't wearing any underwear. "so so naughty" you mumble under your breath.
"please" he whimpers, wiggling his ass back begging for some kind of release. "stop being a brat and take what I give you". you kneel down on the floor spreading his ass cheeks so your mouth is on level with his hole, you thumb at his rim making him shiver before spitting down on it and licking it teasingly. once it's wet enough you slowly ease it in his hole which makes him let out a whiny moan.
you start moving your finger, adding another to make sure you stretch him enough. once he's stretched enough you pull out of him to which he whimpers at the loss of contact, but is quickly satisfied when he feels the tip of the toy teasing his entrance.
"fuck me mommy please, promise I'll be good" he whines pushing his ass back trying to get the toy inside of him. "if you say so" you whisper before finally putting him out of his misery by easing the fake cock in all the way until your hips meet his ass.
"fuck!" he moans way too loudly, but none of you care. you're not even sure if you locked the door, but you forget about that quickly when you start thrusting in him slowly increasing your paste.
"that's it baby, take it just like that" you smack his ass, fastening your thrusts, loving the way he was practically screaming for you. you pull out all the way to the tip "gonna be a good boy f'me again?" he nods his head eagerly whispering "yes yes yes fuck, I'm y'good boy, only yours". and just like that you push yourself back in with one hard thrust.
you stop moving once again "fuck y'self on my cock baby c'mon, show me who owns you" and that's all harry needed for him to push himself back on the fake cock, too eager to even go all the way. "y'do! y'own me. my body is yours. m'all yours" he lets out a high pitched moan, when you tangle your fingers in his curls, driving your hips in him again hard, while he fucks himself back on you, making sure to hit that one spot inside of him that makes him go crazy.
suddenly the door opens, but that doesn't make either of you stop, you just turn your head to the side, smirking when you see the distraught pale face of the stranger that was dancing with harry earlier. they mumble a quick"shit sorry", their eyes wide before leaving and slamming the door shut, almost immediately.
you chuckle, pounding into harry harder, not giving him time to react, as he gets closer to his release, feeling his hard cock twitch against his stomach each time you hit that spot inside him. "gonna come f'me pretty boy?" you pant, growing tired with each fast thrust.
he whines while nodding his head whispering over and over again a low "gonna cum" until he finally lets go all over the counter after one specific hard thrust. "that's it baby, y'good?" you whisper softly, stop your movements.
he twists his head a bit to look at you, smiling sleepily "mhm, but I think we traumatized that person for life".
you chuckle, mirroring his smile "yeah well they shouldn't have gotten all touchy with my pretty boy".
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Home
Pairing: Lucifer x MC, Mammon X MC, Levi x MC, Satan x MC, Asmo x MC, Beel x MC, Belphie x MC
Summary: MC's final day in Devildom before returning to the human realm.
Word Count: 1.3k
Author's Note: This is my first 'fanfic'! Feel free to request in the inbox!
***
365 days had passed quickly.
It was the last day of the student exchange program, and Lord Diavolo decided to throw a grand going away party. You had spent nearly all day with Asmo, he insisted on finding the perfect outfit for tonight and wanted to have one last spa day with you.
“MC, isn’t this just great? I could stay in here forever.” He sinks deeper into the flower bath, cucumbers sitting perfectly on his eyes.
“I have to admit, this is pretty relaxing,” you giggle. “Especially with all of the running around we’ve been doing.” You had already eaten your cucumber slices - no doubt a bad habit picked up from Beel. You took a deep breath in, letting the floral scent intoxicate your lungs, trying to forget that tonight would be the end.
And just like that, all relaxation was gone. A commotion could be heard from outside the room.
“Huh, I wonder what’s going on,” you ponder.
“Sir, you can’t go in there -” an employee says.
“Asmo, you son of a bitch!” Satan barges in.
“Dear brother ~ Do you want to take a dip too?” Asmo taunts as he pulls the cucumber slices off.
“I can’t believe you stole MC away! They’ve been gone nearly all day!”
“We were shopping, you’ll see them at the party.”
“No, come on MC, I want to spend time with you too.” The look on Satan’s face was nearly heartbreaking. You didn’t like goodbyes, maybe subconsciously you had been avoiding everyone so it would never happen.
“Okay, just wait outside while I get dressed.” You look at Asmo. “No peeking.”
He covered his eyes, and you quickly got dressed.
“I’ll see you at home?”
“Of course ~”
***
You and Satan went to a bookstore, there was a small bakery attached to it. The smell of freshly baked goods and the serenity of the air was comforting - being around Satan was comforting.
“So, how did you know where to find me?”
“Asmo posted pictures on devilgram. That’s his favorite bath-house, so of course he’d take you there today.”
You hummed in agreement, your fingers tracing the spine of books as you two walked past the shelves.
“Is this your favorite bookstore?” A small blush creeps onto his face.
“One of my favorites, yes.”
“Any last recommendations?”
Satan grins taking your hand to lead you to a more obscure area of the bookstore. The books become more odd looking, and the mood shifts ominously. He grabs a small book, the title reads, Death of the Three Worlds.
“It’s fictional, but has an abundance of historical accuracies about all three worlds. It’s a good read, I’ll buy it for you to take...home.” He hesitates. You look up at him and smile.
“I’d love that. Thank you.”
Side by side, you both walk towards the cashier; you decide to check out the bakery before leaving. There, you spot a familiar ginger and his twin.
You rush over to them in excitement.
“Hey guys!”
“MC!” Beel exclaims with a stuffed face.
“Hey MC,” Belphie says less enthusiastically but with a smile on his face nevertheless. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I’m here with Satan. He’s buying a book for me, I just wanted to check this bakery out real quick.”
“Here.” Beel holds up a puff pastry filled with jam, nearly jamming it in your face. You open your mouth up slightly.
“Ahh - mm. It’s good.” Some jam dirties the corner of your mouth, you go to wipe it off but Beel cuts you off, licking it instead. Your face turns beet red.
“You can’t just do that in public, Beel!”
Belphie nods in agreement.
“Ah - sorry, I couldn’t help it.”
“Anyway, I should buy a treat for Satan. What do you think he’d like?”
“Cupcakes, cheesecake, danish, doughnuts -”
“Beel, that’s what you like,” sighs Belphie. “Nothing too sweet. He doesn’t care for it.”
You nod in consideration and buy him a croissant. By the time you walk back to the table, Satan is sitting there patiently for you. You hand him the croissant, and he hands you the bag with the book in it.
“Thanks, MC.”
***
By the time you got back to the House of Lamentation there were only a few hours before the party would start. You knew Asmo would want to start getting ready soon. Racing to the stairs and looking through your phone, you bump into Levi - who was also not paying attention. You fall flat on your back, Levi hovering over you with both hands beside your head and one knee in between your legs. He would’ve been mad had it been anyone else, but seeing it was you he began blabbering.
“THIS IS JUST LIKE THAT ONE ANIME, I WASN’T PAYING ATTENTION AND NEITHER WAS MY CRUSH AND WE RAN INTO EACH OTHER NOW I’M ON TOP OF THEM IN AN INTIMATE POSITION.”
“Oh really? I haven’t seen that one yet.” You smile, while gently pushing him into a sitting position.
“It’s okay, a little too predictable to me.”
“Predictable? I thought you didn’t like surprises, Levi?”
“Well - yeah - not in real life, but in anime I don’t want to guess what’s going to happen!” He huffs and looks to the side. “So when are we going to watch that new anime? I mean - I know you leave tonight but you said you wanted to see it…”
“I do want to see it! But...I’m running out of time. I’m sorry, I just don’t have time tonight.”
“Yeah, sure.” He slumps his shoulders, hands in pockets, and heads back upstairs to his room.
You sigh, hoping to make it up to him somehow.
***
Due to Asmo, you were late to the party. He called it fashionably late - you called it rude. You would have to apologize profusely to Lucifer once you saw him. But instead, you saw a rambunctious demon coming towards you - your first man.
“MC! I haven’t seen you all day!” He pouts; he looks you up and down. “You look a-amazing.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry, Mammon. I’ve just been busy trying to spend time with everyone.”
“You’re telling me I’m the last person?!”
“Well, technically no, I haven’t seen Lucifer - but, let’s not focus on that. I just want to have fun with you tonight!”
“Of course you do, I’m the Great Mammon! C’mon, let’s dance!”
You spent the night dancing and laughing with Mammon - occasionally his other brothers would steal you away for dances, but he always found you and stole you back. The night was coming to an end, you could feel it in your soul that it was almost times up.
“Mammon - I’m having so much fun.”
“I am too!” He twirled you in his arms.
“I have to find Lucifer.” Slowly you both stop dancing, and he stares deep into your eyes.
“Okay, just come back to me?” He questions rather than states. You nod your head.
***
It shouldn’t have been too hard to find Lucifer, you figured wherever Lord Diavolo was he would be. But that wasn’t the case.
“Lord Diavolo, have you seen Lucifer?” You ask desperately.
“He went outside, he said he needed to breathe.” He eyes you carefully. “I haven’t seen him this distraught in a long time.”
You thank him and rush outside, you could suddenly feel how suffocating the ballroom was, packed with demons dancing. You see his silhouette, he’s looking away. Suddenly all of the emotions of the day rush to you; everything that you had been holding in wanted to come out.
“Lucifer!” You cry out, tears streaming down your face. He turns at the mention of his name. You rush to him, arms extended - he opens his, and engulfs you in his embrace.
“MC...Why are you crying?” You look away in embarrassment, but he holds your face gently in his hands wiping away the tears with his thumbs.
“I-I don’t want to go. This is my home. Your brothers. You - you’re my home.” A small smile is placed on his face.
“MC, you’re my home, too.”
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me swd#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me levi#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmo#obey me asmodeus#obey me beel#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphie#obey me belphegor#obey me x reader#obey me x mc#obey me lucifer x reader#obey me mammon x reader#obey me levi x reader#obey me leviathan x reader#obey me satan x reader#obey me asmo x reader#obey me asmodeus x reader#obey me beel x reader#obey me beelzebub x reader#obey me belphie x reader#obey me belphegor x reader
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online school with the boys!
w/ bakugo, kirishima, denki, shoto
bakugo 💥
honestly, shifting from in person to online school was hard for bakugo in the beginning.
he was used to the classroom atmosphere, and hated having to look at a screen for hours a day.
but...you made it a little better.
bakugo insisted on you doing school in your dorm with you.
he claimed it was so he could help you focus, but honestly, he didn’t like the idea of being away from you for hours when he didn’t need to.
so everyday at 7 AM, he’d barge into your dorm like the morning person he is and forcefully wake you up,
usually having a small bowl of fruit or a granola bar for your breakfast.
he’s make you sit at your desk, saying laying in bed would be bad for your back
you two wouldn’t really talk to each other during most of the class time, only occasional glances here or there, and asking for extra pencils or paper.
but if bakugo saw you on your phone or dozing out while your teacher was talking, he’d yell at you instantly.
“PAY ATTENTION DUMBASS! THIS IS WHY YOU’RE FAILING!”
if you happen to have the same class one period, you’d do your work together.
he helped you stay productive, and it was honestly like a homeschool type of vibe.
bakugo was a strict teacher.
but your were grateful he stuck with you during all the online bull crap.
and he was grateful he had his love to entertain him during the gruesome hours.
kirishima 🪨
kirishima didn’t really like online school.
having to be away from his friends who made his day 10 times better and not being able to talk to people like the social butterfly he is didn’t really sit well with him.
but the real deal breaker not being able to see you for seven hours a day.
he could barely go one hour without talking to you. how was he supposed to go a whole seven?
so with that, you always had random visits from kirishima while you were in class.
he knew online was hard, so he wanted to make it easier for you.
every hour he’d peep into your dorm with a snack, or just his happy self, grinning ear to ear with dazzling eyes.
“hey babe! want some chips? water?”
“you good y/n? not tired, are ya?”
“does your back hurt? you need your man to give you a massage?”
he just couldn’t stay away from you and checking in was his only excuse for seeing you.
it was also a lot harder for him to pay attention during online school. so expect many tutoring sessions.
bakugo was fed up with his endless questions about the material he learned just that morning, so he stuck you with tutoring duty.
not that you were complaining, especially when kiri kissed you out of happiness when he got a question right.
and when school was finally over, expect kiri to be in your dorm at an instant, dragging your body towards your bed for daily cuddles and naps.
denki ⚡️
denki did not like online school seriously
as soon as they announced he didn’t have to go in the building, he threw away his books and planned to go out everyday.
but you forced him to at least log onto to class and try to pay attention.
and he would do anything for his love
that doesn’t mean he would be good at it.
it was impossible for denki to pay attention in class without having you “monitor” him, so you’d have to go to his dorm and make sure he wasn’t goofing around.
only problem? this dude would not wake up for online school. even with you dragging him to his computer and logging into class for him, he’d fall back asleep the moment you walked away.
drooling over his keyboard and all.
and no matter how many times you’d wake him up, he’d pass out again in the next five minutes.
so...you decided to take notes for his first two classes which he always slept through.
please someone get you a best s/o award you deserve it baby.
anyways, when denki finally woke up for the day, he was as energetic and hyper as ever.
he was attached to your hip at all times, and even though he hated being in his class, he insisted on joining your zoom meeting because he was so interested in what you were doing
he also made you turn your camera on for a few minutes every class, smushing himself into the screen with you and showing everyone how great your relationship was.
he’d use the chat saying,
“hey everyone! joining my baby’s class today. don’t mind me :)”
you’d be so embarrassed but he looked so cute, all happy, wrapping his arms around you as he actually payed attention to whatever your teacher was saying while his class went on in the background.
he definitely had to go to summer school after that year.
shoto❄️🔥
surprisingly, shoto suggested you both stay in your own dorms during school hours.
but he had a pretty good excuse.
“as much as i’d love to do class in your dorm, i think we’d be too distracted with each other to actively participate as we should.”
“but shoto, we used to be in the same room together during class all the time-“
“please y/n. us, alone, in a room with a bed sounds like the perfect disaster to me. and i have a habit of mistakingly unmuting myself during class. i don’t wish that embarrassment on anyone.”
“.....okay shoto.”
so as much as he longed for you during the day, you both stayed in your dorms until school was over.
but shoto memorized your schedule, so expect him to peek in during your lunch break for a quick conversation or...whatever you two have in mind.
he’d text you all day, asking about what you were learning and telling you how much he missed you.
and since it was a little harder for you to grasp the material you were learning without having the teacher right in front of you, shoto always helped you study for upcoming tests and important assignments
shoto wasn’t really vocal during class, only using the chat every now and then,
but when you two had the same class, he’d answer almost every question, making sure to use his mic so you could hear his voice.
he just wanted to impress you— you were the only person’s opinion he cared about.
when school was over, he’d meet you in the common room to take you out for soba, and tell you things he might’ve missed in your text convos.
he was honestly fine with not having to go into the building to do school, content with the sanctuary of his own dorm,
but he missed you all the time
and that was enough to hope all this would be over soon.
hopefully you liked this my loves! and if anyone is having trouble with this online school stuff, just know YOURE NOT ALONE. i’ve been doing horrible with being productive and keeping my grades up. it’s normal. there’s only a little bit of school left so keep fighting and my inbox is always open if anyone wants to talk
send a request here please!-> 🥀
#mha fluff#my hero acadamy#bakugo x y/n#bakugou headcanons#bakugou x you#bakugou x reader#kirishima x y/n#kirishima fluff#kirishima headcanon#kirishima x reader#kirishima x you#shoto headcanons#shoto x y/n#shoto x you#shoto x reader#shoto todoroki#denki hcs#denki x reader#denki x you#denki x y/n#mha headcanons#mha x reader
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Hey so how does it feel to carry the entire Levihan fandom on your back? I absolutely love all your stories! I always look forward to when you update! I had an idea for a fic but I haven't seen anyone do it. Where past levi wakes ups ( when he only sees hange as a friend) in the future to find that he's happily married to hange or living domestically with her and just contemplates his feelings for her
Title: Unwritten
Summary:
“Hange Zoe. One of the reasons why she creates really quality works is because aside from writing the script, she’s very hands on with everything from the direction, to the design and just the overall production… And she knows how to do it. When I watch her movies, it feels like they're peering into my soul or something.”
“Peering into your soul…” It was a tacky choice of words and Levi could only repeat them with some level of disbelief.
“What makes Hange Zoe's writing special are those in betweens. The unwritten parts... if you know what I mean?"
Levi is assigned to work with screenwriter Hange Zoe and he is left constantly wondering why the hell she's taking her work so seriously.
Link: AO3
Note:
I conceptualized this long fic after looking through a some of the prompts in my inbox and playing with them.. TYSM to everyone who sent those. I won't be dropping all the prompts I used when making this now because it might end up spoiling the fic as a whole but I will be dropping the prompts with every chapter I updated.
This fic doesn't actually follow any prompt strictly, I twisted the prompts around them, tore them apart, put them together so they might seem unrecognizable for some.
Either way, I'm very grateful to readers who are sending me prompts. It keeps me writing and brainstorming even when life gets terribly busy.
So thank you for them :D. I'm trying to get back to posting my writing more regularly again and this fic has been sitting in my folder for a while, I was just a little nervous to post it. Thanks to itShailaAM for looking through it!
If neither of us remember anything… Then it’s like it never happened right?
The voice was nostalgic, heart wrenchingly nostalgic. It had a unique way of twisting at his gut, spidering up his spine then leaving an almost painful pang in his chest.
Despite the overwhelming sensations, Levi found himself still able to take control.
So he reached out.
Then he was chasing after her again.
Chasing… He then wondered. How long had he been chasing? How long had he been awake?
With the first light of morning, whatever message, whatever meaning he could have made up for himself dissipated.
Or maybe it was never there to begin with.
For the first time in years or even decades, Levi was wasting his early morning window before work. He wasn’t doing much of anything but staring up at the white ceiling in some feeble attempt to make sense of it again. He came up empty save for two things: a faint throbbing in his head and a half hearted conclusion that maybe it really was just some fevered dream.
“Good morning!" Someone was right next to him. Her voice was higher, more mellow. A hairs breadth away from his ear though, it grated.
Levi narrowed his eyes and the blur cleared somewhat. “Petra?” He heard himself speak. He was in an unfamiliar in-between, completely in control of himself, yet strangely disconnected. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Petra put one hand on the back of her head and gave him a sheepish grin. “Sorry about barging in like this…” She didn’t have to apologize. They were childhood friends and with all the family gatherings they had spent together growing up, they were more than comfortable just flitting in and out of each other’s apartments.
Levi didn’t respond. There were more important things to think about like the slow and almost painful process of sitting up. That morning, he was a little more careful than usual.
“Your mom told me to check on you.” Petra continued.
“Typical,” he muttered coldly. He turned towards the window, and took in the view of the blue sky, a few stories above ground. It should calm him if he stared at it long enough. “She always overreacts,” he added. At that point, the crankiness had started to subside and Levi realized he didn’t mind the doting too much. His mother had always been like that anyway. Growing up, a sprained ankle or an animal bite from a family pet had always been enough for Kuchel to insist on a visit to the doctor.
Petra let out a dry chuckle. “I don’t blame her though. Since the accident, she’s been asking about you every...”
Everyday. Levi completed it for her. He wouldn’t be surprised if his mother had asked about him every hour. “She can always ask me directly,” he said out loud before Petra could finish. He didn’t feel too bad about interrupting. Petra had been speaking particularly slowly since a while ago and if he let her speak like that for any longer, they might not get anything done.
As if she had read his mind or at least noticed the impatience, she immediately gathered herself. “You always downplay it,” she said, more clearly this time.
“She always exaggerates it.”
“That accident was pretty bad though.” Petra cocked her head to the side. “I’m sure you understand that, right?”
Levi averted his gaze for a brief second. He couldn’t deny that part. That accident had apparently been bad enough to merit a month long hospital stay, bad enough for Levi to not remember much of it aside from the phantom pains in his chest, And bad enough to take the brunt of the pain and the inconvenience of dealing with the symptomatic disorientation, the fatigue and the begrudging need for some support.
A few seconds of reflection later, Levi concluded maybe there was good reason for that overreaction. “But I can take care of myself.”
Ironically, his body chose that moment to teeter.
“Hey, you okay?” Petra put one warm hand on his shoulder. “You think you can make it to work today?”
The throbbing at the back of his head had dulled to a bearable ache but he could have sworn it had been worse in the hospital. “I don’t have enough leaves,” he said. He focused for a while longer on Petra’s eyes and saw reason.
Maybe I can take a longer break?
His body was probably silently begging for more leaves. On the contrary, another part of him had been yearning for normalcy for a while. Practicality had been the deciding factor. Although Levi had more than enough leaves, did he have more than he would have been comfortable giving up? Maybe not. He wouldn’t take it anyway. He had more than enough strength to push himself out of bed and pad lightly to the bathroom.
Unwillingly or willingly? He was too tired to tell.
“You were in the hospital just a week ago.” Petra was a voice of reason or a voice of temptation.
“I can’t take any more leaves,” Levi repeated again, as if saying it louder somehow made it more convincing. He made his way to his closet, keeping his strides purposeful, partially for himself, partially for her.
Even for a long time friend, Petra had always been shy and conservative. As soon as Levi motioned to pull his shirt up, she rushed out of the room in some characteristic gesture of modesty.
His bedroom door closed with a click and Levi started to slip his clothes off much faster. His head continued to throb. There was a strange ringing in his ears and the room was a little drafty, typical for early spring.
Levi didn’t have the mind space to prepare for that brush with icy wind. Fucking hell. Discomfort then the desperation that followed had him considering calling in sick again.
After using up three week’s worth though, vacation leaves were starting to feel more like a scam than an actual benefit of the job. He ran through the motions of his typical morning routine. Or at least, what had been typical a month ago. Since the accident, he hadn’t worn anything but loose shirts, pajamas and hospital gowns. Back in the hospital, he had been asleep a lot of that time.
He pulled his pants on, then sluggishly pulled his sweater over him, dolefully noting how snug fitting clothing seemed like strangers to his skin.
He didn’t feel like the same person anymore.
It looked like Petra did notice something was different. Over breakfast, she had pushed the plates closer to him. She did the honors of pouring the scrambled eggs onto his plate, then placing a loaf of bread right next to him. “Eat, we have a long day ahead.”
Levi mumbled something that could have been a ‘thanks’ or a ‘yes.’ He didn’t think too far about it either. There were more pressing things to deal with, like internally psyching himself up for his first day back at work and finding routine once again in the recovery process.
For a few minutes after, the two were silent in the small kitchen save for the sound of chewing and the sound of cutlery clacking on the plate.
“Hey Levi,” Petra hesitantly broke the silence. “You really don't remember what happened?” She had asked that question countless times before, back at the hospital, on his first day back at home and every single time she paid a visit.
He chalked it up to worry. In some semblance of a response, Levi downed the bread in his mouth in one painful gulp, then took a sip of tea. “I remember waking up in the hospital.”
“Before that.”
Levi dropped the half eaten bread on the plate and stared straight up at the ceiling for a second. “Leaving work,” he answered. It was too vague of an answer and Petra didn't seem satisfied.
Of course she wouldn’t be satisfied. He always walked the same route home and routine wouldn’t give too much of an answer to the question of how the hell more than a month ago, he had ended up with a severe concussion and a few contusions in the hospital emergency room, a few towns away from his own.
Past was past though. There was no use digging into it. At present, he had medical bills to pay and a career to salvage. No time for a personal investigation. He attempted to digress. “What did I miss?” Levi asked. “At work?” He noted Petra’s very disconcerting expression, a combination of pity and uncertainty. It was starting to get annoying.
Petra furrowed her brows, a little more hesitant to speak that time. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about...”
In protest, Levi put the bread down and stared at Petra, his stone cold expression unwavering. He wouldn’t be eating unless Petra continued. He wasn’t hungry anyway.
A few minutes of silence later and it seemed to work. Petra looked down at the bread then up at him. Whatever was plaguing her mind then had taken some control over her. “A lot has changed since the accident,” she started.
“With work?” Levi asked again. He dropped the bread on the plate, deliberately allowing the clatter, as if the loud jarring sound would be enough to drive away the disbelief. Three weeks or fifteen business days wasn’t supposed to be a long time taking into account the speed of office bureaucracy.
Petra nodded, a wry smile on her face. Her expression, her demeanor gave the uncertainty away before she spoke of it. “You’re probably going to have to talk to Mr. Zackley about it…”
Levi’s mind was racing. Despite the throbbing, Levi had managed to fill in the blanks for himself. Even before Petra expounded on it, Levi had started to accept already, going back to work was probably not going to be such an easy ride.
Being gone for weeks had done a number to his job.
Three weeks to be exact. It was just three weeks, fifteen business days. Despite Petra’s apparent discomfort, her incessant warnings not to ‘expect,’ Levi had expected some semblance of normalcy. When his hopes were dashed, Levi felt like he had been body slammed out of nowhere by an oncoming train.
“I’ve been working on their set for years…Since the pilot episode, ” Levi said slowly. Hell, since even before the pilot episode if you consider the preproduction stage. He didn’t want it to seem at all like it was an argument and he subdued his tone to something lighter, with the intention of reminding himself not to talk back at authority.
“And we’ve transferred you,” General Manager Darius Zackley said matter-of-factly. “Underground City has been garnering a lot of attention lately and we couldn’t afford to be undermanned at such a crucial point of production.”
“But was it necessary to transfer me?”
Mr. Zackley’s expression softened. He didn't have a natural expression that demanded authority but he made up for it with reason. “It’s a primetime show,” he explained. “One of our best, and given the uncertainty regarding your accident…” For some reason, he had hesitated at that word. “We couldn’t take a gamble. We had you immediately replaced after the first week.”
“And?” At face value, the new developments were starting to seem terribly, terribly disappointing. “I can still work there.” Levi was perfectly aware of where the conversation was going. Still, it didn’t hurt to try.
Mr. Zackley was surprisingly patient. “It’s not an issue of you not fitting in. But we want to properly and more efficiently distribute our labor. The production of Underground City is currently…” He cleared his throat. “Oversaturated.”
Oversaturated with budget, resources. Underground City was a crime and mystery drama, one of their more high budget productions. Levi wasn’t too surprised at that piece of information, having worked closely with the producers and the writers since the pilot.
With a boss a few reporting levels above his own though, Levi couldn’t do much but listen quietly. Disappointment and uncertainty loomed over him and he was tiring more quickly.
“We’ve made some arrangements, set you up with a new role.” Mr. Zackley was taking his sweet time, his painfully sweet time.
At the butt end of Mr. Zackley’s whims, Levi was a mess. He racked his brain for all possible outcomes of the ‘arrangements’, a painful process, hampered by the weight of too many possibilities. They were a medium sized network that produced most of their own TV shows on top of news coverage and documentaries, still too many for Levi to have cared enough about to count.
At that moment, he was determined to make up for lost time. Naturally, his mind first flew to the more well known productions, those that had been receiving the best ratings in prime time TV since he had started working there.
Underground City. Military Police.
Working at the set of the crime drama ‘Underground City’ had been a good run for Levi, one he would have liked to continue but Mr. Zackley said so himself, they replaced him. ‘Military Police,’ one of their more popular historical war dramas, also received one of the bigger chunks of their budget. With Zackley’s very sullen expression, it looked like he wasn’t at all there to give Levi a promotion.
He didn’t really mind not working on the ‘Military Police’ set anyway. Everyone there seemed like a lazy prick and that long running drama had always seemed overrated to him. What else would be waiting for him though? “To where?” Levi pressed.
The old man hummed for a second, leaned forward on his seat. “I talked to Erwin about this and we have an opening in one of our daytime shows.”
“Erwin?” Levi repeated. The name was more than just familiar and he allowed himself a brief moment to recall. Erwin Smith. One of the more prominent in-house directors. Just digging deep into his mind, riling up whatever was causing the headache in the first place. He sat still and waited for it to subside again.
Then he wondered if it had been physical or just an emotional reaction to the mess he found himself in. He was barely recovering, he was plunged into a new position and he was confused, utterly confused.
“Consider it a temporary position until something else opens up,” Mr. Zackley added. “Given that you just got back from the hospital, it would be better if you started small.” He shot Levi a placating look. “Either way, this is a good opportunity for you, Ackerman…” It didn’t seem so genuine. “To ease you back into the hustle and bustle of working in TV production.”
Zackley spoke for an eternity longer after that but it had done nothing to make the transfer any better.
Levi had been working with that same hustle and bustle for years and he was confident, a three week break at the height of production wouldn’t have been enough to throw him--- hell, most people off completely.
But he was being treated like some invalid. Zackley’s warm words yet his uninviting demeanor sent some alarm bells ringing inside Levi.Mr. Zackley was overly consoling, overly placating and Levi’s mind was racing.
Levi took a deep breath and dropped his shoulders, willing himself to relax and focus on the present. Whatever the catch was, he’d find out soon anyway.
To ease you back into the hustle and bustle of working in TV production.
What a magnificent fucking lie.
“Start small my ass.” With the stress just piling up and his body barely catching up, Levi was tempted to let it out as anything louder, accompanying it with the very dramatic motion of dropping the paper work on the floor and relishing the loud thud. He imagined scattering the pages on the table, spilling them onto the floor and maybe kicking them out onto some curb.
Then he brushed off that mental image completely.
That would only create an unnecessary mess, maybe even cause a scene in that small cafe. Although his life seemed like it was complete chaos, his fastidious side wouldn’t have allowed him to make it any more worse. Then and there, he deemed it the best option to just take a sip of his tea, allow it to warm him up slowly and create a comfortable distraction, somewhere convenient.
A minute or so later, Levi accepted, tea didn’t do too good of a job. After all, what could tea do, aside from supporting him through the long and painful two days of ‘adjustment’ and the journey to the very frustrating conclusion that the general manager of the studio, Mr. Zackley was too out of touch with the struggles of the average worker.
“Just for long enough to get back to the hustle and bustle of TV production? What a fucking liar,” Levi muttered again. He dropped the tea cup on the saucer with a clank.
“Well, technically you are starting small,” Petra said. “They don’t expect too much quality wise from a soap opera on a day time slot.” She flipped through the pages of scripts and the storyboards that formed an overwhelmingly thick pile of papers on the coffee table.
It wasn’t too thick. Levi stared for a while longer and he decided it was a manageable pile of documents. The soft copies on his laptop were also of a countable number.
The deadline to be completely functional in two days though wasn’t as reasonable.
In search of some semblance of a break, Levi shifted his gaze towards Petra.
Her familiar presence had made the job change bearable. A half hearted response with her attention mostly channelled towards the piles of scripts had still been enough to have Levi more at home in the middle of the coffee shop in the late afternoon. “You didn’t even need to transfer,” Levi said. The indignance and the bitterness of a while ago seemed to be mellowing into something almost sweet.
Petra turned a beet red and she put her hands up in defense. “No no… I wanted to. Besides, this type of set is always in need of more people.”
Levi raised one eyebrow in response. Soap opera sets? Or maybe just daytime soap operas in general. Or maybe just that particular soap opera set. He turned back to the pile of papers on the table then back to his laptop.
The pile of papers on the table was the script for that month alone. The folders in the USB were eight seasons worth of soap opera scripts and episodes. Levi was once again reminded why such a project could have been so undersaturated.
Scratch that, he had never forgotten and he didn’t think he would ever forget anyway.
The script for just that month was much larger than the piles Levi worked with at his previous production. By the second day, he was starting to conclude, working with daytime soap operas was turning out to be a grind, a seemingly thankless grind.
Soap operas ran with the expectation of producing five episodes a week with a shoestring budget. The pressing deadlines and just the amount of content that had to be produced meant vacations and holidays were few and far in between for the average employee. And the unreasonable demands usually meant that quality would naturally suffer.
Since he started assimilating into his job, he also started to wonder. What audience were they even producing soaps for in that day and age?
“Do you think you’ll even enjoy this?” Levi challenged.
“It’s too early to tell,” Petra said.
Levi didn’t want to admit it then, but he was convinced that she would even find a way to enjoy it. The question should have been for him. He was the one who could barely even get past the first page of the script.
Petra flashed him a knowing smile, flipping the pages a little faster. She wasn’t reading them and all attention was on Levi.
Her face could have been asking questions. Or Levi could have been projecting. He repeated the question to himself. What now? More specifically, what was he supposed to do?
Then he answered it. Get used to it? Or maybe just accept it as a job. The grind would eventually get less painful he was sure. But would he ever see the beauty in it?
Levi had never taken the time to watch that particular soap opera but he had seen too many in passing to know what he would be working with.
The stories didn’t make fucking sense. The sets were cheaply made. The lights, the cameras and the resources for special effects were far from what he was given when he was still working with the twenty-one-episodes-a-season, one-season-a-year ‘Underground City.”
According to Erwin, they just didn’t have the budget. Besides, the average viewer didn’t expect much else anyway from a soap opera.
Either way, he was still hired as the cinematographer. This is still your job. Levi took a deep breath then exhaled with a soft huff. First things first, he had to familiarize himself with ten to fifty episodes worth of scripts. That night, he would be watching the blocking, the lighting, the editing, the overall production.
That was the job of the fucking cinematographer anyway. Erwin had warned him though, they were severely undermanned in all facets of production, pre production, production proper and post production. And for shows that aired multiple times a week, that meant, the grind wouldn't end.
So he wouldn’t just be the cinematographer.
At the impending workload that followed his orientation phase, Levi closed his eyes tight. For a second there, his mind flew to other opportunities and just the process of editing his CV and applying elsewhere.
Maybe in a year he would reapply, or maybe even in months.
He wondered if Petra was thinking the same thing. If she were, she didn’t make it obvious. Petra enjoyed the production process just as much as he did and she had been the reason he had found a job there in the first place.
“Welcome back to the working world.” Petra chuckled.
Levi blinked back the surprise in his eyes as he was once again pulled back to reality. Admittedly, he was overwhelmed. The weak throbbing returned and after spending too many hours insisting to Petra that he was ready to go back to work, he didn’t think it right to take a break.
He sipped his tea and deemed that a quick break.
“God I miss our tea times,” Petra said, looking pointedly at Levi's tea caup. She flipped the script over and pulled her teacup towards her.
Levi noted the wistful expression on Petra’s face. “I was only out for a month,”
Petra shook her head. “But for a week or so, we thought you wouldn’t make it.” There was a subtle crack, not too noticeable if Levi hadn’t tensed up and watched her closely.
It was bringing up too many unwelcome emotions at once, and somewhere in the back of his mind, a haze of memories aggravated the throbbing in his head.
Levi turned back to the pile of papers. With the amount of work to do, he would never have the time to ponder what happened anyway. In an attempt at digression, he pulled the script towards him, and started to flip the pages, poring over words yet only taking in half of it.
A very boring half.
Eventually, he gave up. “Let’s go back home. We’re not getting anything done here.” He gathered the pages, and meticulously returned them to each envelope.
He was supposed to be reviewing the scripts to get some idea on how the TV show worked. They had chosen to work in the cafe to escape from the bustle of the sets and attempt some productivity. Yet, they had been in the cafe for a few hours already and he still didn’t remember what the story had been about in the first place.
Soap operas didn’t have logical plots anyway. Levi thought to himself. Maybe just accepting could make his work feel more unbearable. He watched as Petra gathered the pages on her end, stuffed them into her bag.
“Sorry, I thought you would have wanted tea. You always liked this place…” Petra was explaining herself. The not-so-eloquent way at which she did it was a distraction. In fact, everything at that point was either a distraction or even irritating. Levi took a deep breath, closed his eyes and let the throbbing take control for a second.
One step at a time. Levi slung his bag over his shoulder. “The tea was good,” he said, more for her than himself. That was a lie. In fact, the tea tasted underwhelming. Tea usually didn’t disappoint though and Levi was starting to suspect the fault was in him. “Just give me some time to get used to life again,” he added, his tone more apologetic that time.
A few seconds or even minutes of reflection later and Levi had to admit, he felt like he really had changed during that break.
Cinematography is visual storytelling. Or so, that was what he had been taught when he started working with TV shows years ago.
When there was no story he could follow, there was no essence or heart to portray. So, Levi naturally approached it like a cold hard science. The hard copies on folders lay abandoned on the coffee table. His laptop remained unopened.
Levi's attention was trained on the big screen. He had silently been sprawled on the sofa since they arrived back to his apartment hours ago. Bundled up in a sweatshirt, legs propped up on the coffee table, Levi was in that convenient trance between relaxing and analyzing.
He had no idea what the couple on the TV had been arguing about. He had no idea who had fathered the large overly tacky baby bump sticking out of the woman.
The latest episode was playing on repeat and Levi remembered two things happening in the past ten minutes. A pregnant woman entering the crappy set of their mansion, hand on her oversized belly and man looked back at her then approached her, a look of abject horror on his face. He was shouting something, obscenities maybe?
By that point, Levi’s mind started to wander with too many other passing thoughts.
The horror at finding out the protagonist was pregnant was overly exaggerated. Were baby bumps really supposed to be that big? And why did it take them that many months to figure it out? How many pregnancies did the protagonist go through? How many love interests did she have?
Then the cinematographer and the photographer in him took over.
There were more important things to look into. The camera never moved. Levi was familiar with multi camera setups and he didn’t need to think too hard about it. Most of the scenes were filmed in the house, in the office, all conveniently made sets, the conveniently written scripts were written around the shitty budget.
And the high frame rate, in tandem with the inorganic lighting, the lack of special effects and just the lack of some careful camera movement, made the overall story and the overall view, underwhelming, not at all cinematic.
The soap opera effect.
Some wouldn’t see it. Others would probably notice it but not glaringly enough to complain. Levi had worked in film for years and when he would search for the characteristic motion blur, he would immediately find it. The culmination of a simple camera set up, a few sets, a cheap camera, and with a studio and network always in some hurry to cut the budget, the soap opera effect was very apparent.
And they would be expecting the same cooperation from him in putting together a cheaply made production. On the bright side, that meant that despite having to deal with some shitty soap opera plot that didn’t make any sense, he wouldn’t have to do too much thinking with lighting, blocking and editing. Planning sets and scenes would be a light stroll in the park at best, soul suckingly monotonous at worst.
Levi reached for the remote and started to rewind, his interest suddenly piqued.
“So what do you think happened to the baby?” Petra asked. She dropped a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.
Levi wasn’t in any mood to eat. More importantly, he in the mood to speculate the cheap excuse for a plot. “Am I supposed to care?” He pulled his legs close to him and leaned further on the armrest of the sofa, giving Petra more than enough space to get herself comfortable.
“Well, you’re working on the set right? Better to at least know the major plot points of what you’re working with.”
“Spoil me,” Levi said.
Petra reached for the popcorn and grabbed a handful. She turned to him, a wry smile on her face. “You really don’t even wanna try to enjoy it?”
“This is a job. ”
Petra dropped her shoulders in defeat. “Well… Hanako gets kidnapped…”
“Hanako?”
“The baby…” Petra answered, looking pointedly at him. “They literally spent an episode discussing the baby’s name.” A laugh was very much evident in her voice.
And there are a hundred episodes to sift through. “I don’t have to know the baby’s name to do my job.”
“The baby will be the main character in the next season. If you have been reading the script--- Or even just following the story...” Petra put her hands out and pointed at the TV, starting to look more exasperated by the minute.
“Okay,” Levi responded firmly, not in any mood to stomach accusations. “Then I’ll learn her name when I start working. Just tell me what I need to know to do my job. ”
Petra sighed. “When we get back on air, there will be a time skip. Then the season post time skip picks up after Hanako’s first day of college. So before that she grew up with her adopted parents who found her abandoned in a box. They went through some tough times financially and in the latest pages of the script she gets a job in a coffee shop.” She turned towards the thick envelope on the table then glanced accusingly at him. “I could have sworn you were reading through that back in the cafe.”
Levi didn’t notice it. He had only half heartedly read the script. Still, he feigned a look of interest.
“Then a lot of the writers quit,” Petra continued. “So a lot of what happened hasn't been written yet.”
Levi flashed Petra a knowing look.
Petra sighed. "Apparently, people were overworked, the job didn't pay much so a lot of the crew, cinematographer, production designers, they all left which was most likely why they put you there.”
Levi only had to look back at his first day and his second day to understand the turnover rate. He had spent a little less than an hour familiarizing himself with systems that seemed to be put into place for show. Soon after that, he was bombarded with unreasonable deadlines, timelines, responsibilities outside his actual job title and a little less than two days to sift through eight seasons worth of scripts.
“And why they easily transferred me. We're really behind now. Post production for the last few episodes should be completed this week, aired by next week.
"Then we have a hiatus at least," Levi said, repeating it with that same cold professional tone Erwin had used with him on their first day. Except he knew that was a scam too. They would be using that two week hiatus to start filing.
That reminder at least pulled Levi back into reality. He couldn’t flit mindlessly from side to side and clock it up as ‘learning the ropes’ forever. Eventually, they were going to ask him to actually know the ropes. “Erwin said something about me working with production proper and post production,” Levi mindlessly rewinded some of the scenes again. “But they can’t expect me to write the script right?”
Petra shook her head. “No, I don’t think you will,” she said. “I talked to a few of the crew. They said they were hiring a writer. A whole writing crew actually--- And you know, among them, there are rumors about a big name screenwriter.”
Levi raised one eyebrow in disbelief. “Joining the set of a daytime soap opera.”
She put her hands up in defense. “It’s just a rumor.”
“A stupid rumor. What kind of screenwriter in their right mind would want to work here?”
Petra paused for a second, deep in thought. “Fine, it might just be a rumor. Still, ask yourself, why would there be rumors circulating in the first place?"
Levi sighed. “Which screenwriter then?” he asked, mostly in an attempt to humor her. And himself. The fact that a big name screenwriter would work in soap operas, might actually make ‘soap operas’ work.
“Hange Zoe,” Petra said, a wry knowing look on her face. As if it was a name Levi was supposed to know.
“Hange Zoe?” And if he followed the same ups and downs of Petra’s tone, he could pretend it was familiar to his lips. “Hange Zoe,” he said again.
Petra nodded. “The writer of the Titan series? The final movie of `Advancing Titans’ is coming out in the fall.”
Advancing Titans. The name had seemingly come out of nowhere, especially when Levi had already run through a few possible names in his head. Hange Zoe hadn’t been one of them. Although she was a big name in the screenwriting industry for sure, the idea of Hange Zoe working with soap operas seemed almost preposterous.
“Hange Zoe…” Levi said it one more time, in surprise or in some attempt to practice saying it. “You’re seriously talking about that writer?” Levi looked to Petra for confirmation. Hange had only ever written one movie series from a completely different genre, which begged a question.“She has some experience in soap operas?”
Petra unlocked her phone, opened the browser and started typing and scrolling. “No… Just the movies…” she muttered a second later.
“Then why do you think she would suddenly want to work in a cheap ass day time soap opera?”
Petra looked back at him, a dumbfounded look in her face. “But the timing just fits too well. The final movie is about to be released. Apparently, she didn’t renew her contract with her studio. There are even rumors of her leaving the movie industry… And there were speculations and everything.”
“Retirement?” Levi suggested.
“Why retire in your thirties?” Petra said.
“Well, when you’re earning millions per script…” Levi trailed off. Thinking up an argument was too much of a tall order. He continued flipped through channels in silence and he had managed to pick out the movie ‘Advancing Titans’ by just a few seconds worth of a scene.
Speak of the devil.
But it wasn’t strange at all to come across the movies while flipping through channels. After all, Advancing Titans had become a household name over the past few years.
A person in a green cloak was flying, killing some man eating a zombie. It was a familiar scene, Even Levi, who almost prided himself in never having watched the movies, was familiar enough with the iconic movements, the colors and the insignia on the back.
The wings of freedom. How the hell that was connected to the story, Levi never watched enough to find out. Nor was he interested. Science fiction and fantasy were just never his cup of tea.
If Levi had to guess, soap operas and crime dramas shouldn’t have been big wig screenwriter Hange Zoe’s cup of tea either, especially after dedicating years of her life into a production as complex as a science fiction, dark fantasy cinematic universe..
“Do you really think Hange Zoe can actually work with low budget soap operas?” Levi asked.
Petra shrugged and Levi wondered why he had even asked her in the first place. Of course, she wouldn’t know. Still, she spoke up. “Even if the rumors were wrong and it wasn’t Hange Zoe. The important thing is they get someone to pump out scripts right? And your job anyway is to make sure everything gets filmed.”
“I guess.” Levi kept his eyes trained on the screen. The scene shifted from a forest, to the cobblestoned streets in town. A parade of miserable soldiers entered the town within the walls. The camera focused on a father, who navigated through crowds of people, zooming in one of the shorter soldiers.
Captain, I wanted to talk to you about my daughter… She wrote me a letter… She’s too young to get married.
Something about the expression of the soldier pulled Levi in. For a moment, he was frozen on his seat, completely hypnotized.
Petra’s voice tore into his trance. “That’s one of the scenes I can never forget.”
In some desperate bout of retaliation, Levi switched the channel of the TV. “Let’s watch something else.”
“Why? You okay?” Petra asked.
“I’m fine. I’d rather watch something more productive.” Levi flipped more rapidly through channels. He was tempted to just turn off the TV and call it a night.
“There’s a lot to learn from watching that,” Petra started.
"Like what?" Levi asked, his grip on the remote was still firm.
Petra opened her mouth, then closed it again. She sighed. “It's hard to explain... but remember that scene just a while ago. The father approached the captain about his daughter… She died while fighting the titans and they had to empty the cart so they lost all the bodies..."
Levi kept his eyes glued to the screen, suddenly hyper aware that there might have been a judgemental or impatient look on his face. “Go on,” Levi said, as if that could do anything to placate the discomfort already apparent in her voice.
“I guess the point I wanted to make is…” Petra still seemed far from calm. “Hange Zoe. One of the reasons why she writes really quality works apparently is because aside from writing the script, she’s very hands on with everything from the blocking, to the screenwriting and just the overall production… Which makes the storyline and the movie so gripping. When I watch it, it feels like the movie is peering into my soul or something.”
“Peering into your soul…” It was a tacky choice of words and Levi could only repeat them with some level of disbelief.
“A lot of the novelty of Hange Zoe’s writing… The parts that make it special are those in betweens. The parts she left unwritten... if you know what I mean?"
“That’s cool,” Levi responded, only barely. He switched to their local channel, to the late night reruns of the soap opera. .
“They’re good movies. I don’t think they were overrated," Petra said, a hint of defensiveness in her tone.
"I never said they weren’t good movies."
"You don't seem to want to hear about it at all."
"I'm just not interested. Besides, I'm too busy with work." That was the right moment to feign business. Levi held his phone in front of him, opened up the browser and wrote out a few familiar keywords. The movies of the titan series were all ranging from four to five star ratings. Whether it had been commended for cinematography or writing, he had been too lazy to check the more detailed reviews.
The reviews were most likely raving, sloppily made and potentially biased and Levi didn’t want to hear another synonym for ‘peers into your soul.’
His eyes were drooping, he was exhausted. Petra seemed to be ready to leave as well. But he had some space, he needed some break. And what better way to spend it than to do a little stalking? "Petra, could you send a file of the first movie? I think I might wanna watch it."
"You can stream the older ones on demand," Petra said.
Levi only had to open the menu on his TV to see the option for streaming. Right. Watching movies was starting to feel like a chore though and he was in no mood watching that night.
He didn’t say much else after that and the night ended with greetings exchanged. Petra only lived a few floors below him and it didn’t feel any different from being alone.
Before he knew it, he was half asleep already. He gave up, turned off the TV and allowed himself to doze off. When he came to his senses again, the sun was streaming through the window, and with work starting in an hour or so, he had little to no time to even start the movie.
The set was small. The budget was miniscule. The turnover rate was high.
And for projects that wanted to disguise themselves as official and corporate, it was utter chaos. One week into his job, Levi had to admit, he was reaching too widely, and he was spread out too thin.
There was a semblance of structure within his team. Petra and Eld worked with cinematography, filming and camera management and all he had to do was make sure the blocking looked good, limit the amount of retakes needed. Gunther and Oluo worked in post production and video editing.
But structure was an illusion.
The actors hadn’t arrived yet. Other new roles hadn't been finalized. The script was still unfinished. Yet, they were under the mercy of the vision of higher ups
"We're heavily delayed,’ or so that was what Erwin had explained. ‘Feedback of the higher ups.”
There were deadlines, unreasonable deadlines for the employees, yet a reasonable wait for the average audience. They had less than a month to finish filming and post production for the first few episodes of the new season, less than a week to produce everything for the old season.
When he was in a pseudo-management role, as a cinematographer, it was automatic. When filming, he should be going down to the set. But they weren't filming yet. In fact, there were people in the set not doing anything.
In the chaos, everything didn't seem to add up. So Levi forced one memorandum, one attempt at structure. He would finish the final editing by that night and start the next day with a blank slate. Even if he needed to, he would stay until midnight to make it work.
That new writing team should be coming soon. Levi repeated to himself. Erwin had said so himself, Petra had also mentioned it excitedly over lunch.
All Levi had to do was get the episodes ready for review by the higher ups, then ready for airing then he could start that new season with a healthier approach, maybe find some way to add more structure to his already hectic job.
“Petra, don’t wait for me. I’m working overtime today.”
Petra jumped on her seat.
Levi only realized then, he had come up from right behind her. And Petra had been busy reading through something in her laptop, a quick glance confirmed, it was the unfinished script.
Levi continued. “You don’t have to wait for me.”
Petra looked back at him, a worried look in her face. She opened her mouth to speak.
“Deadlines,” Levi answered.
“You need any help? You know Oluo and Gunther, they can stay too. Or even me.”
“I can finish it myself,” Levi said. He was completely aware either way that it was his job to review everything before anyone else reviewed and before it went on air.
There was an indignant look on Petra's face. But Petra never really imposed. She nagged, doted, argued but she never imposed.
And he managed to pacify her by requesting an espresso and a cup of tea from the tea shop right in front of the studio. Beverages were frowned upon in the video editing room. Levi though was particularly meticulous, he was tired and stressed and he allowed himself some leeway.
Just today. And when they start filming the new season, during the hiatus, Levi would reopen his work with a more organized approach, more suited for his personality. He constantly reassured himself of that as he continued to edit the videos, crosschecking with storyboards and scripts.
Most of the work had been done. Most of the work had been easy to scan through. Still it was hours of sifting through retakes, reviewing and setting them up for reviews and cuts. In the silence, completely alone, He gladly gave the task the required focus, more than enough not to have noticed the sound of the door click behind him.
“This is the coffee you asked for right?” The voice wasn’t Petra’s but still it didn’t seem at all hostile. In fact, the voice seemed friendly.
Friendly enough for Levi to feel obliged to respond.”Thanks.” A new hire maybe? In the one week he had been working there, three people had already quit.
It wasn’t worth a second thought. The important thing was he got his coffee and tea. So he didn’t bother looking up, only looking with his peripherals to see the paper white of the cup just a few inches away. He reached one hand towards the cup and surprisingly, his hand didn’t grasp for paper. It went for something a little softer, something a little cooler but still warm to the touch.
And it moved. A bug? A pest? That had been Levi’s first speculation, being the paranoid clean freak he was. Before his guesses could get anymore creative he looked at the cup and saw the cup was stable on his desk. He had a grip, not on the cup itself but on the other hand which held the cup. The movements were from a hand underneath his..
A wild hand. It slipped out of his grip, and before Levi could pull away, it gripped him in return, squeezing harder on his pointer finger and his middle finger.
For just a second. A painfully awkward second.
A second of realization was all Levi needed to pull away. “May I help you?” he asked. It took a lot more willpower not to curse at that strange invasion of privacy. A second later, reason took over and Levi realized that he was the one who had gripped her first.
He had planned to grip the coffee cup, he justified himself.
“They said… You needed some coffee.” The voice was nonchalant. Yet somehow, nonchalance had managed to make his blood boil. “So I came here to drop it and say hi,” she added, as if that was the most natural response.
‘Say hi’ didn’t usually involve two hands gripping one another, then interlocking. Her hands were still gripping the tip of his fingers and for a second they were frozen.. “Are you always this touchy then?” Levi pressed. Especially with a total stranger. Levi looked up, turned his head towards the voice and confirmed it, she was definitely a familiar face but they were barely even acquaintances.
Brown hair tied up in a ponytail, glasses propped comfortably on her nose and just underneath them, warm brown eyes that had no problem just staring, studying… And in their own way, leaving Levi very very jarred by the mundane gesture called ‘eye contact.’
“I was hoping to talk for a bit,” she said. “If you’re not too busy, we can---”
“I’m busy right now,” Levi said. He pulled the coffee closer to him, suddenly careful when awareness dawned on him abruptly. Suddenly, he was completely aware that the coffee cup was only a few inches away from the computer. “Can this wait?”
Those brown eyes were suddenly wider, a hint of surprise. Then they narrowed at him and Levi felt some pity blanket his already sluggish and aimless movements. Before he knew it, he was very very unproductive.
He had to do something. “My name is Levi by the way.” He was deliberately gentler that time and usually lowering his voice and slowing down did some magic to make him seem kinder than he usually seemed to new people. Or so, that had been what Petra had advised multiple times before.
Levi looked up, forced a subtle smile, a combination between a tightlipped line and crinkles at the edge of his mouth. The most he could manage for a courteous introduction.
Her reaction was unexpected to say the least. He noticed her eyes first, the way they widened. Her jaw dropped. She closed it again, a subtle twitch in her lip.
Did I say something wrong? Levi thought to himself. He looked back at the computer screen. “Levi… Levi Ackerman,” he added. Would that help ease the tension of the room?
Even when Levi started to make a game for himself, playing video edits again and again, he realized he was more focused on pretending to concentrate than in actually polishing the transitions between scenes.
Hange eventually spoke up. “Hello Levi. Nice to meet you.” Her voice was softer in that last sentence.
“Nice to meet you too.” That had been surprisingly difficult to say. He sensed the discomfort in her voice, and maybe he had unknowingly mirrored it.
“My name is Hange Zoe. I’m going to be working as a screenwriter here…”
Oh. Oh. So that’s Hange Zoe. For someone who spearheaded blockbuster hits, who had people talking like crazy over rumors, it turned out she was a very underwhelming presence.
“I’m the cinematographer here,” Levi said. Technically, that was his job title but at that point, he was doing everything. “So I guess we’re going to be working together a lot.”
“We will,” Hange responded. Her presence was underwhelming. So underwhelming that Levi felt no need to even be excited that they had a prodigy screenwriter in their midst. Her voice was soft when she spoke to him. Her eyes were some mix of disappointment, nervousness, uncertainty.
Levi suspected it was her demeanor, her approach towards him that had caused such tension to settle in such a tiny room. “Thank you for coffee,” Levi said. Any nice gesture seemed like a worthwhile attempt to ease it.
A wide smile played at Hange’s lips, still far from what Levi would have considered confident though. “Happy to help.”
That’s the award winning screenwriter? “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”
“I’m going to be working on a few scripts tonight, have Erwin look at them in a day or so,” she said. Her voice had shifted to something more professional, and her meekness was starting to feel more like a misinterpretation on Levi's end..
“Looking forward to them,” Levi said.
The door slammed behind him, a little louder than the click that followed. The room was dim, it was almost distracting. When Levi turned towards the lights, he considered turning it on, to save himself the discomfort of sore eyes.
He turned his chair, put enough wait into one leg only to notice the sluggishness, the numbness underneath. His legs were jelly. Her hands were trembling and his breaths weren’t coming out in predictable bouts. He turned back to the computer and prepared to review what he had already edited.
The video was playing and Levi was convincing himself that he was productive.
Halfway through the episode, or even a quarter through the episode (Levi wasn’t counting), his mind had wandered. When his surroundings just became a little too overwhelming, Levi let loose just a little bit. He let the heaviness in his chest and the stiffness of his limbs speak for him then.
That voice of a while ago, Hange Zoe’s voice. That voice was nostalgic, heart wrenchingly nostalgic.
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